#We're kind and if you expected any of us to be nice then you know nothing about the culture or state

[a-very-tired-jew]

To Eat Your Own

Anyone who has been involved in activist spaces, politics, and pushed for equity in any capacity is well aware of how quickly any of these groups can (and will) turn on itself. Often this is due purity politics and "No True Scotsman" logic. If you don't agree 100% with what each individual member, not just leadership, thinks and believes then you're not part of the group. If any action doesn't meet the criteria of certain individuals then they will raise hell, complain, splinter off into more radical camps, and/or they will try and ruin someone. In this case, I have seen Leftists and Progressives go after John Fetterman for his support of Israel. Now...they were goin after him prior to this as he met with Jewish groups in PA during his run for Senate. This is not new. How do I know? I'm from Philly. I grew up there. My family is from there. My family business is there. I worked in delis there to make my way through college. I have been a part of most major progressive movements and groups for over two decades and I know most of the big players in these spaces. There has long been an antisemitic undertone to Leftist groups in PA that trade in the standard conspiracy theories. These do differ from Right Wing replacement theories and instead focus on the good ole "Jews control the money" as it is couched in anti-Capitalist language. Other antisemitic conspiracies are also often couched in Leftist language as well. As such, these people openly enjoy Jewish culture, food, and business while also believing that the people behind it are "evil Jews Capitalists Zionists". It does not help that many of the safe spaces that Leftists attend are owned or co-owned by Jewish business people (e.g. Tabu). PA has one of the largest Jewish populations in the USA outside of NYC and NJ. It has long been established and there's so much Jewish culture that has made its way into Eastern PA culture that you'd have to actively work to avoid it. However, because it has become a part of the mainstream culture, a lot of people take for granted the actual presence of the Jewish community and/or don't understand how large it is. So what does this have to do with Fetterman? Take a look at this rant from today.

Fig. 1. User rants about Fetterman and calls him an Imperialist. Prior to 10/7 someone like this would be praising Fetterman for appearing "disheveled" and fighting against the status quo's emphasis on a dress code. His disrespectful nature and calling out of Republicans in Congress was highly praised. His voting record was also praised. But now? Now that he supports Israel, he's bad. He's no longer the Leftist's ideal politician, but instead a representation of the "evil Zionist agenda". Fetterman is from PA. That means he grew up in a state that has Jewish culture and identity woven throughout it. He knows Jews. He's worked with Jews. Jews have influenced his politics and identity as much as he has them. But this person likely doesn't understand that. They mention Fetterman and Casey so I know they're from PA, and they mentioned calling Fetterman as their rep. But they, like most others, don't understand much regarding Jews and their impact on their state, politics, media, and belief. Fetterman does and that's why he is such a supporter of Israel and the Jewish Diaspora. But because he supports the "Big Bad Zionist Entity" he is now no longer a Progressive/Leftist. In fact, Fetterman himself has said he no longer identifies as a progressive Democrat, but simply as a Democrat. All because of the rise in rampant antisemitism on the Left. This is how you lose politicians and leaders who support your ideals. Let's step away from Israel for a second and look at Fetterman and what he supports vs the people going after him. Both parties actively support LGBTQ+ rights, equity movements, choice, and so on. But Fetterman is not supporting a terrorist group that actively suppresses and/or kills people belonging to these groups or campaigning for them, the activists are in the name of "Resistance". Contradictions and cognitive dissonance are viable forms of politics if you want to make change. They are viable forms of ideology and belief though, and because this conflict has become an ideological war full of antisemitic hate, conspiracy theories, and downright vitriolic lies...it makes sense that the pedestal they put Fetterman on has crumbled. (Also note that this person is 22. Again, age plays a major factor in activist spaces and I will refer you back to one of my other writings for those thoughts.)

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[abbotsanatomy]

okay hi!! jack request. i’m thinking about him getting jealous and territorial over someone he knows he has no right to get so riled up about 👀 a forbidden / situationship kind of romance x jealous jack would be so fun. i love the angst if you can’t tell haha

⨳ SEEING GREEN

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: age gap (28 and 49), resident/attending relationship, power imbalances, workplace situationship, awkward jealousy, angst :(. author's note: this came out a little angstier than expected, forgive me!

Anyone who works the ER night shift knows it's very common to get flirted with on the job. More drunks, less serious injuries, and the inherent attraction patients have for their doctors. It's the holy trinity for inappropriate ER flirtation. You've become used to it. It's why you aren't too bothered when it's a patient you're actually attracted to flirting with you.

Male, mid-30s, third-degree burn injury on his arm, and you've totally met him before. You just can't remember where.

His hair’s a dirty blonde, he’s got a Pitt University hoodie on, with the sleeves pulled up to reveal his injury. This guy’s the kind of pretty anyone would fawn over.

However, he’s got pretty bad luck, because right now he's in an ER chair, with you and nurse Gloria flitting around the room, hooking him up with IV fluids and prophylactic antibiotics.

“You come here often?” he jokes, trying to hold his arm up.

You smile courteously, nodding in his direction.

“Unfortunately,” you respond.

You have to ask for his name to proceed with care, but you don't want to seem like a moron for forgetting it.

If you could just remember...

“Oh. You're Matt. From the dog park, last year?” you almost yell, turning to face him fully.

Matt is one of the many, many flings you've had in the last few years. You'd met him at a dog park, when you were dog-sitting for a friend. He'd asked for your number, and you'd gone on a few very nice dates. It fizzled out eventually, like they always do.

It's totally because you work night shifts and you're way too busy for dating. Totally not because you have a huge, fat, world-ending crush on your attending. The very same attending you seem to be in a push-pull situationship with.

Matt's grinning awkwardly, looking down at the ground, “Ouch. You couldn't remember me?”

“I'm sorry. I've slept exactly three hours in the last two days. I can barely remember my own name,” you explain, pulling a crash cart close.

He closes an eye tight and tilts his head to one side like he's thinking really hard. “Oh, yeah. What was it, by the way?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” you deadpan.

You break out into a fit of laughter the moment he does. You can sense Gloria side-eyeing you both. So, you clear your throat to remind him and yourself that you are still in an ER.

“So, how'd this happen, Matt?” you ask.

“I was making a late night cup of tea. Can't sleep, y'know,” he narrates, and you nod in understanding. “Then the water from the kettle fell on my arm, and I came rushing so I wouldn't lose it.”

You chuckle at that, “You won't be losing it. We're just going to have to remove all of the dead skin surrounding the wound so it heals well.”

“Do you feel any pain?”

“No, it stopped hurting a little after it happened,” he tells you.

His eyes are no longer focused on you, though. Instead, they've drifted to someone else outside of the little curtained cubicle you're occupying. You instinctively turn around to be met with none other than the very same man who's been interrupting your romantic endeavors for years.

“Doctor Abbot,” you greet, even though you've already seen him many times tonight.

Jack just nods. It's a little off, but you won't comment on that. He doesn't have to become miraculously happy every time he sees you, even though he usually is.

“This is my attending. Dr.Jack Abbot, one of our finest,” you introduce, turning back towards Matt.

Jack crosses his arms over his chest. He smiles at the patient, but it's a tight, imperceptible thing. There's a palpable tension in the air.

Proceeding with care is probably your best option in this situation. So, you pull the top drawer of the crash cart open. You're sliding your nitrile gloves on when Jack stops you.

“Present the case,” he demands, saying your last name in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. He isn't even looking your way, his eyes are dead set on Matt.

Is he serious? you ask yourself.

It doesn't make any sense. You're a senior resident. This is a case way below your skill level. He knows this. You know this.

So, you just stare at him for a long beat. You almost forget Matt's even there, until he clears his throat loudly. It pulls you back to reality.

“Um, alright,” you surrender.

“Matthew Morgan, thirty-seven. He just has a third-degree burn on his arm.”

Obviously, you almost say.

Jack walks over to assess the IV you have set up, “What do you have him hooked up with?”

It's such a trivial question, you're offended to even be asked it. Doctor Abbot isn't only your supervisor, he's also someone you respect deeply. So, you won't argue with him here. You're saving that for later.

“Electrolytes, and antibiotics.”

He nods, and he's still staring daggers into Matt. It's almost turned into this weird power play where he's trying to show this guy you'll answer whatever question he asks, you'll do whatever he wants. He's staking his claim over you.

Suddenly, it feels like the room's gotten a lot hotter. You can feel the fluorescent light of the ER beat down harder on your face. When you finally find your voice again, it's slightly angrier than usual.

“And we were just about to proceed with debridement.”

“Perfect. Wouldn't you rather the new intern try it out for the first time?” he's asking it like a question, but his tone leaves no room for argument. Not right now, anyway.

“I could oversee,” he offers. “Doctor Shen's about to perform an emergency thoracotomy for a lobectomy, if you'd like to go help out.”

The last time you heard of a procedure so intricate happening during the night shift at PTMC, you were probably a second-year resident. It's the most excitement the night shift's had in a very long time. Of course you want to help out. He knows you do.

It's no surprise when you shoot Matt an apologetic smile and tell him Jack and the new intern, Sarah, are going to be taking over. The moment you're out of sight, you sprint to trauma room two.

You're not sure whether you should thank Abbot or murder him.

The hinges on your locker creak as you pull it open to grab your things and finally head home. You're about to grab your jacket, when you spot Jack heading into the bathroom. The one with the broken lock.

Before you can even think twice about this totally horrible decision, you've already infiltrated the bathroom. Thankfully, when you look up, he's just washing his hands.

“This bathroom's clearly not empty,” he informs you, still washing his hands.

You nod and walk to stand closer to him.

“Yeah. I know.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he's smiling at you through the mirror.

“I just wanted to give you a taste of how intrusive it feels to have you micromanaging my cases,” you cross your arms in over-exaggerated disapproval.

“I mean, that's not even your job.” You hope that drives the point home.

Jack turns around, and there's about five inches in between you now. He's maintaining so much eye contact, that your eyes start going back and forth between his and the dirty, tiled floor.

“You mean assigning you cases? That's absolutely my job,” he reasons, wiping his hands down with the tissue.

“That's not what that was. I don't even know what the hell that was back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you want me presenting the case one minute, and then you want me off of it completely the next. So, forgive me if I'm a little confused.”

Jack turns away to throw the paper towel into the trash can, letting it fall closed with a loud clang.

“What exactly is it you're confused about?”

You just blink at him for a long moment. He genuinely has no idea. You're not the one confused here. He is.

“You're not my boyfriend, Jack,” you whisper.

Jack's eyes are on the floor the moment you say it. He smiles like a man who's just realizing the tragedy in life's comedy. Your words hang in the air for a moment.

“Believe me, I know that,” he murmurs.

You shake your head in confusion, “So, what's up with you acting like you don't? You can't—”

You pause to take a breath.

“You have to know, when you do things like that. Back there. It confuses me. It fucks with my brain,” you sigh shakily.

You step back, “I can't keep doing this, Jack. I can't keep going out with guys, taking them back to my apartment, kissing them, and then having to kick them out ten minutes later.”

His eyebrows are set into a deep frown. He's putting his hands into his pocket, and just staring.

“Because every single time I do it, all I see is you. And your eyes.”

“I'm stuck,” you confess.

When the tears start falling, he moves quickly. His arms are wrapped around you in seconds, your face buried into his chest.

“It isn't fair,” your voice is muffled into the fabric of his uniform, but he understands you perfectly.

His fingers are slowly threading through your hair. You can feel his breath grow heavy on your skin. Your tears are staining his scrub top. He nods slowly.

“I know. I'm sorry,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.

He pulls your face up, with a hand on each cheek. Your eyes lock, but you can't stop crying. His thumbs gently wipe away the tears there.

“I know. It is,” he affirms.

You know it won't happen, but you wish he'd just kiss you, right here, right now. You want so badly the one thing you can't have.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ʙᴀɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴ ♡

♡ Pairing: bartender!bang chan x chubby!fem!waitress!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Chris has had a crush on you ever since his best friend hired you but he's never had the courage to do anything about it, too intimidated by you to say a word. Little does he know, you've had your eye on him too and tonight's the night you plan to give him a taste of what he's wanted so badly.

♡ Word Count: 4k-ish

♡ Warnings: flirting, kissing, dirty talk, a lil dom/brat dynamic, they're both low key needy, teasing, oral sex (m receiving), very sloppy oral sex at that, swallowing, deep throating, he low key has a big dick, we're playing with balls today, a lil rough nipple pinching, a lil fingering, booty slaps, chris really wants to eat you out, he also very much likes his girls thick, pet names (baby, baby girl, daddy).

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings! So this is my first entry in a series of fics I'm doing based on lyrics from songs that are basically my ho anthems. This is the ✨ masterlist ✨ and I'll be uploading fics over the next two weeks. Every fic is chubby reader centered and, much like an actual DJ, if you have a request feel free to slide into my asks. I'll happily take it 💖

“Better grab a mop, it’s getting sticky in this bitch” - Tyler the Creator

Christopher Bahng has one little problem and it has your name written all over it. 

Six years of bartending have taught Chris how to keep his cool against any number of things. Random fights breaking out between dudes who’ve had a few shots more than they should’ve. Belligerent drunks who lash out if he dares to cut them off. Divorced dads crying on his shoulder about their ex wives half an hour past closing time. After so long it got to the point where he didn’t think anything that walked through that door could throw him off his game. And then there was you. 

When Changbin said he’d hired a new waitress Chris wasn’t sure what to expect. All he wished for was someone nice and competent. Anything else would be the cherry on top and you came sprinkled with cherries. Not only were you an absolute sweetheart who picked up on things quickly, you were drop dead gorgeous. As a rule Chris doesn’t date coworkers. It’s messy and risky. Someone always ends up getting hurt. But working side by side with you every day left him wondering if the risk might just be worth the reward. 

You show up to every shift with your teeny skirts and your glossy lips, bouncing around the bar like temptation incarnate, seemingly unaware of the effect you have on him. He can’t keep his head on straight when you’re around. He makes silly mistakes and trips over his words. Everyone always compliments Chris on how charismatic he is but all of that seems to fly out of the window when you’re around. 

Tonight’s shift is no different. You’re skipping around the bar in your little pink mini skirt. The kind that twirls when you walk and rises when you bend over, giving him the faintest preview of your lower ass cheeks. The crop top you’re wearing is no better. It’s one of those tops with a plunging neckline that knots in the front, making your tits look especially kissable. The lushness of your figure means that everything else bounces when you do. You’re so thick. So juicy. So…

“Pardon me, boys” you sing, easing behind the bar to hunt for a clean glass. 

Minho, Chris’s fellow bartender, spins out of your way, two open beers held high in the air. “No, knock me over. It’s fine” he teases and you just roll your eyes. Minho always has something to say. You’re used to it by now.

At the other end of the bar Chris is busy mixing up a drink. Rum and coke. Quick. Predictable. Boring. Spotting a stack of clean glasses nearby, you squeeze in beside him, careful not to get in his way. 

“Ready for this night to be over or what?” you quip, an arm extended towards a glass that’s just out of your reach. 

Chris grabs it for you, his hands on the verge of trembling from how close you are. You’ve got your tits pressed up against his arm. Not swallowing it whole but brushing it just enough that he can’t ignore what’s there. 

A bit of nervous laughter escapes him as he flashes you that handsomely dimpled smile. “Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here. You got any plans for later?” 

You shrug, nails tapping at the glass now secured in your hand, “Mmm, I don’t know. Why? You asking me out or something?” 

There’s a long pause. A tense, breathless silence that seems to last forever. Beneath that fluffy brown hair his ears are turning red and the blush is beginning to spread to his cheeks. 

“I’m fucking with you” you giggle, patting him on the shoulder, “You’re so easy to get. It’s too fun. Thanks for the glass by the way.” 

With a flirty wink you’re off, leaving as quickly as you came. Taking his first real breath since you stepped foot behind the bar, Chris watches you weave through the tables and nothing can tell him that you aren’t moving in slow motion. You’re like one of those girls in the movies—the type you dream about—and you’re looking right at him. You’re looking right at him. His grip tightens around the cool glass of rum and coke that's already begun to sweat against his palm . You’re talking to a customer but your gaze is entangled with his, drawing him deeper into your orbit than he’s ever been. 

You’ve never caught him looking before. He dreaded the day when you did but prayed it’d never come. Now that it has, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The heat creeping up the back of his neck is unbearable and his heart’s prepared to bungee jump from his chest. Even worse, he's feeling something. Something he shouldn’t feel when he’s at work. A rush of blood. The tightening of skin. Fabric stretching to accommodate him. 

“Can I have my drink or is that yours now, sweetie?” the woman waiting at the bar asks. 

Shaking himself out of a daze, Chris panics, handing her the drink. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“What’s with you?” Minho mouths but getting an answer isn’t in the cards. 

Chris speeds by, his back turned to conceal what’s developing below his waist. “I need something from the back! Take over for me!” 

Bolting through a side door, he navigates the small back area cramped with boxes to find solace in the storage closet. He slams the door behind him as soon as he’s in, pacing the floor to calm himself down.

“Get it together, Chris. You’re not in high school. She’s just a girl” he tells himself like a coach giving a pep talk. Pausing in his tracks, he puts his hands on his hips, his brain filing through all the things he could do to help. “Think about bunnies or sports or old people or bunnies playing sports with old people.” Squinting his eyes closed he thinks of just that. The cutest baby bunnies hopping around a baseball field doing their best to win against their only opposition…the elderly. He gives it a minute, letting the thought truly soak in, before he opens his eyes again and looks down. 

“Fuck…” he hisses at the sight of a hard on that’s only gotten worse. If only he hadn’t looked at you. If only you hadn’t looked at him. Who told you to have such pretty eyes? And the nerve of you to devour him with them. 

“Chris, you back here?” you scream, running into the closet to find exactly who you’re looking for, “Oh hey, there you are, a customer had a question about a drink and…why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything. I don’t know what you mean” he stutters, taking a few steps back to create distance between the two of you.

You take those same steps forward, closing the distance and ruining his plans. “No, you are looking at me like that.” You fold your arms across your chest, eyeing him skeptically, “What are you doing in here, Christopher?”

“What am I doing in here? I was just, uh…” he scans the shelves, a lie at the tip of his tongue, “We were out of strawberry syrup and I came to grab it. I just can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

“You came to find the strawberry syrup?” you ask, effortlessly spotting it on the shelf. You hop up to grab it, dangling the bottle in front of him, “Does your dick always get hard for strawberry syrup? Is that a kink of yours or…”

Chris whips around, his back to you, hands swooping in to cover the offending area. “Oh my god, I wasn’t—you weren’t supposed to—shit.”

Sneaking up behind him, you peek around his shoulder, that mischievous giggle of yours brewing again. “See, told ya you were easy to get” you whisper, “That wouldn’t happen to be my fault would it?”

Your eyes flick down to where his hands are and the fact that they’re hardly enough to hide his bulge is exciting to say the least. How oblivious could he possibly think you are? In the beginning you weren’t quite sure if he was checking you out or not. He can have a mean case of resting bitch face when he wants to. During those first few weeks there was no way to differentiate if the stares you were getting from Chris had longing or hatred behind them but it quickly became apparent that it was the first. 

Girls walk into this bar and they swoon over him but you’re the one who turns him to putty simply by existing. That is power and you wield it recklessly, flirting with him every chance you get. So this little situation—him being so hard for you that he has to scurry away to a storage closet—is far from the offense he thinks it is. In fact, it’s an achievement. 

“You know, I like you…” you sigh, trailing your fingers up his arm to feel the firmness of his bicep through his fitted black shirt, “You’re sweet and you’re funny and you’re cute. Too cute to suffer. I can help you out if you want.”

Chris looks back at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Help me? What do you mean ‘help me’?” 

You glance down again and back up at him, “With that. I can make it disappear if you want me to.” 

Gently massaging his arm, you smooth your hand across his shoulder, down his chest. You haven’t seen this man shirtless but if what you feel is any indication of what it looks like you know his body must be immaculate. His breath hitches as your fingertips dance along his abs, venturing below his belt right to where his own hands hover.

You’re so close—centimeters away from where he throbs with need for you—but just as you’re about to touch it he dips out of the way, slipping from your grasp. Chris turns to you, his expression hardening. At the drop of a hat the boyish confusion you found so amusing has given way to something stronger. More severe. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable” you apologize, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

He advances on you and now you’re the one backing away. You’ve seen this before in nature documentaries. A poor little gazelle and a ravenous lion. The gazelle gets chewed up every single time. If you were to take a wild guess which one you are, you’d say you were fucked. 

“Chris, I’m serious, I was just—” Your back hits the door, knocking the air out of you, and you let out a faint shriek that makes his lips quirk into something reminiscent of a smile. 

His pointer finger traces the curve of your cheek, his feather light touch tickling your skin. “You were just ‘fucking with me’. That’s how you put it, yeah?”

If there were any air left in you then surely you’d lose your breath. “It sounds so childish when you say it like that.”

“Because it is childish. You shouldn’t say things you can’t back up” he says like it’s a dare of sorts. It is. 

As his lips drift closer to yours you can feel the heat radiating from his body. There’s no denying that some of it’s your own and what’s shared between you is enough to melt the sun.

“Who says I can’t back it up? I’m a woman of her word. If I say something then I always intend to back it up.”

Chris tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Prove it.” 

As if it has a mind of its own, your hand finds his chest again, tugging at the fabric of his shirt to bring him closer, and he doesn’t resist. He leans into you, his plush lips meeting yours as his tongue dips between them, eager to explore the furthest reaches of your mouth. The kiss is everything a girl could want, more delicious than any drink he could serve you up at the bar. It’s a good thing he’s never kissed any of those girls who fall all over him. They’d be helpless, at his mercy, utterly hypnotized by a kiss sweeter than any other you’ve had. 

Gripping his shirt tighter, you put every bit of strength you’ve got into spinning him around. The swap is effortless and he’s right where you were, his body blocking the only way in or out of this closet.

“Open this for me please” you pout, raising the bottle of strawberry syrup still dangling from your fingers.

Chris takes the bottle, vexed by your sudden need to access its contents, but he grabs the cap anyway, unscrewing the lid as you drop to your knees and get to work unfastening his belt. You’re quick with your fingers, undoing his pants with all the finesse of an expert thief cracking a safe. Your hand’s cool as it comes in contact with his length, stroking him from tip to base the second he springs free. He gasps at the chill, his stomach muscles tensing at the sudden hit of dopamine rushing through his body. 

Leaning your head back, you smile up at him, opening your mouth wide, “Pour it.”

“Pour it?”

You stroke his length again and it pulses against your touch, shiny beads of arousal dripping down the head. It takes all of his muscle control for his lets not to give out. 

“Pour. It.” you repeat, placing emphasis on each word.

Still reeling from that last stroke, he does as he’s told, letting a shot’s worth of it trickle down into your mouth. He pours in just the amount that you need. Such an intuitive bartender even now. Careful not to spill a drop, you guide his cock into your mouth, glazing him in the sweet syrupy liquid.

The warmth of your mouth meddled with the thickness of the syrup is what he never knew he wanted but will desperately need every day after this. It’s tight and gushy, hugging him how he imagines your walls might, and when you take him all in—your pretty lips wrapped around the base in the perfect shape—he loses any hope he ever had of holding his composure. 

Blinking down at you, he brushes your hair back out of your face, showering you with admiration. “Took it all in the first go. Didn’t know you wanted it that badly” he taunts, hips rocking to push the tip to the back of your throat. 

You don’t gag, you don’t even flinch, you just take it, your irises dancing like stars as your tongue swoops back and forth beneath his cock. The taste of him makes you drool, your own arousal gathering in your panties the same way his slicks the back of your tongue. You move slowly at first, bobbing your head back and forth at a delicate pace, enjoying every detail of his cock.

It’s nice and thick, the perfect size for your mouth, with veins that travel up to the head in such a picturesque formation that you might think it was deliberately designed to be so exquisite. Chris has the nicest mushroom tip, plump enough to make a crisp pop when it temporarily vacates your mouth, your tongue swirling around it to tease the rim. 

“I wish you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now” he coos when you roll your tongue across the slit, lapping up his precum. You’re such a mess, your hands and lips all sticky with syrup, but he wouldn’t have you any other way. 

You smile as much as you can with your cheeks filled to the brim, slipping him back into your mouth until, like magic, it disappears. There’s an urge in him to throw his head back against the door, close his eyes and let the pleasure consume him, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He has to watch you. He needs to. You look so good slobbering around his cock, sucking him like a lollipop that comes in your favorite flavor. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together gives away how much this is getting you off too and it only worsens his need for you. 

Pulling back enough to wrap a hand around his length, you spare him one final glance before you let your eyes fall shut, picking up speed that gives him whiplash. The sounds from  your hollowed out cheeks suctioning his cock are downright sinful. You’ve got him biting his lip and bucking his hips, moans pouring out of him as you reach up to cup his balls, rolling your palm against them.

They’re so sensitive that the slightest amount of pressure makes his cock twitch harder between your cheeks but you don’t miss a beat, your wrist and jaw working in flawless unison to keep your pace. You’re too in your zone to notice but your tits are sprinkled in a shiny mixture of everything currently swirling around in your mouth. It found its way down your chin, adorning your neck, and over the hills of the lucious tits that await below. 

Chris can’t resist reaching down to grab one, his hand delving into your bra to knead the tender flesh. You hum around him as he finds your nipple, pinching the pebbled bud between his fingers. “Fuck, you like that baby?” he growls out, testing your limits by pinching just a little harder. 

You let out a whine, your thighs coming together again to ease the throbbing of your clit. Do you like that? You fucking love it. You want more. You want his lips around your bud and his cock deep inside of you, deeper than it is in your throat. You want everything he has to give you but you’re a woman of your word and you’re determined to keep it. Dragging his hand out of your shirt, you interlace your fingers with his, tossing him a defiant look that tells him to behave. 

With your hands now occupied, the full weight of his cock rests on your jaw. You deserve an award for keeping it in, performing tricks with your tongue he never knew a girl could. Every move you make, every wispy flick of your tongue, has his sanity unraveling thread by thread. 

“Fuck…I don’t know how much more I can take” he whimpers, a sound that only encourages your behavior. “So fucking good, baby girl…mmph…”

He squeezes your hands, attempting to push you back a few inches, silently begging you to slow down. Not yet. Just a little more. But you’re deep throating him like your life depends on it, refusing to take pity on him. His body tenses, an involuntary jerk of his hips almost tripping you up.

“Mmhmm” you moan, your nose pressed to his base, throat muscles flexing.

You steal a look at him, his jaw slack, eyes heavily lidded, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was drunk and that’s exactly what it feels like. A nice buzz. A double shot of europhoria. 

A splash of something warm trickles down your throat and you gradually slip him out of your mouth, letting him cum on every inch of you until you’re balancing him on the tip of your tongue. You patiently wait for the last drop, slurping him clean. When you lean back, freeing your hands from his, he nearly doubles over. 

“Whoa, don’t die on me” you giggle, flexing your cramped fingers. 

Rising to your feet you capture him in a kiss, softly stroking his cock as he comes down from his high. His shallow breaths fall on your puffy lips, that pining boyish expression back at home on his face. 

“What was that?” he pants, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“It’s what you wanted, right? Ever since you first saw me.”

Chris kisses you weakly, an effective diversion from the question. Looping an arm around your waist, he holds you close. Your tongue still tastes like candy and he intends to kiss you until the flavor fades. Slipping a hand down to grab your ass, he squeezes it roughly, making you arch in response. With your ass poked out he easily gets to what he wanted more. Tucking your panties to the side, he swishes two fingers around in the juices soaking your entrance. 

“Aah, Chris…” you gasp as his fingers push into you. 

If the sound of you sucking his cock was sinful, the squelching of your pussy accepting his fingers is sin itself. Dragging his lips down to your neck, he kisses it softly, working his fingers in and out of you. Holding tight to his shirt, you quiver from the pleasure, walls fluttering as the pads of his fingers trace the ridges of your walls. 

“I wanna taste you so fucking bad” he confesses, “That’s what I’ve wanted ever since I first saw you. You gonna let me taste you, baby?”

You want to say, “Yes”. No, you want to say, “Fuck yes”. Only you can’t find the words. Not when he’s playing your pussy like a finely tuned instrument. He can do anything he wants to you if all of it feels this good. 

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he stares into your eyes, his gaze oozing lust. There’s no question about it this time around. “Is that a yes or a no, baby?” His fingers curl into your faster, his knuckles flush against your entrance, juices running down your thighs. 

“Yes” you force out, riding his fingers. 

“Yeah? I don’t think I heard you” he teases, giving you a little peck on the lips, “You can be louder for me, yeah?” 

Click. Click. Click. The door knob turns and it only occurs to you now that neither of you locked the door. Worse than that, you’re still at work. 

“Chris, you in there?” Minho calls out, banging at the door, “If I have to work you do too!”

Minho tries to push the door open but it doesn’t budge. The collective force of your bodies is enough to keep it shut though you aren’t sure for how long. 

“Uh, I’ll be out in a second!” Chris shouts back, grabbing the knob to keep it from turning again. 

Fixing his pants as quickly as you got them open, you straighten his clothes out, and dip behind the door. Chris pulls you back over, stealing another kiss before letting you go. He moves away from the door and it goes flying open. Wedging yourself into the corner behind the door, you can’t see a thing. You can only hear the exchange. 

“What the hell were you doing?”

“I was looking…looking for the strawberry syrup.”

“All this time? Did you hit your head or something? I’ll find it.”

Noticing the bottle of syrup by your feet, you kick it over and by the sounds of it Chris grabs it. 

“Oh, there it is. See? Got it! Now go. I’m coming! Seriously. Go.”

You listen as Minho hesitantly steps away, the door swinging in the opposite direction for Chan to kiss you full force. He hugs you tightly enough to almost lift you from the ground and you kick your feet cutely out of surprise. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight” he demands, licking what small sample he got of you from his fingers, “You leave this bar without me and I’ll fight you.”

“Ooh, you wanna fight me, daddy? I am known to like it rough.” 

How can one girl be so hot? He can’t wrap his head around it but he knows he has to get away from you before he can’t hold back anymore. “Get back to work” he says, slapping you on the ass and you get on your way, flashing him your ass on the way out the door. 

Watching you leave, he can only think of one thing. That one little problem—the one with your name written all over it—has just gotten much, much bigger.

[felibrary]

synopsis: they say the ‘eyes are windows to the soul’. anyone who glances at phainon would immediately notice—the chrysos heir's cerulean gaze is solely fixated on you, starstruck and overflowing with love."

wordcount: 0.5k | content & warnings: gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, phainon is head over heels, phainon tries cringe flirting methods gone wrong, b99 ref the ones who get it get it ; drabble

author's note: hey hoes guess who's back. 1) was at the psych ward 2) had purple hair 3) now have turquoise hair 4) fake ginger guy and i had a fight but now we're talking again..kind of

being loved means feeling safe. 

there isn’t a moment where PHAINON takes his eyes off you. he always ensures that you’re safe because who knows what dangers will strike—putting you at risk would be the least thing he’d want. 

whether that’s ensuring you get home safely, making sure you take care of yourself and aren’t neglecting your needs, affirming you whenever you feel sullen—you name it. phainon is always willing to take care of you. 

those actions are enough to make anyone falter, but for you, it’s the small things that matter. the little and what others would consider trivial gestures that make your heart race.

—

“phainon, is everything alright?” 

you throw him a worried glance as he hasn’t said anything for the past minutes, which is beyond usual for the chrysos heir. on any other occasion, he’d talk your ear off, and you’d happily listen as you nod along, but this time, he’s entirely quiet.

he, on the other hand, doesn’t seem worried in the slightest; no, on the contrary, he looks rather amused. “yes, why’d you think otherwise?” he places his chin in the palm of his hand and leans into it.

“you've been staring at me for the past minute, and i’m concerned,” you inform him while trying to study his expression—in vain, you might want to mention.

phainon chuckles, and his cerulean eyes that were surveying you take shape into crescent moons. “nothing, really. just admiring how nice you look and how lucky i am to have you.” he opens his eyes, and you can only scrutinize the way his white eyelashes flutter. 

if you wouldn’t know otherwise, you’d think phainon’s eyes were jewels the way they glimmer and gleam as they softly look at you.

—

“did you just try the triangle method on me?”

you exclaim in disbelief, as if you couldn’t believe that your boyfriend has seriously tried to swoon you by using some silly technique. when he called out your name and didn’t say anything, simply staring at you, you thought that at first, perhaps phainon was just frozen in place.

but to think that his cerulean eyes would then wander from one of yours eyes to another, eventually down to your lips and back to your eyes, would lead his eyes to glisten with something similar to mischief and…—

“oh god, please don’t tell me you just licked your lips,” you groan irritatedly.

at the mention that phainon seemed to jolt. “whaaaat?? ho…” the chrysos heir tries to play it off, by innocently looking away, but the smile that crinkled at the corners of his lips told another story.

“wanted to kiss me so bad that you tried chapping your lips by licking them, seriously?” you remark sarcastically, not expecting anything out of it.

“‘wanted to kiss me so bad’ title of your sextape,” phainon whispers in a silly voice, trying to imitate yours in the process.  “phainon!” you lightly slap him on the shoulder, cracking a smile while doing so. 

“can i still get the kiss, though?” 

it’s not the way he says it because his eyes say more than enough. those blue eyes of his were going to be the death of you at some point—you just know it.

end note: well, actually, he was just pleading like a puppy who had been kicked out by his owner, begging to be taken back

this is dedicated to the og phainon fucker who posted 10 insta stories with the same picture of phainon and different songs: @azullumi (who would've thought...) ANYWAY azul my beloved sweetheart, i cherish you more than anyone. i think especially in those times, the periods where i struggle and suffer in misery for various reasons, i remember that i have friends who care about me, and that most importantly includes you. yes, indeed, love is supposed to feel safe and whenever I'm with you i feel safe. your words are like raindrops dribbling down my skin and cleansing me from all the impurities and harms i have inflicted. you're so much more than just an online friend to me, you're my platonic soulmate and my comfort person. it's been a year since we've known each other now and that's actually so surreal, don't you think? love you lots xx

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[n0tamused]

HSR characters as dragons

A/N: Hellloo, it is I once more with my dragon rambles. This time we're moving onto HSR a bit more. I do hope you all like how these turned out, and if you'd like any specific character turned into a dragon, please do lemme know in the comments or reblogs. Idk when I'll do the next part, but I do plan to continue this little series.

Content: Dr. Ratio, Luocha and Blade as dragons, x reader, gn reader, fluff, angst(Blade's part)

Dr Ratio:

-A lot don’t consider him a dragon, and they’d have a point since visually Dr. Ratio does lack in the stereotypical dragon aspects, and he himself would classify himself as a “gryphon” much more than a dragon. 

-Nonetheless, he makes the list of many dragon related magazines and novels and research papers

-Dr. Ratio is huge (doctor- you’re huge!)(not sorry) in this dragon form, he certainly does not lack in mass either, hiding quite the muscular form under all the feathers and fluff which he pays a lot of attention to

-One of the life goals he has set is that search for knowledge and more knowledge and to cure the illness called ignorance and stupidity. This life-long dedication has brought him to a lot of places, and a lot of forgotten where he truly hails from.

-Due to his size, he usually cannot fit in many places, and since he frequents cities, schools and so on, he is more often seen in his human form, handling his business accordingly and swiftly. He is calculated, and sometimes considers his beastly form something that represents 2 things. 2-The future version of what he wants to achieve; dragons and gryphons are often classified as hoarders of knowledge, being one of the wisest species that there is, and if he could achieve that peak form, he might have a better time fulfilling his goal. And 2-A representation of a more negative side of himself, driven more by beastly instincts. Quite the contradiction to the first point, which led Ratio to some insecurities about his form. He doesn’t want to risk being impulsive or acting on animalistic impulse, so he doesn’t take on the form that often at all.

-He doesn’t flaunt it either, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive of gorgeous to look at when he does take on the form of the giant bird-dragon

-Due to his build, he is quite well prepared should a fight arise - but as per his morals and protocol, he would much rather take the diplomatic route. Although if the intimidation factor would have any good use, he may arrive at the negotiation site in his dragon form, showing off his size and big claws before reverting to his human form when he lands.

-Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, but his fur and fluff is so soft and he also smells really nice. (I could fall asleep in his fluff and never wake up)

-He is really cautious in his dragon form, stepping lightly and gingerly around anything that could be damaged or broken easily, specifically you. Speaking of that - for a dragon his size he really does step lightly. His footsteps don’t echo or tremble the ground like you may expect, and also similarly - he flies very silently. You don’t hear him approaching at all.

-He would let you pet him only after a lot of nagging, feeling a bit embarrassed mentally about the situation as he just sits there and then there’s you, a tiny human hopping around him all giddy and with stars in your eyes as you pet him and maybe even try to climb him. He’s grumpy, but he is flattered- especially since it is you bringing forth all this mirth and compliments for this beastly form, and also him as a human too

-He’s also ambidextrous, both in human and dragon form. 

-.... I'm tempted to say that in dragon form he can also use his hind legs as hands too due to this... like bro is skilled okay, knowledge gave him writing buffs lmao

Luocha:

-(pretty dragon pretty dragon-)

-A very kind looking dragon, gentle and smelling of spring and reminiscent of a bountiful harvest with his pale gold scales and flowing golden mane.

-It is unknown where exactly he came from, as he sort of just appeared one day and came to exist within the people’s memories

-Some of the jewelry decorating his mane and body were gifts from some youngsters he came across. He accepted these gifts and polished them before putting them on himself, wearing the gifts with pride, earning the trust of the locals smoothly and swiftly with his humble demeanor

-He is well versed in medicinal herbs and has offered his aid to many individuals, even fellow dragons. While he does frequent his dragon form a lot, as it also makes carrying wares easier, he is still human and both dragon and human need to eat. While he has offered free services to those in dire need, he does charge others, and although his prices are not high, the price is still there.

-Some claim he uses magic to grow his herbs, since everyone that got their wares of herbs from him claim that they instantly felt better, after a sniff or a first sip. 

-His front legs are a bit shorter, making his hips stand a bit higher when he is walking on all fours, but he is also able to walk on his hind legs, and his front legs are very flexible. He can harvest and plant his own herbs just fine in his dragon form. His heavy tail gives him a great balance and if need be he can run very fast. He is quite agile, whether it be on 2 or 4 feet and, despite the gentle nature, can fight.

-You can often catch him laying down in some sun-kissed spot near the city, surrounded by kids after his business hours, all kids admiring his form; playing with his mane or claws or scarves on his body, one kid is braiding little braids on one side, and there’s a kid that somehow  climbed their way up onto his forehead, holding onto his bangs for dear life. Luocha lays his head down, huffing as the kids exhaust themselves jumping and playing. Although if the sun is setting he doesn’t hold back on telling them to go home or telling them some ghost tale to scare them back into their parent’s arms. 

-He does love picking you up too if he is feeling cheeky, setting you on his back or his head as he walks back to your shared residence in that place.

A:n: Luocha is one of my favorite designs that I’ve done so far, look at him auhfoisfahofsg

Blade:

-Once a young, moon-kissed and pale dragon was now a shell of his former self, with only small patches of pale fluff standing out as a faint reminder of what he once was.

-His illness made spiky protrusions grow from his underbelly and it ruined his maw as well. However formidable it all made him, dark and scary, he was in constant pain.

-He is rarely ever seen, and ever since the ‘incident’ he has become a ghost tale to scare the kids with, a warning to any other long-life species as to what may happen if they follow down his route and what can happen if they're struck with the same illness as him

-Blade avoids any reflective surfaces in which he may look at himself, as that can sometimes make his mara flare up. He often spends his time in solitude, be it doing missions or spending his time in forgetfulness. Forgetting has become a hobby now, staring at the dark walls of some cave he found as he slowly realizes his memories are shrinking. It's as if all his puzzle pieces are being taken away from him, thrown away or hidden from his clutches.

-Blade frequently takes the form of the dragon, the pain seems more manageable when he is huge and terrifying. A lot of people that catch a glimpse of him also stay far far away, and unless they're the object of his mission - he won't go after them either. The sight of him alone is terrifying. 

-Big curled horns that are dark gray like the dark side of the moon, and if you look close enough there's small shimmers in the shadow clad corners of his scales and horns. Up close he is…pretty in his own right, his subconscious struggling to keep the remaining pieces of his past intact through physical attributes.

-His long flowing mane is soft and well kept, even if Blade doesn't particularly pay much attention to it, or the other fluff spots on his body. 

-He doesn't know where the jewelry in his hair came from, but there's something about it that forbids him from removing it. 

-The red sash around him was put there by Kafka and you, and if often maintained by you two. And there's something intimate about tying the bow at his back or putting the big golden clips into his fur. It's the trust he puts into you, and while it may seem like such a mundane action like helping someone button up their shirt, it means a lot more when Blade is in question, someone who doesn't let anyone else touch him or go near him.

-I think it is safe to say that this bad boy can fight. And fight he does. His mara has hardened his teeth further, and if any fall out during a scuffle, another one will take its place soon after. Although he is a bit long, he is quite strong. The only disadvantage he has is the fact that he is flightless. His species might as well fall into some branch of a drake. He can breathe fire though, and that ability has served him before in making weapons - these days though he doesn't use it much. He has teeth and claws, and that's enough. 

-During more easy days, he does like having you around, when his mara is silent and not dragging him under, your presence is comforting. He'll just lay down near you and soak in your presence. He will scoff or huff if you decide to shuffle closer, but he will most likely give in in times like these. Touch him, run your fingers through his fur, the fluff and the mane, he'll close his eyes and sigh. 

Size chart:

-Listen, I had a hard time trying to figure out sizes for them since they'd almost the same, but in the end I settled with this.

-Dr Ratio > Luocha > Blade

-Blade is huge but he is more long lol, and if it came to a hypothetical fight with either of the other two, Blade is winning no argument there, unless they yank him into the skies and slam him down idk

-There is a little difference in size between them tbh

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[feefivefoe]

The Damian bonding post I promised.

The first few times is him just standing at your door, asking to be let in. If this does not work, he will soon switch to already being in your home by the time you get back.

He's willing to start polite, but if you insist on being stubborn, he'll just pick the lock or climb in through the window

Shouldn't this kid be at school or something?

But reader is an expert at ignoring inconveniences in life, and just pretends he isn't there for a while. Disregarding any conversation attempts even when he's standing right in front of you and refusing to move. Lying face down on the couch, wishing it would swallow you whole so that you wouldn't have to go to work tomorro- DID THIS KID JUST SIT ON YOU.

It's kind of like having a cat for a while. You occasionally return home to find a small creature demanding your attention, but this one talks and expects answers. You actively avoid answering questions that actually tell him anything about your life. Sure, you know any Robin can just follow you, but if he's gonna find out, he at least has to put in the work.

Very quickly he gets tired of hanging around your apartment. This slum house is below the both of you. He starts trying to talk you into going back to the 'family home.' Barf.

You're still heavily guarded against him, and he recognizes that. He doesn't LIKE it, but he knows it.

So he essentially bribes you. Starts inviting you to more expensive restaurants than you could ever go to on your own. A sibling outing!

Of course you know there are strings attached. There always are in this cesspool of a city. But free food is free food, and in this economy? Who in their right mind would turn down a free meal.

At this point, reader still thinks the rest of the family doesn't even remember them, and Jason is dead. So to them, this is just Bruce's newest kid having a fleeting interest. They don't think it'll last, and they certainly don't see it progressing to them having contact with the rest of the family.

So sure, they'll entertain the kid for a few hours a few times a week in order to eat some rich people food using the Wayne family money.

Damian is happy with the arrangement. His sibling is out in public with him, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the general public. You've been out of the public eye long enough that nobody knows who you are. There are insidious rumors at first.

Any questions are answered with a planned out response.

"Stop harassing my sibling. Our father gave us money for dinner, so we're going to enjoy it."

Now Gotham knows that you're Bruce's kid. And people with too much time on their hands now connect the dots to the handful of news stories that came out when you first joined the family. The only time you really spent in the public eye.

You couldn't go back to being a recluse now if you wanted to.

If the food and occasional alcoholic beverage cause you to lower your guard enough to start talking about where you work, even if it's just naming a chain?

He certainly won't complain! He'll pass that along to Drake or something as grunt work. Get the place shut down or something so you'll stop being stubborn and come home already.

Having meals with just the two of you is nice and all, and he isn't eager to share with the rest of your family, but the comfort of home would surely be better than all the stares, right?

[zorosangell]

DAMNNNN THAT SHANKS’ DAUGHTER FIC IS *CHEF’S KISS*💋 more shanks’ daughter content pls🙏🤲🏼

⛥ﾟ・。 receipt

synopsis: part two of reading -- a rude store manager and an unruly gang of bounty hunters prove how much zoro DOES NOT play about the daughter of red-haired shanks (i.e you)

cw: can be read as part two or a standalone tbh, reader uses magic, fluffy fluff, comfort, protective zoro, slightly emotionally constipated zoro, reader is BAD, reader is very femme fatale-ish, reader is a bit of a freak at the end, their relationship is so cutesy

a/n: i used edits of kiara and jj as research for this lol

"(y/n), is this really necessary?" Zoro sighed for the hundredth time, going stiff as your hand slid up his chest once again, before rising to hold his jaw.

Like clockwork, a familiar flush began to burn up his neck, forcing a smirk to curl on your wine-colored lips.

"Of course," you smiled, pressing a firm kiss on his cheek before pulling away to see your handiwork. "How else am I supposed to know which one looks best on you?"

At that, your swordsman scoffed, eyes rolling to glance at a nearby mirror, which detailed at least thirty different shades of red kiss marks strewn all over his face, neck, and chest.

Not to mention the plethora of bags from varying boutiques gripped tightly in his hands.

'I don't know how much more of this I can take...'

The two of you had been out on the town from practically sun-up to sundown, window shopping and store hopping to your heart's content.

Key word being your.

Zoro, the "unlucky bastard"—a name given by the ship's cyborg—had the privilege of not only being your personal bag rack for the day, but also your personal pocketbook.

Safe to say, after ten hours of binge shopping, both the swordsman and his wallet were ready to go home.

"Oh, don't give me that face," you giggled, cupping his cheek as you snatched up one of the department store's complimentary wipes, using it to rub off the lipstick stains. "The lady's already ringing me up. We can go soon."

The words were practically music to his ears, his shoulders visibly sinking as he let out a relieved sigh, the sight pulling another laugh from your lips.

"And since you've been such a good sport, I figured you deserved something nice to go with dinner tonight."

With a cheeky grin, you bent over to rummage through a bag he didn't recognize, before finally pulling out a large, green bottle of high-grade sake.

"Now we're talkin'!" he grinned, dropping the bags and pulling you into his side, pressing two, firm kisses into your temple. "This is the good stuff."

Knowingly, you chuckled, throwing an arm around his neck, "I know, I know. I'm the best girlfriend on the planet. You don't have to tell me."

Jokingly, Zoro rolled his eyes, unable to bite back the smile rising to his lips.

Many were surprised to see that you and the swordsman had gotten together, given your very high maintenance lifestyle, playful personality, and rather daunting lineage.

But to the man himself?

It couldn't have made more sense.

You were a woman who knew what she wanted, and didn't settle for anything less.

Sure, you were a bit more forward, but that kept him on his toes.

And what many failed to realize past the shield of your father's name was that you were a genuinely sweet, kind, and generous woman.

You just kept your cards close to chest, like any child of a Yonko would.

"Ahem," a voice interjected, pulling the swordsman out of his you-induced stupor.

Confused, you turned around, raising a brow at the sight of a rather stuffy-looking man, his lips pulled taut and suit impossibly tight.

"There a problem, sir?" you asked, tone soft.

Quickly, his beady eyes flicked to the bottle in your hand, before sharply returning to your face.

"I hope you have a receipt for that," he warned, tone expectant.

"Of course," you nodded, turning to rummage through your purse. "I have it right here."

"Sure, you do..." he muttered under his breath, the comment not sliding past Zoro for a moment.

His gaze narrowed at the store manager, unappreciative of the sly remark.

"No, no, it's here. I just put it in," you assured, pushing past your compacts and lip gloss and emergency switchblade. "I bought the bottle a few minutes ago."

"Look, miss, stealing is not tolerated here at Batharby's—" "I didn't steal it," you corrected, quickly.

"Then produce a receipt."

"I will. Just give me a second to find it."

"Miss, give me back the bottle."

"Sir, I assure you, I paid for this sake. If I wanted to steal it, I would've been long gone by now."

"So you admit you want to steal it!" the manager pointed his finger in your face.

"Watch it," Zoro cut in, sharply, brows furrowing as he stepped in front of you.

"I know your kind. Filthy pirates who think they can take whatever they want."

"And I know if you don't get that finger out her face, we're going to have a serious problem."

"Look, sir," you sighed, frustration rising in your tone as you peeked out from behind your boyfriend's large frame. "Ask Nari. She was the saleswoman I bought the bottle from."

"I will do nothing of the sort! You could have very well threatened her into corroborating your story."

"I've been here the whole time!"

"Who can tell what sort of sorcery harlots like you can do!"

"Y'know, you're really startin' to piss me off," Zoro spat, harshly yoking up the man by his collar.

"Look! It's Roronoa Zoro and Shank's daughter!" a thug suddenly exclaimed as he burst into the door, about twenty other men in tow. "Told you I saw 'em around town!"

"Shit," Zoro cursed, freezing in place.

"I have a name outside of my father you kn-OW!"

Quickly, your swordsman scooped you up, leaping over the counter before making a run for the exit in the back.

"Zo, my clothes!" you whined, wistfully glancing over his shoulder at the decadent bags you were leaving behind.

"I'll buy you some more later!" he assured, pushing past a plethora of racks and mannequins and people before kicking down the exit door and entering the nearby alley.

Where another twenty bounty hunters were waiting for you.

"Hand her over, Pirate Hunter!"

"You're outnumbered!"

"That two billion bounty is mine!"

"Hell, we'll get double that if we ransom her! Shanks is probably rolling in cash!"

"(y/n)—" "I know," you sighed as Zoro put you down, the man quickly ushering you behind himself as he drew his sword.

"You do your thing," you assured, nonchalant as you took a few steps back, snapping your fingers and making a picnic blanket appear out of thin air.

With that out the way, Zoro leaped into action, slicing, dicing, and kicking the ass of all forty thugs in the alley.

Meanwhile, you took a little siesta, conjuring up a picnic basket full of Sanji's signature tea and hors d'oeuvres to snack on while you watched your man work.

"Zo, honey, when you're done, do you want onigiri with sea king meat or without?" you called, looking through the enchanted basket for his favorite food.

"With," he answered, calmly, as he clashed with three hunters at the same time, "M'startin to work up an appetite."

Nodding, you pulled out a plate-full, setting it down on the spot opposite of you as the fight raged on—with Zoro having the clear upper-hand.

"Can we join your tea party, sweetheart?!" one of the thugs sneered, attempting to run up behind you with six allies in tow.

"How stupid can you be!"

"Our boss is gonna have a hell of a time with you!"

"Bold of you to turn your back on us!"

"Cocky bitch!"

Taking a sip of tea, you remained unbothered, allowing the men to wind up their attacks as you remained facing forward.

"Scream for me!"

In an instant, Zoro appeared behind you, shielding you as he dished out a deadly attack, the slash taking them all out with ease.

"You all right?" he asked, glancing back at you.

"Loud bunch, aren't they?" you grumbled, rubbing your ear.

At your adorable pout, a smile broke out on Zoro's lips, a certain flutter introducing itself to his stomach.

You looked so beautiful sitting there, completely and utterly trusting in his ability to protect you, not a care in the world.

You didn't have to worry about stuff like that anymore, not with him by your side.

The infamous daughter of Shanks was under the protection of the infamous Pirate Hunter, and nothing come hell or high water was going to change that.

Not even having to turn around, Zoro punched a final hunter in the face, knocking him out with a large spurt of blood.

"Anyways, c'mere. I poured you a cup," you beckoned, holding up some sake.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he grinned, taking a seat across from you.

Smoothly, you passed it off, watching with anticipation as he took a large swig, some leaking out the corner of his mouth.

"Damn, that's good!" he beamed, thoroughly wowed. "Best sake I've had in a while."

Suddenly, without warning, you leaned forward, licking the excess off his chin before pecking his lips with a cheeky smile.

"Mmm, you're right. That is good."

"(y/n)!"

The swordsman was as red as a beet, heart pounding and stomach fluttering once again at the sight of you on all fours, leaning over his lap.

"What?" you asked with false innocence, internally fawning over his adorably awkward response.

For a man so tough, he sure was shy.

"You taste good, Zo. No shame in it."

[fuctacles]

a boy worth fighting getting trampled for

"trampled" for @corrodedcoffinfest BF event | T | 856 | Corroded King (implied and open for interpretation) | no cw | Black Friday, banter, open relationship, polycule-ish, appreciating Steve Harrington moment, canon-ish universe | Ao3

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes!" Gareth and Jeff nod in unison.

"No," whines Eddie, thumbing at the rip in his beloved t-shirt. 

"Eh..." Doug makes a so-so motion with his palm.

Steve sighs. When they asked him for extra muscle on Black Friday, he should have expected an outcome like this. The whole band is brandishing various injuries from being trampled by other shoppers, the worst of which was Gareth's allegedly sprained ankle. He wasn't fussing about it only because a. his mother was a nurse and would look at it as soon as she was back, and b. he kind of deserved it. 

"Well, show me the loot, then," Steve says with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms. The only thing he's seen so far was a shiny new amp he had the misfortune of carrying from the store to his car. 

Eddie digs through his pockets to brandish about half a dozen tapes, none with a cover Steve would recognize. He seems proud of his haul but sours under the unimpressed stare he gets. 

"I got a few vinyls for my folks," Doug shows off his findings, and Eddie scoffs loudly when he gets an approving smile from Steve.

"That's nice," he says. 

Gareth redeems himself by showing a gift for his sister, while Jeff bought probably two dozen string packs for his guitar. 

"Okay, these aren't actually as stupid as I thought," Steve admits reluctantly, sitting on a stack of tires. "Except for you," he points at Eddie. "You have a shitload of tapes already."

Eddie huffs, now him being the one to cross his arms. 

"Sorry, we're not showing what we got for you."

The rest of the guys start shushing him immediately, Jeff even going as far as throwing a string pack at his head. Eddie maturely flips them the bird. 

"You got me stuff?" Steve asks in surprise. 

"Duh," Gareth scoffs, and Jeff flicks him in the ear for it. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Be nice, idiot," Jeff chastises him. 

With a roll of his eyes, Gareth turns to Steve. 

"You're basically a part of the band, we figured it would be nice," he shrugs. 

"But I'm not—"

Doug interrupts him before he can go further with his usual protests.

"You do a lot of the heavy lifting, you co-wrote two songs, and consistently charm venue managers into giving us gigs," he lists off on his fingers. "You're basically like Corroded Coffin's manager, so shut up."

"Yeah, you also give the best blowjobs," Eddie grins, because he loves to ruin a moment, and immediately shields his head from any missiles Jeff might throw his way. But the guy only hums in agreement. 

"That's true," he nods, making Steve flush pink. 

"Well, uh... thanks, I guess," he smiles, a little taken aback. "Waiting til Christmas might kill me, though," he admits with a chuckle. He's always been that kid who looked through all the nooks and crannies of the house to find the gifts early, too curious to sit around and wait. 

The band exchanges thoughtful looks among themselves; they nod and they shrug.

"I guess you can pick one," Jeff decides for all of them. 

Steve's eyes widen. 

"You all got me something?!"

"We couldn't agree on one thing," Doug sighs like it's a topic of a tiring debate. Which, knowing them, might have been.

Steve hums thoughtfully, looking over each of the boys as if his mind wasn't already made. He points his finger, feeling childishly powerful.

"Eddie. You gotta redeem yourself, man."

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn't protest. He bends over the back of the couch to reach for his backpack, and Doug immediately grabs onto his back pocket with a sigh, so he doesn't topple over and add to his injuries. Once Eddie falls back on the cushions with a huff and fixes his hair, he pulls out a familiar packaging. 

Steve looks unimpressed. 

"If this is your way of redeeming yourself—"

But after brandishing a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray, Eddie keeps pulling out more hair products, shampoos, and conditioners that are always sold out whenever Steve tries looking for them.

"Okay, fine. Consider yourself redeemed," he says reluctantly, and Eddie beams at him. He stands up to walk up to him and kisses him softly on the lips before squeezing in to sit between him and Doug. 

"See? Every time!" Gareth throws a hand towards them "He weasels himself out of anything!" 

"It's the dimples, I'm telling you." Jeff shakes his head in disappointment.

Steve, his arm already slung over Eddie, motions for Gareth.

"Well, come over and I'll kiss you too. What? You sprained your ankle and can't walk? Aw, what a shame."

Gareth hisses at him and shows him the finger, which Steve mirrors while making kissy faces. Eddie just preens under his embrace, content like the cat that got the cream. 

"Next year just please plan it better. Wear protective gear and stock the fucking first aid kit."

"You wear a fucking—"

Gareth is interrupted by Jeff's arm putting him into a headlock. 

"We will," he agrees for him. 

regulars: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[luvologyy]

Any Anya dating headcanons? 👀

A/n: hell yeahh I got headcannons for her! Ms girly

Anya relationship headcanons ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Nsfw/sfw so mdni pls!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Anya x f!reader ᵔᴗᵔ

It can take place on the tulpar ship and earth, whatever u wanna do mahal ko ᥫ᭡

Sfw headcanons!

★ her love language is words of affirmation. she doubts herself a lot and needs you to tell her you love her, you’re here, etc. But she'll always be there for you too.

★ she likes to crochet in her free time. She'll crochet you scarves and hats for you!

★ when you guys cuddle, she likes being little spoon. The feeling of your arms wrapped around her and your warm body against hers. She loves it.

★ she cooks the BESTT SOUP. Especially when you're sick, whatever kind of soup you want. She'll have a steamy hot bowl ready for her baby.

★ she's always prepared for when you're sick. Making sure she has the right medicine, enough blankets, a bowl of soup or a cup of tea, and some kisses on the head for her sweet girl.

★ loves to take you on picnic dates and would insist you to not bring any food. She'll have it all prepared.

★ she'll always comfort you if you're having a bad day or if you have any other problems, but anya needs some comfort too. She can get overwhelmed with preparing things and with certain tasks, and she'll need you by her side to make her take her time and LOTSS of hugs and reassurance.

★ if you ever feel the slightest bit of pain in any part of your body, she'll come righttt to you. I mean, she's the nurse. What, did you expect?

"are you okay? Where does it hurt? We're you doing anything physical??" Anya asked with concern in her voice.

"Anya, im okay! I really am! I just sprained my ankle."

"You could've gotten a serious injury, sweetheart. You gotta be more careful."

"ITS A SPRAINED ANKLE."

"..but stilll.."

★ loves going shopping with you. Seeing you try on nice outfits and clothes, seeing you so happy with shopping bags in your hands. It makes her melt.

★ lets you put make-up on her, do skin care, or any other activity that gets you to touch her face. it relaxes her a lot. Anya feels closer to you.

★ doesn't mind if you wear her clothes, she finds it cute, actually. She'll wear your clothes too, she'll sniff your shirt and it'll smell like you. Mmmhhh

★ her favorite kind of date to take you on are aquarium dates or ice skating. She'll love to point out pretty fish and other creatures and tell you fun facts about them. Or yall will just sit together watching a pretty tank filled with jellyfish. Her head resting on your shoulder.

★ she enjoys braiding your hair, no matter if it's long or short. She'll sit on the couch, and you'll sit between her thighs while she works on your hair.

★ Always make sure you've eaten today. And if you didn't... OHH, SHES ALREADY COOKIN SUM FOR YO ASSS.

"Why didn't you eat today??"

"I was just not hungry anyaaa."

🤨... "You know what.. no, I'm making you something to eat."

"No, hon, it's okay!"

"SHUSH YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE."

"Okay.."

★ she'll fix your posture whenever you're standing up or sitting down. She grew up in a proper household, and she WILL NOT have bad posture in her house.

★ just like curly girliess, she'll always fix your appearance or your hair whenever yall go out the house. She just wants you to look neat and nice.

★ likes brushing your hair or playing with your hair, she likes it when you do it to her too!

★ she gets giggly when you guys cuddle, you'll ask her what's funny, and she'll say it's nothing..

★ baby's you when you have period cramps, cradling you in her arms , and kissing your head. Her poor baby.

NSFW HEADCANONS!

★ she graduated university of pussy eatting, SHES THE BESTT.

★ we all know she's the best. She knows all your sensitive spots and where all of your pleasure is.

★ she doesn't mind using toys. She'll use vibratores and dildos with you. But she doesn't like it if they Hella crazy looking or too intense for her. Just the basics like the wands or normal dildos.

★ she isn't super vocal or loud in bed, just some soft moans and whimpers.

★ when you're eating her out, her hands will always be in your hair. She doesn't wanna tug on your hair and hurt you. So she'll dig her nails in your upper back or shoulders. That's how you'll know she'd close.

★ likes scissoring/tribbing, but she'll be too tired to do most of the work. So she'll let you take control and be on top.

★ loves tribbing in missionary, just the feeling of your warm pussy grinding against hers, and feeling her soft clit push against yours. MMH.

★ she prefers to have slow, soft, passionate sex. Nothing rough or too fast.

★ loves it when you wear lingerie for her in bed, seeing the way they wrap around your every curve and body. She thinks you're absolutely gorgeous and model.

★ she doesn't care if you shave or have body hair. she ll support whatever you do. She knows it's normal for hair to grow on your body so she doesn't judge.

★ when she fingers you, she's always patient and going at a steady pace. She'll go faster only when you want her to.

★ RUBS YOUR CLIT WITH HER THUMB WHILE SHE FINGERS YOU AHHH

★ oh my gosh, if you ever do the tongue+finger combo on her, she'll become a whimpering shaking mess. She'll need aftercare.

★ always does aftercare, she loves taking care of you, bathing you, cuddles, and fresh clean, warm pj's after.

★ anya also needs some aftercare, too. She'll be tired afterward and will need comfort and reassurance from you, too. And some bubble baths and take out food. (Honestly real)

★ she's a shooter. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

A/N!: this is for all my gals out there sorry if this isn't the bestt🙁

[gezelligs-world]

I Won’t Stop until that Girl is Mine

(Bada Lee x Jam Republic!Reader)

Summary: A member from Jam Republic let out her frustrations about someone who never knew the word “no”.

Reminder: This work is purely based on the author’s imagination.

"She is just so- argh!" I said while pacing back and forth frustratedly. Ling and Audrey just watched me with amused expressions.

"Why not just give her a chance? She's already showing a consistent effort towards you." Ling said, and Audrey agreed with her statement.

"The word 'no' is not in her vocabulary!" I exclaimed. Just then a knock is heard, Audrey opens the door revealing Tatter.

"Hi Y/n unnie! Bada unnie said to give you this." She handed me a jacket with a number '22' in it.

"What is she planning now?" I asked Tatter but she just shrugged her shoulders.

"Just tell her I said thank you." Tatter nodded and left the room.

"See? Consistent." Ling said after Audrey closed the door.

"I call it obsession. She copies some of my poses on my Instagram posts, when I post a story she will post the same thing, she will even copy my captions?!" I said angrily.

"Shouldn't you be feeling lucky? Everybody has their eyes on her but her eyes are set on you." Audrey said making me sigh. Kirsten comes in, looks like their done.

"How was it?" I asked.

"Yeah, we're doing Bada's." Kirsten said and looked at me with a teasing face.

"Stop that."

"You lose your bet." Kirsten said while chuckling.

"Come on! Just one date?" Bada said while watching me practice with her arms crossed.

"I told you, I'm busy throughout the week." I said and stopped dancing. I grabbed my water which is beside Bada and drank it.

"Aren't you mean enough towards me? Just one date and done." Bada said while staring at me.

"Alright then..." I said making Bada surprised that she straightened her back.

"On one condition..." I turned towards Bada and smirked.

"I will agree to be on a date with you if your choreography gets picked and you got selected as the main dancer." Bada smirked while shaking her head. She cupped my chin and her other hand on my waist. This woman knows my weaknesses.

"You underestimated me, babe." Bada replied cheekily.

"Is it already starting?" I said indicating the main dancer competition for the leaders.

"I think, yeah." Ling said.

"I'll follow you there." Ling nodded and went ahead. I was about to close the door when my eyes landed on the jacket that was given by Bada. I sighed, grabbed the jacket and put it on. The jacket even has a 'Lee' on it at the back above the '22'.

I went to the set and saw the leaders warming up. I saw Tatter pointing towards me with her eyes at Bada, Bada turned her head and smiled at me as I went down the stairs.

I sat beside Latrice and she smirked while analyzing the jacket.

"Nice jacket." I rolled my eyes and slapped her shoulders.

"It's a gift." I said.

"I know, I can tell from the surname at the back." Latrice chuckled at my flustered state. I covered my face and leaned down.

"Who's choreography has been chosen?" Shownu asked through the mic.

"It's mine, Bada." Bada's students cheered making me smile secretly in admiration.

"As the leader, I wanted to show our physical strength and aura. The powerful side of us. I considered what I think is the most important, which is the dance you want to try. There's a move of lightning a lighter. I tried to put those kinds of things in the choreography." Bada said with a lot of confidence.

"And Kirsten, was there anything hard during the practice?" I looked at my leader in curiosity.

"Dance, again, is the universal language. There weren't any difficulties, I think." I clapped lightly, satisfied with her answer.

The showdown begins and as expected from the leaders, all of them are good. My eyes somehow always come back at Bada's figure, her body control screams ownership of her choreography. Part of me wants Kirsten to steal it but at the same time, it sucks when someone stole the choreo you worked hard for, right?

The time came where Kirsten and Bada. The judges chose Bada and she immediately turned towards me and smirked. Kirsten and Bada hugged and even kissed Kirsten's cheeks which surprised me. Some of the dancers glanced at me as they know that Bada is pursuing me.

"Alexa, play 'jealous' by Nick Jonas." I nudge Latrice's shoulders. Bada's members went to hug her to congratulate her. Me and the rest also went Kirsten and hugged her tightly.

"It's alright Leader, you still slayed." I winked at her and Kirsten chuckled.

"Yah! Y/n L/n!" I turned towards where the voice came from and saw that it's Bada.

"You still owe me a date!" All of the people in the room began to scream, including the judges. Bada's members and mine make us go forward to be close at each other. Bada opened her arms for me but I got a little hesitant. Emma pushes me instead, making me crash at Bada. Bada gives Emma a thumbs up while laughing.

"Why bother announcing it when you know I have no choice?" I looked up and our eyes met.

"Just in case you forgot about it." She said and pecked my cheeks. The crowd went wild again, some even jumped. I cover my face with my hands and bury my face on Bada's chest. Bada just lets me, enjoying the situation I'm in.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt2

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: were in the 2009 season. i also grabbed some ideas from a film quote so if you notice that, hello hehe. hope you enjoy, let me know your comments

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama

2009, Albert Park

Moving from Toro Rosso to Red Bull has been the source of excitement of Sebastian ever since he signed the contract last December. He was excited to work with a bigger team and it opened up better opportunities for a championship which is why he feels really giddy walking to Albert Park.

"Seems like a good year for a championship?"Christian greeted Sebastian.

"I'm looking forward to that, the car feels nice"Sebastian agreed.

When the two walked to the garage, they immediately saw the Webber siblings discussing with some of the mechanics. Mark immediately waved at Sebastian.

Sebastian can tell that their dynamics improved since it was announced that they will be teammates. They spent a lot of time together in Milton Keynes so they found each other tolerable. It was surprising that now he feels a lot more closer to Mark than to Y/N.

He was actually expecting her to be around when they said Mark will be around Milton Keynes but the female Webber never showed up. Mark says that Y/N has been taking some time off since she will be busy during the season. Sebastian thinks he might be the reason why she has been absent so he felt a little relieve to see her.

"Excited for the first race of the season?" Y/N asked.

"The car seems alright, I think we can bring some good points in"Sebastian replied.

"We're gonna bring in a challenge this year, I can feel that we can compete for the drivers and constructors championship this year"Mark added

"How about Brawn, do you think they'll be a challenge?"Y/N wondered.

Sebastian heard about the team during the winter break. It was sort of a crazy story about how everything happened. He never saw Jenson or Rubens as a threat so he thinks that they might be an okay team that he doesn't have to worry about.

"They are a new team, I'm sure they won't be a threat" famous last words.

Brawn GP turns out to be a slight threat. Sebastian calls it a slight threat since this was only the first race and maybe its just their luck that they managed to pull away. They have to see how they perform in the next few races.

It was quite a bummer that Red Bull was unable to bring any points. It frustrated him heavily since he started 3rd and managed to stay 2nd the whole race until that unfortunate collision with Kubica that ruined his race.

Mark managed to finish the race but he finished 13th. Still out of the points.

As Sebastian was replaying the whole thing in his hotel room, he heard soft knocks at his door. He didn't remember ordering anything from room service so he was a bit confused as he headed to open the door.

"Hi Seb" it was Y/N "I was sent here by Mark to ask you if you want to go out and eat. You are in Australia and our family is from Australia and it will be a little bit rude if we didn't treat you out in Australia"

"That's too many Australia in one sentence"

"Have dinner with us and the family?"she simplifies "Please?"

There was not much to do anyway, Seb thinks so he accepted the offer. It might also be a good start to rekindle the friendship since its been a while since the two spoke with each other.

"You're driving?"Sebastian asked

"Of course, what kind of host am I if I'm going to make you drive"

The drive was reminiscent of Sebastian's memory when they were in Germany. Only that the view is more of beaches rather than the greens and the cold of Europe.

"I heard stories about you and Mark, it seems that you two are getting along quite well"Y/N opened up the conversation

"Oh he talks about me?"

"Well as his assistant, I have to ask about his work dynamics so yeah you have been a talking point of our conversation"

"That's nice"Sebastian smiles "How is life treating you? I didn't see you in Milton Keynes"

She lets out a heavy sigh and Sebastian could tell that there is a certain tiredness in her eyes. Maybe its true what Mark said that Y/N is actually drained from a season of F1.

"I just have to get away. A lot of pressure to deliver"

Sebastian understands that. Its probably the reason why he also tried to be understanding with Mark's situation as well. He knows that at the end of the day, the sports was brutal in one way or another. Everyone eventually gets that pressure to deliver.

"Let's not talk about f1, lets just talk about basic life things" Sebastian steered the conversation.

There was a smile gracing both of their faces because its just Sebastian and Y/N again. No last names, no championships, just them.

2009, Sepang International Circuit

"I hate wet races" Y/N confirms.

She doesn't get why everyone gets a bit excited with wet racing but she can't find how this is enjoyable for some people. Isn't the thrill of racing beyond speed limit exciting enough for them? Now they even want to race under dangerous weather conditions.

"It test your skills as a driver" Sebastian defended "Back me up here Mark"

"You're on your own Seb"was the reply of the older Webber. He did not want to take side with anyone.

The trio has been sitting at the garage waiting for the race to start. There was still 20 minutes left and Y/N has been stressing about how the dark clouds are looming over. She thinks it may start under dry conditions then go to wet in a snap.

"You can test your skills by overtaking and setting the fastest lap" Y/N noted

"Its all about strategy and taking risks"Sebastian assured.

"You better make sure that the both of you finish the race"

"No promises, Seb might hit me again"Mark joked

"Oh c'mon, I said I was sorry about that"

True enough to Y/N's prediction, the race started on the dry conditions then it ended up to be a wet race. Y/N had her fair share of wet races but this was the most terrifying for her opinion. There were puddles and the drivers can't see a thing with the rain blocking their vision.

It gotten so bad that Y/N actually went out of the driver's room to check on the status of the drivers.

"Aren't they red flagging the race?"she asked one of the mechanics

"There is still nothing from the stewards but Mark is also insisting that the race should be stopped"

Y/N was glad that she wasn't the only sane Webber around.

Just then there was a crash on screen and the weather made it very difficult for them to decipher which car spun but it was for sure a Red Bull. Y/N felt a bit comforted that it just spun without hitting anyone or anything.

"Its confirmed, that is Seb's car"

"Safety car for the lap"

"Webber is gonna ask to stop the race"

There was a flurry of emotions inside the garage. The race was stopped at lap 33 and there was the question if they will wait for it to restart or is it called off completely.

"I'm in 15th, this is not good"Sebastian was already groaning. He missed out on the points again by a big margin.

"Hey 15th is okay than dnf or being hospitalized"

Knowing Sebastian, Y/N knew he wanted to do well and it didn't seem like it was going to how Sebastian had it in his mind earlier this year. She gave him a comforting pat.

"Do you want some ice cream?"she asked

Sebastian looked at her as if she grew two heads "In this cold weather? You are asking for ice cream?"

"Ice cream heals people's boo boo" Y/N shrugged "Besides Kimi made me hungry for ice cream"

"You are crazy" Sebastian started "But c'mon lets go get some ice cream"

2009, Circuit de Catalunya

Mark: Can you see me before qualis at the back of the garage Mark: need your help, please

Sebastian never received any urgent texts from Mark so he must say that his curiosity is piqued by it. He immediately set out to meet Mark in the designated location.

"You need me?"Sebastian asked.

"Sebastian, just the person I needed" Mark seems elated to see him "Listen I need you to do me a favor"

"Okay as long as I don't have to hide a body"

"What?"

"Nevermind that. It was a joke Mark"Sebastian wanted to facepalm himself. Mark never seems to understand his humor especially when he was too excited with things.

"So May 15 is coming up. I need your help to distract my sister and maybe tour her around Spain while we do some preparation at the hotel. I just need your help to distract her for like 3-4 hours"Mark explained.

"15th?What's on the 15th?"

Sebastian was pretty sure that there was no race or other commitments that is happening on the 15th. He tries to rack his head for any important dates on the 15th but he can't remember a thing. Meanwhile, Mark looked offended that Sebastian didn't know the significance of May 15.

"Its Y/N's birthday"Mark answered.

Oh. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, Y/N never told her birthday. He felt like an idiot after realizing how they spend a lot of time together but he still haven't asked her about her birth date. But now that he knows, he makes a mental note of it.

"Okay. I think I can do that. Leave it to me"

"Thanks Seb, I owe you big time"

Seb: Are you still here at the 15th? Y/N: Why are you asking? Seb: I'm feeling adventurous. What do you say about getting lost in spain? Y/N: hmm sounds nice. Count me in.

"How long till we get there"Y/N asked.

They have driven for quite some time already and Sebastian promised that this place will be worth the wait. Sebastian will not admit it but maybe he got a little bit of lost in directions for the past 20 minutes and he is just starting to get the hang of the destination right now.

"Just a few minutes more" Sebastian assured. He can already see the spires of the building so he felt a sigh of relief escape.

"We were lost a while ago, aren't we?"

Sebastian just give out a grin as he continues to drive closer to the place. He stopped at the designated parking lot and unlocked the door.

"Adventure awaits Miss Y/N, welcome to La Sagrada Familia"Sebastian introduced.

When Sebastian was looking for a place to go, the La Sagrada Familia was one of the top hit. Sebastian didn't even consider if she is religious or what but he thinks she can appreciate the reminder that this architecture is still a work in progress and it has managed to endure a lot throughout the years of construction.

"This is beautiful" was her response.

"They say that this will be the most beautiful form of apology when it is finished"Sebastian informed "This was built for the city's sins"

"I beg to disagree"Y/N replied.

It was now Sebastian's turn to be curious.

"I think this is the grandest gesture of someone's love"Y/N elaborated "This went on for years, decades, centuries-they did not stop loving Barcelona that they continue working so that the city will be forgiven"

It was a pretty analogy in Sebastian's mind. He felt like no amount of his research could compare with that realization.

If the outside of the cathedral looks majestic, the inside is beyond what they could imagine. The both of them let out a small woah as they stepped foot into the church.

"You know you can make three wishes when its your first time to enter a church, they say it comes true when you do that"Y/N mentioned "You wanna give it a go?"

Sebastian nodded and he noticed how Y/N immediately closed her eyes.

'A world drivers championship. Happiness. Y/N receiving her wish' was what Sebastian prayed for.

He takes out a peek and Y/N was still in her own solemn state. Sebastian wonders what is it that she wishes for and he hopes that this three wishes thing works. He really wanted Y/N to fulfill her wishes, it will make him extremely happy.

"What did you wish for Y/N"

"Safe races, World Peace, and points for you and Mark" she answered

"Oh c'mon, you don't have things about yourself. Don't you have any personal wishes? Like your own goals or your own things?"Sebastian quizzed

Y/N knew deep down that she wanted something but she knew that saying it at the moment might not be ideal. But heaven knows, she prayed for Sebastian Vettel to stay in her life.

2009, Nürburgring

Y/N didn't mind that she was in heels, she was running as fast as she could to parc ferme. The moment that the last lap started and Mark was still leading, she immediately headed straight to the destination. Their father was already at the pits waiting with the signboard.

There was certainly a mix of emotions. Y/N's mind reel back to how Mark started pole and then had an incident with Hamilton at the start of the race. It caused him to have a penalty which lessens his chances of winning but Mark was in for a mega-drive. He managed to regain all the places that he lost from the penalty and here he is leading the Grand Prix.

Y/N felt her ears ringing as the crowd roars as the chequered flag appeared. Every speaker was blaring out the obvious, this is Mark Webber's first win in Formula 1.

People are starting to line up near the barricades. Y/N doesn't care if she was being pushed but she will be the first one to meet her brother and congratulate him once he gets out of the car.

"YOU DID IT! YOU ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED IT" Y/N screamed to Mark.

Mark did not miss his sister and immediately hugged her tight. He kept on repeating his thanks for her support and for not giving up on him. Y/N could only choke on a sob with the cameras flashing the emotional sibling moment that they shared.

"Congratulations Mark"Sebastian appeared next to him and Mark gave him a hug.

It was a happy day for the Red Bull team for securing double podiums. The whole Red Bull team cannot contain their happiness as the two walked to their podium spots. It is certainly a day that warrants a much needed night out.

So fast forward and Red Bull rented out a club to celebrate the victory of today. Y/N was certain that she deserved to let loose a little with the events that happened today.

Shots after shots, Y/N managed to drink everything up until the room started to feel a little bit wavy. It was a good thing that Sebastian has not been much of a party animal, he knew that this was Mark's time to celebrate so he won't be taking too much of a spotlight.

"You are seriously wasted, you should stop drinking now" Sebastian said, catching Y/N before she could trip in her heels.

"my brother won, can't you believe ittttt"her words are slurred.

"Yep, I'm getting you water and were going back to the hotel"

"NOOOOOO"

But Sebastian has already carried her out of the club. Sebastian knew that there are probably much more people wasted there but Sebastian was focused on Y/N. She was the reason why Sebastian decided to sober up the entire night. Knowing that Mark will be celebrating, no one will take care of Y/N.

Sebastian wanted to take care of her.

The trip to the hotel was smooth as Y/N was asleep at the car. Sebastian was giggling when he picked her up and she started rambling about how there are different kinds of beautiful in formula 1.

"But you know what's the most beautiful thing in f1 that I have seen?" she asked "Its the time where I saw Sebastian Vettel test the car"

Sebastian got curious, he didn't know that Y/N was around when he tested the car.

"And it was so dreamy. There was this beauty about him and you know he is so passionate. He isn't a paid driver or maybe he is but damnnnn the way he raced and the way he loved the wheels"Y/N rambles on.

It feels illegal for Sebastian to be hearing this and he knows he should not take advantage of Y/N's truthful drunkness to hear what she thinks about him. But somehow, Sebastian stayed with her. He tucked her in the bed and left a glass of water at the bedside table.

"Did you know Sebastian Vettel is the prettiest boy ever. He is so pretty like how the sun is so pretty to the plants" Sebastian also laughed at the comparison. Y/N was really really drunk.

"I like Sebastian"

"What?" was Sebastian's shocked question.

"I like sebastian, what sue me? I think he is a pretty pretty boy"

Sebastian feels like his heart is pounding but he has to stay cool. She is drunk right now and she might not be aware of the things she is saying.

"You get some rest, lets talk about this in the morning" Sebastian said as he left the girl.

It took every ounce of his being to prevent himself from confessing that he likes her a lot too. But Sebastian will do his confession sober. If Y/N remembers this incident then they will talk about it. If not, he will wait for the right timing to discuss the feelings he has for her.

Morning came and Y/N did not remember anything.

[devoted-horror]

Haiiiii :3 this might be a little silly and your free to ignore it but can I request any slasher or dbd killer of your choice with an S/O (gender-neutral) who likes giving handmade gifts? But if you can include Julie from Legion then I'll love you forever 🙏🙏🙏🙏

a/n: hi sorry this took so long nd that it's so short </3 i'm trying to get back into writing and am using this as a way to do that so!!

includes: the legion (julie), the trickster, baby firefly, and brahms heelshire.

warnings: typical slashers and dbd warnings, mentions of murder, technically captivity in brahms' part if u think too hard on it, jiwoon's kinda mean but i mean. he's jiwoon. idk it's pretty light tbh.

THE LEGION (JULIE)

And people (Joey, mostly) say romance is dead!

If this is before the fog, then she 100% keeps any gifts you give her on her dresser in her bedroom. She'll admire every intricate little detail, knowing you put a lot of effort into making something that suits her style.

If this is after the fog, it really depends on whether you're a killer or survivor. If you're a killer, Julie will probably be a little surprised the first time you give her a gift, mostly because she doesn't interact much with the other killers like the other members of Legion.

She'll be flattered, of course, but she could also suspect you of having ulterior motives of some kind.

But if you're a survivor, she'll be really shocked the first time you give her a gift, and maybe even the next few times afterwards. Why would you, a survivor, even consider making her, a killer, gifts?

She's murdered so many people, probably murdered you, too many times to keep count, so when you snuck up on her during a trial to give her a gift, it left her feeling... conflicted.

When she returns from the trial, the other members of Legion question her on the little bunny figure you had gifted her, made of scrap presumably from other trials.

Susie thought it was cute, and maybe she's a little jealous but she'd probably ask Julie to get you to make her one too the next time you're in a trial with her. Frank is equally as jealous, if not a little more, and he'd probably say the gift was dumb but that's a lie. Joey doesn't care at all, honestly. It's not his business.

She keeps any gift you give her, and if the entity allows it, she may even hang them as little charms on her hooks.

THE TRICKSTER

This guy is used to getting gifts, he almost expects it.

As an idol, it was only natural for his fans to give him gifts, be it during little meet and greets or by other... intruding means that leads to them being featured on his next release.

So when you first start giving him gifts, he might not even react much. The most he'll give is a small 'how nice' that was ingrained into him by his manager.

And if you're a survivor, he might even go as far as to mock you for giving him a gift when his only real interest is hearing you scream. Bastard is mean as hell we should stone him.

I can't say he'd keep your gifts. Unless he's by some chance formed a bond with you, chances are he will throw anything you give him away. The attention is nice, but... he doesn't care.

And if he does form a bond with you, then he will most likely demand you make him things, if we're being honest. Like I said, the attention is nice, and he thrives off it. You giving him gifts just solidifies in his mind that you like him.

He's mostly fond of things that can be worn as jewelry, especially earrings. He'll mix and match the earrings, and he might even go as far as to show the little gifts off to other killers and survivors. He annoys both sides equally doing this.

But his favorite gift by far is the little charm you made to hang from the handle of his bat. It's like a declaration of love to him. You, accepting every little part of him.

So yeah. Give him everything you have. He wants it all.

BABY FIREFLY

She absolutely adores any gift you give her, but it's tenfold when you make it yourself.

The Firefly family is filled with some of the most creative people she knows, so she always enjoys seeing people just... create.

Maybe you're part of the family, or maybe you're some person she met at a club when she and Otis went out searching for their next playthings.

Either way, you have her attention, baby.

She'll wear anything you make her, if it's designed that way. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings... if she can wear it, then trust me. She'll rock it.

Baby will reciprocate any gifts you give her, so it's like a never-ending contest of who can give the other the most gifts.

She'll even go as far as to pester Otis into helping her out with some of the more elaborate gifts she makes you.

It's all sweet and cute and it makes Otis wanna gouge his eyes out every time he has to witness you two give each other gifts.

But yeah! All of your gifts are kept in her room. Any jewelry you make is kept at her wardrobe, and the little trinkets and drawings are displayed for her to admire whenever she wants.

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

Brahms knew you were the one for him the moment you started making little accessories for the doll.

He liked the fact that you were so creative, that you somehow managed to make gifts for the doll while still sticking to the schedule.

Before you know about him, he'll sneak out while you're sleeping to steal any gifts you made for the doll. It's not technically stealing if you made them for him, so he doesn't see the problem.

Besides, he found your frown cute when you realized the stuff you had made disappeared.

He's basically made a little shrine in his room in the wall just filled with all the stuff you've made.

But at some point, he started getting a little... jealous of the doll. He wanted you to make gifts for him. He wants you to smile at him as you hand him a little trinket or a bracelet you made.

And when he finally reveals himself to you, he expects you to do exactly that. Even if you're scared, he doesn't care.

He'll go as far as to throw a tantrum if you don't, so you really don't have any choice but to continue making gifts for him.

He's sure you'll get used to him being around, and soon enough your smiles won't be so forced anymore when you give him things. You have no other choice.

[ghostinthegallery]

This scene wouldn't leave my head, so congrats it's the world's problem now.

In which Ratchet has a graveside chat with Wing, aka the dead guy that fixed his husband for him.

“I want to be very clear.” Ratchet placed the small cup full of engex at the base of the stone plinth. “I don't believe in ghosts or spirits or any of that nonsense. When we die, we die. That’s it. No Primus or Guiding Hand or cushy afterlife and definitely no looking out for the living. Got it?”

The grave did not respond, which was good. It was what Ratchet expected. He sat down, legs crossed, careful not to crush any of the shimmering blue flowers beneath him. 

“I'm just on the fragging necroworld, and I'm not above respecting the local customs.”

Sunlight warmed his back plating as he settled into place. It was a nice day. Most days on the necroworld were nice, when nobody was trying to kill them. Not a place Ratchet would want to stay long term, but it made for a decent rest stop. Even with all the reminders of how fragile life was. The death flowers and the graves.

Carved into this grave was simply the name Wing.

“He really wanted to find you, when he found out what this place was.” Ratchet said. “Drift, I mean. Or Deadlock, you might've called him that. Got all excited at the idea of visiting. You’re one of the only things in his past he'll talk much about.”

He stared at the engex he'd offered, then pulled a flask out of his subspace. No sense making the ghost—who did not exist—drink alone.

“Since he probably never mentioned me, I'm Ratchet. Medic. Drift's conjunx, but that’s a recent development.”

Had he seriously just introduced himself to a rock? Maybe he'd gotten knocked in the helm and forgotten about it and this was all processor damage. Still, it felt right to speak, so he did. Not like anyone else was around.

“I saved his life once, a long time ago. He stood out to me. To this day, I don't understand why, but maybe you saw it too. Maybe you saw something in him that made you want to help. Sounds like you did a lot for him. Probably more than me, if we're being honest. I got him back on his feet, but after that…” Ratchet sighed. “He was still poor as scrap. He still watched enforcers shoot his friend. He was still angry.”

The image of Drift walking away from the clinic, off to sell his frame to anyone who wanted to use it made Ratchet's tank feel sour. It worsened when he thought about what was actually going on at those clinics. He wondered what he would have done if he'd known.  

“It sounds like I have you to blame for all Drift's spectralist nonsense. So frag you for that. It's annoying as hell,” he continued, eager to change the subject. “Yeah, it helped him sort through things. Even I can admit that. When he's not using religion to hide from his problems, it…it gives him some comfort. Still killed a lot of good bots, but hey, he’s in good company.”

Ratchet had no desire to hunt down Drift’s statue and see how many of the necrobot’s death flowers surrounded it. Or how many surrounded his own statue, for that matter. 

“War’s over, and we’ve all got to move on somehow. Frankly, he’s doing better than most. Brave, resourceful, too self-sacrificing for his own good. You fixed him up nice.” Ratchet studied his flask. “And I get all the benefits. Doesn’t seem fair but, thanks. I guess.”

He sighed and adjusted his position. “He feels real guilty about what happened to you. Thinks you'd still be alive if you hadn't helped him. Maybe he's right. Who knows? But you don't sound like the kind of person that would regret helping someone. You sound better than that.”

Heaviness settled over Ratchet's shoulders as he said, “I don't regret saving him either. I never have, even when Deadlock was a name autobots whispered in the same tone as necrobot. And considering how things turned out,” he chuckled. “I don’t know if that makes me a hypocrite. I’m happier with him. Less tired. He just feels right.” Ratchet added, “Probably don’t have to explain that to you.”

The strangeness of this one-sided conversation hit him again, but not harshly. It was an easy way to unload his thoughts. Like a waking defrag. 

“The swords were a nice touch.” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Drift looked good wielding those blades of his. Ratchet didn't mind the view when he trained. Didn't mind it in the slightest.

“He still carries your greatsword. Doesn't use it much, but it's always on his back.” Ratchet took another pull from his flask. “Been hearing some of the other bots say he should fight a duel with Cyclonus and his big greatsword which even I think is a bit sacrilegious, but—”

“There you are.”

Ratchet started then turned towards the familiar voice. Drift, footsteps annoyingly silent, approached from behind. His expression morphed from inquisitive to shocked when he got close enough to read the stone’s inscription.

“You found him,” Drift said softly.

Ratchet nodded and moved aside so Drift could kneel. Drift’s EM field was wild with conflicting emotions. Surprise, happiness, and grief mingled together, and he made no attempt to hide them. 

“I was about to come get you,” Ratchet said, which was technically true. He fully intended to bring Drift to his friend’s grave. After he was done with whatever this was.

Drift’s optics settled on the cup of engex. He smirked.

“Is that an offering?” He gasped with exaggerated shock. “A committed skeptic, bringing a gift to a ghost? Ratchet, is that you or some sort of mimic?”

Ratchet grabbed the finger Drift poked against his chest. “I didn’t want to get slag from you for being disrespectful.” 

His spark jumped as Drift pressed his hand into Ratchet’s and intertwined their fingers. Then, to Ratchet’s shock, Drift swiped the engex cup and downed it in one gulp.

“What was that?” he demanded, surprised at his own offense.

“Wing never drank engex,” Drift said. “He always gave it to me whenever mechs brought him anything. The Crystal City stuff was so diluted I couldn’t even get a buzz, but it took the edge off.”

“Ah.” Ratchet nodded. “Guess you two had an understanding.”

Drift nodded and let his frame lean into Ratchet’s. Silence settled over them. Ratchet ran his thumb over the back of Drift's hand while the latter grew contemplative. His face fell, melancholy overtaking his field. 

“I wish you two could have met,” Drift said. “He would have liked you.”

“I doubt that.” Ratchet replied. “But I’d have liked to meet him anyway.”

A breeze caught the flowers, like ripples over water. Ratchet didn’t interrupt when Drift shut off his optics and took a meditative intake. They stayed like that for a long time, hand in hand, while Drift steadied his field and Ratchet watched and took the occasional sip from his flask. He’d learned to savor quiet moments like this. They didn’t come often.

Drift’s optics brightened and he said, “Is there anyone here you want to see?”

Ratchet waved his free hand. “I get enough trouble dealing with the living. Don't need to invite the dead to cause problems too.”

“So you won’t come and visit Gasket with me?” Drift pouted.

Ratchet groaned. “I didn’t say that.”

With a smile that made Ratchet's internals melt, Drift helped him up. He then paused and offered a spectralist sign to Wing’s grave. 

“Farewell,” he said. “And thank you for everything.”

As Drift pulled Ratchet away, Ratchet dipped his chin towards the plinth and muttered his own nearly silent,

“Thanks.”

[poetic-pearls]

better be safe than sorry

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed reader (totally just friends)

“new years at camp half-blood”

[wc: 902]

23:50

the stars are painting the night sky in a way that almost makes me wish we wouldn't light any fireworks. the breeze caressing my face smells of the sweet strawberries we are surrounded by and liquor.

"here" behind me, luke seems to appear out of nowhere, two cups in hand.

his eyes twinkle kindly, reflecting the stars that seem closer than usual. "sorry for taking so long; the cabin was full, well, more full than usual"

23:53

"don't worry about it"

luke sits down beside me and holds out a cup.

it being warmer inside camp than on the outside allows me to look at his strong arms.his arms are decorated colorfully with the tattoos we sneaked off the table for the younger campers earlier.

"so, another year of this huh?"

he laughs that melodic laugh of his that always manages to claw it's way into my chest.

"yeah, i guess", he rips two strawberries our of the field, holding one out to me " but hey, at least i'm there to keep you company the whole time"

"ugh, right, another year stuck with you. i kind of wish the others would stay too"

"hey!" luke nudges me in the shoulder, almost making me fall on top of an unripe bush of strawberries.

i gasp, "how dare you? you better hope the dryads don't snitch on you trying to destroy the field"

"i hope not, but i might have already tripped a little on my way here; even spilled some of my drink. not sure how booze affects the growth of strawberries but i doubt it's any good"

"ew", now i'm the one pushing him "at least now i know why sometimes the first strawberries of the year taste like beer"

we're both laughing.

"okay, okay" luke raises his hands in surrender "i admit, that might have something to do with me"

i shake my head in faux disappointment "luke, luke, luke. how could you?"

"i'm sorry, alrigh-", we're startled by a singular firework.

"oh that must have been the test - what time is it?"

"uhh..." luke checks his wrist.

"23:57. shit, did you see the others?"

"no, i gave up. did you see them on your way?"

"nope, weird. they just disappeared; almost like they don't want ro be found"

i hum, twirling the stem of what used to belong to my strawberry.

"seems like we'll start the new year alone" "but i was going to kiss allie for good luck" we both say at the same time.

"maybe we could still look for them?", i offer.

luke shakes his head "if we didn't find them before i doubt we'll find them now."

"shit, then what am i supposed to do about my kiss?" i look around, nothing but trees. well, and luke. "you think one of the dryads would be up for it?"

luke laughs, pushing his hair out of his eyes."maybe, but do you really want to start the year with splinters in your lips? maybe-"

luke looks uncertain, avoiding my gaze before looking back at me with brown eyes.eyes like melted chocolate, the sweetest of them all. when i look at him i can almost taste it. and i want to.

"maybe we could kiss?"

the offer hangs between us like a cloud and we're both just staring at each other for a moment.

"i wouldn't want you to start the year with bad luck"

23:59

am i getting red? no, no, surely not. it's pretty warm here, right? i was already red before he started talking; before he looked at me like that. i'm just warm.

"okay"

one look at his watch.

23:59:44

i'm glad to have a friend as nice as luke.

his eyes are trained on his watch before he meets my gaze again, continuing to count under his breath.

23:59:55

we're both leaning in now.

did the fireworks already start or is that the sound of my heart beating?

"5, 4, 3, 2-"

when our lips meet the same feeling from earlier comes back. the feeling i always get when he laughs.

i just really appreciate what he's doing for me.

his lips are so soft, just like i expected.

his lips do always look soft. especially in the light of the campfire. but he tastes different. he tastes bitter like liquor and unripe strawberries. but also sweet like the chocolate he stole for us from the table earlier.

it's different but perfect.

different from the way i expected just a minute ago.

the first and only time i thought of his lips on mine.

when we part it takes a few seconds before we actually pull away. but not much.

luke's cheeks are flushed, he must feel that it is too warm too. and his eyes reflect the fireworks that just started.

he looks so pretty like this.not that i would ever tell him that, but it's the way his curls fall on his forehead, the way his eyes reflect the fireworks instead of stars now and the pink of his cheeks and lips.

"...i think my watch might be set a few seconds too early"

i just nod, i know what he means. the fireworks are always on time.

and soon there are mumbled "happy new years" between us and our lips meet once again.

better be safe than sorry.

a/n: might post a bonus soon