#a little one for my desk at work and just so many for everywhere else

[cyberkitty1]

KENTO NANAMI X AIRHEAD READER

it’s late afternoon, and the sun is streaming through the windows of the little apartment you share with nanami. he’s sitting at the dining table, surrounded by neatly stacked papers and his laptop. he’s working, focused as ever, but every so often, his gaze flickers toward you.

you’re sprawled out on the living room rug, surrounded by an explosion of pink. there are rhinestones, craft glue, and what appears to be a half finished bedazzled picture frame.

“what exactly are you doing?” he asks finally, his tone as calm and measured as always.

“i���m making something,” you say, not looking up from your masterpiece. you stick a rhinestone onto the frame with extreme concentration, your tongue poking out slightly.

he hums in acknowledgment, his lips curving into a small smile despite himself. “i can see that. but what are you making?”

you finally glance up, holding up the frame for him to see. it’s gaudy, glittery, and absolutely covered in rhinestones. in the middle of it is a photo of the two of you, one he didn’t even realize you’d printed.

“tadaaa!” you say proudly. “it’s for your desk! isn’t it cute?”

nanami stares at the frame, blinking once, twice. then he sets his pen down, leans back in his chair, and sighs softly.

“it’s… very you,” he says, which makes you giggle.

“right? now your desk won’t look so boring and corporate. it needs a little sparkle, you know?”

he doesn’t tell you that his coworkers are probably going to give him hell for it, nor does he mention that it doesn’t exactly match his clean, minimalist aesthetic. instead, he says, “thank you. i’ll put it on my desk tomorrow.”

you beam at him, and it’s the kind of smile that makes his chest feel warm.

“you’re the best kento,” you say, setting the frame down and crawling over to sit beside him at the table.

“you have glitter on your face,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a stray fleck off your cheek.

“it’s everywhere.” you laugh, leaning into his touch. “you don’t mind, do you?”

“not at all,” he says softly, his fingers lingering for just a moment before pulling away.

you rest your chin on your hand, watching him with a dreamy smile. “you’re so handsome when you’re working, you know that?”

he clears his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” you say brightly, leaning over to kiss his cheek before hopping up again. “okay, back to crafting! let me know if you want me to bedazzle anything else!”

he watches you go, shaking his head with the smallest of smiles. no matter how many times he tells himself he’s the serious one, the responsible one, you always manage to remind him that a little sparkle literal or not isn’t so bad after all.

[toads-treasures]

The last couple of days I have seen so many people walking around town carrying pumpkins and they’re always smiling and laughing and it is so 🥹🥹🥹

[causenessus]

Dating Them. | Haikyuu

inc. akaashi, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi, sugawara, kageyama, kuroo

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: i got carried away and gave them all a song but i can't help myself so if u want another one, loverboy by a-wall

word count: 3105 words

summary: "what does dating them look like?"

i love them all sm <3 hopefully these all make sense!! tysm to @luvring for sending me down a deep retrograde with rex orange county whom i almost chose to link a song to for everyone but then narrowed it down to just oikawa <3 also almost put in we & us for akaashi but freaked out 💃 pls check out this post by her that inspired me!! it was so sweet

akaashi

even if my heart stops beating you're the only thing i need with me even if the earth starts shaking you're the only thing worth taking even if the sky's on fire got you here, it's alright

looks like little gifts and notes left for each other everywhere

lunches made for the other left in lockers and on desks with little love notes <3

tell me he wouldn’t end every note to you with a little " ♡ ᵕ̈ " i dare you

you both handwrite the notes because texts are for losers

unless ofc one of you is out of town and you’re separated

then there are good morning and goodnight and i miss you texts

ending with ୧⍤⃝💐 and ᴖ̈ emojis

you both are very busy people so you just try to make sure the other is taken care of and knows they’re loved until you guys see each other again <3

dates are always lovely with him but the best part of them is when you guys get to go home

when it’s late at night and one of you is between the legs of the other, laying against their chest as you both do your individual things or something together

since life is so hectic it’s nice to just have these quiet moments in each other's presence <3 all he needs is to be around you and he doesn’t need anything else

there's definitely so many intimate and domestic moments with him

getting home from games used to be one of the worst parts of playing volleyball but you’ve made him look forward to it 

he loves to call or text you on the way home <3

if you’re able to stay at his house and be there when he gets home even better !!

you’re always taking care of him, making him something to eat or cleaning him up <3

how you guys started getting interested in each other?

I think at first sight you were curious about each other but one specific interaction sealed the deal <3

akaashi for sure knows so many random facts and how things work and most of the time when bokuto says something, it’s incorrect and akaashi will correct him <3

one afternoon when you three were together, bokuto was rambling about something he thought was impossible and threw a look towards akaashi, “and i don’t want to hear a ‘well, actually’ from you, there’s no way i'm wrong. if we're building things on earth that means more stuff on it and so it's getting heavier.”

akaashi only smiled, looking at his fingers as he played with them, “yes, but everything we're making those buildings out of already existed on the earth prior to–”

bokuto groaned, hands in his hair as he bent over, “no way! you know too much akaashi, I don’t even know if that’s a good thing or not” 

you let out a small laugh at the exchange. you wanted to add something but your chest tightened with anxiety, fearing that it would reveal how you truly felt. however, it slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, “i actually like it, i think it’s really cool that you know so much, akaashi-san. i admire it.”

bokuto, still bent with his arms on his legs immediately turned his head towards you with sharp eyes and brows raised, a teasing smile on his face

akaashi, on the other hand, had turned slightly red, his lips stuck between wanting to smile and trying to play off the compliment as if it hadn’t made his heart stop for a second

you’re cheeks had also warmed, realizing that if bokuto immediately got it through his thick skull (with love ♡) there was no way akaashi hadn’t

since he’s quiet by nature, the sweetest thing for him is someone who will really listen to what he has to say and the fact that you found it interesting just topped it all off <3

bokuto

sweet talk everything you say it sounds like  sweet talk to my ears

looks like seeing each other in the halls and he brightens up, the world literally getting brighter as he sees you and he can’t stop the wide smile that spreads across his face <3

i think what he really needs is someone that matches his energy. you might be a little calmer than him due to the fact that you’re not jumping up and down but you’re just as happy, a smile wide on your face, eyes wide and you’re pushing through the crowd to get to him as well

if you are able to, you always come to his matches and it makes a difference in his playing <3

ofc before dating he was just as amazing as a player but now that he gets to see you while doing what he loves, there’s so much energy and happiness that wells up in him he ends up jumping higher and being more vocal

without a doubt he’s always looking up to you in the stands before every rally

it makes your heart stir, too, whenever he makes eye contact with you and you can’t help but smile and cheer with all the love in the world whenever you both meet eyes

whenever he’s home from a match, you bet that he’s heading to you as soon as possible if you allow him to

loves to collapse on you, strong arms wrapped around your waist and he rests his head on your stomach, body between your legs

will fall asleep so fast if you run your hands through his hair, loves it if you just comb through it from the front, pushing it back as they slide to the back of his head and then move back to the front to run through the strands again

even better if you talk to him as you love on him while he’s resting on you

hugs you tighter when you praise him, letting out a small sigh as he relaxes

“you did so well today, kou. ‘m so proud of you,” you hum.

“you mean it, baby?” he mumbles, face still buried into your shirt.

“i mean it. i would never miss any of your games if i can help it for the world, love.”

the last thing he can get out is an “i love you so much" before his eyes fall shut

oikawa

girl, if you want it there’s no good reason not to love if you want it

looks like keeping him company even when it’s three in the morning <3

he’ll hold you close or have you on his lap, arms wrapped around you when he’s up at night watching other team’s volleyball matches

loves to talk you through the plays as well if you have any questions

will take the time to pause the video and point out anything <3

“see what they did here? they purposely left an opening in the block for the libero to cover. it corners the spiker either way,” he spoke softly, a small smile on his face as he explains the tactic to you.

“i think i understand. you guys have done that before too, right?” you nod, eyes focused on the screen as you lean to the side, resting your head on his shoulder

he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, “we have, pretty. i didn’t think you paid so much attention.”

“of course i do!” you pouted, tilting your head to look slightly on him. 

he met your eyes with a teasing smile, “i’m only joking, princess. i see how hard you focus, you look super cute when you do, after all.”

you buried your face into his shoulder, too red to keep looking at him

you’re definitely a part of his squad (iwa, makki, matsu) even if you’re a grade below them

if you didn't already know them, he also definitely introduced you to the group as “his girl”

from then on out, you had four scary guard dogs should you ever need them <3

he’s glad to have someone so close to him that also gets along with his friends, so he’s happy as can be when you’re all hanging out

ofc also enjoys one on one time with u as seen above

after matches, you’re always loving on him, whether he won or lost

if he won, similar to bokuto, you’re praising him the whole way, pressing kisses to his forehead as he lays on you, completely content as he rests

if he lost, there’s no words exchanged between you two until he’s ready. it’s not that words will lead to anything bad, but you know what will help him. you know that for him, he’ll recover with time. after he’s thought about it, he’ll express all his feelings and emotions to you, so you only need to wait for him to be ready. in the meantime, you’ll love on him and make sure he takes care of himself. you’ll stay with him so that he knows he’s not alone and when he’s ready, you caress his face, softly wiping his eyes whenever they tear up and listen to anything he wants to say <3

iwaizumi

my baby here on earth showed me what my heart was worth so when it comes to be my turn could you shine it down here for her?

looks like giving you gifts everytime he sees you

probably actually started with you giving him gifts all the time first <3

def friends to lovers i can see it

when you started giving him gifts, it stirred something inside of him and his friends kept telling him that you definitely liked him back

he was still unsure tho bc we’re talking a man with a whole fan club and two other men who have nothing better to do but tease other people so how trustworthy is their advice really

but he wanted to be hopeful so he started getting you things too (credit to makki & matsu, best wingmen)

because your relationship with iwa was 100% friends to lovers, said wingmen + whatever oikawa is definitely supported you both and were trying to play cupid

makki and matsu helped iwa find out what you liked without making it obvious and since he was too nervous to ask you on his own

also tried to inconspicuously ask if you were interested in anyone in which you immediately turned red and hid your face

the two boys turned to each other with a smirk because they knew they were definitely right

they probably got you to plan a confession to iwa, swearing on their lives that iwa liked you back

(makki and co. also definitely found a way to listen to it all go down and probably even recorded it)

as soon as you guys start dating he’s all over you <3 probably beats you to buying something most of the time but you still try to buy him things as often as you can

i think he’d adore flowers from you <3 they’re some of the sweetest things you can get them

mad dog respects you as an extent of his respect of iwa

definitely lots of words of affirmation in your relationship too

after the spring high semifinals you were in his lap, letting him hide his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body shook

you rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the other placed on one of his arms which were wrapped around you,

“i just want you to know how proud i am of you, hajime. i could hear you everytime you brought up your team. you did so well. you taught them so much. you’re so observant, you’re so strong. i couldn’t be more proud of you, love.”

he tightened his hold on you, and you felt his tears on your neck. “i know. i know it hurts a lot, baby. i’m here for you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head.

sugawara

she said i dressed in your favorite  i bought two bottles of red unless you made reservations oh look, you thought all ahead

looks like mothering his flock of children with him and taking care of him after he has taken care of the rest <3

lots of resting on each other’s shoulders throughout the day bc you both are so tired

whenever you guys are on dates, his favorite parts are always the train ride back home, he loves the gentle rocking of the train that lulls you both to sleep as you lay on each other, there’s just something so safe and intimate about it

ofc he loves doing things with you and you both try to spoil each other rotten, surprising each other with gifts and dates

some of your favorite dates to go on are just walks around outside

you guys take turns finding different locations to travel to just so that you guys can admire the beauty together

can u imagine? two pretty people walking around in pretty nature?? it’s too much <3

he loves walking in the winter at night because most of the time you guys will get to see pretty lights too!!

and if u get cold he gets to give u his jacket so two birds w/ one stone

if he’s feeling generous he’ll invite one of the children to walk with you guys while looking at christmas lights

it’s different every time

one night it was hinata, bundled warm in jackets and bouncing around between you and suga

another night it was kageyama, as calm and collected as ever but he enjoyed looking at the lights with you guys

you definitely bought him hot chocolate bc you couldn’t handle the parental love bubbling in your heart for the boy

(mama y papa?--)

but you both were def alone on christmas night when he took you out to walk in the middle of the city, where pretty lights shined at every angle and in every direction <3

he can’t help but kiss you a lot whenever he sees your pretty lips

and you love to kiss his little beauty mark below his eye <3

whenever he’s playing in games, you’re always cheering the loudest

afterwards you’re always flooding him with compliments too once you’re both home or through text message if he’s on the bus ride back

“u always notice so much during matches!! whenever u get in you always have something to tell everyone it’s so cool :000”

“and when you spiked, love, you did so good. we were all freaking out in the stands bc you had just been shut down before and you still went through with it completely!!!”

he'll smile at your energetic messages before replying with his own,

“thank u thank u <3 i can only do so well because i have my own personal cheerleader”

“I’ll see you soon, ok? we’re almost back to school, i love you so much, angel”

if his teammates hadn't drilled it into his head already how much he meant to them, your messages alone would make it worth it <3

kageyama

i wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind... can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?

looks like dates to the milk vending machine and walking together around school <3

he’s already waiting outside your class during breaks and when lunch starts

you step through the door and jump when you see him

“tobio? how are you already here? class just ended?”

“...do you wanna go to the vending machines with me?”

“did you leave early?”

he averts his eyes immediately, trying to think of an excuse but you just sigh to yourself and start to walk, “what am i going to do with you? let’s go before class starts.”

“i wanted to see you,” he mumbles, eyes lowered to the floor and his cheeks dusted pink as he follows after you

your eyes widen at the response and you almost trip over your feet before you smile and lean closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek

“i love you too, tobio.”

he’s another boy you’re constantly fighting with to pay for things

sometimes you’re racing to the machine because you’re so desperate to buy him something but there’s no way you’re winning against him even if he gives you a headstart

you work hard to take care of him, though, and you have your ways of getting back at him even if he ends up paying at the vending machine

he’s so horrible at taking care of himself, especially with the amount of times he stays late to practice with hinata

you started to sneak milk cartons and eventually meals into his bags so that he’ll at least be fed

definitely lots of study dates between you both as well, you’re singlehandedly carrying his grades rn

but it’s worth it when you see him on the court <3

he tends to look at you before every serve, and you can feel your heart buzz whenever he makes eye contact with you

seeing him work so hard in volleyball and have so much fun, you can’t help but fall in love with him all over again, and you’ll do anything you can to help him and make sure he can achieve his dreams <3

kuroo

you wanna go out, i wanna finish living you wanna get up, when i could just lay all day, with you

looks like showing up at your door whenever he feels like it either to take you out or to be at home with you <3

after the first time he insisted that he walk you home and you let him, he started visiting you more often

ofc you let him in everytime, you were glad he was the one making moves because you wanted to be around him more, you just didn’t know what to say

when you both started officially dating, you also obviously put in more effort to show that you appreciate him and love to be with him

but he’s always more than happy to be the one to come to you as long as he knows you enjoy it as much as he does

speaking of which he’d really do anything for you

if he’s not already there, you could ask him to at two in the morning and he’d be there as soon as he could <3

especially if you text him something like “i had a nightmare” or “i can’t sleep” he’s over there in a blink of an eye

“alright, princess. are we staying up or should i tire you out?”

🧍

😳

anyway

he’s making any excuse to be close to you

he’s probably helped you in a few subjects if you were struggling with the material

ofc in exchange for kisses <3

he’s surprised when you come to his games, i feel like he’s probably not used to having a lot of people come to cheer him on and he doesn’t want to bother you about having to come to gymnasiums to watch him

but you come of your own free will and it makes him smile, he’s more than ready to crush his opponents to show off for you <3

after games, you’re throwing yourself into his arms as soon as you get to him and he’ll catch you with just as much adrenaline and excitement running through his veins at the sight of you <3

[yurinaa-world]

Hello! Can I request Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, and Sunday with a s/o who is a lawyer?

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, and Sunday x Gender-neutral reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a s/o who is a lawyer

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

Whenever you have a day off or off the clock you aren’t allowed to even think and say anything about it. He says even thoughts will just start stressing you out and you start overthinking until your mood is ruined for the day.

He finds you serious and strictly attractive but for yourself and everyone else, you should relax (you even better wear home clothes, just your pants riding down a little showing off skin with messy hair and tired expression).

Your office is a total mess (by his standards), with stacks of paper everywhere, on everything and anything that wasn’t on the ground. 

Just looking around your office makes him sick, he avoids doing work yet here you are killing dozens of trees with that much paper.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Come to bed with me.”

“I’m busy,” you brush Aventurine off—who was behind you and had his arms wrapped around your shoulders while wearing his pyjamas, really trying to “entice” you into bed with him, yet that fails to work on you—how can you blame him? It gets cold without you. 

“With this much paperwork, they want to work you to death.” 

His hand goes to one of many stacks of paper on your desk, flipping through it yet not really to read. “You shouldn’t touch the papers of my clients.”

“It’s not an interesting read anyway,”

“Won’t come and join me in bed, being in this room while doing overtime without even pay must be tiring, you can pick it up when you start work tomorrow.”

“Not yet.”

He just frowns at this answer. He came to this room to get in bed with him and he isn't leaving without you.

“Are you so sure about that?” His hands just go to caress your shoulder before he leans down to place his chin on your shoulder; presses his cheek against yours to bother you while whispering in your ear.

You only last ten minutes like this.

 “Fine, I'll come to bed with you.” 

You just completely give up when it comes to wanting something from you, Even something as small as this.

𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹"

He's a smart man with a smart lover. He kisses the floor you stand on in general, he finds all the hard work you do the most praiseworthy. 

 Yet that doesn’t mean he enjoys you overworking yourself to the bone on personal time because some clients are rich and shoddy.

Why not just let it all go when you’re home with him? Instead, you should read a book together that backfires when you accidentally fall asleep on him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can't keep your eyes open for the life of you. Every blink slower, the words on the page are just a mess to even look at—as if someone slapped ink on a page and called it a day—your brain definitely can’t think like this.

You were holding your book as straight as possible, as you tried to read. Veritas wanted to read with you like always and you don’t mind even in this tired state.

“You've been on the same page for 10 minutes now.”

“Huh?…” looking to the side like a child hearing a stranger talk to them for the first time. He just takes the book from your hand and sets it to the side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him to lay on. 

“Just close your eyes.’

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

Very skillful, nothing less he expects from you of course. Working so hard and diligently just helps with the law after all that schooling.

He likes to see you off in the morning since you love getting up early just to go to work, he’ll just join in this routine as well, the only time he gets to see you in the morning and under the excuse that the family head should be up early. 

Let him do your tie for you instead of the servants, why? Why not? He doesn’t mind doing it for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Why are you up so early?”

“The same could be said for you.” He takes the tie from your hands—you have been trying for the last six minutes yet you always fail to tie it all together. 

“I wanted to see you off today, before going to work myself.” You silently listen to him as his hand meticulously does your tie for you, gently tightening it to the collar. 

“You didn’t need to.”

“don’t worry, I wanted to.” He gently pats down your clothes as if to get off any type of dust. As you go to wear the jacket of your suit, Sunday already has your bag in his hand before handing it to you.

“There’s something right by your lips, let me clean it off.” He takes your hand, cups your chin, his thumb on the side of your lips before surprising you, his forehead pressed against yours before leaning in to peck you on the lips.

“Have a good day at work.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[plant-ago]

An Open Letter to Dan and Phil

Dear beloved nerds,

This was originally going to be an (even longer) actual letter that I was going to give to you at the tour, but my nonprofit-employed ass can’t afford a meet and greet, so we’re doing this instead. I promise it’s not just trauma dumping— mostly, it’s about saying thank you and trying to cultivate some hope for all of us.

I’ve been a big fan since around 2014, when I was a mentally ill neurotic deeply repressed loner egg (average phannie, let's be honest). Now I’m a whole adult who got therapy and HRT and has joined the legions of transmascs with the Dan Howell haircut! What a legacy.

I’m making jokes because the thing I actually want to talk about, and the reason I decided to make this an open letter, is kind of serious. But in light of the election, I feel like I need to share this, both with you and with all the other queers in this little corner of the internet.

Here’s the gist: I’m a paralegal at a non-profit organization that works to help queer migrants get asylum. Mostly what I do is sit them down in our nasty sterile office and try to be kind, and help them get through telling me all the most terrible things that have happened to them, and then turn around and pare it all down into legalese that is digestible to the government to make the case they should get asylum.

It’s a horrible job, really, and one that shouldn’t have to exist. Some parts are plainly wonderful, like meeting so many queer people from all walks of life. But it’s also heartrending and difficult, and burnout is always looming. My horrible banal work is often literally a matter of life and death for the client, and I’m fighting a broken system for a chance at giving them the happiness and safety is owed to them by international law and, really, by any decent human standard, should never have been in question.

The thing is—and this is reason to hope—queer people really do exist everywhere, no matter how much repression and violence we face. In a tiny village in Colombia, there's a kid who’s all spit and vinegar, dresses like a boy and plays football and fights anyone who says that they can’t, who grows up wiry and gets black eyes because men still can’t handle getting their asses handed to them on the soccer field by a dyke. This client texts me at my work number sometimes to ask if I’ve eaten that day, because they wanted to check in on me. He asked me to call him by a boy’s name, recently. I don’t know that he’s told anyone else. I open every message I send him with "Hola, James."

Then there’s the sweet, babyfaced college freshman who got death threats when he was outed to his classmates back home, and whose parents kicked him out when he refused to marry a girl to protect the family's reputation, leaving him alone in a foreign country. He was couch surfing and just trying not to miss class so he could keep his student status and he was so conscientious I wanted to cry— he’s eighteen, guys. Eighteen. I’ll get him his papers or so help me fucking God I will kill for him. You know? You know. After that meeting I had to sit at my desk with my notebook and fill an entire blank page with the phrase “he’s just a kid,” over and over again, until I felt like I could breathe.

On a Friday morning recently I get up and open my laptop to interpret on a call with a soft-spoken older trans woman who's sat in the bleak phone room of the ICE detention facility because her immigration judge didn’t believe that she was really transgender. “An odor of mendacity pervades everything the respondent says,” the judge wrote in her ruling, where she determined the client wasn't "credible." To this day I’m still floored that she straight up ripped off Tennessee Williams—new frontiers in bigotry, truly. She didn’t even cite. In our meeting now, the client quietly tells us how hard it was when she came out but how happy she was the first time she wore makeup, and she'd rather stay in detention here for indeterminate years as proceedings spiral on than go back to Guatemala, where they'll kill her—boys, if I ever get within spitting distance of this fuckass judge, it is on SIGHT. Absolutely fucking ON SIGHT. For legal purposes, that was a JOKE.

So I finish the call and get up to get a snack. It’s only ten am but feel tired already because I’m angry, which is not unusual but also not something I want to hold onto, because it doesn't help anything. So I make some toast and look at my phone— two texts, which I ignore, a spam email, and, wouldn't you know it, a YouTube notification from Dan and Phil games! Jarring! That’s just sort of how life is though, isn’t it? Deathly serious and lighthearted in the same breath.

But regardless, seeing the notification makes me feel warm, so I have my toast and watch a little video of you two playing Roblox or dress up or whatever it is you do on that channel these days. I have a good giggle and I finish my toast and go back to my desk. It’s a crucial part of my diet really— the giggles, not the toast. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be angry again, but for now my cortisol levels are manageable and I can put my head back into emails or whatever the fuck. Do you ever think about how plants make food for free out of sunlight but we sit around writing emails all day? And that’s if we’re lucky. Capitalism is hell.

Anyway, there is a point I am trying to make, and it’s not really about the banal horrors of neoliberal nation-state or capitalism or even homophobia. It’s to say thank you for coming back to make silly videos together, because I love them, and you never fail to make me happy. And yeah, maybe something about the story of that scared eighteen-year-old kid at the front of my mind makes it particularly sweet to watch you two goofing off and being openly queer. It reminds me why I���m doing what I’m doing, and it gives me the strength to send another fucking email because sometimes doing “important work that I value and believe in deeply” means having to send another fucking email. And sometimes I’ll rewatch your older videos, and then come back to the more recent ones, and my heart bruises, because you remind me what I’m fighting for and why. It’s nothing grandiose, it’s just— for queer people to get to have the ability to grow into themselves and be outrageous and silly and make mistakes and to love and be loved for who they are. To have the safety and support and security that no one should ever go without. That’s all.

So I am being dead serious when I say thank you for making top-tier light entertainment, and for coming back to a job that wasn’t always kind to you, and that it does actually matter. All this talk about terrible influences and legacies has made me think that sometimes you doubt whether you do good in the world, so let me be clear: you really, really do. I kind of get the sense that in order to accept sincerity Dan needs to be beat over the head with it, so if that’s the case, consider yourself coerced, you dickhead. You matter to me, and especially in times like these, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the joy you share is a precious and treasured gift. So please accept my gratitude in return.

All my love,

Jules

(I removed or changed all identifying information in this letter to protect privacy, but the stories are real).

[bloodyvioletzz]

Drunk And Nasty

Miguel O’hara x Reader | AU

WARNINGS: fem reader, smut, face-sitting, multiple orgasms, vaginal sex, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex, praise kink, marking kink, biting, love bites, missionary, fingering, dirty talk, hair-pulling, literally so much smut so expect the worst, oh and miguel speaks spanish in this 🌚

Your boss was a dick. Always degrading you for anything you do.

“Is this all you did?” he asked. You were showing him your recent research on a spreading virus that started to infect people in Nueva York.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is it not enough?”

Miguel tossed the papers back onto your desk, ignoring your question. “Get back to work.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped back. Miguel was just heading out, but your tone made him turn his head to face you. You grew nervous under his gaze. “I’m sorry Miguel but- there’s progress on those papers! If you would just give me a chance.”

“How many chances have I given you?” Miguel replied coldly. “You keep disappointing me. I promoted you to this position for a reason. Do better.” And he left. Just like that.

As soon as he left the room you cleared everything off your desk, pencils rolling on the ground and files going everywhere. You grabbed the papers he had looked at off the ground and tore them up, frustrated. Nothing is good enough for this douche.

Jessica came in, a close friend of yours who was fortunately your co-worker.

“He saw you?” she questioned as she eyed everything on the floor.

“Yes! Nothing is good enough for him! It’s not like I went to fucking Harvard..”

Jessica laughed. “You need a break.”

You looked at her and scoffed. “Yeah, and get ridiculed for not working enough? No thanks.”

“Oh..” Jessica bent down and picked up some scattered files. She was off.

“What did you do…?” you asked suspiciously as you helped her clean your mess.

Jessica’s eyes were focused on the floor. “You know, I just thought you’d want a break- and everyone is going to the club tonight… I told them you’d come.”

You let go of the files and put your face in your hands, exasperated. “Oh my god. Of course you did!”

Jessica sighed as she finally looked at you. “I know you. You could really use this, when was the last time you partied?”

Your hands left your face as you shrugged, embarrassed.

“Exactly,” Jessica smirked.

“Shut up,” you smiled. “He won’t be there will he?”

“Oh no,” she replied. “Miguel doesn’t.. do clubs. Or people for that matter.”

“He’s quite the introvert,” you muttered.

Jessica nodded, getting up and setting some files neatly on a desk. “That he is.”

Once you two finished cleaning up the room, she drove you to her house. You figured you’d just wear one of her old dresses.

As you rummaged through Jessica’s closet, a thought popped into your mind.

“Is he like that with everyone?” you asked, looking at a black slip dress with red lace.

“Who, Miguel?” Jessica was doing her makeup in the bathroom mirror.

“Yeah.. like does he get that angry with anyone else?”

Jessica thought for a second. “No, not that I know of.”

You pulled the dress out, deciding that it would show off some skin and look good at the same time. “Interesting.”

Jessica laughed. “Interesting?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “It’s like he has something personal against me.”

“I doubt it, he’s just an asshole.”

You walked into the club wearing Jessica’s dress. It was a little tight but it looked good nonetheless. To match the dress you let Jessica do your makeup. She gave you a smokey eye and red lipstick to match the colors of your dress.

“Want a drink?” Jessica asked, as if she wasn’t already dragging you to the bar.

Jessica ordered two shots, which you guys quickly downed. You smiled excitedly as you took Jessica to the dance floor.

Your hair stuck to your forehead as you danced next to your friends, occasionally feeling yourself and grinding against them. There was no attraction for them while you did this, but it was fun watching people watch you.

After dancing to a few songs, you lost Jessica and your friends. You were stuck in a crowd of people.. but danced anyway. Besides, didn’t Jessica say you needed a break?

You were moving your hips to the rythm of the song until you backed up and bumped into someone. You turned around laughing, obviously a bit drunk, and apologized.

“Watch it,” a familiar voice could barely be heard over the booming music.

Your eyes went wide as you realized who was here.

And oh, were you gonna be Jessica’s ass.

You decided to play it casual, considering it wasn’t a professional environment you two were in..

You continued to dance and playfully grabbed his hand, making him spin you around.

“What are you doing here?” you yelled, smiling at his unamused face as you forced him to dance.

“Jessica invited me,” he replied, talking louder now.

Miguel slowly felt more comfortable dancing with you, and moved his hands to your hips. It was like he guided you.

“I didn’t take you for a party guy!” you giggled as he rolled his eyes.

���I didn’t take you for a black lace dress girl,” he said, eyes skimming your form.

You gradually got closer to him and he allowed it. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you said, looking up at him.

His mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. You smiled.

“Did I make THE Miguel O’hara speechless?”

The corners of his mouth turned up into a… wait. He is smiling. Miguel O’hara is smiling. And he’s smiling at you.

He flipped you around and pressed up against you, causing you to gasp. He smirked as he felt you grind up against him.

You leaned your head back and it layed against his chest, exposing your throat and a better look of your cleavage. His hand reached down and grazed your stomach, going all the way up until it reached your throat. He gently wrapped his hand around it, not choking you but holding you. All of a sudden Miguel O’hara started looking a lot more hot and a lot less grumpy.

Your breathing became heavy at the way he was touching and grinding against you, he was like an animal.

When Miguel let go of you, you immediately turned around to face him. He had the smuggest look ever, it was like he knew what he was doing to you. He was driving you crazy.

But little did you know that you made him crazy first.

You were so busy stuck looking at his expression to fail to realize that he was hard, for you, in public, with your co-workers around. Oh, and don’t forget.. he’s your boss.

“I-it’s hot in here..! Is it just me?” you laughed nervously as you fanned yourself.

“Si, eres tu…” you heard him mutter.

“What?” you practically screamed over the loud music. Miguel smiled. “Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked.

You could’ve sworn he was a mindreader.

You tried to hide your smile by casually looking around, as if you were searching for Jessica. “Let me talk with Jess first, she’ll think I got kidnapped,” you joked. He smirked and nodded. “Sounds like her.. I’ll be waiting outside.”

You watched him make his way through the dancing crowd, instead of finding Jessica you ran to the bathroom, immediately touching up on your makeup and hair. Once you were done you texted Jessica.

—

ME

jessocq

JESSICA

Uh.. who?

ME

leaving club 🍆🍆

JESSICA

With who???

ME

uhmm moguek

JESSICA

Miguel?!

ME

yes

JESSICA

Oh god. Use protection, please.

—

You smiled to yourself at her replies. She’d make a good mom.

Once you thought you looked half decent you left the bathroom and went outside, waving to some friends on the way out. You saw Miguel leaning on a sleek, black car. It looked like it costed more than 200,000 dollars.. easily.

“I- Is this yours?!” you asked, growing nervous as he opened the passenger seat for you.

“Who else’s would it be?” he smiled as you rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s mine.”

He shut the door once you were inside and got into his nice ass car.

“It looks even better on the inside,” you admitted.

“It looks better with you in it, neña.”

You looked out the window, smiling.

Music played quietly as he drove you to his apartment, unfortunately traffic was terrible on a Friday night in Nueva York. And you two got caught in it.

“Maldito gilipollas..” you heard Miguel curse under his breath as stupid drivers tried to swerve in and out of lanes.

You sighed, it was awkward being turned on and not be able to do anything. Miguel sensed this, probably because you were dead silent while he was there cursing in spanish and you hadn’t said a word.

Miguel snaked a hand over to your thigh and caressed it gently. You looked down at his hand briefly before looking back to the window. Was he seriously gonna do this while he was driving..? Best ignore it, right?

You tried ignoring it, but Miguel wanted to play with his food. He slid his hand farther up your thigh until he reached the bottom of your dress. Your breath picked up in just the slightest, but he noticed. He notices everything about you and he always has.

He dragged his hand underneath your dress and under your panties, long fingers gently touching the area that has been neglected for far too long.

You gasped softly as his middle and ring finger circled your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. You fought the urge to arch into his fingers, and Miguel eyed the way your chest rose and fell quickly.

“Use your words,” Miguel commanded.

“W-what?” you replied.

Miguel kept one hand on the wheel, one hand in your panties, and his eyes on the road. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the courage. He was so.. intimidating.

“Hm,” Miguel started to remove his fingers, but you were quick to put your own hand over his and guide him back down.

“I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

He hummed in approval, “Buenas niña.” His fingers continued the circular movement but faster. You sighed as your head rested against the window, your hot breath fogged up the window.

His fingers left your clit as they slid up and down your wet cunt, as if they were lubing themselves up.

Miguel pushed his middle finger into you slowly and you moaned quietly as he began pumping in and out. One finger shortly turned into two and he had you a moaning mess. If his fingers were this good…

Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to silence your loud moans out of embarrassment, but Miguel was ruthless and added a third finger.

“Quiero escuchar tus gemidos hermosa,” Miguel practically whimpered hearing the wet noises coming from his fingers leaving and entering your hole.

“Miguel..” you moaned, his fingers pumping into you and his palm hitting your clit gave you just the push you needed. “D-don’t stop I’m..”

Miguel slightly increased his pace as you came all over his fingers, “That’s right..” he praised. “Come all over my fingers, pretty girl.”

He removed his fingers once you came down from your high and put them in front of your mouth. You complied easily, opening your mouth and wrapping your lips around his fingers. You licked your juices off as if you were starving.

After they were clean and he removed them from your mouth, you looked out the window. Your eyes widened as you realized you two have been in the parking lot to his apartment. You hadn’t even noticed. You turned to Miguel and a shit-eating smirk grew on his face.

“..how long have we been here?” you asked quietly.

Miguel opened his car door and stepped out, “A little bit.”

You laughed as he closed his car door, coming over to yours and opening it for you. He held out his hand and you took it, smiling as he helped you get out his expensive car.

You two were in his apartment in seconds. Lips attacking eachother as clothes flew off. Before you knew it, you were naked, laying down on his bed as he gave you sloppy kisses.

He worked his way down and bit down on your neck. You winced at the pain, but that pain quickly turned to pleasure as he marked you as his.

“I’m gonna make sure the entire fucking workplace know who you belong to.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he continued to mark you. You tugged when he bit especially hard, and he groaned into your skin.

Suddenly he was off of you. You whined and sat up, noticing he was laying on his back.

“What are you..” you questioned.

“Sit on my face,” he replied casually.

You blinked in confusion. “Miguel I- I’ll crush you..”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You considered it and slowly made your way over to him, straddling his face. You were hovering over him until he harshly grabbed your thighs and dug his nails into them as he forced you onto his mouth.

Your clit was still sensitive from your orgasm in the car, and your moans became whined as he tried to make you come a second time. He ate you out like he hasn’t eaten in days. He didn’t waste a single second, slurping up all your fluids while his tongue flicked back and forth against your clit.

You were grabbing the sheets above his head, moaning and blabbering out his name as you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach. You began rocking against his face, chasing your orgasm until you finally reached it, coming all over his face. He happily licked it up but soon let you off him when your moans turned into high-pitched whines.

He wiped his jaw. “Think you got one more in you?”

You frowned, “Miguel.. I don’t know.”

He pushed you gently onto your back and he hovered over you, he was a lot bigger than you. His arms were on each side of your head, caging you in.

“We’re gonna try..” he started, “is that okay?”

You nodded and he looked to his side, reaching into a drawer and grabbing a condom. He slid it onto his cock and gave it a few pumps before lining it up with your entrance. He pushed in slowly and gave you time to take all of him. Your mouth fell open and your head fell back against the pillows as you felt him stretch you like you’ve never been stretched before.

His forehead rested against yours until he bottomed out. He slowly started to move, and your hands clawed at his back for support when he started to pick up his pace.

“Oh, fuck..” you moaned, scratching his back harshly as he drilled into your pussy. Miguel didn’t mind, he was kinda into it anyways.

His pace became brutal and he attacked your neck once again, biting and sucking on the spots he missed.

“Te sientes tan jodidamente bien..” Miguel moaned as he trailed sloppy kisses back up to your lips.

You groaned at his words, and when he removed a hand from the side of your head and put it down to your clit, you lost it.

You were screaming his name and clawing at his back, drawing small amounts of blood. You were so overstimulated.

“You’re doing so good,” Miguel praised. “Come on my cock like the pretty girl you are.”

And with that, your legs shook as you came all over his cock. You moaned in unison as he came too, sighing as it filled the condom.

Your breath was eratic as you came down, you opened your eyes to see Miguel sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead. You gently moved it out the way with you fingers, and he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

You winced while he pulled out. He took off the condom and tossed it in the trash. He slid on his boxers and he stopped you before you got up. “Hold on.”

Miguel went into his bathroom and came back with a warm wet towel. He gently pryed your legs back open and cleaned you up. He put the towel in his laundry and climbed in bed with you. You two fell asleep in eachother’s arms.

You woke up big-spooning Miguel. Your eyes widened as you looked at his back and what you did to him. There were scratch and claw marks all over his back. Oops.

You heard him snoring slightly, and you figured he was still sleeping. You slowly got up, feeling sore everywhere. You put on one of his shirts and went to the bathroom and stared in horror as you saw your neck and thighs. He fucking destroyed you.

You ran to the living room and grabbed your phone, frantically texting Jessica.

ME

how do you hide a hickey???

JESSICA

Depends. How bad is it?

ME

(Photo sent.)

JESSICA

What did he do to you???

NOTE: i’m so sorry if the spanish is goofy as fuck google translate is so weird </3

[shinne55]

**Silent Confession**

Victor Grantz x Reader

Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.

Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.

It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.

During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.

Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.

The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.

The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.

And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.

On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.

During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.

His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.

**To the postman

Thank you for your hard work**

No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.

Was that it? A letter for him?

A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.

That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.

The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.

**Dear postman

I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**

The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.

Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.

A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.

**To the Dear Postman Victor**

He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.

Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:

**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**

Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:

**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**

No more letters arrived.

Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?

For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.

He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.

“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”

*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.

Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.

**[Who is she?]**

It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.

**[YN]**

**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.

“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”

He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:

**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**

The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.

“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”

Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.

He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.

*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.

Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.

Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.

And even if they had never met before—

“Hello?”

He wanted to be by her side.

What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?

“Victor?”

As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.

You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.

When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.

“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.

“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.

**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**

“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”

You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.

His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.

“I… like you.”

No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.

“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”

Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.

He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.

Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.

**To YN, from Victor.**

**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**

“Victor…” You clutched the letter.

He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.

**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**

The letter ended there.

“But what is it that you want?”

He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.

“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”

He wrote something else in his notebook:

**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**

You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.

**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**

You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.

In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.

[yesimwriting]

I love ur felix fics sm!! ur one of my fave writers on here<<333 and no I don’t think itd b crazy to write for Nate!! I’d love to see how u would write him!! (Maybe grumpy x sunshine hehe)

hi!! this is such a nice ask :)) i'm so happy you like my felix fics

omg i love ur train of thought for a nate fic!! i've been thinking about that kind of dynamic for them, but in a really niche way

anyways let's have some thoughts on nate jacobs and sunshine/kind of sheltered reader!!

----

thinking about the moment in which you find out nate jacobs is your assigned partner for a project that's worth 35% of your final grade. if this was happening to you a year ago, maybe even two or three months ago, you might have been nervous for an entirely different reason.

but you're not that version of yourself anymore. you go out to parties now; you wear shirts to school that your mom buys for you the same way she used to buy you impulse barbies, with a wink as the cashier scans them, making you promise that you won't show dad what you got at the store; you're friends with maddy and cassie...you're on your way to best friends with maddy and cassie.

so you can't dismiss the gossip and the stares nate gets in the halls as a standard part of high school, not the way you used to. you can't just see him across the hall at his locker and mentally acknowledge that you get why girls talk about him the way they do. you can't just get paired up with him for an extremely long assignment and think oh, at least he's cute.

every story maddy's ever mentioned during sleepovers, everything she's teared up about after one too many drinks hits you at full force when your teacher reads your name and then his off of her list.

would she see this as a betrayal? it's not like you picked him and asking for a new partner is out of the question, a fact your teacher made clear at the beginning of the year. but maddy's loyal...fiercely loyal, and she expects that kind of commitment to be symbiotic.

you don't move, can't move until jules leans towards you, so close her hair spills onto your desk. "no fucking way." she whispers it in a way that'd make you laugh if this was about someone else.

you're silent, eyes finally pulling away from a brightly colored poster explaining the roles of each branch of the US government. you turn your head enough to look at where nate sits, the back of the room with a few other football players.

he's already looking at you. and when nate realizes you're finally staring back, he has the audacity to let the corner of his mouth pull into a smug sort of smile you're sure another version of you would have considered swoon worthy.

you're all instructed to use the last few minutes of class time to talk to your new partners, to make some kind of preliminary plan. nate's standing up and you're still recovering from the whiplash.

helplessly, you look over at jules who's clearly trying to get to the other side of the room before nate can get to you. she mouths a "sorry" that feels genuine, and points at the girl she's supposed to work with in a way that feels like over kill. you roll your eyes, picking up your pen and pressing the pad of thumb against its side to have something to do.

nate's in front of you before you know it. he's so tall it's a little intimidating when he's right there, especially with you still sitting. "you're everywhere now." a reference to the fact that you were both at the same party last weekend. you can still hear maddy's slurred i can't believe he's fucking here, before she dragged you out to the house's patio.

he's probably seen you more places. you're around maddy pretty regularly these days and from what you've heard, you wouldn't put stalking above him. he's probably a stalker in the way guys from the news are stalkers, calm and untouchable until they feel like the girl they're watching is moving on. then they snap and some news anchor reports that there were warning signs for months beforehand.

you're partially aware of your potential exaggerations, but you can't bring yourself to care. you've never really interacted with nate, but you want to hate him as more than the monster you hear about when maddy feels like ranting. you want to viscerally hate him. it's such an instinctual tug that you can't pretend it's all about morality. you're craving innate repulsion the way an elementary school girl wants the other half of a magnetic necklace with the word "best" etched into cheap metal. it's kind of pathetic, but then again...

"not last year, or last semester--"

he's baiting you and you're completely aware and you still can't help yourself. "what? it's illegal to make new friends now?"

your tone surprises you more than the fact that you interrupted him. you've never been overly shy, but you've also never been much of a fighter on your own behalf. maybe this is like the parties and barbie-style-bought-shirts, just another facet of the improved you.

nate seems surprised too, only he wears it like there's something funny about it. "no, you've always been friendly."

he says it like there's a joke in there that'd make the football players a few rows back laugh. it digs at you more than it should. he gets under your skin in a way that bugs. maybe that means genuine hatred is on its way.

you look up at him, eyes as unimpressed as you can manage. "so," the word is definite, intentional. "the project..." you're glad for the excuse to turn your attention back to your notebook, "i don't know if you want to work out a time to--"

"i'm leaving in like five minutes." you're about to point out that class doesn't end for another when he explains, "football game." ugh. another thing you can decide to be annoyed about. your homework schedule is now going to revolve around high school football. "can i get your number?" the idea of existing in nate jacobs's phone feels so wrong you can't immediately reply. he picks up on your hesitation, because he tacks on the one phrase that could get you to do anything, "35% of our grade."

you nod once, expression as blank as you can manage as you write out your phone number on the corner of a page. You tear off the bottom corner and hand it to him. "don't save my number."

it's so rude, your jaw almost drops, "what?"

"you're going to see maddy before the project's over, right?"

the implication immediately makes your stomach knot. you're not--you can't not tell maddy. she won't like it, but she can't hold a random partnering against you. and--and it's worse if you don't tell her, because then it's like you're sneaking around with nate. and it's--it's all for school.

"i'm not going to lie to her for you." it's so ridiculous, you can't even hold eye contact. his silence adds a second loop to the knot in your stomach. "why would i lie?" your own genuineness sickens you, you're backtracking immediately. "and--and it's just a dumb school thing, so she probably won't care that much."

"and you're sure she's going to believe that?"

"yes," the word is firm because it has to be. "because that's what it is."

"she gets paranoid."

no, no--he's doing this to get into your head and cause problems. "if she's paranoid it's because you're crazy."

"fine." he shoves the scrap of paper into his pocket. "save my number, don't save my number. tell maddy, don't tell maddy."

you sigh. "why do you care?" they're broken up...even if maddy takes it the wrong way, the fall out will be a you problem.

"she's going to think i fucked you to hurt her." you hate this--the situation, the conversation, the fact that you can't completely dismiss his train of thought. "who's known maddy longer?"

you're about to try again, to defend your friendship with maddy and call him crazy again when the static of the intercom speakers interrupts you. all football players are being called out of class to leave for an away game. nate gives you one last look before turning towards the door.

when jules slips back into her seat and asks if you're okay with everything, you nod and attempt a joke about catching fuck boy germs, but it doesn't come out the way you want it to. she still laughs, so you do too, but that's not as natural as it should be, either.

----

lmk if you like this concept/want more of it!! i had fun writing this :))

[postmodernbeliever]

sick and twisted- fox mulder x female reader (smutsmutsmutsmut)

in a sudden bout of sickness, you are staying with fox, who is yearning to take care of you (...in more ways than one.)

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hope you enjoy this incredibly horny thing... wrote this as i worked through raging period hormones <333 (sometimes i still get a little nervous to post these but yknow what. if im thinking it someone else is too probably. so yolo)

my ao3 | word count: 2,906

content tags: soft dom fox mulder, fox mulder the top of every girl's dreams, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, sickfic, sick reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering & sex, plus size reader if you squint, past fox was a little plus size if you ALSO SQUINT!!!!, idiots in love, pet names, smut, pain relief, talking you through it bc he's a nice boy, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

it was twisted, the way fox was turned on by you being sick. it checked every fantasy in his head off the list and you didn't even know.

by the time you got off work last night, you felt the brain fog rolling in, and you came straight to fox’s place instead of your own- and he was more than happy to oblige you. he wanted to set you up in his bed, but you refused, so he made you a little home on his couch, fixed with his good pillows and the blanket you designated as your own months ago. the man had been itching to come home all day. his brain was so out of the loop, in fact, that he handed dana a case report only half completed, with sentences stopping midway through. his partner had to force him out of the office just so he didn’t screw anything else up, but he couldn’t care less, because he was on his way home to his girl. he even went to the store to get you ginger ale and animal crackers, because he knows that’s your favorite remedy. and god, if you weren't everything he’d been dreaming of since he left you last. 

you were splayed out on his couch beneath a blanket, coughing up a storm. your nose was red and irritated from blowing it into so many tissues, lips swollen from all the chapstick and chewing; a glassy, sleepy look glazed over your eyes, and your skin paled everywhere but your cheeks, which were flushed in a pretty little smear across your face. you were in his old academy t-shirt, which left room to breathe- he was a bit bigger back then, lucky for you- and a little pair of boxers that were hiked up your thighs from sitting in them all day. you were the vision he couldn’t have conjured even if he tried. he wished that they could make a calendar of just you, looking like this, for every month until he died. but above all, your voice was the part that truly drove him up the wall. you didn’t think of the raspiness as much more than grating, but to him? gruff, weak, gentle, needy, undeniably brutally irrefutably hot- he had a thesaurus written just to put it to words. every word that fell from your lethargic lips was like music to his ears; he could listen to your stuffy breathing forever.

fox had been taking care of you, despite your protests to leave you be. you didn't want to get him sick, but he didn't care. he insisted on keeping you company and doing mindless work at his living room desk until you felt like getting back into the world. that was another thing. seeing you helpless and dependent on him, needing him to feel better… he loved that. he loved spoiling you, feeding you, treating you like a princess. that's what you were to him. there was so much in his life that was out of his control, that he couldn’t protect, but you were the one constant thing he could keep safe. the one thing he could selfishly keep. there was no chance he was going to give that up so easily, not when you were catering to his urges so wonderfully.

it was getting late, but you'd slept all day, so the exhaustion behind your eyes was keeping you awake. overtired and restless, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't get comfortable. the man heard rustling from the couch and turned in his desk chair, a serene smile on his face. he noticed you shifting awkwardly and came to the rescue.

"what is it, baby?"

you ceased trying to rearrange the contents of the couch and let yourself flop against the pillows, huffing in aggravation. "ugh, nothing. just can't get comfy."

"let me help you," fox urged. he rose from his chair and stalked over, kneeling dutifully at the couch's edge to help you adjust the pillows behind your head and beneath your legs. "better?"

"mhm. thank you."

"of course. how’re you feeling?"

"not good," you pouted, voice thick with strain, "my head is killing me, and my stomach is aching. and my nose and throat, too… i took some medicine not too long ago, but it’s taking forever to kick in… ugh. you know i hate being sick."

that childish pout had his stomach churning. he knew this wasn't about him, and you needed rest, but he also couldn't ignore how enticing you looked, all innocent and sleepy on his couch. how you trailed off between thoughts, working through the sick haze in your head. he leaned over a bit to rest his hands on your lower abdomen, pressing the heels of his palms against your belly softly. you hummed at the touch, and he had to force his eyes not to roll back.

"what can i do to make you feel better?"

"can..." you trailed off. "maybe you could cuddle me?"

"i'd love to."

the man climbed onto the couch without a thought, allowing his body to mold to how yours curved. you felt his strong chest rising and falling against your back, the constancy soothing as he draped his arm over your side, letting his rough hands drift slowly back down to your tummy. fox pressed a few lazy kisses behind your ears, causing the hair on your arms to stand up stiff. his lips were always warm, but with your skin burning up as it was, they felt frigid.

"too cold?"

"mm-mm," you hummed. maybe they were, but you weren’t going to jeopardize him stopping. 

fox was starting to disregard his better judgment as he tucked himself into you, feeling the feverish heat of your back. he was more attuned to the motions you made than his thoughts. the way your hands, so soft, just a touch smaller than his own, laid safely atop his wrists; how when he rubbed slow circles against your aching stomach, you made a little noise that was something heavenly, both hum and sigh; how your left foot ran up and down your right leg, feeling the fuzzy fabric of the blanket wedged between. he was so lost in how good it felt to be wanted that it was crossing over into obsession. he wanted every square inch of you to need his attention. he wanted to touch every spot that felt sick and nurse you back to life- to have it engrained in your head that only he could make it feel better, and no one else. 

so engrossed in his urges, fox kissed a little more, and what started as innocent turned urgent. he sucked softly behind your ear, nipping relentlessly on that sensitive spot you had. you began to pant, feeling the fever chills leave and a different kind of warmth roll over you. you pushed your hips into his hands, trying not to squirm and failing miserably. 

"oh, god," you covered your face with your hands. “fox…”

fox’s low laugh rumbled against your shoulder blades. the man relished in your inability to resist. his fingers began to travel down to your boxers, and he tucked his hand right below the waistband. he put pressure right against your heat and you buried your face as best as possible into the couch cushion, letting out a helpless whine.

"feels good, right, baby?"

"a-ah," you hiccuped.

"m'just gonna touch it, that's all,”

"but-"

"i can make you feel so much better," he kissed your ear, "make all those aches go away so fast, baby. can i?”

"please," you whispered.

he reached down and dragged his fingers along the fabric separating him from what he wanted, feeling the wetness beneath. his touch was feather-light, and as he gently wriggled his fingers beneath the cotton, you squeezed your eyes shut and scratched softly at the knuckles of his hand still on your waist. you were struggling to do anything other than lie there, but he didn’t need a thing from you anyway. eagerly, you felt his steady fingers brush against your entrance, and his lips parted hungrily at how slick you were.

"god, you're so easy, aren’t you?"

fox dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters. when your hips rocked back into his, he couldn’t bite back the greedy smile that overtook his face. impatient, he pushed them deeper, feeling the familiar pressure of you squeezing around his hand. you licked your chapped lips, feeling a knot tying itself in your tummy where he worked his fingers inside you. he’d been away a lot recently, so much so that this was a reminder of just how long his fingers truly were. 

"mm, now how’s that, sweetheart?"

"it’s… good," you drawled.

"you like it when i touch you like this, don't you? y’like how my fingers feel?"

you turned your head to look down at where his wrist disappeared beneath your boxers, and you keeled back against the pillow, meeting his broad shoulder. you shuddered in pleasure, and he craned his neck over to lock you in a kiss, feeling possessive like never before. he tasted the minty vicks above your lip and moaned right into your mouth.

"my poor, sick girl… just need me, don't you, baby? oh, you just want me to make it feel better, i know."

you practically melted into the couch as he buried his fingers between your hips. skillfully, he maneuvered you onto your back and crawled up and over so you could lay flat; he anchored his arm right over your head so he could stare down and watch the bliss reach your rosy face, all the while never taking his hand away. once you started breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out, dragging his slick fingertips across your stomach, leaving shiny streaks behind. when you groaned at the loss, he clicked his tongue.

"no whining, angel. i'm not done. i'm gonna take good care of you."

you watched through spinning vision as he pushed down the couch, crawling low until he could lean over your hips. then, with his big palms stationed between your thighs, he spread you wide, ogling your plush pink folds.

"you're so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

he pressed a few kisses on the mound just above where you ached, sending shocks up to the tips of your hair. then, he dipped his tongue right inside. he was too needy to start with kitten licks, so instead he swirled around, curling his tongue like a hook, big button nose rubbing against your clit as he breathed you like air. you were officially somewhere new, somewhere out of your own mind; his tongue was so long it could've been one of his god-given fingers, so warm inside you, so deep you couldn't see straight. 

"mmm- god- i love you.”

your toes curled as he moaned all kinds of sweet nothings into you, feeling the soundwaves rolling against your walls. just when his tongue had you going, he moved up to your clit and began sucking so hard you started seeing stars. you clamped your thighs around his head and felt his strong, rough hands grip the chub on them hard, fingertips digging enough to leave moon-shaped bruises. you tugged on his hair, unable to do anything but feel him against you and try not to slip away. but there was no stopping the way you floated in limbo, surrounded by the way he made you feel.

"fuck, baby, look at you," he growled between your hips. "c’mon. let me hear that scratchy little voice of yours."

"oh my god," you moaned, "oh, y-you... i... fox,"

"fuck, that's it. is it good, love, am i good?"

"you're so good! so…s-so good…fuck!" you fought not to trail off, but thinking was hard enough as it is.

“that’s my job, sweetheart.”

he kept himself there, getting off on the way you bucked your hips against his jaw. it didn’t take much longer for the burning in your stomach to grow unbearable, and through trembling little spasms confined by his stronghold on your waist, you unraveled right on his tongue. he came up for air with milky lips after working it out of you for a minute, pressing wet kisses all up your stomach and chest. you felt so dirty as you smiled down at the sheen trail of cum prints in the shape of his pretty lips.

“good girl. did that help?"

"mhm," you heaved, head spinning. “need…”

"what? what is it?"

"i- oh..."

"use your words, princess. words."

"c-can you- you..."

he knew what you wanted. he saw it in the pathetic way you glanced from your hips to his, too worked up to get it out. he chuckled in a way that sent chills up your legs and said, "awh, baby. you want me to fuck you now?"

you bit your lip and bucked your hips in the air. he lodged his leg between your thigh with a smirk and you pressed yourself against it, grinding on the worn fabric of his sweatpants. he felt a wet patch soaking through to his skin, and he twitched in anticipation. you batted your eyelashes and let out a raspy little noise, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt while you moved. and when a sniffle interrupted your humming, it drove him right over the edge.

"fuck. you’re so cute, you little tease.”

he shimmied his sweatpants down in an instant and wasted no time, groaning gutterally as he pushed in and bottomed out. you were hot around him, pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

"fuck, baby. never gets old,” he swooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your chin.  

he began to thrust in and out, hips rolling religiously into the curve of your legs. you clung to his shoulders and tugged him down so he was stuck against your neck, breath hot. he began to fuck you faster, pressing starving kisses to your collarbone, and you arched your back, gasping for a solid breath.

"oh my god!"

"god, you’re so tight," he growled, “been saving it all up for me, huh? missed me bad, i can tell,”

"mm… fox!”

"you like it when i fuck you like this? right on the couch, where anybody could see in that window? say it, baby,”

"i love it," you croaked, gathering the little tufts of overgrown hair at the nape of fox’s neck and tugging them in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself. he tipped his head back into your touch and whined, and you gave a dizzy, darling smile.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you, i fucking love you," he praised, timing every confession with a thrust of his hips.

all you could manage was a distracted, "m-me... too... ah!"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he uprighted himself and yanked you by the love handles, dragging you down the couch like a doll. he clawed at your hips, leaving red marks he’d have to soothe later. fox snapped harder and harder, losing control but not caring at all; you let him take you in his hands, surrendering until you couldn't take anymore, and suddenly the knot in your stomach burst. you shivered and writhed all around, whispering his name like a strangled prayer as your hands searched for something to squeeze. he leaned down so you could grab his biceps, and you scratched at them like a cat, a string of lewd things falling from your tired mouth. he came undone as you clenched around him, and his warmth in your tummy was so thick you felt like you could feel it in your throat. 

"so good, baby, jesus christ," fox wheezed. "you sound so pretty when you’re sick. can’t help myself."

you were nearly unresponsive. your head had never spun the way it did now, and your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, along with your throat. you couldn't form any words, all you could do was claw at his arms and tremble, face stuck in a permanent state of bliss. 

"feeling any better?" fox pressed little kisses to your chin and neck and eyes, and he traced shapes on your stomach to wake you up. "come on, princess, open your eyes. come back to me.” when you smiled and sighed, letting out an embarrassed giggle, he cooed, "there she is, my pretty girl."

"mhm."

"still feel bad?"

you shook your head sweetly, eyes drooping. "nuh-uh."

his heart swelled and he just wanted to eat you alive, so he did the next best thing. he leaned down and kissed your swollen lips with a softness he abandoned just minutes ago, swiping his tongue against your lips and all over your face. he kissed you with all the maneuvers of love he could muster, and you hummed against his mouth, pulling on his hair to hear those pretty little sounds again.

"you’ve got me so whipped, sweetheart," he purred between kisses, "just wanna take care of you."

"you're so good at it," you blushed.

"i do what i can." 

he kissed and kissed and kissed you into the couch, and all that kissing got heated, and one thing led to another because the two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves. and the next day, he woke up as sick as you. who saw that coming?

[chimielie]

got no shame (i love the way you’re screaming my name)

summary: Terushima x Reader. got shame? terushima doesn’t.

word count: 1.6k

cw: terushima’s a slut (who is domesticated unknowingly by reader), bad group project etiquette, general unwiseness.

a/n: this… wasn’t supposed to be this long. essentially nothing happens. it’s completely sfw even though i call terushima a slut. sorry

"Hi," you say brightly, setting your laptop down on the desk next to your assigned project partner. "I was thinking we could set up—"

"Yeah, hang on," he—Terushima, according to the instructor's sign-up sheet—interrupts you. "Hey. Hey. Can I get your number?"

You open your mouth before you realize he's talking to the girl behind you, who agrees as easily as he'd asked. They chat a little while longer, taking their sweet-ass time before he turns back to you and she to her partner.

"So I was thinking we could set up a shared document and do this all online," he says, unapologetic, a lazy grin playing on his mouth. You decide then and there that you hate Terushima Yuuji with everything you have in you.

Miraculously, you survive the group project (with the aid of remote work, aggressively polite wording, and a lot of pep talks from your friends). He should be thankful he survived, you think darkly, casting a glare at him as he chatters to a group of friends across the room. He doesn't know how many times you got through class by imagining wrapping your hands around his neck and just—

Anyway.

You're half-convinced the universe sent him to fuel you with inner rage, because even though you no longer have to work together, he just seems like he's cropping up... everywhere.

He's in the grocery, flirting with the attendant as he struggles with the self-checkout machine. He's in your favorite coffee shop, hanging over the bar while the barista makes your drink. He's even at the parties you go to, his loud laugh penetrating your buzz until you can't think of anything else by the end of the night.

You toy with the idea of accusing him of stalking you, except he'd made it abundantly clear upon your first meeting that he had no clue that you existed on the same earthly plane as him. Plus, at this point, you're slightly worried that it's the other way around.

(You try not to think about the time you'd been lying alone in bed, a little bit wine drunk from a self-care night, legs freshly lotioned, face freshly masked, and one of his social media accounts had happened to pop up on your screen. And your finger had happened to bump the screen and hit follow. And before you could process your actions enough to undo your mistake, a little notification had rung out in the horrified silence: @teru-yuuji followed you back!)

(You had rolled over and screamed into your pillow. You still do the same whenever you think about it too long.)

Anyway, he likes all your updates now, which is terribly annoying because it's not even an acknowledgement of your existence, probably, he probably swipes through everyone's profiles and sends little hearts flying haphazardly because he doesn't care about anyone, or anything. And maybe you can recognize that you're projecting a little bit, obsessing a little bit, but you're pretty sure that you're also starting to experience the same sort of revenge glow-up associated with terrible break-ups without any of the emotional pain, so who cares?

It's not like he knows you're even alive.

"I'm going to die out here," you say out loud, to no one, "and nobody will know."

Your car, steaming—smoking really, but you're trying to be positive—beside you on the side of the road, makes a strange noise in sympathy, and you jump.

In a sorely needed attempt to touch grass, you had ventured by yourself to one of your favorite hiking trails, a secluded spot you and your old car had journeyed to hundreds of times. Its small frame was perfect for the winding, mountainous roads; its engine, apparently, not so much.

Luckily, you still have one bar of cell service, except most people you know don't have a car, your best friend is at work, and when you try to call your father, he doesn't pick up and instead texts you: we went to lunch at this tiny restaurant! This is followed by several images that won't load but that are most likely of his food.

"Useless," you say, "I hate men." Just as a white, tricked-out, and worst of all, familiar car turns the corner, all of its windows down to enjoy the fresh air. You stare at its driver as he passes at about ten kilometers per hour, your eyes wide and despondent, his curious and probably devoid of actual human consciousness.

You momentarily contemplate running the opposite direction into the forest versus asking Terushima for help. As is his way, he interrupts.

"Is your car supposed to be doing that?"

Anything snarky, sassy, or otherwise bitchy you could have answered with dies on your tongue in the face of total, completely confident cluelessness.

"No?" You say, feeling almost as though you're witnessing this absurd interaction from above. "Obviously not?"

"Right," he nods, sliding awful, trendy sunglasses off his face and tucking them up into some compartment before putting his car in park and then exiting. As he advances, you note distantly that his eyes are really, really pretty. "Can I help you out? I am a man, though, just a warning."

He heard you. Great.

"I didn't notice," you say, staring firmly at his middle torso area, which is covered by a shirt which he has cut the arms off of. There are... shoulders, and arms, toned, tan arms showing. And he must have just gotten back from a hike of his own, because the material seems slightly damp with sweat, and it's sticking to what appear to be abs, and you suddenly feel like your car: overheated and broken down. "I guess I can forgive you for that. Just this once. If there's anything you can actually do about," you wave a hand at your car, which has thankfully stopped smoking, "that."

"I can give you a ride," he says, and doesn't seem to realize how completely his tone changes as he does, how his words suddenly sound layered and intimate and... You need to get a grip.

“I have a friend on the way,” you say. You don’t. But he’s still technically a strange man and you know better than to seem completely abandoned.

“Oh? Good,” he says, and you think that’s the end of it. He’ll leave you to your beforested demise. “Can I check the hood real quick, though?”

“Do what you want.” He waits for you to pop the hood—you had earlier, but fuck if you knew what you were looking at.

"Thanks, babe," he says, and you hate him all over again. Then he opens your hood, muscled arms stretching up as he latches the strut in place, bent at the waist ever so slightly, and you're sort of collapsing into a very emotionally confused puddle on the side of the road. "Aw, I think your fan is fucked. I have a buddy I can call, he can tow the car if you want? He’s a mechanic but he can take it to your usual person if you have one.”

"That would be really nice," you blink at him, feeling your mouth stretch into a smile without your permission. "Do you think we could call him now? I don't want to leave my car without being sure someone's coming for it."

"Sure," he nods enthusiastically. "Gimme a sec."

What follows is a bizarre five minutes where Terushima paces in front of where you've seated yourself cross-legged on the road, occasionally casting you furtive glances and muttering things like "Yeah, from the... Yeah, that one. Please, bro, I'll owe you... I'll get you Miwa's number. I promise. When have I ever... Okay, fair, but c'mon. Thank you. I'll give you our first-born."

You tune him out after that, fully baffled.

"Okay!" He finally turns to you, beaming a sunny smile you've never seen on him at you. "He's coming. I sent you his website and shit, so you know he’s real."

“He’s not," you say, holding out a hand so he can help you up. He does, and you immediately regret this decision, because he's standing so close, and his hand is really big in yours, and you're pretty sure you're flirting with him. "You’re crazy."

"You’re funny," he says, and laughs, clear and ringing. He’s flirting with you, but you can’t tell if that’s just his natural dialect or if he’s— "So your boyfriend’s coming to pick you up? Why didn’t he come with you?"

"I don’t need a chaperone," the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, which is becoming a worrying pattern. "And I don’t have one—a boyfriend, anyway. I was on the phone with my dad when you showed up, you know, ‘I hate men’. Or trying. He's too excited about grand opening discounted fried fish."

"Fried fish is important," he says solemnly, eyes literally twinkling, what the fuck. You didn’t think that was real. "I understand."

“See,” you roll your eyes, “This is why I hate men.” He’s looking at you with a soft gaze that makes you aware of your whole body, down to your toes, and it’s starting to make you flustered. “I, um, I actually don’t have a ride coming.”

“Then why’d you—” he starts.

“I thought you might murder me,” you shrug. “And then I panicked. You don’t seem like a murderer, and we’ve had classes together, so… I’m sorry about that.”

“So,” he looks hopeful, in a way you don’t understand. “You still need a way back?”

“I do,” you nod, “but seriously, if it’s an inconvenience at all, I really don’t want to—”

“Please,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get on your good side for a while. Let me take you home.”

[harlotofupdog]

This was meant to be a groveling apology post but it turned into a rage meta post.

I have so many fics that I want to read or finish reading from writers whose work I truly adore, and so much art that I want to stare at and squeal about, and I just haven't got to it. There are fics that I am so in love with and I just… I can't open AO3 until I can just sit, y'know?

I know that literally no-one is counting on me for this stuff because I am a tiny wonker, but I feel perpetually awful about it nonetheless. I also have a bunch of fic stuff (writing and beta) that I never get to, and I'm now at the point where I'm so overwhelmed by all the things I need to do that I'm paralysed by procrastination. There's probably a few topsy-turvy chonkadonks of recent news that haven't helped, but the main thing is…

FUCKING HOTEL ROOMS.

I spend so much time in hotel rooms. I used to love hotel rooms. It felt like a little treat every time I stayed in a nice one. Bright white sheets, little sachets of tea and shitty instant coffee, minibars, dressing gowns, inconvenient power outlets, unflattering mirrors - I loved it all. But now I fucking dread them. They are my ultimate (bad) liminal spaces - just fancy transit points between the airport or the train station or the closest fucking McDonald's where I can eat a zillion nuggets until I feel better.

I've tried to be productive in hotel rooms, I really have. I bring my laptop, I bring my sketchpad. Sometimes I have a couple of free hours in the evening, and god, why don't I use them? Instead, I sit and think and scroll while I drink all the shitty tea and shitty coffee and sometimes an entire bottle of red or whatever tiny booze they have in the minibar.

It occurs to me, after 6000 years of fucking hotel rooms, that they are… Heaven. They are, right? Crisp, light, bright, stifling. There's the concierge in their nice suit, the fancy faux marble foyer, elevators that sneak up from behind and then DING as if you're the arsehole for facing the other way, mirrors fucking EVERYWHERE jump-scaring you with your own face, the end of the toilet paper folded into a little triangle... (whose bum needs that? A tiny triangle before the rest of the paper? No-one's bum needs that!)

And Heaven is always watching, isn't it?

The binful of teabags, the crumpled up packets of crisps-for-dinner, the empty bottle of wine - they will all be SEEN, along with the sanitary bag and the snotty tissues and the laddered stockings that I've wrenched off in a rage because now I have to go buy more. (WHY DID HOTELS GET RID OF BIN BAGS?)

We haven't even made it to the mortifying ordeal of ordering room service as a solo business traveler. I order the club sandwich, because that is the first thing you should order in a hotel, always - this is a rule. I eat it, it's fine. Club sandwiches have probably hauled me back from the edge of madness/chicken nuggets at least four times now. The next night, though, I don't want a club sandwich. I want something else.

A pizza.

There is no option to order a half pizza, and if I order a whole pizza, I will eat the whole pizza. So I order a whole pizza, obviously. I eat the pizza, because of course I do - it's not great, but it's kinda okay and it's something to do because I can't do any of the other things like live or breathe or exist in regular human form.

But when the pizza is gone, I look at the empty tray sitting on the slimy glass-topped desk and the realisation hits: they will know I know they know that I sat on my pristine bed, shoving melted cheese and prosciutto into my mouth, probably in full view of some late night meeting in the next building over, while staring at a wall and fervently wishing I were elsewhere.

There is probably sauce on the sheets and a bit of rocket on the floor that I can't find, and the TV remote is greasy af. It's basically a murder scene and I will feel guilty for the next millennia and a bit.

In conclusion...

Heaven is a panopticon and so is the Hilton. But Azi showed up for it, and so will I. Hopefully we can all make it back to the comfy, dusty book-filled spaces for good one day.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 13

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this so any feedback would be amazing. I really hope you enjoy it. I will openly admit there is not much plot to this chapter. Enjoy. Warnings: smut 18+ The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Garrick easily picks me up, my legs wrapping instantly around his waist as he backs us up. My back meeting the wall behind me. Garrick is everywhere. His lips trail down my jaw and neck. Kissing and biting at the skin. I don’t hold back from the noises that escape my lips, which only seem to spur him on, his hands griping me tightly. As my fingers lace themselves into the curls at the nape of his neck, a groan rumbles through his body, his eyes opening and I can barely see the usual hazel due to how blown out his pupils are. I can see the lust and desire burning in them, and I have no doubt my eyes are the same.

Garrick decides the wall isn’t the best place anymore and quickly moves us so I am sitting on my desk, kicking my chair across the room as it slams into the armoire. His hands quickly move to the zipper of my jacket, sliding it down in one swift motion and pushing it down my arms. Garrick was not wasting his time. He knew what he wanted and what I wanted. He kneels in front of me, kissing down my legs as he makes quick work of unlacing one of my boots which I bring my other leg up to do the same. They soon join my jacket on the floor, quickly followed by his jacket and boots as well. As he stands I tug on the bottom of the shirt he is still wearing, he grabs it and pulls it off in one swift movement. Gods it was hot, and so was the view underneath. I’d seen him without a shirt many times due to him and Xaden often opting to train without them. But up close it was something else. I reach out and run my hand down his chest and I feel him shiver and groan at my touch. He loops a finger in my pants and pulls me up flush against him, his mouth meeting mine in a passionate kiss as he runs his fingers through my hair.

His hands continue their exploration, trailing down my arms, leaving a fiery path in their wake. His touch both thrilling and tormenting. I clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I seek something to anchor myself to amidst the whirlwind of sensations he's stirring within me.

I tug on his hair, bringing his face closer to mine. His lips meet mine once again, the taste of him intoxicating. Our breaths mingle, each kiss more urgent, more demanding than the last as we lose ourselves in the rhythm of the dance we've begun. He breaks away from the kiss and trails his lips along the curve of my jawline, his teeth grazing my skin in a tantalizing tease that sends a shiver down my spine.

He pulls back and meets my gaze, his eyes a storm of desire and promise. It's an unspoken conversation, a promise of what's to come that leaves me breathless in anticipation. His eyes are the last thing I see before he dips his head, his lips tracing the pulse in my neck, making my heart race even faster.

It his turn to tug on my shirt as my fingers fumble with the ties on his pants. He quickly knocks my hand away, bitting my neck playfully. But also in warning. He’s in charge right now. He breaks away from my neck to pull the shirt from my body with one hand, while the other is already working on the ties of my leather flight pants. He wraps an arm around my waist, picking me up and in one swift motion I am seated back on the desk with my flight pants now on the floor. Leaving me just in my underwear. His eyes rake over my body as if taking in every detail. The smirk he gives me as his eyes meet mine sends heat rushing to my core. He reaches down, his fingers stroking me through the thin fabric. My back arching into him as my moan echoes off the walls.

“Gods, Ophelia.” Garrick huskily whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “You keep this up and I’ll be done before I can properly feel you.”

He applies more pressure, coercing another moan from my lips as he lightly bites my earlobe. My hand flying to his hair and pulling on the curls. This time I pull the moan from him. His lips are on mine again in a blatantly carnal kiss. He pushes my legs apart further with his, a rip echoing through the room as the fabric is discarded. I’m too lost in the moment to care as his fingers delve deeper and plunge inside. A hiss leaving Garrick’s lips as my finger nails dig into his shoulder, and my hand tightening on the curls in his hair. I quickly make work of the last of the ties on his flight leathers, and push them down far enough to free his cock, grasping it in my hands. The moan that rips from his lips has me clenching around the fingers he has inside me. He’s eyes almost look black as he leans his forehead against mine as we both touch each other, our heavy breaths almost in sync. Garrick with his free hand loosens the ties and pulls the last of his pants off with his free hand. He removes his fingers from me and I huff at loss as he removes my hand from him.

He pulls me to the edge of the desk, the head of his cock rubbing against me, a gasp leaves my lips as his eyes lock with mine, hunger and lust evident in them and I have no doubt mine are the same. He rocks back and forth, teasing me, the laugh that leaves his lips telling me he’s doing it on purpose as I whine. I take matters into my own hands by locking my legs around his hips and pull him into me, both of us gasping as the first few inches enter me. He holds me against him as picks me up and takes us back to the wall where we started. As he leans me against the wall, I sink down on him, taking him completely. Both our heads rolling back at the sensation. Garrick gathers his composure first as he pulls out and thrusts back in, both our moans echoing off the walls of my room. Every thrust hitting the perfect spot almost every time deep inside me. Garrick slams back into me over and over again at a brutal pace that does not surprise me. Honestly I had always imaged that this is what it would be like. Intense, intimate and passionate. It’s as if Garrick already knows everything about my body as he reaches down to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves,, his mouth latching down on one of my nipples. My fingernails rake down his back, and I know tomorrow there will be deep red marks down it from me. But neither of us cares right now as a groan rips from his lips, the pace of his thrusts increasing.

I feel the coil building inside me and Garrick must notice it to. “I’ve got you little one. Let go.” He whispers in my ear.

He pulls us from the wall, my back hitting the bed as he drives into me even faster and deeper than before, my eyes rolling back at the intense feeling. Garrick reaches down to rub on my clit again and I’m coming undone beneath him.

”Shit.” Garrick mutters, his pace faltering as he finishes seconds after me.

Garrick picks me up, laying down on my bed and laying me on his chest. His arms wrapped around me, tracing patterns over my sensitive skin. Every time I shiver I feel his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“I should have confronted you about that day earlier if I knew this is how it was going to end.” He teases as I smack him lightly on the chest.

”Don’t think the other first years would have appreciated seeing that.” I reply.

”Could have always taken you to my room. Bigger bed as well.” He whispers flirtatiously.

I shift and look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “The room that is right next to Xaden’s? Yeah, great idea.”

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah that one.”

I roll my eyes at him and place my head back on his chest. “Good to know you like a side of murder with your sex.”

I feel his chest rumble with laughter again as a yawn escapes my lips. It had been a long day of dragon bonding, celebrating and now this. Garrick tightens his grip on me as he places the blanket over us. With a wave of his hand the mage light in my room turns off, plunging us into darkness as moonlight fills the room.

As I drift off in his arms to the steady beating of his heart, Garrick places a kiss to the top of my head and whispering into my hair, so quiet I nearly miss it.

”Mine.”

Part 14

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh

[neverpathia]

okay guys

so this is for a kinda art trade with @everestgale as i've said before i think

but like

i actually have no idea how well i did on this piece tbh. not one of my best works. but whatever, it's here now. yay.

-- -- -- -- --

He was there. And he was also there. And he was there, and there, and there.

Too many incarnations, scattered across too many lifetimes. Littered with too many wrong choices, wasted chances, horrible consequences, painful deaths. Too much pain, too many scars, borne by himself as well as everyone else. Physical. Emotional. Everywhere—

"Hero?" He was shaken out of his stupor by the voice of a companion. The Paranoid. Yes, the Hero was in the infirmary right now. Okay. Right.

Hero looked up from where he sat on the windowsill and blinked.

The afternoon sun-rays fell about him, surrounding Hero with daylight. His sword lay against the wall, propped on the floor beside him. Across from his seat, Paranoid was hunched over a cluttered workbench, tinkering with herbs and concoctions.

She turned abruptly as she shot Hero a concerned glance. "You spaced out for a second."

"Uh..." Hero clutched at the curtain. "Nope. Carry on with whatever you were doing."

Paranoid shook her head and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "Idiot."

"What?" Hero tried to look as innocent as he could muster.

Paranoid went back to her work, but she only partially turned her attention away from Hero. "You're not convincing me."

"You're only being...paranoid." He offered her an awkward grin.

Paranoid rolled her eyes as she poured some sort of mixture into an uncorked vial. "Fine, I'll trust you. Only a little. For now."

I'll trust you. And from Paranoid, of all people. Hero wanted to laugh.

Hero leaned back against the glass panes. They were warm, almost scalding. He observed Paranoid as she worked, her slender frame bent over the desk in concentration. The apothecary's gloved hands moved to and fro, passing between her crammed shelves and teetering beakers, calculated and frantic. Shaky. Unstable.

She had become like that because of Hero. Of what he had failed to prevent. And then the memories came again: a flickering figure, a porcelain mask, gloved hands and unblinking eyes. That was one of them, only one of the many...

His fault. Another fault. And another mistake, another, another. It could've been averted every single time. But it wasn't. It all swirled around him, amidst him, each sight and step and sound a new reminder. Nails and heels. Claws and fangs. He was only a false Hero, one who tried to save everything but only doomed and doomed and—

"Breathe. You need to breathe."

Memory faded. Presence returned. Paranoid had left her workbench and now crouched some distance from Hero, leaning as a doctor would by a patient's bedside, yet just a bit too far from reach.

"What..." Hero shook his head, somewhat dazed. He noticed a bit of shattered glass on the floor, with what used to be its contents spilling across the table.

Shit.

"Uh." Hero gestured to the mess. "Someone should go clean that-"

"You were hyperventilating." Paranoid's gaze darted back and forth, as if she couldn't decide if eye contact would be okay. She stared with wide, nervous eyes. Her stance was tense.

Hero shifted on the windowsill, sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"You-" Paranoid fidgeted hard with the hem of her own tattered cloak, twisting and squeezing. "Don't apologise. That can't be okay. You're thinking of something. First you were spaced out, and lost in your head, and then after a while you zoned out again."

Hero sighed. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...been a long day."

"And I'm not buying that. Something's wrong, alright."

Hero looked away. "We don't need to talk about it, at least not right now."

Paranoid paused. She clawed feverishly at the cloak before instantly, abruptly, letting go.

And she gave a sudden laugh, nervous and pained. "Hahaha. That's what I say. That- that's what I always say. Don't think about it. Not now, not ever. Just don't. Just don't."

Then her smile faded. "But then it doesn't go away. It comes back and it just stays there. Nagging. Insistent. Worse. So don't give me that shit, Hero, and just tell me."

Hero hesitated. "I don't know about that." He really didn't want to think about it, and he definitely didn't want to bother Paranoid any longer.

Paranoid rolled her eyes. "You do realise that not telling me is just going to make me worry about you more, right?"

Hero was silent for another moment. How stupid of him. To have this breakdown here, in the same room as a friend, as if Paranoid would simply have allowed herself to ignore it. To be led along the same train of thought as ever.

Paranoid sighed. "I could say that I care about you, but that's just going to make it worse, isn't it?"

Hero tried for a smile. "No, it wouldn't."

Paranoid buried her face in her hands. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Hero considered for a moment. They were close, after all. How much would Paranoid mind if he confided?

Actually, he didn't want to know.

Paranoid began to fidget again. "Okay. Let's look at this another way. Let's say I'm the one panicking—fuck, I'm always the one panicking—and you were watching it happen. Wouldn't you ask me to tell you what I'm feeling? Wouldn't you try to comfort me?"

Hero avoided looking at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's different. I'm supposed to be the one who's okay."

Paranoid facepalmed. "I- ...Fine. Let's just say I care for you. I really do."

Hero didn't meet her eyes. "I know."

"You probably feel like a burden right now. I promise you're not! Really. Doesn't it hurt? Isn't it hard, keeping all that to yourself, locking it all up? Tell someone. Tell me. It would help."

Hero did not respond.

"And I wish I did know, even if you don't. Just...please tell me. If you can."

Silence at first. Then, finally, Hero spoke. "I'm just so tired."

Paranoid didn't interrupt. She only tilted her head ever so slightly as she let him go on; as she simply listened.

"It's like I'm a liar. A fraud." It came slow at first. The words were forced out. But as soon as Hero had said them, it was like something had burst, and it just needed to be released.

"A hero. That's what you all call me. That's supposed to be my name, who I am." Hero looked down at his hands, at all the faint yet present scars criss-crossing across them. "But what kind of hero am I if I can't save anyone? You know the past. I was there with the Decider, with all of you, every single time. And I could have said something. I could have taken control. I could have...done anything."

Tears began to well up at the corners of Hero's eyes. He looked up, desperate to prevent them from flowing down. "Look at everyone. Look at you. You and Broken and Hunted and Cheated and even Contrarian. You're all so hurt. And if I had just done the right things, you wouldn't even be like this. But I didn't. I...let you become like this.

"And I said things. I turned the Princess into this, into that, into everything at once. It never stopped, never stops now. It's there all the time. Too many memories. I don't want it anymore. I just want to forget. I just want to forget."

He couldn't stop the tears from coming. They broke away. They rolled down. They fell onto his legs. Onto the windowsill. Onto the ground. Little splatters, unguarded, unrestrained; like everything he had never done.

Paranoid's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. And she nodded. And she didn't look away, but she didn't look ahead either; she simply stared in his general direction without staring at him.

She was listening. He was relieved. He was concerned. He was too fatigued to care.

"Can you tell me I'm okay?" Hero asked. "It's...going to be fine, right?"

"No." Paranoid kept her voice soft. "This isn't something logical. I can tell you a million things you did right but it still wouldn't be enough."

Hero gave a weak smile. "Just tell me anyway. It might help, I don't know."

She barely hesitated before speaking. "You've been here since the start. You know all of us, and you're the only one who can comfort us most of the time. And even before all this, you...You were always the voice of reason. The most normal, or at least you forced yourself to be. That's admirable. I don't know how you did it."

Hero tried to feel better. The words did ease him a little. But Paranoid was right, it wasn't enough. He was just doing his duty. It was his obligation. And he had still done too little of it.

Paranoid wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Still anxious as ever. "I love you for it. But that doesn't mean jack shit. I could list a hundred rights, and one wrong would still be so much worse."

Hero attempted to force a smile again. "I can deal with it. I can—"

"Are you so sure you can?" Paranoid rose as she stepped forward, closing the distance. "Or are you just lying to yourself?"

He stopped. The memories came again. It did hurt. It hurt too much.

"Maybe." Hero slumped. "Can you get something for it, like medicine or anything? You always have something for everything."

Paranoid laughed bitterly. "I wish. Maybe for the short-term, yes. Something to dull it for a while. But you can't avoid it forever."

The resignation in her face told Hero everything. Of course he couldn't just escape. She would know.

She shot him a glance as she walked over to another corner of the room. "I'll get a couple of pills for you. Maybe some tea as we speak."

Hero stayed where he was. He tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks, a bit embarrassed. "Alright."

He scooted along the window and tried to hide into the curtains as Paranoid retrieved something from a drawer. She turned and caught a glimpse of whatever he was doing, the curtains barely covering his bulky frame. She frowned.

"Hero?" Paranoid seemed rather disappointed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He grinned bashfully, more genuine this time. "Uh, nothing."

"Idiot." This one was clear enough.

He actually laughed a little. "Hey, just carry on."

And she did, pouring something into a cup as she muttered and mumbled to herself. Hero contemplated. At least this was nice. The sun filtering in behind him, the organized clutter of the infirmary, and the company of a friend. Even if the friend was a little strange.

She returned with a cup and saucer in one hand, clutching a small pouch with a few pills inside in the other. "These are for later, six o'clock sharp."

He took the pouch from her. "What's in here?"

"A bit of my own medication diluted with something else." She sat on the floor beside him, setting the cup down on the windowsill next to his thigh.

Hero gaped. "Seriously?"

"Remember to tell me if you experience any side effects—"

"No. Hold on." He stared blankly at Paranoid, her demeanour unsteady and frazzled. "You're medicated?"

"So I've worked with medicines for as long as I can remember, and I wouldn't have enough sense to do something about myself. That makes a lot of sense, Hero."

"What the- This is after mental treatment?"

Paranoid shrank back, comically offended. "Does it still seem that bad?!"

Hero laughed again as he stuffed the pills in his pocket. "Still pretty bad."

Paranoid smiled. "Hey, as if you're not bad either. It does help, trust me on this."

And then the moment was over.

"How much does it work?" Hero asked. The turmoil threatened at him again. Coiling and churning and crossing the edges of his brain. Knocking against his temples. About to rupture against it all.

"It should be enough for now, but—"

"Please," Hero whispered at first, unaware as he did, but his voice rose steadily as he spoke, louder and louder. "Can it all just stop? I want it to stop. The expectations, the guilt. Make it stop. Please make it stop! Please, I can't do this anymore!"

Paranoid averted her eyes.

"I...want it to stop too. Hahaha." Her laugh was desperate, and yearning, and pleading. "But it won't."

Hero heaved a long sigh. There was more silence.

Paranoid extended a hand, and he took it. And for one moment, they remained like that.

Sitting still.

Holding hands.

"So..." Hero broke the silence. "Just like that?"

Paranoid gave his hand a squeeze. "All we can do is live, I guess. Or try to live."

"At least you're here."

"...Yeah." She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. "At least...at least we're not alone."

And there was hope.

[asgardianangel]

can we get a oneshot where you have a one-night stand with Sleazy Saul and accidentally end up pregnant and tell him, only for him to be over the moon and wanting you to be his stay at home trophy wife, all according to his plan of “accidentally” knocking you up

I’m on my period and thirsty for Sleazy Saul 😭

A beautiful thing (Saul Goodman X Fem!Reader)

Warnings: 18+ Smut, Saul being sleazy, age gap, naive reader, rough sex, breeding kink, forced pregnancy

It was a rainy night in Alburquerque, and the bell of the pharmacy door jingled. Tireless you stepped inside and searched aisle after aisle finally you came across what you were looking for...pregnancy tests. 

Signs were small at first nausea and feeling fatigue but then you missed your period. You just had to make sure. Picking up multiple tests even different brands you walked up to the counter. 

Back at your apartment you found yourself in the bathroom waiting for the results. It felt like an hour had past and you felt more anxious by the second. Then the result became clear. 

Positive. 

You decided to take another and then another test. All came back with the same result. You were pregnant. Having a baby was something you expected in life but not now, you weren’t financially stable enough to raise a child. Barely getting by with the bills. 

But then you realised something else. Who you had slept with to get yourself in this situation.  

Saul Goodman. The big-time criminal lawyer. 

- 

You thoughted back to that night as you worked your desk job in court filing paperwork for upcoming trials and whatnot. There you met him. Saul was famously known to be ‘sleazy’ but that didn’t stop you from blushing at each comment he made towards you. 

 The older man you secretly loved getting the attention from. He was so desperate to get you out the professional secretary space. 

‘C’mon doll let’s go out for dinner I know the perfect place’ 

Giving you gifts of flowers and small adorable stuffed animals to place on your desk. You found the gestures to be sweet. 

‘Please just one little drink together’ he begged leaning over your desk like a schoolgirl with a crush. Never has a man been so desperate. 

Until one late afternoon you gave in, and his blue eyes beamed like a puppy dog. He invited you out to a quiet dim lit bar with the promise of buying you ‘as many drinks as possible’ Saul was a charmer who showed interest in every detail about your life with his eyes occasional wondering your body. 

He made sure to compliment you throughout the night and it progressed into more lustful pace. Saul bit his lip as you reacted with a blush and a little look away. 

‘What? Has no one ever told you how absolutely beautiful your body is?’ he questioned causing you to laugh.  

‘You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever met, and God damn that ass kills me every time I see it’ you listened to him going on and on about your ass all night.  

The thought of having a little fling with the one and only Saul Goodman excited you. Yet the idea was little off putting at first considering if your co-workers found out you would probably be slut shamed for going with the sleaziest lawyer around.  

But at the end of the night, you didn’t care. You needed to let loose every once and while. 

Pulling Saul by his green patterned tie as you lead him inside your cosy little apartment was how it started. Hands roaming around your body you stared at him with utter desire unbuttoning his shirt slowly. 

Saul whispered sweet nothings into your ear as he left vibrant love bites on your neck. His touches were soft as if he was taking his time kissing everywhere on your body as he stripped you bare.  

Only when you finally made it to your bedroom his desperate and eager manner ramped up again. He pushed you to your bed causing you to gasp in surprise as he climbed up on top of you. His cock was so hard already as he kissed and licked your tits. ‘Can’t believe I can finally see what these babies looked like’ he groaned playing with them. 

The mixture of the alcohol and pure passion caused you to beg him like a slut. Moaning his name over and over as he now played between your legs. Making sure you were ready for him. Delving his long fingers inside you as his tongue followed along. Legs quivered he was so close to making you cum but suddenly stopped when you almost reached that sweet climax. 

 You whined and he chuckled pecking kisses on your thighs. ‘P-please Saul I need t-’ you tried to say but was cut off by a harsh slap to your behind. 

‘You made me wait so long baby I wanted you the day that I saw you’ the older man muttered in your ear with slight annoyance. You gave him a kiss of forgiveness to which he grabs your chin by force and makes you take his tongue  

‘So, you are gonna cum when I say so sweet face’ he told you kissing you some more. His hand moved up and down on his thick cock as you watched in a trance. Fuck... you wanted him inside you so bad. 

‘Ass up sweetheart’ he ordered as if your pray was answered. You sighed as you throbbed at just the tone of his command turning onto your tummy and lifting yourself up in presentation. Saul hummed at the act smoothing his hand along your ass. 

‘I-I almost forgot to ask do you have any protection?’ you questioned quietly. You were on the pill but liked to be extra safe.  

‘No’ he simply responded wrapping his arm around your waist prepping kisses on your back. ‘Well, I guess you could p-’ he stopped you there with an annoyed hush sound. 

‘Oh, sweetheart I can cum in you if I want’ he whispered in a chuckle. ‘Aren’t you not on the pill?’ he then asked.  

‘Yes-ah!’ he cut you off again this time slamming into you causing you to gasp and moan. Saul’s arm wrapped tighter around you as he slammed into you again with a groan. 

‘Oh, doll you belong to me uh’ he tells you with another groan into your ear. His thick cock dived so deep inside you that you could only whimper at his words. Saul picked up a fast pace, but his thrusts were deep into you as he kept you in your place. 

Your small bed was jolting hard against the wall with his eager movements. As words of possessiveness and moans bounced off the walls.  

You cried out his name as his strong arm kept you falling onto the roughed-up sheets with your face. You had never had such a good fuck before you were kind of worried you become addicted to him. 

His thick cock stretched you so well kissing those sweet spots as Saul occasionally whimpered. 

You could hear him groan quietly something to himself but couldn’t exactly work out what it was. 

 His cock was throbbing hard within you ‘such a good girl hm’ Saul then chanted over and over as you felt the both of you becoming close to that climax. 

‘Beg me to cum inside you doll let’s make something beautiful’ he ordered but you didn’t quite think about what he meant by that. All that matter is that orgasm you have long waited for. 

‘Please c-cum in me please ah!’ you cried as his long fingers rubbed on your poor clit along with his harsh thrusts. 

‘that’s its baby cum with me c’mon y-you can do it’ he encouraged with a deep groan. He didn’t need to tell you twice as your entire body shook and you squeezed his cock so intensely. His thick load shot inside you coating your insides as you sighed in relief. 

He stayed inside you holding your body close to his resting his head on your back. You thought he would get off you and the night would end...but no 

Saul was insatiable he had you again and again in many positions like the man was possessed. 

And you now ended up pregnant. 

Sighing you held your head not sure what to do you were going have to confront him and figure out what you were going to do. Yes, you wanted a precious little baby, but you imagined having one in a stable healthy relationship not by a one-night stand with a big-time criminal lawyer. You couldn’t imagine him stepping up to become a father.  

There it was his office you parked in front of it deep in thought. How was he going to react? Would he send you straight to the unplanned clinic? Saul was a reasonable man you were sure at least he would do is have an in-depth discussion about it. 

Stepping inside the building you instantly noticed how busy it was. You should have called beforehand. Maybe you were too nervous to do so. A dark-haired woman looked up from her paperwork to see you awkwardly standing there. “Can I help you?” she asked. 

“I’m here to see M-Mr Goodman” you stuttered slightly. Nerves started to play. 

The woman huffed “Well your gonna be here for a while” Gesturing to all the clients with her pen. 

Nodding “It’s fine I’ll wait” you mumbled leaning against the wall.  

It felt as if hours as passed by when you finally heard his voice. 

“Who’s next for some excellent legal advice?” He asked his blue eyes scanning the waiting room. Then they fell upon you. 

“Ah Y/N look time no see” he beamed, and you smiled at him. God this is going to be one hell of a talk. Saul gestured you into his office and shut the door.  

Silence followed for a moment until he clapped his hand “So?” he started pulling out a chair “what can I do for you?” he questioned softly as you took a seat. 

You took a deep breath and started talking “well just to be clear I’m here on personally matters” you state quietly.  

Saul hums in a chuckle “Oh back for round two huh?” A part of you wishes heavily for that was the case. This man is always so horny. 

“There’s no simple way to put it-” Saul cuts your words. “Sweetheart you can tell me anything” he assures you getting up from his chair and walking behind you. 

You sigh softly as he begins to massage your shoulders in comfort. “c’mon tell me” He encourages. 

“I’m pregnant”  

Those two words left your mouth and Saul’s eyes grew wide. You weren’t exactly sure how what to make of it “Really?” he asked in a weirdly excited tone. 

You nod your head in confirmation, and he made a desperate move to give you a long kiss to the lips. The older man steps back and you gave him a confused look. 

“You are not unhappy or shocked at the news?” You questioned lightly and he just chuckles. 

“Quite the opposite extremely happy and surprised” he tells you with another kiss.  

“Stand up” Saul grabs your hand helping you up to your feet. He then places both hands to your body almost like he’s checking you out for approval. 

“Oh, baby you are gonna look even more stunning” he muses his hands feeling your body and then rests upon your tummy. Like you were already showing. 

“Gonna be such a beautiful mama” Saul’s hand reaches under your shirt on your bare skin. “I’m just imagining it now you all big and swollen with such a precious thing we created” Saul was over the moon. 

You just stood there confused of his reaction as he whispered to himself. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to be a papa” 

“I wonder what we are going to name you” 

“You are going to have an amazing life kid with a mama and papa who love you” 

All the words and phrases you never actually believed you would hear from a man like him.  

“Stay with me doll I will take care of the both of you” Saul promised softly. You didn’t know how to respond to that.  

A wild one-night stand (and probably the best sex you ever had) and all the sudden the famous criminal lawyer wants to be a family man. 

“I know how it is but trust me all I’ve ever wanted the most was a family.” he tells you. Stepping back, you give yourself some space. 

Saul reaches for his phone income button “Cancel and reschedule my appointments for the next hour Francisca” he excitedly ordered. 

Saul stares over at you with a grin and the look in his deep blue eyes you recognised from that night. Walking over to you again he strokes your hair “I think my future wife and I are in some desperate need of alone time” his voice deepens seductively.  

He didn’t give you a chance to speak as his head was suddenly between your trembling thighs again. 

From then on Saul made in clear how your life was going to head. Plans of marriage parenthood and ultimately being his beloved housewife. You expressed concern how fast it was all going but he never took ‘no’ for an answer. 

The sex was still amazing as ever, but it never distracted you on how much he controlled your life. The man was insatiable as ever having you in every position possible. Saul was never tired from working in fact he was desperate to see you in his bed. His perfect and pretty little housewife carrying his child.  

“Everything has to be right sweet face” he would tell you. 

But you would never find out the truth.  

A pharmacist named Daniel Wormald (aka peach cobbler) repaid Saul for his legal advice by completing a rather important request for him. 

Switching your birth control with placebos...  

[yanderepuck]

My first commission!! Yay!!! This is for @aliens8n who simply told me "eel porn"

Aka Floyd Smut

First off. If he doesn't have a daddy kink he's definitely making you call him SIR

Sir yes sir daddy sir

Gets very upset if you don't call him sir

Honestly you're fucking in the lounge's vip room often

HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU ON AZUL'S DESK!!!!

Floyd calling you a whore for yawning in front of others

Imagine when he gives you a hicky and you just have all these marks from his teeth, and he just bites you all along your thigh because he likes seeing the imprint in your skin

So because he's so impulsive you could go days or even weeks without doing anything, but when he's ready to go let's hope you are too.

He'll just pick up his shrimpie and carry you somewhere private

HE IS WILLING TO TRY OUT ANY KINK IF IT SEEMS FUN

Honestly you should be so happy he takes you somewhere private. But that's mainly because he doesn't want to share you. No one else is even allowed to hear your moans.

Jade goes to their shared room and tries to open the locked door, knows what's going on and turns on his heels to walk away, not wanting to possibly hear anything that's going on

Only he doesn't REALLY know what's going on

He doesn't REALLY know how rough Floyd is being.

Have you seen those hands? Do you know how deep those fingers are getting? Scissoring your hole open to stretch you out just enough to take him.

He's anything but soft just so you know.

He wants to hold your arms above your head . And both of your wrists are fitting in his one hand.

He likes to move you into different positions rather than telling you what to do

He gives a quickie kind of vibe

Back to fingering

He's edging you soooo much. You're a toy to him. Just a little play thing. Something to amuse him. Something for him to stick his fingers into because he never knows what kind of noise you're going to make

He wants to poke his fingers around just for fun while you are trying to focus on your homework.

New game! How long can he play with you until you lose control and cum over his fingers?

But he didn't tell you that you could so you better say 'sorry sir'

Like said before, he could go a while without being in the mood, but once he is you aren't walking right for a week.

He's very much into pleasing you. He likes to see you squirm.

Very predator/prey kind of kink.

Again. So many bite marks

He's fucking you on Azul's desk when Azul is in class.

You took a picture of what the desk looked like before hand so you could make sure everything was in the same spot so he doesn't find out.

But he has you bent over it and laying on it

Azul has one sturdy desk that's for sure

But imagine. You're sitting there trying to do some classwork and suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh. He gives you a little squeeze, but doesn't tease you much, his hand immediately moves up your skin and pulling your underwear to the side. You instinctively spread your legs more, even though you REALLY need to focus on this project. He chuckles at the way you are already squirming, and finds it amusing how wet you are already. He likes to push his fingers all the way in and wiggle them around, curling them, scissoring them. And he never takes his eyes off you, watching the faces that you make, how red you get. You try to hold back moans but those long fingers are able to touch you everywhere it feels good that it's hard not to. When he's pushing you to the edge you start closing your legs, squishing his hand. You don't really want him to stop, but you just can't take it. He uses his other hand to make you spread your legs wide so his fingers can get knuckle deep. You aren't even trying to do your work anymore.

~~

Commissions are open!!! You can find info here~

[caubool]

Transformers One fic WIP:

Isn't it crazy how much work Sentinel's "The Truth is What I Make It" spiel would actually take to follow through on and how much stuff "he" did that would require many many many more bots to carry out? Isn't it wild that Orion was searching for answers Everywhere in that archive and never found a stray hair out of place in the story Sentinel spun?

I’ve started writing out my own answer to the questions I kept coming up with while thinking way too hard about this movie! The first bit below:

In his spark, Optimus Prime is a mech of action. But never without strategy. Contrary to popular belief, he did look before he leapt. He just tended to assume he would land flawlessly on the other side. He wasn't called Optimus because of his dedication to realism, after all. And if all else fails, he knew he was fraggin’ lucky.

In the wake of Sentinel’s execution, Iacon stands on shaking, new-build legs. In just 50 cycles Cybertron lost a war, lost all of its Primes, nearly starved, and went into hiding at the call of a charismatic mech who pulled cogs from freshly sparked chambers. In less than that, Optimus himself onlined. Now, he stands as the sole Prime of Cybertron. Primus’s chosen. He and Iacon reel in tandem. So much in so little time. His servos still buzz with the vibrations of splitting D- Megatron’s canon. As if it'd been mere kliks ago and not a several phases.

Elita helps in the aftermath. B, too, but the little bot seems more preoccupied with exploring these days. Optimus can’t blame him. Though he privately wishes he could get out of all these blasted meetings and go exploring with the minibot rather than just hearing about his adventures after the fact.

In his office, Elita pushes another neat tray of holowork into his servos and levels him with a look. Her optics narrowed and lip plates pressing together so tightly there’s the faintest scrape of metal.

Optimus lets her stare for a few nanokliks before restarting his voice box. “Can I help you, Elita?”

The scraping sound twists up sharply as her look intensifies. "You're no help to anyone right now, Optimus."

He blinks. The words take longer than he'd like to admit to fully process. When they do, he jumps to his pedes. "What do you mean? Have I missed something? Has there been a Quintesson attack?"

"Sit back down, Prime." She ex-vents sharply and walks around to the other side of his desk.

He slumps into his seat and turns tired optics out onto Iacon, vast and crumpled before him. He had tried so hard to deny this office. With its gold trimmed windows and grand desk and personal energon fountain. It was all too much. But he was the Prime and this was a Prime's seat, it's tradition it's- he shutters his optics and terminates that line of thought. "Elita, please tell me what I've done wrong."

Leaning against his desk she watches him out of the corner of her optics. "What do you see there?" She gestures to the windows.

"I see Iacon, in pain. Bots, still unsure of where they fit now. I see a Cybertron uncertain of itself." He says.

"Do you know what I see?" She asks and Optimus doesn't so she continues, "I see a very tired bot working himself to the wire." He startles, but she isn't done yet. "I see a mech spreading himself so thin that he can't actually step up where he's needed."

Optimus has to work hard to get his jaw struts to function correctly. "I- Elita, I can't turn away from Cybertron, even for a nanoklik. They need a leader and that's- Primus chose me to do this. I can't undermine Primus's will."

"You can't jump in front of every canon blast aimed at Cybertron. And frankly, I don't want you to. Primus knows doing it that first time has only made your recklessness worse." Elita says.

"It is not reckless to try to build a better future for all bots." He shoots back.

She rolls her optics and sends him another look. "No, but it is reckless to avoid self-maintenance in the name of being a good leader. You can't be the mech Cybertron needs if your processor is half fried."

He ex-vents and he knows she's right. She often is. "Still, what do you suggest I do? Everywhere I turn there are more bots who need me."

"Find someplace quiet, keep all the lights off, and take a fragging break." Elita knocks her pauldron against his as she says it.

Optimus can feel a smile coming on and he doesn't fight it. "Is that advice, Commander?"

Elita smirks back at him. "That's an order."

--

For as often as he visited the Hall of Records—or, more accurately, was chased out of the Hall of Records—Optimus Prime had never seen another bot actually wandering the stacks. Security bots, sure, but they only showed up if they got tipped off by a roaming drone.

It feels odd to walk through the front doors of the Archive, nobody on his heels. Walking among the shelves of holovids that used to dwarf him and now seeing all the dust caked on their tops. It feels forbidden.

When he had dismissed the security at the entrance he had asked them to leave the lights off. Something he appreciates, even as it adds to the uncanny feeling building in his core. He knows the paths in the dark, the way his headlights snake around corners and up walls. Keeping one thing the same, just one…it's helping.

He starts where he left off last time. The projector screen was still set up with the history of Cybertron queued up. He spins the cartridge tray idly as the holovid starts. It breezes through the history every bot knew forwards, backwards, and inside out. He can feel his actuators depressurizing as the narration continues. He can almost pretend he's still Orion Pax, trying to solve an epic mystery and prove himself as more than just some cogless miner.

"-The Matrix of Leadership. Lost, with the Primes, to the surface." This is where he'd gotten found out last time. Optimus watches as the Matrix fades out into the globe and shakes his head, almost fond. He's already reaching for a new holovid when the narration continues. His optics narrow, hadn't he gotten to the end already? "Cybertron's only hope rests with our final, tireless leader: Sentinel Prime. But he cannot protect us alone. That's why Sentinel needs every bot in Cybertron to do their part and pull their weight. Cybertron needs you, your Prime needs you." The holovid projects Sentinel smiling, waving to an unseen audience, with the light glinting off of his helm.

He looks regal.

Optimus feels his fuel lines twist.

As the holovid finishes, it flashes a few final lines of text. "The Modern History of Cybertron - by ID-A. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

"What?" the word flies out of him as he reads, then re-reads the text. The Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative? Out of all the branches of government he'd had to get acquainted with recently, he hadn't ever heard of something like that. Optimus ran an internal search of his memory just to be sure but, no, this was the first time he'd seen the name.

Frowning, he swaps out holovids and let the next one play. The screen glows with colour as each of the Primes getts introduced. It's a basic history of the rulers of Cybertron and is similarly scant on details. The holovid once again ends with a shot of Sentinel and a call to work hard for the mech. The credits read: "Who Are the Primes of Cybertron? A Summary - by Thundercracker. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

Optimus slides in another vid. "The Quintesson War - by Gearstrike. Edited for clarity of purpose by WR-N and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." Then another one. "Energon: Its Sources, Uses, and Necessity to the Cybertronian Ecosystem - by Quarkkey. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." And another one. "Iacon's Sub-Levels and You: A Guide - by WR-N. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being initiative."

Optimus spends the rest of the chord looking through any and every holovid he can get his servos on in that archive. By the time Cybertron starts its hum again—the signal for recharge to end and for first shift to begin—he's an island among the piles of holovid cartidges. Each of them branded by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative. And none of them ever explaining just what that initiative is.

This bothers him, more than Optimus thinks was strictly logical. It's more than likely that it's just an educational branch that created basic informational holovids. Yet, just reading those four words fill him with a dread that has become all too familiar. On the edge of a cliff, searching brassy, yellow optics, and knowing that no matter how much he hoped for the best, the worst is already staring him in the face.