#and mushy i am aware

[rainintheevening]

Part I – Part II ... Part VIII – Part IX

The first time Edmund sees Aslan in his brother's face, he is sitting on the hearth-rug, half-frozen, wet to the skin, desperately fighting back a spectre of doubt and fear and unreality.

There is ice melting in his hair, sliding to his shoulders, dripping down his back, there is a warm hand pressed to his cheek, strong and calloused.

Whispers, whispers in the dark, and the wind had drowned them out, the cold needles of icy rain in his face had been real, but with the window shut, and the room gone silent, they are loud again.

It's not real, none of this is real, it's all a dream, a fantasy you made up in your head, and when you wake up, back in that prison of ice, you'll know. You'll know it's all a lie.

He rarely dreams of the Witch, more often it's some echo of home in England, or nasty twisted nightmares of a cruel being with the face of someone he loves. But tonight green eyes seem to stare out of the darkness, and she is clothed in black now, and he thinks he's drowning, ice water filling up his lungs.

He knows what he needs, he knows who saved him before, who can save him again, there is a cry in his heart, and… a voice whispering his name.

A deep shiver starts in his stomach, working its way out, as he looks up, looks up into a strong, kind face, lit by fireglow catching in the blond hair, and turning it to living gold, and for just a moment, Edmund sees it. Sees the glint of Aslan in the eyes that meet his, brimming with love and concern, like those eyes and that face are a mirror, reflecting something he can't see otherwise, but it's still very very real, and he whispers the name.

“Aslan.”

Peter catches him as he falls, holds him close, and he is all warm and solid, and Ed buries his face against Peter's neck, words vibrating through Peter's chest and throat, through Edmund, and it eases the shivering, just a little.

“You're safe,” Peter says, and Edmund believes him.

“Pete,” he whispers, curling closer, ear pressed to breastbone, and his brother's heart throbs in a steady rhythm, safe, safe, safe, real, real, real.

Edmund closes his eyes.

There are quiet voices, someone talking to Peter, but Ed hasn't the energy to understand, so he lets the sound wash over him, soothing, kind.

Then Peter shifts against him. “Come now, Ed, we're both wet as if we'd drowned. Let's get some dry things on. I don't want you catching cold. Susan will bring us something hot to drink.”

Ed is all shakes and lost thoughts, and he is gladder than he can say of Peter's warm hands helping him, stripping away the clinging icy damp of his pyjamas, and wrapping him in warmer things, dry pants and tunic and a heavy dressing gown.

He gets pushed in the direction of his bed, and goes, still shivering and wobbly on his feet, all the surging urgency and wild need drained out of him. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls his feet up, watches Peter change quickly into another set of Ed’s clothes, finding loose-fitting ones to accommodate his greater height and breadth in the shoulders.

“The floor,” Edmund murmurs, breaking the silence. “I'm sorry, I should get–”

But Peter is already emerging from the bath chamber, towels in hand. He throws two of them down over the worst of the puddle, grins as he comes to join Edmund on the large bed.

“It's only stone, my dear brother. No harm done.” But then his brow furrows, and he brushes the back of one hand across Ed’s forehead. “I hope. Here let me dry your hair.”

Peter pushes the blankets aside, and that's when he finds it, lifts his hand and Ed sees the firelight’s glint.

“Did you lose this?”

A small silvery lion dangles from a leather string, but the string is broken, and Ed wraps the pendant in his fist, cool metal, hard edges against his palm.

“Th-thanks.”

He wears it often during the winter, under his shirt, against his skin, a reminder of Aslan and His power, His sacrifice. It helps on the hard days.

Winter is… not as much fun as it used to be. He tries to still enjoy it, along with his siblings, and sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it's harder, and occasionally it's painfully impossible.

Behind him Peter settles on the mattress, and a warm, soft towel settles over his head. Ed closes his eyes, leans back into Peter's hands, lets the rubbing sensation relax him.

Ed doesn't have nightmares often, though that's partly because on nights when the bad memories are strong, he just doesn't sleep at all.

He thinks it'll get easier as the memories fade.

“Time heals many things, your majesty,” Tumnus said to him once, when Edmund quietly broached the subject. All things together, the faun is an easy one to speak to about the chill that still echoes in his bones sometimes. “But in Aslan’s time, not ours,” and his smile was kind, and a little sorrowful.

Peter is humming something, one of Lucy's favourite songs from Mr. Tumnus. He sounds oddly light, lighter than he ever has since Christmas.

“What happened, Ed?” Peter's voice is gentle, and he stops drying his little brother's hair, hands falling away, so that Ed catches himself awake again, sitting up straighter.

A glance over to the fire, which still burns strongly, and Ed can feel Peter's eyes on his back.

His mind is more settled now, though he is sleepy again, at last, and he keeps a long silence, thoughts not formed into words sitting heavy in his mouth, on his tongue.

“Alright,” Peter says at last. “You're falling asleep, come and lie down. And if you're asleep when Susan comes, I'll drink both hot chocolates myself.”

The teasing in his voice loosens something in Ed’s chest.

“No chance.” But he yawns as he says it, and Peter laughs.

Susan comes in then, two mugs in hand.

She says little, but Ed can't quite meet her gaze. She kisses his forehead, and leaves quietly.

“I'm sorry I've worried you,” Ed murmurs into his mug, hot enough to burn his fingers if he grips it too hard.

Peter is knotting the leather string of the pendant, and he pauses, rough, chapped knuckles resting against the back of Ed’s neck.

“Perhaps I haven't been worrying enough about you,” he says at last.

A pat on Edmund’s shoulder as he finishes, and Ed has no answer for that.

He wants to bask in the warmth, hold onto that flash he'd seen of lion eyes in Peter's face, and not think about what brought him to be standing in an open window in a torrent of winter storm. He's not really sure how to explain it anyway.

He's glad when Peter doesn't leave, doesn't even ask if Edmund wants him to stay, just takes the empty mugs and sets them on the dresser, takes the now sopping towels away, and Ed hears them thump wetly into the bath.

He lights a candle, banks up the fire, and Ed burrows lower under the covers, pulling the heavy rug on top up to his chin, as Peter comes back to the bed.

Even in the large bed, Peter still lies close enough for Edmund to feel his warmth, leaving space for Ed to decide how much contact he wants.

In the flickering candlelight, the shadows in the corners are thin and wispy, insubstantial. Ed turns on his side, turns toward Peter, and clasps one hand around his lion pendant, closes his eyes, and listens to his brother's breathing.

He comes awake again suddenly, in the dark. Quite dark, candle gone out, but Peter's back is warm against his hands, and the only sounds are their breaths, and the continued rushing and racing of the wind.

He feels it then, creeping into his thoughts, water running down, drip, drip, drip, layers of ice, built up around the edges of his mind… The wind. Is that a Lion's roar, or a wolf's howl? He can't- he can't be sure.

Peter's back is in front of him, a man’s broad shoulders now, strong and capable, and Ed unfurls one hand, presses palm to spine, warm and solid, flesh and bone.

He feels Peter take a long, slow breath.

“Ice,” he finally says, and his voice is too loud in the dark. He drops it closer to a whisper. “There's too much ice.”

And he's been trying not to touch the slicked over walls in the castle courtyard.

Peter stirs under his hand, shifting away, so he can turn onto his back, and Edmund's left hand ends up under Peter's arm, but he doesn’t mind, just lets himself slump against that bulk, pressing his forehead into the meat of Peter's shoulder.

He doesn't know how to explain further, after all there's certainly more to it than that.

The shadows in Peter and Susan's eyes since the new year, and the beginning of the food shortage. The blanket of wind slicked ice that had settled over Cair Paravel. The strange fear that lurked in his head.

The Great River hadn't frozen over fully that year, and Ed had been slipping out to sit by the waterfalls near the castle, let the roar reverberate through him, like the roar of a Lion, so much heavier and truer than that awful changeable wind.

Still, the doubts crept in, a sense of fear and unreality encroaching on the edges of everything, frozen rain building up, till his very thoughts seemed slippery and fragile. Like now.

“But it's inside too,” he says at last. “Inside me. And… and I'm always wet. And cold.”

He shivers, and Peter moves again, this time to wriggle his right arm under Edmund's head, wrap it tight across Ed’s back, pulling him in against his side.

“Is that why you keep disappearing from audiences?” Peter says at last, gentle, and Ed lays his head on his brother's chest, closes his eyes.

“Yes.”

Ah, Edmund of the silver tongue, yet words can barely form now, mouth half frozen, and it all takes effort, so much effort.

“I try,” he murmurs.

And he has been trying, trying to stay out and connected with the Narnians, to remember they are all facing a difficult season, but it's gotten harder and harder to talk with them, to connect, to be present in those conversations, and Ed has found it easy to slip away and not be missed. Or he thought he wasn't being missed.

“Is it her?” and Peter's voice is very low, the grip on Ed’s upper arm tightening slightly. “Is it memories of the Witch?”

Edmund feels the heartbeat under his cheek quicken, and suddenly smiles. Oh, his brother, his dear, protective brother.

“No, not really. I don't think, at any rate. I'm just…”

There is such a lengthy silence, they both break it.

“Tired?”

“Afraid this is a dream, somehow.”

Ed cringes at hearing it aloud, but he's said it, and the words echo in his ears, filling the darkness, and he doesn't even realise he's starting to pull away from Peter's side, until his strong arm is drawing him back in, keeping him close.

“It isn't,” Peter says, very firmly, voice a little too loud, but it makes the wind sound quieter somehow. He takes a hard breath, lets it out, goes on gentler: “I promise, Ed. You're safe, and you're not–”

“I know,” Edmund interrupts. He lets his head fall against Peter's shoulder once more, closes his eyes, alarmed at a sudden burning behind them. “I know,” he whispers. “I know that, but– That isn't always enough.”

Another long silence.

He hasn't said it right, but he doesn’t know what else to say, and a hot curl of shame settles in his stomach, and he wants to pull away again, but… he also doesn't want to. It helps to have Peter close like this, especially in the dark, especially in the cold, especially, well, now.

“What can I do?” Peter says at last. “How can we help?”

He won't cry, he won't–

“Oh, Ed.” Peter's hand pats Edmund’s arm, a little clumsy. “I don't even have a handkerchief.”

“Your shirt works well enough.” Ed tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob.

“Actually, it's your shirt.”

Edmund laughs a true laugh this time, and when he gently pulls away, Peter lets him go. He mops his face with the sheet, catches his breath.

They are lying still in the dark again, side by side now, when Edmund says, very quietly: “Just this. Just be here. Just…” …be Aslan to me, he almost says. “Let me alone sometimes, but not too much.”

Peter settles, relaxing with the instruction, the start of a plan, and Ed smiles to himself, amused.

“Agreed. Now–” Peter yawns suddenly. “Anything more you'd like to say before we sleep? We'll have to be up in a few hours, you know.”

“Just thank you,” Ed says simply, and then he yawns himself. “Perhaps we could go for a gallop in the morning? If Philip and Erah don't think the footing is too deplorable.”

“Good idea,” Peter murmurs, and then his breathing drops, and Ed counts three, four, five… His brother is asleep.

Ed does like any good little brother does, and follows suit, in his own time. It's easy with the warmth surrounding him now, he's not even listening to the wind.

In Aslan’s time.

As always, in Aslan’s time, night gives way to day, winter gives way to spring, and fears give way to love. Edmund will live this truth many times over in both his lifetimes.

That night in the dead of winter might have been the first time Edmund saw the Lion in his brother's face, but it was not to be the last.

Next

[hylianengineer]

Brilliant Minds Episode 8 is also excellent.

Something something pathologization of unusual sexuality and Wolf resisting that to help his patient be the version of herself that makes her happy. The pathologization of June's hypersexuality is making me think of how asexuality is also pathologized in young people - it's not the sex drive or lack of it that's considered wrong, it's contextual and cultural, because sexuality in youth is normalized and in old age it's stigmatized. Most of the Western medical system will attack anything that challenges accepted social norms, but Wolf is a beautiful example of the opposite impulse - radical acceptance of his patients and their wants and needs, even if they're weird. He doesn't judge people for being weird - possibly because he is also weird, as in queer and autistic. We need more diversity in the medical field so badly for this and many other reasons.

Also. That conversation between Wolf and his mom, where she reveals she sent Tom the medical student away to protect him, because of the difference in age and life stage, not because she was against him dating a man. And Wolf's affronted "Then why didn't you say that? Because by saying nothing you implied that there was something about me that you didn't like. I felt rejected for years."

Hello, this is an exact parallel of my own Biggest Ever Misunderstanding with my mom. Okay, well, not in the sense that I thought my mom didn't like my queerness - it's a long and rather private story involving me getting hurt and thinking she blamed me for it. But just like Oliver's mom, she didn't talk to me and made me feel like she was ashamed of me, when in reality she felt nothing of the sort. She just didn't know how to fucking talk about emotions when stuff goes wrong. Hello, emotionally incompetent parenting! It fucks you up, even decades later. At least me and my mom are still on speaking terms, but I do envy a little that Oliver got to have an actual conversation about it and figure out what really happened. I should maybe do that but I'm a chicken.

And Oliver's mom says: "I didn't say anything... or ask anything, because... I didn't want to know."

I can't know my mom's motivation because of the aforementioned being too chicken to ask, but I would bet money this was at least part of it. You ever just see a character going through something and go "holy shit, this is me?" I feel so fucking seen right now.

And then the show goes and makes me feel sorry for Oliver's mother, because she was a doctor in New York City during the 1990s. You know, AIDs epidemic era. And she just found out her son was interested in men. She saw him kiss a man. And she wondered if they had sex, and knew that if they did, if he got HIV, there wasn't a damn thing she could do to save him. The first drug approved to treat AIDs (Zidovudine) came out in 1987, but it only slowed it down, and antiretrovirals (much more effective and still in use today - people can have essentially normal lives thanks to these medications) didn't become available until 1996. PEP wasn't available except for occupational exposure until 2005. So. I can see why she freaked out.

I also love that Wolf does not stop being angry just because she had an understandable reason. "You are my mother." The way he said that line, so hurt and angry and devastated, is more than a little relatable. I have wanted to say that to my mom - that it is a parent's duty to take care of their kid even if they're uncomfortable or scared or whatever else. They signed up for raising a human, and if they screw up, as mine and Oliver's both did, those consequences do not go away just because the mistake was understandable. We, their kids, have to live with them, sometimes for our entire lives, and we have the right to be upset about it even if they were doing their best.

[windmill-ghost]

Dear god people found my crawdad poll. And they're eating me.

[micechicken]

I'm a little kid with a big death wish

Line up DONE I'm glad!!

Individual ones below cut

[mushiewrites]

OKAY im gonna be answering the asks super shortly

[softmeetscreatureplz]

Hhhhh. I need to. Irl cuddle people. But specifically the people in my phone who I am. So close to.

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Just One Bed (part ii)

Featuring: Astarion, Halsin, Gale, Raphael

A/N: I love that you are all as obsessed with the one bed trope as I am lol. Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

You can’t explain the pleasure that courses through your veins every time Astarion feeds from you. The delicious waves of heat that writhe in your lower abdomen. The light feeling that envelopes you as your blood is slowly drained from your vessels.

This current feeding session isn’t any different. Slight moans leave your lips at the delicious feeling floating through you. Astarion cradles your head for easier access to your neck, his other hand grips your thigh, holding you in place.

Just when the edges of your vision begin to blur, his fangs part from your skin. You let out a breath, heat flushing through you. His tongue licks the remaining blood off your neck. The hot feeling of his tongue gliding along your skin earns a shiver from deep within you.

“Thank you,” he sighs, hovering over you. “I was feeling so weak.”

You simply nod, your mind so mushy you can’t even form a coherent sentence. Your limbs feel like jelly. Your breaths come out in heavy bursts, as if you just were running uphill.

Astarion notices your state, taking in the paleness of your skin, and the slight shake in your hands. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” It’s the least he could do after taking so much from you.

You look at him, an incredulous look on your face. He’s never invited you to stay with him before. Not that the invitation isn’t tempting. The last thing you want to do right now is drag yourself to your own tent. Besides, you find Astarion’s presence comforting, despite his history.

“Sure,” you respond, your body relaxing a bit.

Sleep is quick to find you. After a few hours of dreaming, you wake to find yourself in Astarion’s arms. His face is buried in your neck. Your body is flush against his, and you can feel the firmness of his body.

You smile to yourself, happy to help find comfort in any form.

Halsin

The grass beneath you tickles your skin. The hardness of the ground presses into your back uncomfortably. You always admired Halsin’s connection to nature. But did he have to be so connected he had to insist on sleeping in the woods?

Traveling with Halsin alone meant “using the forest as your resting place”, as he had said too excitedly. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. He was absolutely giddy at the prospect of a sleepover with you under the stars.

But now, with twigs digging in your back and rocks up your ass, it’s hard to see the bright side of the situation. You toss and turn, trying to find any sort of comfortable position.

“Are you alright?” You hear Halsin’s deep voice ask.

You squirm against the ground again. “I’m alright. I just…feel a little exposed is all.”

He chuckles. “Understandable, seeing as it’s your first time sleeping in the forest.”

You hear him shuffle closer to you. The heat of him is quick to reach you. “Come here,” he says, reaching for you.

You allow him to pull you onto his bare chest. The firmness of his body is somehow more comfortable than the hardness of the ground. He wraps his arms around you, securing you in place .

Every inch of you is acutely aware of his proximity. He seems unbothered by your positioning though. You will admit, laying on top of him is much better than the cold, hard ground.

His thumbs trace circles along your exposed skin, and your arms wrap themselves around his neck as you find the most comfortable position you can.

“Better?” He asks. His voice vibrates through you.

“Much,” you tell him, and he lets out a contented sigh.

Gale

Your group was lucky to reach an inn before the storm began raging. The dark clouds stirring above you gave evidence of the snow about to fall. Goosebumps pebbled your skin as the temperature dropped.

You’re grateful to have an actual bed for the night as well. Not so grateful you have to share with someone else. But if you had to share with someone, Gale isn’t a bad choice. He’s one of the few members that’s actually considerate, even selfless.

The bed is pretty small, and even with the fireplace going, you find yourself growing cold. You pull the blanket around yourself as tightly as you can, careful to not take too much cover away from Gale. You can feel warmth radiating from him, though, and your body craves it.

Your teeth chatter suddenly, and you clamp them in an attempt to smother the noise.

“You’re cold aren’t you?” Gale suddenly asks. You turn to face him, a slight flush heating your cheeks as you notice he’s sleeping shirtless.

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to complain.

He sighs, motioning you over. “Just come here. We’ll stay warm if we’re close.”

You know you should deny him. Snuggling with a companion is a risky game. But you trust Gale.

You scooch over into his embrace, sighing at the warmth of him. He wraps his arms around you as you rest your head against his chest. Your fingers are freezing, so you place them against his torso.

He hisses. “Your hands are freezing.”

You giggle. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

You feel his mouth move against your hair. “Not at all.”

His skin nearly feels like fire against the cold, but it’s also a welcome feeling. You admire how he holds you so tightly. You breathe in his scent, noticing how it comforts you.

It doesn’t take long for his heat to seep into you, and eventually, a deep sleep overtakes you.

Raphael

It’s either sleep in his bed with him, or sleep in your cell. He says you should call him merciful for giving you a choice, but it doesn’t feel like mercy. He’s so pleased with himself when you huff with frustration at his offer.

Sleep with a devil, or sleep behind bars. You’re not sure which one is worse. In the end, you choose the option with the bed. Knowing Raphael, it will be one of the most comfortable beds you’ve ever slept on.

He doesn’t hesitate to instantly invade your personal space when you crawl under the sheets. You feel his presence at your back, and you know his eyes are raking over you, taking in every detail he can. Searching for every button he can push.

He presses himself against you, wrapping an arm around your torso to hold you. A tingly feeling builds in your lower abdomen. You scold yourself. This creature simply wants to tease you.

And tease you he does. He traces those claws of his along your thighs. He lets his soft breaths linger at the back of your neck. He never reaches for an intimate part of you though, but will get close before backing off again. It leaves you feeling empty, and it drives you mad.

“I won’t be sleeping tonight, will I?” you ask him, a small shake in your voice.

“Not a wink, little mouse.” You can hear the smug smile in his voice.

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃Seventeen and spotting their S/O during a concert❃

A/N: sooo like a lot of you I will be going to Lollapalooza in Berlin in September to see Seventeen. I am very excited to get the chance to see them live after having been a carat for such an incredibly long time. Anyway, hopefully, I will see some of you there! Let’s have a great time together and be extra loud for the boys!

To celebrate Seventeen’s acknowledgement of the European continent, here is a small prompt about them spotting their S/O during their concert. This prompt might be a little short as I am slowly getting back into writing and creating 13 different reactions takes a lot of time so bear with me as I find my footing again!

 Scoups/Seungcheol:

❀ Coups will be all smiles the moment he spots you in the crowd. You had kept it secret from him that you would be attending, and now it finally makes sense to him why you had been so weird when he asked you what you were going to be doing tonight whilst he was gone.

❀ He tries not to draw too much attention to you being there, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. However, he is having a difficult time not glancing in your direction and subconsciously wanders near to where you are sitting whenever they are not dancing.

❀ The moment he sees you are cold, he makes sure to hand over his hoodie to you. For good measure, he donates his bucket hat as well; what if your ears get cold? You know what, he is going to ask the staff to hand you some hot packs, just in case.

❀ He goes hard on the sexy parts of the songs, giving it his all. He wants to impress you; you better bring some holy water.

Jeonghan

❀ At first, you might assume that Jeonghan is completely unaware that you are in the crowd, watching him perform. There is nothing to indicate that he has noticed you as he continues to perform as he normally would, cool on the outside.

❀ However, in actuality, Jeonghan spotted you almost immediately and is absolutely thrilled to see you; he is just more subtle with it than some of the other members. Throughout the concert, he tries to communicate his excitement mainly through small gestures, only noticeable to those who know him well. For instance, he will walk past your spot, giving you a cheeky wink or be a bit more energetic with the members.  

❀ He also starts teasing you by making obscure inside jokes and references to funny stories during talking segments, subtly mentioning some of your embarrassing moments he witnessed.

❀ He will try to convince Seungkwan to force you to sing the Aju Nice high note for his own enjoyment, laughing when you fail.

Joshua

❀ Joshua always felt apprehensive about inviting you to his concerts, not because he didn't want you there but because he didn't want to pressure you into attending. So when you decide to surprise him by attending without telling him, he turns all mushy.

❀ He sends you small, soft smiles throughout the concert. The smiling doesn’t cease during the performances either; Joshua keeps smiling even during songs where smiling doesn't really fit the concept, as he is supposed to be all sexy and mysterious.

❀ During the vocal ballads, he seeks you out in the crowd again. Throughout the song, he makes eye contact with you, expressing his love for you through the lyrics of the song.

❀ When he is asked to sing a song he recently has been listening to during one of the talking segments, he will make sure to sing a snippet of your favourite song.  

Jun

❀ Jun is so focused during the concert that he doesn't initially notice you in the crowd. The other members have to point it out to him; Seungkwan gently nudges him during one of the talking segments, bringing your presence to his awareness.

❀ Rather than getting smiley or more energetic, Jun, instead, gets a bit shy when he makes eye contact with you. He suddenly regrets all the weird stuff his members made him do during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Once he eases up, though, his happiness at seeing you outweighs his shyness. The members notice he is extra energized during the concert, continuously bouncing around the stage during the Aju Nice encore.

❀ Somewhere during the concert, DK and Hoshi convince him to wave in your direction. Thus, you get the cutest, most bashful tiny wave, followed by him hiding behind a laughing Mingyu.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Okay, where the other members would probably keep their relationships private for as long as possible, Hoshi probably would not be able to keep your relationship secret for long. This man is the king of spoilers, and if fans weren't aware of him being in a relationship before the concert, they for sure know about it after.

❀ He is another member who initially doesn't notice that you are there until another member points it out. Woozi didn't even intend to bring it to Hoshi's awareness; he had merely noted that you had seemed to enjoy their performance of Hot, making Hoshi realize you had been there all along.

❀ His energy explodes the moment he spots you in the crowd. Everything is cranked to the max; he is performing at 200% and is running across the stage as if his life depends on it. Hoshi wants to make you laugh, regularly checking whether his unhinged joke or skit landed by glancing in your direction.

❀ Throughout the concert, he sends exaggerated gestures your way. He continuously is horanghae-ing in your direction and blowing kisses, not bothered in the slightest that technically he should be keeping your relationship on the down low.

Wonwoo

❀ Chances are that this man is too blind to spot you in the crowd. Wonwoo has admitted that he never wears contact lenses on stage and, thus, cannot see anything or anyone in front of him. Consequently, if it hadn't been for Mingyu pointing you out to him, Wonwoo would never have known you had attended the concert.

❀ As a result, he momentarily puts in contact lenses just so that he can see your smile. However, rather than feeling energized by your presence, he is another member who gets painfully shy upon spotting you.

❀ Whenever his eyes meet yours, he freezes for a second, giving you a tiny smile and the tiniest nod before quickly looking away. He has been having trouble focusing on anything but you; his eyes keep seeking you out whenever they have a talking segment, not listening to a single word his members are saying.

❀ Wonwoo, at some point, seriously considers removing his contact lenses, especially when Mingyu notices why his friend is getting so flustered and distracted, teasing him about it.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ Woozi has the best poker face, for the most part. Although you can tell by the small smile that graces his face throughout the performances that he has noticed you, he mostly seems unaffected by your presence.

❀ The other members, however, do not let him get off all that easily. Throughout the concert, they tease him, bringing up inside jokes between the two of you or teasingly commending him on his well-written romantic lyrics. His lyrics are so ingenious, wherever did he get the inspiration from?

❀ Due to all the teasing comments about him being a romantic guy and making romantic songs, he gets a bit shy when singing his ballads. Most of his love songs were written about you, and he can't help but avoid your gaze as he feels the burning, knowing stares of his fellow vocal unit members. Woozi feels a bit too embarrassed at saying his poetic love confessions out loud in such a public space.

❀ Still, his shyness does not keep him from wandering to the area where you are sitting, checking whether you are having a good time and ensuring that you know he appreciates you attending the concert by giving you a small smile and wave.

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is so oblivious to you being there; it isn't that he hasn't seen you, but he hasn't noticed it is actually you. He even pointed you out to Minghao, remarking that he had found your body double. Of course, Minghao scolded him for not being able to recognize his own partner.

❀ When it finally dawns on him that you took the time to attend their concert, he starts to tear up. One of his speeches leaves you sobbing, too. DK is so incredibly sincere, tearfully thanking everyone who has come to support him and remarking that without their encouragements, he wouldn’t have been able to perform as well as he did. Although he is deliberately keeping his speech vague, you know he is talking about you.

❀ Nevertheless, DK is not the most subtle about his excitement about you being there. He will regularly enthusiastically wave in your direction. Ultimately, Coups has to step in as it is becoming rather suspicious that DK seems to continuously be playfully interacting with only a select group of Carats. From then on, DK has to follow a simple rule: one interaction with you equals two waves to Carats on the other side of the stadium.

❀ As he wants to commemorate the first time you attended his concert, he will save a piece of confetti for you as a memento.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu has been begging you for ages to attend one of his concerts. Unfortunately, your schedule never lined up with the concert dates; even worse, you couldn't cancel your already-made plans, much to your shared disappointment. Thus, when the stars aligned and you finally had the time to go, Mingyu was absolutely over the moon.

❀ Mingyu is noticeably more energetic and giggly throughout the concert. He keeps glancing in your direction, breaking out in a massive smile whenever your eyes meet. Whenever he is able to walk around the stage, he ends up in front of you, giving you a pout when he notices you watching another member. Poor Coups has a field day reminding Mingyu not to make his affection for you so apparent to the fans.

❀ He is on a whole different level during the sexy songs; his shirt accidentally keeps getting drenched, and an overenthusiastic DK keeps trying to lift it 'just because', knowing you would appreciate it.

❀ Mingyu has told every single member that you are there, at least twice. They have tried to hush him, but in his excitement, he keeps nudging them and pointing over at you. He is lucky the microphones haven’t picked up his yapping.

The8/Minghao

❀ He knew you were coming to the concert and had been trying to dissuade you from doing so. It simply didn't make sense to him why you wanted to attend. Why waste that much money on tickets when he could invite you to the dance practices or give you a mini concert at home for free?

❀ On the inside, he is incredibly happy that you chose to attend the concert. Minghao briefly mentions it in passing to Jun, unable to hide the soft smile that keeps appearing whenever he does as much as think about you being there.

❀ He is very giggly throughout the concert. To both Carats' and Seventeen's surprise, Minghao keeps laughing at Hoshi's unhinged jokes, even forgetting about his anti-horanghae agenda.

❀ Fans keep thinking he meditated that day because he somehow is very patient with his members' crazy and embarrassing behaviour. In reality, he is too distracted looking at you to actively notice half of the stuff his members are pulling during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Minghao absolutely refuses to join in on their idiocy, however. He does not want to do anything embarrassing in front of you, even if it would make you laugh.

Seungkwan

❀ It is noticeable to everyone around him that he is so incredibly happy that you were able to attend his concert. Mind you, you have attended his concerts before, but every time you do, Seungkwan treats it like it is the first time you are watching him perform. He has brought it up to every single staff member, excitedly telling them this is going to be the best concert yet because you are there to support him.

❀ He is pulling more shenanigans than usual. His sole goal during the concert is to make you laugh until you cry, and thus, he has pulled out all the stops, imitating every celebrity under the sun. Their concert almost feels like a Going Seventeen episode with Seungkwan as the MC.

❀ During the concert, Seungkwan is flaunting his dance and singing skills. He is adding a riff here and there and putting even more emotion behind the words he is singing. If possible, he will convince the members to let him have his Sexy Seungkwan moment.

❀ At some point during the concert, he will 100% go up to you, just to make you do something crazy. I hope you practised your Aju Nice high note and warmed up for your dance solo.

Vernon

❀ Vernon keeps quiet about you being at the concert; he spotted you almost immediately but will not mention it to any of the members. Seungkwan is downright offended when Vernon mentions it after the concert has ended, scolding him that he should have told them you were there. Vernon wants you to enjoy the concert without all the stuff he knows the members would pull once they realize you are in attendance.

❀ During the concert, you feel like you are on The Office. Whenever one of the members does something stupid or embarrassing, Vernon will make direct eye contact with you, pulling a meme face to silently communicate his tortured feelings at having to witness it.  

❀ Vernon isn't one to go over to your area and give you a wave or a smile, wanting you to enjoy a normal concert-going experience. At most, he will briefly meet your eyes during a meaningful line.

❀ He is not paying any attention to his members during talking segments, zoning out to blatantly stare at you. When they scold him backstage, he 1000% uses you as his excuse.

Dino/Chan

❀ You hadn't told Dino that you would be attending their upcoming concert, mostly because you knew that if you did, his perfectionism would get the better of him. Dino would practice deep into the night, wanting to give you the best performance imaginable, and, thus, not telling him, was your way of preventing your boyfriend from overworking himself.

❀ Still, the moment he notices you in the crowd, he goes on a mission to prove himself. Gone is the cute maknae; he has cranked up his stage presence to 5000% and will not accept a single mistake.

❀ Throughout the concert, Dino keeps glancing in your direction to gauge your reaction whenever he has executed a difficult or sexy dance move.

❀ Although he loves making you laugh, Dino feels torn between making a fool out of himself or being the cool, sexy guy. Still, after some encouragement from his members, he will join them in their skits, bringing out his famous characters. Seeing your laughter at his ridiculousness boosts his confidence tenfold.

❀ Despite his members' pushiness, he is way too shy to actually go over to where you are sitting or wave at you. Instead, he jealously stares at you from afar as the other members interact with you.

Masterlist

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x reader

Contents: NSFW, pool sex 101; sneaking into your neighbour's private pool while drunk definitely has its perks, reader will have those tiles imprinted in their back for days, my bad. Approx 1.5k words

Public pools might have been a step wiser. 

Or not. To be honest you weren’t all that concerned. They were Chuuya’s neighbours after all. Old, rich neighbours with basement pools and a pretty weak home security as it turned out. 

You could have rented a place–a nice and cosy jacuzzi. Maybe you should do that too sometime. But why do it now when this was undoubtedly at your quickest disposal?

The water was surprisingly warm against your naked skin. It gently reflected the dim purple lighting that came from… somewhere. You couldn't remember; Chuuya had taken care of that. 

The wine from earlier was still coursing under your skin. Your face was flushed and mind mushy as you relaxed against the tiles. All the while Chuuya’s body kept you afloat and close, so deliciously close to his.

His hair tickled your neck under the water, but his mouth–oh. His mouth trailed heated, open kisses down your jaw and throat. He was biting and licking his way around your naked body leisurely, savouring every bit of exposed skin.

Jacuzzis could wait, you had more pressing matters.

Damn. You couldn’t even swim. The thought amused you more than anything. Drunk and drowning didn’t sound like a good way to go. But that was silly. 

You weren’t going anywhere with the way Chuuya held you. 

He was like a furnace even now–his hands gripping you as they sent his warmth through your body. His tongue trailed strips of saliva that had your skin prickle. He was everything around you, and more. Gentle, slow, all-consuming of your senses.

Chuuya was so filled with life and passion that the man before you now almost felt foreign. It’s rare he hit the brakes and took his merry time like this. You could barely keep your hands off each other–normally.

Not now. Now it was… calm. Intimate in a quiet type of way, but no less intense. 

You wrapped your thighs around Chuuya, drawing his attention as he looked up at you. 

“Hey,” you said, the word feeling silly on your tongue.

Chuuya cocked his head, flashing you his trademark grin. “Hey, you,” he said, and he drew you neared against the tiles. Chest to chest, you felt his already hard cock brush against your thigh. 

“Oh.” You blinked. Yeah, pool sex was definitely on the plate for tonight. “This is nice. I kind of feel like melting though.”

Chuuya cupped your cheek, brushed the hair sticking to your face. “Yeah? You look the part too, doll. You need a fan or something? Am I too much for ya?” And he wiggled his brows like he was actually funny. What a loser.

It was no joke. He was too much. 

Always. 

There was too much adoration in Chuuya’s gaze, too much teasing at times, too much love as he crawled right under your skin the harder you fell for him. Wine made you sentimental like that, and it wasn’t helping you much this time either.

“Mhm… don’t ever stop being too much,” you whispered the words. There, sincere and simple. “I think I’ve gone addicted to it.” You were aware of all of him. Every touch of skin between you. The way Chuuya stilled for a second, muscles unmoving before he sagged right into your embrace. 

He sought your lips, stealing your breath and thoughts right away with it. He always managed to coax your reservations away, letting him in easily as your kiss deepened. 

“Don’t go all mushy on me like that. You’ve no idea what you do to me,” Chuuya said between kisses. 

But you knew. You felt it as your hand travelled down to wrap around his cock. Your fingers brushed over his tip and Chuuya hissed. He didn’t move besides leaning his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your parted lips. 

“I can do a lot more to you.” You guided him to your entrance. You’ve been wet and ready long enough now. It was Chuuya’s teasing that got you like this, it would only be fair to return the favour. Albeit with a bit more.

“Fuck.” Chuuya bucked his hips, breathing deep as you shuddered against him. “ I can be just as good for ya, baby. Let me be good for ya, yeah? Come on, come on–” he moved again, brushing his tip against your pussy lips. 

Chuuya’s patience was a skill he implemented rarely. This was definitely not one of those times. Not with the way he kissed you again, desperate and wanting.

He loved it when you desired him; the way you sought his touch, his attention. He wanted you to want him. And he was going to give his all when you finally caved.

Chuuya entered you slowly, the sensation of his pulsing cock stretching you made you clutch around him even harder. It was maddening and your impatience was showing its ugly head too.

“Chuuya.” You gripped his hips with your thighs. You hoped he sensed your desperation.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, smiling at your moan as he gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he sunk fully into your heat. 

Chuuya didn’t give you time to formulate another thought. Any thought, really, as he started fucking into you. Your chest felt tight and your legs trembled as you welcomed him in. Chuuya kept you in place, hands firm around you as he pushed your back into the tiles with every hard thrust. If a man could be both gentle and absolutely wrecking your world in two–it was no other than Chuuya. He was more than ready and willing to do the job and leave you gasping from his every move. 

You were distantly aware of the sound of ripples, the water around just as restless. You were too busy gripping onto Chuuya’s shoulders, your lips on his ear as your whispered string of oh fuck fuck fuck– more, oh godd yes more, Chuuya– spilt forth and right into his brain as he delivered on your demands. 

Chuuya’s hand was on your clit in seconds, working fast as his swift fingers sent your body in shock from the waves of pleasure that travelled down your abdomen. 

“Fuck–” you gasped, bringing his face towards you. Chuuya’s eyes were on you, soaking in your every detail. He was so beautiful then. “I want you,” you whispered, the desire for him overwhelming.

Chuuya’s gaze fell on your lips. He ground his hips, aiming for that sweet spot of yours again again again. You nearly lost it then and there. “You turn demanding when you’re like this, angel. I’m right here.” He captured your lips, swallowing your moan. “Right here, babygirl.”

“I want you more,“ you said, and then laughed. You have no idea what that meant, but it felt right. You wanted more. All. 

Chuuya wasn’t too much. He was not enough. 

You didn’t give him a chance to answer. His mouth was yours to take, his lips parting instantly to let you in. Your hips moved with his, the water spilling around you like crazy. You didn’t care; you wanted him. 

And you came like that, gripping onto Chuuya like your life depended on it, his bruised lips still moving against yours as you stifled his needy grunts in turn. You felt yourself tighten as your pleasure spilt, drawing a groan from Chuuya as his thrusts became sloppy. He buried his face in your neck, biting hard as the seconds went by before he was finishing inside you, shuddering from the shock of it. 

You sagged against him a moment later, as though you were the more exhausted one. Maybe you were; Chuuya wasn’t one to spend his energy so quickly. He’d probably go for a second round if you asked it of him.

But now… your gaze lingered on the purple flicks of light dancing around you. The water calmed down as both of you stood still in each other’s embrace. The seconds went by.

Finally, Chuuya raised his head. “What’s your opinion on water beds?”

You snorted. “We buying that now?” you brushed his hair back. “Why not just a pool?”

You joked but for a moment Chuuya went quiet. He was considering it. You blinked at him in disbelief before laugher bubbled out of your chest. Chuuya looked at you then, brow raised.

“Hah? What’s so amusing, you punk?” he said. “Take it more seriously. I’m a sold man on the idea.” And he flapped his hand, sending specks of water all around you.

It took you another moment to collect yourself again. “Sure, sure,” you sighed, smiling stupidly at your silly, absurd, perfect man. “You might be onto something, we’ll see.” You tried to hide your excitement as Chuuya levelled you suspiciously. “I… might need some more convincing though.”

A bit of silence followed by Chuuya’s hands falling on your hips again. “Is that a challenge? I’m very convincing, you know.” He grinned before capturing your lips again.

You sighed against him, melting right into Chuuya’s embrace yet again. 

He might be too much to handle sometimes, but you had a knack for those things. You had the experience and practice after all.

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐃'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: kid

♡ liked by hey_its_heat, CAPTAIN.KIIIID and 2.9k others

_ynln: kid waiting patiently infront of the den den mushi

13 mins until the @/dominicfike album releases!!!

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: LETSS GOOOOO 🔥🔥

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: SUNBURN IS SUCH A BANGER

killerrr: no wonder it was so peaceful on the victoria punk

↳ _ynln: the only time kid isn't wrecking havoc, the fike effect!!

trafalgar_d.law: rare photo of eustass where his hair isn't radiating hairspray fumes (liked by p1rateking_luffy)

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: ITS ALL NATURAL

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: dont be mad that i actually take care of my hair

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i can smell ur 10 in 1 from here

↳ p1rateking_luffy: HAHA Tra guy is write 😂😂

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: STFU YOU DONT EVEN SHOWER. YOURE A NATURAL HUMAN REPELLENT.

↳ trafalgar_d.law: omg strawhat please learn how to spell

↳ _ynln: PLEASE YOU GUYS ARE SO ANNOYING TAKE THIS TO THE DMS 😭

♡ liked by trafalgar_d.law, killerrr and 3.7k others

_ynln: kid refuses to share his lipsticks with me 😪😪

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: ew why would i want cooties from you

↳ _ynln: ive seen you eat pasta off the ground 😐

↳ hey_its_heat: puts you into perspective

↳ _ynln: WTF WHY AM I GETTING SHIT ON

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: YEAH CAUSE YOU LOSE THEM

↳ _ynln: IT WAS ONE TIME

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: I STILL WANT MY ROMAND#23 NUCADAMIA BACK

killerrr: simp 🥱���

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: how do i dislike a comment

lovenami: wtf why does he have a better collection than me

↳ _ynln: life is so unfair 😔💔

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, wirewirewire and 4.1k others

_ynln: i'll never shut up about this

thanks for the tickets loser <3

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID, m.by__sana

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: thanks to yn im a certified once now

wirewirewire: YOU GUYS WENT TO TWICE WITHOUT US?!

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: imagine not being able to see the feels live 🥱🥱

↳ _ynln: kid wtf KFJWBHJDJ 😭😭

lovenami: HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO GET TICKETS I WAS STRUGGLING

↳ _ynln: IDK HAHA KID GOT THEM FOR ME

doflamingo_: I'll get you VIP tickets next time, hmu

↳ _ynln: im blocking u, you're practically a senior citizen

↳ trafalgar_d.law: wtf are u doing on her page?

↳ killerrr: when worlds collide.

↳ lovenami: yn take one for the team 🤞🤞

↳ heyl_its_heat: you’ll be remembered 🤕🤕☝️

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING ON MY GIRL'S ACCOUNT

↳ p1rateking_luffy: 😆

↳ theroronoa.zoro: this is actually funny asf

♡ liked by killerrr, lovenami and 4.8k others

_ynln: im thirdwheeling my own relationship ☝️

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID, killerrr

hey_its_heat: being self aware >>>

wirewirewire: THIS IS CRAZY LFMAOO

lovenami: GIRL ITS NOT YOUR RELATIONSHIP ANYMORE 💀💀

killerrr: bffr i was the one third wheeling, if i have to see u guys kiss one more time i’m ending it 😐😐

↳ _ynln: 😭😭

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: you woke us up cause u were bored and wanted to gossip

↳ _ynln: okay and you weren’t complaining when i was telling you all the new world drama 🤨🤨

↳ killerrr: how do you even know about all of it 😭😭

↳ _ynln: nami, robin, chopper and me have the best gos talks <3

↳ nicorobin: so real (liked by lovenami, ilovecottoncandychopper)

CAPTAIN.KIIIID 2h

[CAPTAIN.KIIIID] _ynln replied to your story: omg why are u being cute, what did u do

[somber-sapphic]

HEY could you please do a jj and emily x reader sickfic 🫶

Cabin Fever

〖Summary: You're sick and are stuck on a jet.〗

〖Word Count: 1.4k〗

〖Pairing: Jemily x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Criminal Minds is my current obsession so I am perfectly happy to write this. In the future though if people throw in a prompt or two I can probably create a fic that's more suited to what you want :)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had started to get sick two days into the case and were incredibly glad that this Unsub had been so easy to catch. With enough cold medicine and tea, you’d been able to stave off the worst of your illness for just long enough to put a killer behind bars. 

Your girlfriends had noticed. The whole team had noticed. Even Garcia had been able to hear your congestion over the phone. You hadn’t really been trying to hide it. You were one of those people who got mushy when you got sick, you wanted to be held and taken care of. 

Had you been home you would have jumped at the opportunity to be coddled but you were working and with work came a more professional relationship with your girlfriends, even if you were sharing a room. But with work came responsibility and all that. 

Now at least you got to go home. You didn't have to look at the faces of dead people or interrogate psychopaths, you could just relax. The box of tissues in front of you was quickly running out with a small pile forming in a plastic bag beside you. Next to the box was a bottle of hand sanitizer, mostly there for Spencer’s peace of mind. The book you were reading had been set aside in favor of an audiobook and headphones, it was just too difficult to focus on the blurry words. 

You’d been given occasional worried looks from the team and Hotch had set a mug of tea down in front of you about an hour ago, but you hadn’t touched it. As nice as the warm liquid would probably feel on your throat you just couldn’t do it. The idea of putting anything into your body made you nervous. It was normal for you when you were sick. Plus, you hated tea.

JJ, noticing that you were getting worse, stood from her spot on the couch beside Emily and walked over to you with a soft warm smile on her face. That was a common expression when she was worried but trying to act like she wasn’t.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked, slipping into the seat beside you. You glanced over with glassy eyes and offered a tiny smile, desperately wanting to be anywhere but in the air. The pressure on the plane was wreaking hell on your sinuses, your head and face throbbed, and each jolt of turbulence was like a knife in your skin. 

“Don’t feel great.” You admitted, your voice croaky and quiet. The blonde’s face twisted into a look of sympathy, and she reached out to take one of your shaky hands.

“Why don't you go sit with Em? She’s just reading a book; I don’t think she’ll mind some company.” She offered, glancing around at the mess around you. Her crystal blue eyes lingered on the ice-cold mug for an extra second longer than the rest. You could see the gears in her head turning but you weren’t sure where they were going. She knew from experience that you would not be consuming any hot leaf juice.

Emily looked up at the sound of her name, seeming as though she had no awareness of the situation prior. She was deep into a book that seemed to be in Russian which had probably captured her full attention. It wasn’t her best language, so she was taking every opportunity to get better. Mostly to beat Reid. The two apparently had a silent academic challenge thing going.

“Uhhh…” She hesitated, never having been one who really knew how to take care of sick people. The woman had very little experience with being taken care of, so she wasn’t always the best at it. It didn’t matter to you, you wanted her to hold you of course but you really didn’t need anything else.

JJ shot her a look that said, ‘do it or I’ll end you’ and Emily quickly scrambled into a sitting position so that you could take over most of the couch. She opened her arm and beckoned you over, hugging you tight when you crawled into her lap.

You sniffled thickly and a pained moan escaped your lips. Every part of your body ached and lying down seemed only to make it worse. Emily frowned down at you, not entirely sure what to do. JJ had wandered over to the back of the plane, going through the fridge to find something.

The others were all doing their own thing, collectively ignoring you. That was perfect because you really didn’t want attention from them. Especially not the facts. Never before had you been so glad that Reid was asleep.

“What can I do?” Your girlfriend muttered, lowering her voice for your benefit. You shrugged and shuddered, curling up more tightly against her. It didn’t soothe the pain in your muscles, but it temporarily stopped the shivering which made the pain worse.

Emily grabbed the blanket at your feet and pulled it up around you, doing the best that she could not to jostle you too much. She looked back over to JJ who had procured what she wanted and was (thankfully) returning to help.

“Sit up for a second love.” The media liaison coaxed, pulling you up gently with the help of Emily. She produced two small pills and your favorite color Gatorade, suppressing a smile at the amusement on your face. You were surprised that they had it, the only thing that you would drink when you were sick.

With little hesitation you took the pills, wondering why you hadn’t done so earlier. The fever that was currently doing the most damage probably had something to do with it, for some reason, you’d completely forgotten that things like Tylenol existed and had settled for cough medicine instead.

“Now, lay back down for a bit. We land in a few hours, try to get some sleep. I’m going to go work on wrapping some case notes up with Hotch, just take a nap on Em, okay?” She bent forward and kissed your hot dry forehead, mentally noting your temperature. Emily looked mildly alarmed but nodded when you turned to her, signaling that it was okay.

“Do you uh, want me to read? In English of course. It’ll be good to practice some translation.” she asked, patting the book that she had put to the side. You coughed quietly and rested your head in her lap, snuggling close. The worry melted off of her face and she rested one of her hands on the side of your head and began to stroke your cheek.

“If you want. M’just gonna lay here.” You mumbled, grabbing one of her legs to hug. Some part of you worried that she would leave and didn’t quite connect the facts that one she would never do that and two there was literally nowhere she could go.

“Alright. You rest, let me know if you need anything.” You closed your eyes as she picked her book back up and began to read silently, missing the smile from JJ. She’d been watching the exchange from afar, waiting to jump in just in case Emily fumbled it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in the profiler, it was just that she could be so incredibly awkward sometimes and JJ knew that what you really needed right now was someone to hold you. She itched to jump in and lie on your other side but the quicker she got her work done the better it would be when you finally got home.

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, following JJ’s gaze. The blonde shook herself slightly and looked back down at the papers, sighing softly.

“Yeah. They’ll be okay. It’s probably the flu, I’m not sure if they got a shot this year. It’s been busy.” She breathed, dragging a hand across her face. The boss nodded sharply and returned to the work in front of him, not requiring any further explanation. That was good enough for JJ.

She went back to her work in silence, glancing up every so often to make sure that you and Emily were okay. While you felt like crap and the pressure in your body wasn’t allowing any level of comfort you knew that eventually you would. But for a while, you’d happily let yourself be cared for by these two wonderful women.  

[munsonsmixtapes]

Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!inexperienced!American!reader

summary: You are unsure of Benedict's intention of marrying you and he assures you that he is as head over heels for you as can be and very looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you.

word count: 2.8k

This is the final part!

part one part two part three part four part five part six

March 30, 1817

“It’s the eve of your wedding, brother, “ Colin spoke as the three eldest Bridgerton brothers sat around a table in their favorite pub. “How are you feeling?”

“Drunk,” Benedict replied and the others laughed at his response, definitely thinking that it was funnier than it really was. But in truth, Benedict couldn’t have been more excited to be able to call you his wife. He was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you more than he had ever looked forward to anything else in his life. He considered himself the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.

“Just to clarify,” he slurred, turning towards his eldest brother. “I am marrying her because I want to, not just because of the baby.” Anthony was skeptical of his brother’s words, but he supposed that he had to believe him considering that drunk words were often sober thoughts.

“What baby?” Colin asked. “Is…is y/n with child?” He felt like he should have been aware of that fact sooner considering that was big news to keep from someone.

“Yes, Colin. Keep up,” Anthony smacked the back of his brother’s head and Colin rubbed the spot.

“Are you actually? Because you seemed pretty hesitant at first,” Anthony argued and Benedict supposed that he had a point. But he was a changed man now. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The baby was just a bonus. A symbol of the love you shared.

“I can’t even believe that you would ask such a thing,” Benedict responded. “Of course I want to marry her. I…I love her.” He had never said the words before in regards to someone who wasn’t in his immediate family, but saying them when he was thinking about you just felt right.

“Since when?” Anthony hadn’t seen any interaction between you and Benedict that would have indicated that he was in love with you, but he supposed that not even Benedict would have lied about something like that.

“Since the moment I laid eyes on her at the first ball,” he said the words so dreamily that both Anthony and Colin swore that they were going to throw up right there. It was nice that their brother was finally tied down, but they just didn’t like when he got all mushy in front of them. That should have been reserved for you.

“So you’re really marrying her for love?” Anthony took a sip from the glass of beer that was in front of him. How many ways did he want him to say it? Was he not clear the first time?

“I am,” he nodded, his eyes still looking just as dreamy.

“Does she know that?” Anthony had been the one to convince his brother to do just that just because he had slept with you and now he was upset that he was actually doing it because he actually loved you? Why was he so hard to please?

“She does,” Benedict nodded. Well, he hoped you knew. He would have had to make sure, though. Surely you had to with the way he looked at you, right? It wasn’t exactly a secret and it wasn’t like he was hiding it from you. It almost felt like an unspoken thing between the two of you and now he felt like he really should have laid everything out on the table so you knew the truth.

“Does she really?” Anthony gave him a pointed look. He thought you deserved the best and was sure that his brother could give it to you now that he seemed devoted to you, but he was just making sure. He couldn’t stand seeing his brother break another woman’s heart. Especially not yours.

“She will by the end of the night,” Benedict replied and both Anthony and Colin gagged in response.

“You’re disgusting,” Colin gave his brother’s shoulder a shove. It wasn’t unlike Benedict to make a joke like that, but this time, he didn’t mean it in an inappropriate way. He really had every intention of telling you how he really felt about you.

“I meant that I’m going to tell her as soon as we’re done here.” He took the last sip of his beer and slammed the glass down on the table before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well, it looks like we are,” Anthony eyed all of the empty glasses in front of them. “You should go tell her right now. Hopefully the alcohol will have worn off by the time you get there.” With that, all three men stood from the table and Benedict made a beeline for the door.

Walking to your house, he couldn’t help but think of you and how excited he had been to see you. He hadn’t been able to all day since you both had been busy with wedding duties. But now everyone he knew was asleep. Everyone but you, of course. He knew that you’d be up painting or working on a sketch.

Now he was beginning to think that you were under the impression that he was only going to marry you because of the baby and he hated that. He loved you. He loved you with everything that he was and couldn’t stand you not knowing exactly how he felt any longer.

You were as nervous as could be as you sat in your bed, working on a sketch. You couldn’t sleep since all you could think about was the wedding and how you were actually going to marry the man who you had been in love with for almost half the time you had been alive. As excited as you were, you couldn’t help but think about how unsure you were that he loved you in return. He hadn’t exactly said the words and with the proposal after revealing that you were pregnant, it almost seemed like he was marrying you just so the baby would have two parents.

You had heard so much about loveless marriages and how common they were, but you didn’t want that for yourself. You wanted someone who would be there for you through whatever you were going through and you wanted to be there for them in return. And as much as Benedict seemed to care for you, especially through your pregnancy, you weren’t entirely sure that he actually loved you. Maybe just hearing the words would have been reassuring and you could have put all of your doubt behind you.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Benedict was knocking on your window. You rushed to open it and you helped inside, the man collapsing to the floor as soon as he was in your room. The alcohol had mostly worn off since he hadn’t drunk as much as the others and now he was feeling the pain of his body hitting the floor.

“Benedict, what are you doing here?” You asked as you helped him to his feet and his hands stayed in yours as he looked at you with a dopey grin.

“I wanted to see my wife,” his hands moved to your back, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“I’m not your wife yet,” you countered and he wondered what had put you in a sour mood. “If you’re here for sex, you’ve come to the wrong place,” you grumbled, turning back to your bed and gathering your art supplies to put it on your desk.

“What’s gotten into you? What’s upsetting you, darling?” He asked as stood behind you, resting his hands on your waist, but you were quick to push his hands off you, turning around to face him. Benedict had never seen you so angry and now he was trying to figure out what he could to put a stop to it.

“Do you love me?” You asked and the words felt heavy in the room, changing the atmosphere completely. Benedict’s eyes widened at your question and he knew that the longer he sat in silence, the worse he was going to look.

“What would prompt you to ask such a thing?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Of course I love you, darling.”

“So you want to marry me because of that and it has nothing to do with this baby?” Your hands moved to your stomach and Benedict realized just how horrible he looked. Perhaps the engagement did seem a bit rushed and the timing of it seemed a bit suspicious.

“Absolutely nothing, my love. I love you with everything that I am and I am not opposed to telling all of Mayfair if you don’t believe me. Actually, I would tell everyone because they deserve to know how utterly and completely I am in love with you.”

“And I would do the same for you,” you reached up and cradled his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away. You then pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face into his chest. He wrapped around your shoulders and he pressed a kiss to your hair before pulling back to look at you, cradling your face in his hands.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more,” you replied.

“Impossible,” he laughed. “Because I love you most.”

“This isn’t a competition, Ben,” you told him.

“I know,” he nodded. “But if it was,” he’d whispered. “You’d win hands down.”

You took him by the hands and led him over to the bed. You laid down first and Benedict hovered over you. He pushed up your nightgown and you gave him a pointed look but he just smiled.

“I’m just saying hello to our child, darling,” he chuckled. “Is there anything wrong with that?” There wasn’t all. In fact, it warmed your heart that he was already looking forward to being a father, wanting to see your stomach even though it wasn’t obvious that there was a baby in there.

“I suppose not. But I feel like this is all a ploy just to see under my nightgown.” Sure, that would have been true a few months ago, but you had changed Benedict and for the better it seemed. He really had turned over a new leaf and you couldn’t believe that you had been the one who made him do it. You were the one who made him want to commit to one woman for the rest of his life.

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of something so naughty.” He pushed your nightgown all the way up and you noticed that all he was looking at was your stomach. He pressed a kiss to the spot right above your belly button then put your nightgown down before laying on your stomach gently, speaking to the baby, telling it everything and nothing until the two of you peacefully drifted off to sleep, dreaming of nothing but the life you were going to build together.

March 31, 1817

The sun seeped in through your window, stirring you from your sleep. You looked down at the arm snaked around your waist and turned around to come face to face with Benedict, a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” you greeted, pulling him closer, pressing your foreheads together.

“Good morning,” he replied, then pulled you into a kiss before rolling out of bed to put on his coat.

“Where are you going?” You whined and it took everything in him to not crawl back into bed, but he had a wedding to get to.

“In case you forgot, darling, we’re getting married today and my mother will have my head if I’m not home in the next few minutes.” He pressed another kiss to your lips then made his way to the window. “I will see you at the altar, my dear,” he winked before climbing out the window.

-

The church filled with your friends and family while your mother, Lilith, Kate, and Violet helped you get ready. Your mother seemed to actually be in a good mood as she fixed your dress. She beamed at you in the mirror and you smiled right back. For once, you, and her and Lilith actually seemed like a happy family.

Lilith smoothed out your veil while Violet and Kate touched up your makeup. They all gushed about how beautiful you looked and you could help but agree. Unlike how you thought you would have felt, you actually felt like a bride. And you were going to marry Benedict.

Your look was all finished and they all stepped away from you to get a good look at their work, admiring it with wide smiles. They had been showing you nothing but love on your special day and for that, you’d be eternally grateful.

“It’s time,” your mother said as she pulled you out of the room while the others headed to their seats.

You took a deep breath as your mother led you down the aisle and as soon as you made eye contact with Benedict, you could feel your own getting misty. You joined him at the altar and you joined hands as your mother took her seat. You turned Vivian and Lilith and you could see their joined hands as tears streaked their cheeks. They were just as happy as you were and you couldn’t have been more grateful that you all could put everything behind you.

You then turned back Benedict and the ceremony started. You weren’t listening, though. You were just too distracted by the beautiful man in front of you, not quite sure whether or not you were dreaming. You had to be though, right? You had thought about the exact scenario to fall asleep every single night and now it was really happening.

And it was for love. He loved you more than you could even comprehend. And you loved him in the exact same way. Maybe it was unconventional to fall in love someone, but Benedict didn’t care. All he cared about was spending the rest of his life with you.

“You may now kiss the bride,” was all you had tuned in enough to hear after you had repeated after the pastor. Benedict took no time to press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss before grabbing onto your hand and the two of you turned to face your audience.

Everyone stood and the two of you walked down the aisle for the first time as a married couple. Your whole life was going to change. You were no longer going to be living with your family but in a new house with your new husband and that sounded like nothing but blissful to you.

The two of you would raise your children there and teach them your art skills so you all could paint in the garden as a family. It really seemed to be that you were going to love happily ever after just like you had always dreamed.

December 14, 1817

“Doing so well darling,” Benedict cheered you on as he dabbed the sweat away with a towel. “Just a few more pushes,” he urged. You had been pushing for too long and just wanted to baby out of you already. It was probably the most pain you had ever endured and were considering stopping at just one so you’d never have to go through it again. Once seemed to be enough.

“Here comes the head,” the doctor told you and you squeezed both Benedict and your lady’s maid’s hands while you gave another big push. You did one more, this one the hardest and let out a sigh of relief as soon as you heard crying.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor passed your son off to you as soon as he was wrapped up into a blanket. You looked down at him as you held him against your chest and couldn’t believe that he was yours. That you were deemed qualified to take care of him after carrying him for nine months.

“A boy,” you repeated and Benedict leaned over to get a look, his face softening as soon as he caught sight of his baby boy.

“Do you have a name?” He asked and you did. You thought it was only right to name him after your father. You would have anyway, but now you felt the need to honor him and giving your son his name seemed like the best way to do that.

“August,” you replied and Benedict looked down at the boy, his smile growing even wider.

“Then August it is,” he nodded and you handed August to him so he could hold him for a while. You watched your husband walk around the room with your newborn son, wondering how you had gotten so blessed as to having them both in your life. What you had done to have gotten such luck when all you had been dealt your entire life was a shitty hand. Maybe now your life was finally turning around for the better. And you only had Benedict to thank for that.

[likea-silhouette]

pairing: harry styles x oc (Emery)

cw: none.....for now :)

word count: 2.2k

summary: Emery and Harry are both roommates who are post-grad creatives struggling to find a sense of financial stability that fits their creative endeavors, in addition to their second jobs that pay the bills...well, only some of them. When Emery and Harry end up short on cash with the rent past due and zero extra income in sight, it will take some creative thinking to figure out what both of you can do to make a little cash on the side. This will be a multi-chapter series that I have big biiigggg plans for. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, just let me know xx

Taglist: @drewrry @familyshow-orisit

The weather was dreary today - just the way I liked it. In February, Chicago was known to be gray and full of mushy snow; today, it was no different than the stereotypical winter weather that kissed this side of the Midwest each year.

I watched the light snow as it fell from the slim, rectangle-shaped window in the kitchen, taking in the natural quiet of the city this early in the morning. That is, until my eyes caught sight of the browning pathos plant that my roommate must’ve forgotten to water yet again. “Hey, Harry! I think this one's gonna be a goner soon unless you give it some water.”

My fingers lightly brushed along one of the plant's leaves, but at the point of contact, the leaf drifted down to the windowsill, separating its deceased limb from the plant. It was a crunchy and exhausted-looking piece of greenery. I’m sure it was grateful it was no longer left to suffer in silence - at least, that’s what I told myself in order to not feel as bad. “What's up?” Harry mumbled and poked his head into the kitchen. His toothbrush was dangling from the side of his mouth, accompanied by dribbles of toothpaste that smeared along his lips. Suddenly, my vision became very aware of his upper body, which stood naked to the eye. I blinked rapidly as a way to disengage my wandering gaze and bring myself back to the reason I had alerted Harry in the first place. “The plant”, I gestured in its direction with a wince, “It’s looking a little near death.” Harry muttered a panicked “fuck”, as he finished up his morning dental hygiene routine and rid his mouth of the mixture of spit and toothpaste into the empty kitchen sink. “Why am I so shit at remembering to feed this thing!” Urgently, Harry brought a glass of water to the parched plant, drizzling the clear liquid over it until the soil threatened to flood over the rim of the pot. “When’s the last time you watered the thing?” “Hell if I know”, Harry spoke with a shrug as he examined the plant further, as if he were some sort of specialist who could cure the greenery.

I couldn’t help but smile in amusement at his concentrated, creased brow. Once he felt the plant had been sufficiently cared for, Harry gulped down the rest of the water left in the glass, then, with the back of his hand, promptly wiped a hint of leftover toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. “What’s on your agenda for the day? Work?”, Harry asked casually as his hip leaned against the kitchen counter. His chest was still noticeably bare to my line of sight. “When am I not working is a better question.”

He nodded in full understanding of the situation, which I was well aware he could unfortunately relate to. Both of us had met at a liberal arts college, me a creative writing major, and Harry a photojournalism major. However, we were both brought together by a mutual friend; eventually, that friend grew into a group of friends, and pretty soon, each person was crossing paths with the other once one of their creative hobbies required the expertise of another in the artistic group of friends. Some people in the group grew closer to others, thus creating little mini partnerships. It’s funny, actually. Harry and I barely knew each other until I learned he needed a roommate. Of course, I knew who he was, and I must’ve spoken to him at least a handful of times throughout my college years. It wasn’t that we didn't like each other or anything in that realm, more so our paths just never crossed as often as some of the others in our group. Time didn’t allow us to form anything besides a friendly acquaintanceship. But that all changed when, at a coffee shop with one of our mutual friends, I was expressing my grief about the difficulties in finding a roommate post-college, and - what do you know - Harry also happened to be having that same exact issue. After our conversation, I dove into the contacts on my phone and tapped on the screen once I saw Harry’s name. My eyes glanced through our most recent messages, the last time being a year ago when I sent a picture I took on my phone of one of his photographs hanging up in a local bookstore. I expressed congrats and pride to him, to which he sent a simple ‘thanks’ and smiley face emoji - and that was our last means of communication. Quickly, I typed out a message to Harry, which turned into us meeting up at coffee shops and parks, exchanging apartment listings, and touring the ones that fit with what we could afford. A weight had been lifted once we stumbled upon a brick three-flat on a quiet street in a neighborhood I knew I could never afford to live in on my own. We signed the lease, and the rest was history. Now in the present, me and Harry were doing what we conspired nearly every morning. Me, preparing mine and his morning coffee on an espresso machine I spent way too much money on. Harry, rushing around, getting ready for his shift at the record store, and hitting me with casual conversation. This morning, his still half-dressed form looked as if he had hit snooze on his alarm one too many times more than usual. The worst part about acquiring a creative degree was finding a job that could provide you with food, clothing, shelter, and other basic necessities. I spent my days working primarily as a barista in a hip part of the city. Thankfully, I was still able to pick up some freelance writing gigs here and there to occupy my time and not make my degree feel like an entirely useless slab of paper I had framed on my wall. Harry also suffered a similar fate. His photojournalism degree proved difficult to make worth it when the age of AI had smothered nearly every creative outlet known to man; couple that with a shitty economy and you have a recipe for disaster. The record store came at the perfect time for Harry. Sure, photography-film photography to be exact-was his primary love, but records and music in general were a near second. The photo gigs he would get weekly, paired with a stable set of working hours and wages at the record store, is what allowed him to pay his bill. The only part that felt agonizing was the morning shift. Harry was naturally a night owl, yet capitalism had forced him to be only slightly accustomed to waking up early.

Notice, I said slightly. “How many times did you hit the snooze button today - three…four times?” Harry’s eyes narrowed in my direction as he took the coffee mug that was outstretched in my hand and lifted the freshly curated latte to his lips. “If this latte was anything less than perfection, I’d be throwing a passive-aggressive comment at you right now.” I smirked with rolling eyes, feeling a sense of pride anytime someone found something that I created-whether a cup of coffee or a piece of writing-good enough to comment on. “Watch it or those coffee privileges can be revoked very easily.” “Which is exactly why I withheld my comments, Emery,” Harry called over his shoulder as his sock-clad feet strolled over to the bench set by the front door. His feet slipped into his signature pair of boots that were only half suitable for winter, yet complemented his overall style perfectly. “When are you off today?”, I questioned as I watched him finish the buttons on the flannel that was now finally wrapped around his upper half. “Five - You?” Thankfully, my day would be spent split between the writing desk in my bedroom and the coffee shop, Side Practice, a couple of blocks away. “I’m working on a piece today, so I’ll be around whenever I manage to get that finished. Figured I’d work at Side Practice and then come back here to finish up for the day.” “Working on a tough piece?”, Harry asked as he draped a coat over his shoulders and his backpack across the front of his chest. Followed by his bike helmet, which he always had clipped around a carabiner attached to his bag until it was time to travel. “Sorta. Doesn’t help that my writer's block has been insane lately.” Harry winced as his hands latched onto either strap of his backpack. “Well, good luck. Don’t work too hard.” “I make no promises, but I’ll try my best.” Harry sent me a friendly, dimpled goodbye before he shut the front door behind him and left for the day. I watched out the window, with coffee cup in hand, until Harry appeared outdoors a minute or so later with one hand on the handlebars of his beloved preferred mode of transportation (aka his bike), and the other resting on the bike seat. It took him only a few seconds to lift his leg up and over until both of his feet rested on the pedals and set off on his journey of the day. I stood there for a few more minutes and absorbed each of the passersby as they walked their dogs, jogged with heaving breath, or headed off to work at a fast walking pace. It was interesting how there was such a massive amount of people in this world, and even those we only pass for a second once in our lives, those people have whole families and jobs and loved ones and hobbies. Lives that were full of experiences that I would never personally go through, yet could live vicariously through those people. I loved picking the brains of anyone who would allow me to. It was enjoyable, in my opinion, to spend a few minutes wrapped up in another person's world, learning about things they have delved headfirst into and things they just simply couldn’t stand. I never got enough of learning new things from people with various walking paths in life. I found it all very fascinating, which fit nicely into my writing aspirations. Today, I was ironically writing an article on young adults and side gigs. I wanted to focus on how normalized it was for people to have supplemental jobs alongside their regular ones, just to afford the necessities like food, clothing, and shelter, which unfortunately, is something I and many of my friends could relate to; Harry included. Me and Harry had lived with each other for a few months now, and both of us on a couple of occasions had hesitantly whispered to the other how we would be either late or low on our half of the rent. Thankfully, it had never come to the point where eviction was on the table, but in the back of my mind, I always lingered on the what if.

What if Harry couldn’t cover for me this time? What if I couldn’t pick up an extra shift at the coffee shop to cover his end of the rent? What if Harry wasn’t able to squeeze some money out of his parents' pockets to save us from the unimaginable? Several others just like me dealt with this every month, but why? Why had the world gotten to a place where the minimum wage was so deeply out of touch with the actual cost of living? Why was college so unattainable for so many, yet that was the only way to make a semi-livable wage, and even then, that wasn’t always the case? This is what I was writing about today. Suddenly, the blue line train a couple of blocks away came screeching through the neighborhood as the train moved along the wet, snow-covered tracks. The noise brought me out of my rabbit hole and, to be honest, I was thankful for the interruption. 

This piece wasn’t going to write itself, and god knows I needed that money as soon as I could get it. My bare feet moved along the creaking wood floors until I reached my decently sized bedroom door that cozily fit my full bed frame, a desk and chair, and a dresser full of clothes that were atrociously folded - if they were even folded at all. I noted how incredible the morning sun shone through my windows, which were adorned with burnt orange curtains that seemed to create a warmth that cascaded across the four walls.

Setting my half-empty mug on my desk, my hands began to shovel through a pile of clean clothes that were sitting on my desk chair, begging to be put away or hung up properly ever since I grabbed them out of the wash a few days ago. A bad habit of mine. I was, however, able to pull together a couple of items that created an outfit that was comfortable, yet didn’t sacrifice fashionability at the same time. I stuffed my laptop into a nearby tote bag, alongside my beloved pair of headphones that I never left my apartment without.

Once my boots were laced and tied on my feet and my coat was enveloped around my body, I set off for the winter cold that I had somehow grown fond of.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

This one was

oof

*deepbreath*

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader Ch. 9 of...uh what are numbers. Hilarious how I thought this might only be like four chapters originally.

Wordcount: 3,479

First chapter and previous chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He has been allotted forty-eight hours to make his decision on the offer of becoming a Warlord, and you can do little but imagine what that means for you

Warnings and stuff: THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW. The next chapter will also be NSFW. The previous chapter was kinda NSFW but this one has definitely breached that territory. Young!Mihawk is unapologetically yandere here. Also I apologize for how much I love cliffhangers

Taglist: @i-am-vita, @madbadpadawan, @browneyedhufflepuff, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @littleleelee, @nerium-lil , @dragon-bubs , @animefreak818 , @byysandra , @lufemia , @gizamalblythe , @schanwow

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, just lemme know!!

Whatever else Bogard had to say on the matter fell on deaf ears as Mihawk, following his comment about you, dropped the reciever of the den den mushi back onto the desk, ending the call. He lowered his hand, tracing his fingers slowly along the length of your innter thigh, slipping his other out of your bra and behind your back to toy with the clasp holding it shut.

“To think you’ve spent the better part of two months hiding yourself from me,” he murmured. He sighed, hsaking his head, his fingertips trailing a path over the edge of your panties and over the curve of your bare waist seemed to leave tendrils of flame in their wake. “Such a waste of valuable time.” You bit your lip against a whimper as he deftly slipped the claps of your bra loose, lifting his hands to gently brush the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment away from you. “And now we’re left with only two days to correct it.”

And he stopped, cupping his hands beneath your breasts, his thumbs halting so close to the stiff points of your erect nipples, your head such a fog that it was difficult to convince yourself this wasn’t all a much too vivid dream.

“You’re trembling, my pet,” he informed you in a light, amused tone, as if you weren’t already aware. You were shaking all over, anxious, anticipating, dying to hear his next words, craving his next touch. I am curious—how many men have had you before?”

You bit down harder on your lip, clenching your eyes shut, flaring with embarrassment at the blunt question. You could barely form a single thought already—the thought of admitting that made your head spin all the more violently.

“I asked you a question.”

“None—” you gasped out, gripping so hard at the edge of the chair that you thought you might tear the upholstery if you couldn’t will yourself to stop. You swallowed, your heart accelerating as you focused every ounce of your attention on his lips caressing your jaw, on his hands pushing up your breasts, on anything but the subject at hand. “N...none.”

“Not one?” His slight astonishment didn’t sound feigned, seemed perfectly honest, and you nodded quickly, wishing he would move his hands, in any direction, whether further away or even closer. He hummed quietly. “I did wonder, with how concerned your rear admiral seemed—no?” He chuckled as you shook your head rapidly. You had never mixed work with pleasure, had never even thought to, and Bogard was your commanding officer, had never been anything but professional. “I find it difficult to believe none of your fellow cadets would have taken interest in such a pretty little thing.”

“N—n-no—” You stammered as he finally pulled the rough pads of his thumbs across your nipples. You felt him draw in a sharp breath as you lowered your hand to grip his thigh, arch your back, unintentionally grinding yourself back against the stiff bulge at the front of his pants. His breath released as a low growl vibrating against your neck, and he rewarded you for the unexpected stab of pleasure by pressing down lightly on your sensitive nipples and massaging them in slow, small circles.

“No one,” he repeated with a sigh, quickly regaining control of himself, grinding against your hips when that single taste of gratification wasn’t enough. “So innocent.” He drew in a slow, deep breath, pressing his lips hard against your neck for a moment. “That’s as good as a crime, for such a lovely creature to be untouched for so long…”

Your eyes snapped open, staring down to watch his left hand as it slipped down from your breast, his fingertips drifting like feathers down the soft plane of your stomach.

“I hardly have any choice but to make it right myself.”

Further, lower, beneath the dip of your navel, brushing across the waist of your panties—his other hand lifting away from your breast, his breath hot against your jaw as he curled it beneath your chin and spoke with his lips barely brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Turn your head.” You bit your lip, unable to tear your eyes from his hand halted at your waist, his fingertips caressing across the top of your panties. If you looked at him, allowed your eyes to lock with his for even a moment, it would all be real.

“Turn,” he repeated slowly, his voice still an intimate murmur, though a bit firmer in his command, “your head, pet. That wasn’t a request. No,” he said, shaking his head as your eyes snapped shut and you started to turn. “You will keep your eyes open. I want you here, not somewhere else.”

He knew exactly what you were trying to do. Trying to close your eyes, imagine you were somewhere else, anywhere else, that this really was all a strange dream, that you weren’t willingly going against your mission in favor of the promise of carnal pleasure—

“I would hate to have to punish my little bird,” he murmured, though from the way he pulled you back against him, close enough that you felt the throbbing of his arousal against your lower back, he hardly seemed that put off by the thought. “Especially when we’re in the middle of enjoying ourselves.” He lifted his hand from your chin, brushed your hair back from your temple and tucked it behind your ear, trailing his fingers down your neck. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

Your eyes drifted open as you turned your head, and your heart exploded into arrhythmia the moment they locked with his—hearing him murmur that pet name in your ear, as much a taunt as it was a sultry invitation, made it impossible for you to turn away. He said it so quietly, so tenderly, so salaciously that you obeyed him automatically, staring wide-eyed into the mingling amusement and hunger in his gaze. He brushed his knuckles below your chin and settled his fingertips at the edge of your hairline, at your temple.

“You belong to me now,” he said, tilting his head slightly and leaning in. “Do not forget that.”

You swallowed, unable to move at all now that your gaze was locked with his, the sharp yellow orbs holding you in place as if by some irresistible magnetic force. He still wasn’t moving either, except to stroke his thumb across your lips. Your eyes flashed down toward his other hand, wondering why he didn’t continue, wishing he would, you had done everything he asked.

“What is it, my darling pet? Did you want me to touch you? Yes?” he chuckled when you nodded several times. “You have followed most of my orders well,” he allowed, dragging his knuckles down your neck, down your collorbone, resting his hand over your breast. “I might...if you can ask nicely.”

You had no choice. The dull, throbbing ache between your thighs, only a couple inches beneath his fingertips, it was too much to bear now. Too good to resist. He seemed bent on enjoying your growing desperation as long as possible before he gave you anything else, and you had no choice but to play along.

“Please—plea…” And bent on making it as difficult as possible, as he brushed his lips to your jaw, to the corner of your mouth. You licked your lips, your mouth gone dry from your erratic breathing. “Please t—touch me,” you breathed, your eyes clenching shut briefly, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip on your breast, his palm rubbing across your oversensitive nipple. But you forced them back open quickly—he had told you to keep them open, there was no choice in that. “Please…”

“‘Please’ what?”

You swallowed dryly, immediately grasping his meaning—then bluring out what he was looking for in a pained cry as he pinched your nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

“P-please—mm—master—please t-touch—”

But your desperate pleas were cut short, muffled as he crushed his lips so hard against yours that it nearly hurt. By the sharp breath he inhaled and the ferocity of his brief kiss he must have approved, even if his grip on your breast had tightened to the point that it pulled another gasp of pain from you—yet it also sent a jolt though you that made you pull your thighs a bit tighter against the throbbing pressure between them. He abruptly broke away, exhaling a slow sigh as he loosened his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked lightly, gently massaging the soft mound under his grasp so you released your breath in a shaking sigh. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to respond, but all you could find the will to do was offer a short nod. “Oh, dear…” He lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your trembling bottom lip. “I’ll need to take care not to forget how delicate you are.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed a tender kiss against the corner of your mouth. “I would hate to break my new toy when I’ve hardly yet had a chance to play with it.”

You glanced down as he pulled his other hand away from your stomach, shifting it to your waist—and he stood so suddenly that you three your arms around his neck with a cry of alarm, sure he would shove you right to the floor at his feet for a moment. Instead he hooked an elbow under your knees, cradling you in his arms and resting his forehead against yours.

“I suppose I ought to atone for my carelessness.”

You couldn’t have torn your gaze away from his sharp yellow eyes if you wanted to, from the ever present devilish spark glowing in their depths, unaware of where you were being carried until he lay you across the elongated daybed across the room at the huge window stretching up to an arch at the high ceiling, where he had spent much of his spare time reading with you perched near his side in your devil fruit form over the last several weeks. He brushed a few books off of it, letting them fall over the edge and to the stone floor without a care for where they landed.

You fought the impulse to cover yourself as his eyes passed slowly over you, certain he would only tug your hands aside if you tried to. You instead shifted back against the cushions behind you, your gaze flickering to his hand tracing a slow path up your inner thigh. A shiver crept through you as his light touch passed over the small triangle that was the front of your plain white panties, continuing slowly up the flat plane of your stomach—up, between your breasts as he pushed your legs apart with his knee, up to your neck to curl beneath your chin as you lay your head back on the pile of throw pillows.

He planted his elbow on the bed above your shoulder, and a soft whimper left you at the caress of his lips at the other side of your neck. You gripped at the edge of the mattress at the powerful, pleasurable quiver between your thighs that came with the delicate path his lips traced along the curve of your neck, your breath entering and leaving your lungs in short, halting bursts.

“You are truly exquisite,” he murmured, so close to your ear that his lips brushed across it. His fingers curled into your hair near your temple and you found yourself turning your head toward the light touch automatically, arching your hips as his other hand gripped at the soft flesh of your rear. His low chuckle in your ear alone was enough to pull a soft moan from somewhere in your chest. “And so sensitive. You really haven’t been touched before, have you, my pet?”

As he shifted to shove off his coat before he moved his hand up your hip, lacing his fingers around the side of your underwear, trailing his lips across your neck, you finally dared to glance down. You immediately regretted doing so as your breath stuttered to a halt and your eyes became glued to him. You had seen him shirtless before, but never so close, much less pinning you into such a compromising position beneath him. You gripped the mattress under you a little tighter, wondering whether he would be angry if you lifted your hands to touch his broad shoulders, to feel his powerful, solid chest under your palms; to brush your fingers over his sleep, jet black hair or the contours of his high cheekbones and angular jaw.

The temptation was quickly growing too great to bear—at least when he had been behind you you couldn’t see the slow rising and falling of his chest, or how each muscle in his strong upper arms flexed as his hands explored across your nearly naked body.

You could ask.

The prospect filled you with such intense anxiety that you were sure you would faint, even before you could feel his skillful hands delve below the waist of your panties. You swallowed as his lips brushed your jaw, closing your eyes for a moment and drawing in a slow, deep breath, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your mind and body to find the ability to speak.

“C...can...can I touch you—mm—master?”

You couldn’t muster more than a whisper, but he had heard you—he paused with his lips grazing the crook of your neck, and your heart stopped briefly with the cessation of his movement, your fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have even spoken without permission. Perhaps that wasn’t as bad as laying your hands on him, on his pale skin stretched taut across his lean, toned torso and his roguishly handsome face; but it was still surely punishable, enough to irritate him if the pressure of his fingertips digging into your waist and stomach were any indication.

Then he sighed slowly, his breath quavering as he loosened his grip. Your own breath left you in a sigh as well when he combed his fingers down through your hair, down until you could turn your cheek into the warmth of his rough palm.

“Do you really have to ask, dear?”

The brief disruption in his composure was gone in a flash in his light, amused tone. The question was rhetorical on its surface, but anything could be a test. Any oversight could potentially get you into trouble, and you were too vulnerable in your present situation to be able to do anything to counteract it. You swallowed again, and managed to force yourself to speak up. It was only a mumble, a trembling murmur, but at least it was more than a whisper this time.

“I...didn’t want to...to make you angry, sir.”

There was nothing disapproving in his quiet chuckle—if it was a test, you had passed. You lay your head back in a low, breathy moan as he brushed his lips to the column of your throat. “As reward for your obedience…”

The warm vibration of his murmur at your jaw, just below your chin, had you clenching your thighs around his knee, arching your back and your hips in a futile attempt to find some respite from the unbearable, swelling pressure throbbing between them. He shifted his other knee between your legs, forcing them apart again, refusing to allow you any relief. You felt his lips brush across your own and drew in a sharp breath as the quiet sound of his deep voice alone lifted goosebumps all over your body.

“You may.”

For a brief, terrifying moment, your hands refused to move.

Your shoulders tensed as you fought the anxiety crippling you from loosening your death-grip on the mattress beneath you—he couldn’t grant you permission if he didn’t want you to, and for you to falter now would surely do nothing more than annoy him.

Then he lifted your head, pressing his lips fully to yours, and every muscle in your body relaxed in the brief, firm kiss. You lifted your hand nearest the window, trembling, until your fingertips grazed the hard muscle adorning his thick upper arms. You gasped at the shock it sent through your body, pulling your hand away for a moment as the warmth of his skin seemed to scorch your fingers.

Then you lifted it further, your eyes fluttering shut at the delightful sensation of his lips gingerly grazing your cheek, and let your palm rest against his broad shoulder. Your other rose from the edge of the mattress, as if longing of its own accord to feel the heat of his body beneath it, and you felt as much as you heard his slow sigh as you trailed your fingertips up the hard plane of his chest, up the cords of his strong neck and jaw. Your breath stuttered to an astonished halt when your reached his sharp cheekbone and he leaned toward your touch, brushing a kiss to your lips as your fingertips slipped into his soft, dark hair.

“Is it your intention to break my will?” he asked lightly. His amusement was still present, but there was a quiet purr in his deep, sensual murmur that made your heart flutter and your breath catch. You quickly shook your head—and then gasped, digging your fingertips into his scalp and his muscular shoulder when he pressed a hard kiss to your neck and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, biting down lightly. He exhaled a slow, heavy breath of air before pressing his lips there again, gingerly, lightly grazing his tongue against the same spot.

“Are you quite sure?” You nodded automatically—you had barely done anything at all, nothing you thought would affect him remotely as much as it would you. “You do possess quite a talent for fooling me.” You opened your eyes when you felt his forehead rest against yours, and found his gaze boring into you, challenging you to show any sign of dishonesty. You swallowed, unable to blink as you stared straight back into his eyes. “Your talent for acting is nothing short of captivating.”

You swallowed as you felt his hand creep across your stomach, below your navel, his fingers curling around the edge of your panties again.

“But it makes it difficult to know whether you’re lying,” he went on, his lips grazing yours with each murmured word. You couldn’t breathe as he curled his fingers in your hair. “I can hardly tell without seeing your eyes.”

His fingertips, brushing across the small, thin triangle of fabric that barely covered your intense arousal.

“Tell me….” He brushed his thumb across your burning cheek. “Who is it you belong to?”

“Y—you,” you said automatically—and hurried to correct yourself when he lifted his eyebrows. “You, sir—y-you’re my master.”

He pressed his lips firmly to yours, drawing in a sharp breath as his tongue teased against your bottom lip, drawing a sharp moan up from your chest before releasing you.

“And should I reward my pretty little pet for being such a good girl?”

The pressure was unbearable now, as he pressed his palm down onto your lower abdomen to still your involuntary squirming beneath him, to stop you from arching your hips toward his light, teasing caresses.

“You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth as he pushed his hand into your panties without warning—but he kept it still, only resting his palm over the heat of your arousal, barely brushing his fingertips against the mound, smirking as you uttered a low, agonized moan of protest.

“Y—yes, sir,” you breathed, nodding quickly. You needed it, needed to feel his skillful touch against your throbbing center, to feel the push of his fingers at your entrance, needed more. “Y-yes, master, please—”

“You will tell me when you’re close, pet. Until I allow it, you aren’t to come.”

You fixed your eyes on his and nodded quickly in response to his low warning, your heart racing in anticipation. You were apt to lose yourself the moment he applied the slightest pressure, but you would deal with the repercussions if it meant finding some relief from this agony. He brushed his lips to yours, and his next words gave you pause, made your eyes widen and your heart stop as you immediately reconsidered the possibility of defiance.

“You aren’t to come,” he repeated, his voice a low, sultry purr at the corner of your trembling lips, “until I pull you onto my cock and grant you permission.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi ;) I really like your works!!!! But I'm craving for II (really). So I would be glad if you would write something very sweet related to him. For example, inside the mind of II: how he secretly cares about reader more than she know.

All of the small things that you do

He is super attentive but as I have said before I think he’s more of a do not tell guy. So if he is doing something for you you would never catch him going “Yeah… well I did that or this for you”. He just does it. It’s second nature for him. And the range is wild because he loves to look after you.

So we could go from house chores. While it usually flows dynamically, there are parts that you had split and it worked just fine for you two. There are times when ii can tell that you are not in the right mindset to worry about a dirty bathroom or laundry. So he’s ticking your to-do list off for you. Sorting out your product for you on your side of the sink. Ones you had left scattered in the morning. By now more than aware of how you placed them. That’s also the time he looks through your product. Taking pictures of the ones that were running low so that he could simply show the picture and get the right thing.

“I think I’m tripping”, you would step out of the bathroom making ii lift his head from the wordle game he was playing. “I swear this morning the tub was almost empty”, you lift your moisturizer, holding the towel wrapped around your body with the other. “Am I tripping?”, you ask and ii can see the weight of the day still making your brain turn. “I grabbed it for you while I was out with the boys today”, he says so casually and you can’t help but look at him for a heartbeat. “You… you went to the makeup shop with the boys?”, you ask making ii shoot you one of his signature glares. “Yeah? Is there an issue we were in the area anyway”, he shrugged, “The lady recommended iii olaplex for his hair”, you can’t help but snort slightly at that, sitting down on the bed before leaning in to kiss your boyfriend, “you didn’t have to”. “I didn’t but I wanted to”, he cups your cheeks, squeezing them, “Put it on and come to bed”.

I can also see him packing lunch for you the night before. Idk tell me you can’t see him with a towel thrown over his shoulder, chopping up some vegetables for a salad. Cause I sure can. And the little sticky notes would probably make an appearance. A whole cheesy ass “Can I get a smile? Here we go, now that’s my pretty baby”. Would he ever admit to it? No. He’s not mushy and lovesick what do you mean? But his heart never fails to skip a beat when you end up sending him a pic of you holding the note and smiling at the camera.

Whatever he does, ii never expect praise or anything in return. It comes naturally. If he can make your life easier why wouldn’t he? But there are nights when you just end up staring at him. Thinking of all the ways he showed up for you throughout the day. “What is it?”, II would shift slightly taking his eyes off the screen. You just shake your head continuing to look at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, wrapping his arm tighter around your shoulder he would let his gaze linger on you. “Just thinking of how much I love you”, you mutter, watching how the look in his eyes shifts even if his face stays the same. “Are you now?”, “Yeah, I wonder if you know just how much I love you”, you shrug, letting your fingers trail over his jaw. “I know that you love me, darling”, ii reassured you, letting his fingers tangle into your hair. “But do you know how much?”, he can’t help but let out a slight chuckle before muttering, “The question is if you know just how much I love you in return”.

[coff33andb00ks]

Oscar + 47 41 ⭐️

47 & 41: holding onto the other’s hand so they can’t run away / loosely holding onto each other’s hand

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

<this took forever I'm SO sorry>

"I quite like that one."

You narrow your eyes and tip your head, propping your hands on your hips. "Oscar?"

Your boyfriend gives you a gentle smile. "Yes darling?"

Ignoring the way the pet name rolls off his tongue, making your stomach feel all mushy, you huff with annoyance. You know he's only saying it to get the impromptu shopping trip finished. "You've said that for every outfit."

He's unaffected, blinking once, smile still in place. "Yes?"

"You can't quite like all of them."

"Can't I?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No."

He blinks at you, still smiling. "Ah." Rubbing his nose, he looks you over again. Then, with the most deadpan voice, "You look like shit."

"Oscar!"

"Now what?" he groans, smile finally fading.

"I just want you to be honest," you sigh, crossing to where he's seated outside the dressing room.

"Am I ever not honest?" He looks genuinely confused and it hits you - Oscar is never anything but honest. As soon as you're close enough he's taking your hand, lightly swinging it as he looks you up and down. "You always look sensational, darling. You could wrap a curtain around yourself and still be the most beautiful woman in the room."

Again your stomach feels all mushy. Again you ignore it. "Stop being ridiculous."

He stops swinging your hand. "I'm lost," he says. "Why don't you tell me what you want me to say?"

"The truth."

Standing, he tightens his grip on your hand and guides you into a slow turn. Once you're facing him again there's a grin pulling at his lips. "You look amazing."

"Yellow makes me look sick," you sigh.

"Yellow on you reminds me of the sunflowers I got you on our first date."

"Osc..." It's practically a whine.

"I love you in everything. Because - to me, honestly - you look beautiful in everything." He's speaking softly, and when he speaks like this you have a tendency to forget where you are.

"Stop," you mumble, vaguely aware of the other people milling around the shop and he's about to make you cry. He always says the right thing - you think it's because he grew up with sisters and his mom is a gem. Gotta send her a sweet text thanking her. You start to back away but his hand tightens around yours, holding you fast. "Osc–"

"You want the truth? That I can't look at any color and not think how you'd look in it? That I'll see someone else wearing the same shirt or dress as you and wonder why it doesn't look right?" He holds your hand tightly, keeping you from getting away. "Christ. You think I'm just saying bullshit, don't you? I'm not, and I'll keep saying it until you believe me."

"Oscar, you don't–"

"You took my breath away the moment we met. I got it back, but I lose it again every time I look at you." His other hand comes up, cupping your cheek. "I don't care what you're wearing, darling."

"Oh Osc," you whisper, smiling as you fight tears. "I really do love you."