#because i guess this is the beginning of realizing that i CAN have both
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camficdiner ¡ 2 days ago
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1.1 & 1.3, 2.15, 3.3, and 4.2👀👀👀rough hate sex with our favorite devils would cure me😈😈
☕️ cams fic diner — order 130
🍒 thank you: to the girls who crave hate that turns unholy. enemies. tension. a locked door and no way out.
💬 “Started and Took it”
✨ description & prompts:
characters: Jack Hughes + Luke Hughes
prompt: you get locked in the team bus overnight
type: enemies to MFM, hate sex, rough and raw smut
🛼✨🍒🧁
You fucking hate them.
Jack is smug. Luke is cocky.
They’re both loud, rude, and always looking at you like they’re tolerating your presence on the trip.
You’ve had tension with both of them since the second you were added to media ops for the road games.
Your job? To ride the damn bus with them, film some behind-the-scenes crap, and not kill anyone.
So of course, the one night you stay late — uploading footage, sorting files — you don’t realize everyone else already left.
Until the bus doors slam shut.
And then:
Silence.
Just you.
Jack.
Luke.
⸝
“You’re fucking kidding me,” you say flatly, trying the locked door again.
“Nope,” Luke says behind you, voice sharp with boredom. “Coach said it’s stuck until morning. They’re sending a tech. Eventually.”
Jack’s sprawled on the back row like a prince, arms spread across the seats. “Cool. Guess we’re bunkmates.”
You shoot him a look.
He smirks.
You want to break his jaw.
⸝
The temperature drops after midnight.
You huddle in your hoodie, curled against the window.
They’re whispering to each other in the dark.
You hear your name.
You sit up. “If you’ve got something to say—”
Luke laughs under his breath. “You always this uptight?”
Jack’s tone is lazier. “Girl’s probably wound so tight she hasn’t been fucked right in years.”
Your blood boils.
You get up — storm to where Jack’s sitting — but Luke follows close behind.
You spin on him. “You have a problem with me?”
Luke’s grin is all teeth.
“Nah. I just think it’s funny. You walk around acting like you’re better than everyone. Like you don’t wanna be looked at.”
Jack leans forward. “Like you don’t want us to see how wet you get when we talk to you like this.”
Your breath hitches — because fuck them, but also fuck.
Jack’s already pushing your jacket off your shoulder.
Luke’s behind you, low voice against your ear.
“You gonna tell us to stop?”
You should.
But you don’t.
⸝
It’s feral.
Rough.
All teeth and bruises and filthy, breathless curses.
Jack kisses you like he wants to ruin you.
Luke palms your throat from behind, tugging your head back so he can drag his mouth along your jaw.
They pin you between them like a prize to share.
Jack pulls your jeans down halfway. “Look at that,” he says, fingers running between your legs. “Soaking for people you claim to hate.”
You moan — loud — when he rubs slow circles over your clit.
Luke pushes your shirt up, licks a line down your spine.
“You ever been fucked like this?” he murmurs. “You ever been used by two people who can’t stand you?”
Your answer is a choked whimper.
⸝
They make you kneel.
Jack undoes his sweats, hissing when you take him in your mouth.
Luke kneels behind, pushing your ass up, sliding fingers between your folds.
“Keep going,” Luke growls. “Take him deeper.”
Jack lets his hand fall to the back of your head, holding you in place. “Fuck— you’re better like this. On your knees. With no attitude.”
You moan around him. Luke groans behind you.
“This pussy’s clenching already,” he says, dragging his cock against your entrance.
Jack looks down at you — flushed, desperate, ruined.
“Don’t stop. Let him fuck you like that. While you suck me off.”
And you do.
You take it — both of them, rough and raw and filthy — the bus echoing with your cries, their growls, the slap of skin on skin.
You don’t know where the hate ends and the pleasure begins.
⸝
You come on Luke’s cock first, trembling around him.
He grunts, finishes inside you with a low, broken groan.
Jack pulls you off his length and finishes on your chest — messy, hot, his hand still tangled in your hair.
⸝
Nobody speaks for a minute.
Breathing slows. Sweat cools.
Then Luke zips up, smirking.
“Still hate us?” he asks, tossing you your hoodie.
You wipe your chest, eyes narrow.
“More than ever.”
Jack leans back, smirking too.
“Cool. We’re doing this again tomorrow.”
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cleolinda ¡ 24 hours ago
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As I said on Weekend Links, I have been tearing through The Magnus Archives, and after a little more than a week, I'm 100+ episodes in, nearly done with season 3. But I've realized that I'm not retaining the details very well--I'm a visual learner, not aural. And I did find transcripts, sure, but then those felt so dry compared to the podcast. So I figure, I just need to listen to it again before I go any further.
I'm listening via YouTube, just because I use that so much anyway, and Rusty Quill actually has the show organized into playlists by... topic, if you will, not to spoil the concept. So I'm going back to the beginning and listening to "The Stranger" playlist, up to where I left off. And then I'll go through the others. As an experience it'll be a little new, listening to an arrangement that tells me something different, but it's still reviewing the material. Which makes me sound like I'm studying for a class, but then, that's my idea of fun.
Someone asked me to give my thoughts on the show so far, and since I'm trying to do more audio/video (with writeups), I might record something. I don't want to be like "the kids today don't read," but I think we all know that social media as a whole is moving towards video--it's easier to jump on TikTok and record something on your phone than it is to write (or read) a blog post. But that's a discussion for another day. Suffice it to say, I'm looking for ways to do both text and audio when I can. And I promise I won't do a "Statement" gimmick.
For the record, my favorites so far, just in terms of classic Weird Fiction, have been "Piecemeal" and the Father Burroughs two-parter. I'll probably have others as I re-listen. My most visceral reaction was to "I Guess You Had to Be There," where I just started yelling "STOP OH MY GOD JUST STOP" at the guy with the dog.
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isolatednights ¡ 2 days ago
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"hey, if that's how you plan to make your fortune, i will definitely take your share of the lawsuit we're going to win against the airline." she muses with a grin. "i know what you mean, eli," laughing as the man scrambles to correct himself. "oh no, you're definitely my island husband, you can battle it out with my mainland husband once we're rescued to see who can keep me long-term." another tease - something she's coming to appreciate about the man; his ability to make anyone smile and laugh while still seeing to their survival. "you might get some odd looks if you do," she giggles, the noise steadily dying as she settles down beside the fire.
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"we were taking a girls trip - it was meant to be a single-girls trip... get eden away from sam for good sort of thing," she explains beneath her breath, eyes flickering across the space to look at her friend and the little girl she considers a niece. "we were planning to bring them both back to my place when we got back. stay with me while eden got things sorted and then sam insisted on coming with us... wouldn't take no for an answer."
"i was about 95 percent sure it was you guys anyways." he retorts with a sigh. here he was, putting up a valiant effort to be a protector and he was being criticized for it. what the hell was he meant to know about survival outside of the corporate world? silas is prepared to sit some distance from the woman - allow her the space she's so willingly sought from the others, so the eager patting at the space beside her gives him pause and it takes him several seconds to realize she is in fact motioning to her. sinking down at her side, he sneaks a glance in her direction.
full of surprises, he realizes, taking the hair pin. it's elegant in a subtle sort of way, and somehow he finds himself wondering what it might look like tangled up in auburn locks. blinking away the thought, he carefully takes the pin and slides it into his pocket. "thank you," he manages after a moment, leaning back on his hands. "you didn't have to do that, you know? even if i didn't have this, or my flaming stick... i'd tackle whatever i needed with my bare hands to keep her safe, you know? her and lily. they're just kids. deserve better than this." they all did.
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"can boil the fish bones with the shellfish, keep it all for breakfast. maybe lily'll drink the broth? extra nutrients." he could remember a time when his younger sister was that age - picky and temperamental - it had been hard enough finding things she'd eat or drink when every day luxuries had been at his fingertips. now? they just had to guess and hope. "wasn't me," he admits, though now he wishes it were given the excitement that's sprung so easily to the woman's face at such a simplistic thing. "just glad we could help you two." two - not three. because asher would sooner let the man - let sam - wander into the jungle and never return. he casts one more glance over the woman before he's moving to take his self-claimed spot at the fire, carefully beginning to clean the fish for cooking.
it's karma, she thinks. for opening her mouth and having such hope that maybe the man might not return, only for him to stumble out of the jungle with his usual cheerful attitude. there's a familiar itch beginning under her skin - one that wants her to snap at the man, especially now that there are so many other witnesses who would never allow him to do anything to her, but aiyla can't help but stay quiet. it's only when sam moves, a touch too aggressive that aiyla flinches forward ( a silent breath of relief escaping her at the sight of cade already on his feet ).
it's only sam has finished his rant that aiyla raises fully from her position and shuffles over to eden, crouching before the woman. "don't listen to him, alright?" she whispers. "lily will learn when she's ready, but until then, she needs some comforts from home, and between her sippy and her suitcase, now she does. you're a good mom. don't let him you believe otherwise, hm?" reaching forward to run her hands up the others woman's arms, she flashes a smile. "borrow my blanket tonight, hm? it's getting cold and you and lil's could use it. i'll be up a bit longer and cade got me a nice sweatshirt. i'll be plenty warm." there is no waiting for a response before aiyla is offering a quiet goodnight and pushing to her feet and over to cade. almost hesitantly, she reaches to give his fingers a squeeze. "thank you."
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"oh yeah but come on now, if we get rescued i've a small fortune in airplane food. that stuff is always so overpriced." he looked ahead, eyeballing eris then shrugged. "i think you're probably right, she seems a tough cookie to crack- not that.. i mean it's not like that but either way, i think she's just protective and i don't think that's a bad thing, i don't mean it in a bad way." then rhea might as well have stolen breath from his lungs the way she shocked him but he was smirking about it, the smile growing, the flattery evident. "notice that i'm not objecting to that?" elias laughed, his head bobbing in how he nods. "please do, claim me, like a dog marks its territory." he held his hands up. "for the record, i was single before this too, i don't have like a secret wife or anything i haven't told anyone about so, very free for the being claimed like a dog thing. should i woof?"
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"and that fire would do good until it was blown out of your hands. then what?" she hummed. what she didn't expect was the blanket dropped around her shoulders, it had her looking up at him with surprise before paying the choice to tap the space next to her eagerly, her choice made. he couldn't defend himself adequately with a stick and a little fire, it wasn't going to work long term and she'd found... enough. she'd found her case, she'd stayed quiet about it thus far, mainly because she didn't want everyone knowing the strange amount of weaponry she'd managed to smuggle through an airport.
eris slipped a hand into her jacket and discreetly pushed the 'hair pin' towards him, the type you used to type your hair like a stick... just like the kind currently twirled in her hair and keeping it back and secure. "pull the handle and it reveals a blade, long and thin but very effective and very sharp so.. no playing with it. don't say anything." she whispered. "a stick wouldn't save you close range, this would." she didn't look at him, she stared into the fire and then to mia. "only because i want you to protect her if i can't, for whatever reason."
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"yeah! yeah we still have water, you've done amazing we can all be fed from this." she beamed but nothing beat the absolute joy that radiated from her at the sight of that sippy cup. "you found it! oh my god she's going to be so happy in the morning!" eden was joyous in that moment that she took it back, there was a relief for her too, knowing her daughter would actually drink plenty now she had that cup back. "thank you thank you thank you!" she was instantly moving to put some of the clean water she'd pre-boiled into the cup, mainly so there was some ready for morning before they used any or all of it. "oh no, no sign of him actually, i wonder if h-" like it was right on queue, speak of the devil. he walked through the tree's and didn't have a damn thing to show for it. if anything he looked like he'd spent the day lounging down at the beach rather than trying to catch a damn thing.
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"thanks for sending out the search party." he comments dryly, eden felt it... the look between everyone but she tried to at last seem positive. "sorry, we've all been prioritizing and these guys only just got back too but- but look! look what they found." she held up lily's cup, she was so.. sweetly happy about it and he didn't even crack a smile as he moved towards her. "does that really matter?" edens hands lowered, holding that cup closer. "well- well she finds drinking hard without it she's still so little.." she started to mumble, to lessen her joy and go quiet.. he squished that, so easily. "she has to learn, eden. i mean we're on a fucking island, and a sippy cup isn't fucking priority is it?" he whispered that last part at her, it wasn't nice, he didn't want everyone to hear the nasty tone he could take with her. "i just thought it'd make her feel a little more normal." she mumbled and there was a moment he jerked towards her, like he'd really hit her or lay a hand on her in front of everyone. it was noticeable enough that cade squared up, standing back up as if to prepare for it to get worse there and then. "none of this is fucking normal eden, christ are you blind as well as dumb? open your eyes- actually what have you done today? i've been out there trying to catch us meat, protein and what have you done?"
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her fingers were fumbling, her cheeks burning.. she felt so put on the spot. "well i- i was looking after lily and i made.. i made tea." his brows raised at her. "you made... tea. you know what that's pathetic but fuck it, i'm going to go sleep over there." he gestured, raising up what he'd decided was his sleeping bag and making sure he was far enough away that he could curse under his breath and not be heard which at least meant, they couldn't be heard either. "sam you'll be cold-" she tried to sound soft but he waved her off. eden turned to look at the others, mainly aiyla and rhea and she looked so sheepish. "sorry he just... the heat and stuff.."
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muraenide ¡ 2 years ago
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Chiming in to ramble about ship bias
Canon-wise, Octatrio will always be my top ship bias for Jade, but on a broader introspection, my favourite ship with Jade will always be Jade and a Situationship regardless of the muse in question.
It's easier to picture shipping Jade with someone he worships, that he admires, or that he adores, but for both personal and impersonal reasons, he doesn't initiate the official relationship or even accept it if he is offered by the person in question. Instead, Jade prefers to live in a parallel reality to this person to whom he's devoted himself, by going to lengths to ensure that their lives will never interact or overlap each other yet always staying close by just an arm's reach away. Even if the person in question got into an official relationship with someone else, it doesn't dissuade Jade from moving on because part of him expects this possibility and it's all within his expectation that the way he lives his life isn't the way everyone else wants to live their lives.
#𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ ooc.#// anyway jade is tough to love regardless of how close of a relationship they have in canon#// most of the time the moment the other side admits to wanting an official relationship it might be over for both of them#// but keeping things within a Situationship works best for Jade because part of the allure is that it keeps both parties guessing#// where they stand with each other#// and that is a directly something that appears attractive to Jade since he's never bored if that's the case#// and usually how I picture it is that jade and his special someone always originate from two very different worlds or realities and most#// the time they have nothing in common or even shared or discussed any future plans at all#// they just sort of exist within each other's circles for years and years until the point that you realize you don't remember a time in#// your life where the other person doesn't exist; which is the same time when all the built-up memories and past hits you and you realize#// that you've known each other since the beginning of time and that they have always been a constant in your life in ways you never even#// realized until this very point and you decide that this is the person who can convince you that 'forever and after' can indeed#// be achieved with them#// just sort of like brushing past each other's shoulders for years or even decades without consciously choosing a significant other before#// you realize that Fate chose Them for You
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secondbeatsongs ¡ 5 months ago
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Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman
so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:
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at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.
but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!
and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking
(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.
but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)
so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!
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lookit that guy! he's a real guy!
both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!
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Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast
the more you know!
anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:
when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.
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when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!
(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)
for now: we begin
so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.
two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.
so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:
2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage
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surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man
...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)
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the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that
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hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky
okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.
so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"
I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!
(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)
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mmm, yes. very smooth
...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!
a new discovery is made every day in this house.
okay, time to start mixing things together.
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ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?
(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)
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okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.
lastly: the cabbage
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oh. oh this is not very nice
next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?
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ah. this bowl is too big.
hey, these'll work!
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now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.
(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!
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look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)
hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.
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I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.
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I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!
let's build our boy
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oh he's so heavy. and wobbly
no no no he almost fell over!!
okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.
and...okay. he is complete.
behold!
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gaze upon my beautiful man!
(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)
 now it's time to stab him
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and...to devour him
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this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.
and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.
it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.
...I don't like this!
and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(
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RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.
(note from current!me: I could not.
 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.
after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.
do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?
bad. the answer is: bad.
I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.
do not try this recipe at home)
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paracosmicka ¡ 5 months ago
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Primal Fears AU content but don’t worry it’s still sonadow
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That last one is a repost from last year so if you saw the silly drawings but then read the thing in the bottom left corner and went “wait what the fuck”
It’s because it was an AU thing but I literally only had that drawn out and now you get some context at least:
In this universe Sonic is an assassin/bounty hunter/whatever you wanna call a guy that is hired to specifically to kill other Entities. He meets Shadow when they run into each other because they’re both following the same Avatar. Then they do the normal canon sonadow thing where the first interaction they have always ends with them fighting and beating the shit out of each other. And then they kinda calm down but then Shadow has a similar moment from the beginning of the IDW Sonic comics where he gets absolutely pissed that Sonic managed to distract him from catching the bad guy and zooms away before the two have another chance to speak again.
Here Shadow is a GUN field agent except in this universe GUN isn’t really military and it’s more focused on not only investigating (like the Magnus Institute) but also actively dealing with the Entities. Which sounds great except remember how I said they aren’t military well actually they kinda are because “dealing” with Entities and Avatars just means: throw it in the high-security prison that is guarded by other various Avarars that all work for GUN because it means they don’t have to get thrown in prison. So GUN is kinda like The Magnus Institute + Section 31 working together. So actually I guess it’s like the SCP Foundation.
One day Shadow goes into work and Sonic and there and I’m not really sure on what I’m gonna do in the plot to make him end up there (like maybe he’s undercover and just using GUN to get to his next target or maybe GUN does the “hey we’re gonna throw you in jail if you don’t agree to work for us” idk again not sure yet) but now he’s working with Shadow because they still need to catch that Avatar.
So now we’re sorta caught up, they’re at Club Rouge (and I realized I didn’t specify which Entity she serves in my drawing of her but people who guessed the Stranger ding ding ding here have some sonadow) because Sonic and Shadow need to kinda interrogate Surge and Amy, who are associated with the Slaughter. They have a band called Poison Rose and it’s basically just Grifter’s Bone but they perform rock music instead. And are also probably dating.
Anyway the Big Case™️ Sonic and Shadow are working on is investigating a bunch of spooky murders and they’re pretty sure whoever’s behind them is a Slaughter avatar. But not specifically Amy and Surge☝️ They’re kinda “allowed” to perform the Music That Makes You Die because GUN also has like an “informant” group of avatars they can rely on. These avatars don’t work for GUN, but they agree to chill out on the spooky stuff if it means they don’t get arrested for spooky crimes. So for Poison Rose, “chilling out” on the spooky stuff means that they have to force people to wear earplugs while they perform, which wasn’t specifically stated in MAG 42 if that works or not, not really sure of the magic rules of the Music That Makes You Die phenomena but yeah they gotta do that and probably some other stuff so GUN doesn’t arrest them. Like maybe no swearing or something lol.
Okay gonna stop there before this gets even longer explaining my AU because this was supposed to be just a normal sketch post but whoops.
Oh also I made a playlist for the kind of music Poison Rose performs but it was made private because I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it and be like “pshhhh this dumb person who makes public playlists of their AU that no one knows about what a loser” (me when I make up completely unrealistic scenarios in my head) but now here’s a post explaining that part of my AU so that person can’t make fun of me anymore
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linoxpudding ¡ 5 months ago
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Falling For You
summary: based on the promt "you walk in, and my heart beats differently." – when his best friend unknowingly makes his heart race, he realizes it’s love, leading to a heartfelt confession that changes everything
pairing: skz x reader
genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers
a/n: oh to be confessed like this, based on this cute request ♡
*all the images are collected from pinterest, I tried to add pics that capture the vibe*
Masterlist
~°~
Bang Chan
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You walk into Chan’s studio, balancing a takeout bag and two cups of coffee. It was already late at night. He looks up from his laptop, exhaustion written all over his face - until he sees you.
"You brought me food?" he asks, eyes softening.
You set it down on the small coffee table in the room. "You work too much." You can tell he’s been glued to his work all night.
Chan lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well…" He exhales, watching as you take his wrist and pull him up from the chair, leading him to the couch to sit beside him. Your legs brush as you begin unpacking the food containers.
For a while, the only sounds are the faint hum of the studio equipment and the soft rustling of food being opened. Chan watches you, the weariness in his eyes slowly fading as he takes in the sight of you sitting there, your presence grounding him in a way nothing else can.
Then, almost absentmindedly, he murmurs, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."
You freeze, your heart skipping at his words. "What?" You blink, unsure if you heard him right.
His eyes flick to yours, realizing what he just said out loud. But instead of backtracking, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I mean it," he says. "It doesn’t matter how tired I am - whenever you’re here, suddenly, everything feels… better."
You swallow, warmth blooming in your chest. "Chan…"
He smiles, tilting his head. "Tell me I’m not crazy."
Your smile is soft, tender, as you lean forward a little. "You’re not crazy," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I feel the same way."
Chan exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He smiles, a little shy, but there’s something calming in his eyes, a quiet relief in knowing that what he’d felt, what he’d tried to keep to himself, wasn’t just a one-sided thing.
Then, with a soft chuckle, he reaches out, squeezing your hand. "Good," he says. "Because I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore."
Lee Know
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You were at Minho's apartment, playing with Soonie, Dongie and Dori.
Minho leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you giggle as Dori climbs onto your lap. His cats are obsessed with you, and honestly? He doesn’t blame them. There was a certain comfort in watching you interact with his cats, and he found himself smiling, despite his best efforts not to.
"You guys are such traitors," he mutters.
You glance up, amused. "Because they love me more?"
He clicks his tongue, looking away. "My heart has an annoying habit of skipping when you’re around," he mumbles under his breath.
You blink. "What?"
Minho exhales, rubbing his temples. "Nothing."
You stand, stepping closer. "Minho..."
He finally looks at you, eyes searching. Then, in a moment of rare vulnerability, he murmurs, "I think you stole my heart the same way you stole theirs."
Your lips part in surprise.
"So you better take care of it," he adds, smirking - but there’s something nervous in his gaze.
You grin, reaching for his hand. "Guess that means you have to take care of mine too, then."
His smirk softens, and for once, he doesn’t hide. He stepped closer, leaning down, and as he did, you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.
Just as the kiss deepened, Dori meowed, rubbing against Minho’s legs. You pulled away, laughing softly.
"Of course," Minho muttered, letting out a sigh.
You grinned. "Guess we’ll finish this later."
He smiled, not letting go of your hand. "I’m counting on it."
As the evening passed, you both stole a few more kisses, the cats weaving around you both. This felt right, and you both knew this was just the beginning of something that was always meant to be.
Seo Changbin
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It was one of your regular hangouts at his place. After catching up and playing some board games, you sat on the couch, cradling a warm cup of soothing lemon tea, when you burst into laughter at another one of Changbin's jokes.
You’re doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach as Changbin wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye.
"That..." you gasp between laughs. "That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard."
He grins. "And yet, you’re laughing."
You swat at his arm, still breathless. "I can’t help it. Your dumb jokes always get me."
Changbin watches you, his chest tightening in a way that’s almost painful. He’s always been strong and always carried himself with confidence, but with you? He’s just a guy who falls harder every day.
Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently. Like it just ran a marathon."
The words hang between you, soft yet heavy.
His ears immediately turn red, and he scrambles to cover it up, flexing his arms. "I mean, obviously, you make my heart race because I work out, and adrenaline -"
"Changbin."
He freezes. "Huh?"
You’re staring at him, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips.
"Just admit it," you tease gently. "No excuses this time."
He exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine." His voice is quieter now, more certain. "I like you, alright? A lot."
Something warm spreads through your chest. "Good," you murmur, scooting closer. "Because I like you too."
His eyes widen slightly before his lips curve into that soft, downturned smile you love so much. "Really?"
"Really."
And just like that, the tension shifts into something lighter, something new.
Changbin lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Man, I was so ready to play that off."
You laugh, nudging him. "Yeah, well, I’m glad you didn’t."
He grins. "Me too."
And when he pulls you into a warm, crushing hug, neither of you feel like letting go anytime soon.
Hwang Hyunjin
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It was another wine and paint evening with your best friend, Hyunjin. The room smelled like fresh paint and sweet red wine, soft music playing in the background as the two of you settled into your usual spot - his cozy living room.
You were laughing over some silly comment Hyunjin made about your attempt at painting, the wine giving you a bit more courage than usual. But as you glanced at him, something was different. His usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced with an almost unreadable expression, as if he were lost in thought.
"You’re staring," you teased, nudging his shoulder.
He blinked, snapping out of his daze. His lips tugged into a soft smile, but there was something deeper behind his eyes, something he wasn’t quite saying. He set his brush down slowly, his hands shaking just a little.
"Yeah," he whispered, eyes not leaving yours. "I guess I am."
You chuckled, confused but amused. "You okay there, Hyunjin?"
He didn’t respond right away, his gaze intense now, almost as if he were seeing you in a completely new light. Then, in a soft but steady voice, he said, "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you froze. The moment felt like it stretched on forever. The playful, carefree energy you both usually shared suddenly felt like it had shifted into something entirely new.
Hyunjin’s eyes softened as he continued, his voice a little shakier now. "I’ve always thought you were amazing, but... lately, when I’m with you, everything just feels different. My heart races, and it’s like nothing else matters. You’re more than just my best friend."
His words hung in the air, and your mind spun. You had always known there was something special between you, but hearing it out loud from Hyunjin’s lips made it all feel so much more real, so much more intense.
You set your brush down, staring at him for a moment, trying to process what he just said. "Hyunjin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you saying what I think you’re saying?"
He smiled, a little shy now, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. "I think I am. I like you, more than just as a friend."
Your heart raced, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something so beautiful in the way he looked at you.
You swallowed, your voice thick with emotion. "I like you too. A lot more than I should."
Hyunjin’s eyes softened even further, and before you knew it, he leaned in, his lips gently brushing against your lips in a tender, intimate kiss that made your heart race. You kissed him back with just as much eagerness. When you both pulled away, he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your lips.
"I’m glad," he murmured. "I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while."
And as you both sat there, surrounded by the soft glow of the room and the quiet hum of the music, you realized that everything had changed. But, in that moment, it felt like it was just the beginning of something even more beautiful.
Han Jisung
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The arcade is alive with flashing lights and the sound of beeping machines as you and Jisung race through the games, each of you determined to outdo the other. You’ve been at it for hours, laughing and joking, each challenge bringing out the competitive side in both of you.
Jisung throws his hands up in the air in mock frustration, his usual playful energy bubbling up. “That’s IT. I refuse to lose to you again!” he declares, eyes wide with dramatic flair.
You burst out laughing, holding up the plushie you won from the claw machine, the prize dangling from your hand as a reminder of your win. “Face it, Han, I’m just better.”
He groans dramatically, acting like the weight of defeat is too much for him to bear. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, but as you turn to leave the game station, you catch a glimpse of his face - his usual smirk has faded into something far softer. He stops mid-motion, staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in a different way.
“Jisung?” you ask, your voice a little quieter, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “You okay?”
He swallows, his expression shifting from amused to something more nervous. He glances down for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts before looking at you again. His words are almost a whisper, but the arcade’s lively hum suddenly seems to fade into the background. “My heart trips over itself whenever you’re near.”
Your breath catches. You freeze, unsure if you heard him right. “What?”
Jisung’s eyes widen in panic, his face flushing a deep red. “Oh my God, I did not mean to say that out loud-”
Before he can retreat into his usual nervous ramble, you reach out, grabbing his wrist gently, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to hold back your laughter. “No, no, don’t take it back,” you say, your voice teasing but soft.
He stops, blinking in surprise at you, unsure how to respond. “Why not?” he asks, the vulnerability in his eyes clear now, as if waiting for your reaction.
You grin, stepping a little closer to him. “Because mine does the same thing,” you whisper, quieter now, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you as you realize what you just admitted.
His jaw drops, his expression flickering between disbelief and sheer happiness. For a moment, neither of you says anything. Then, slowly, that trademark Jisung smile - bright, wide, and utterly infectious - spreads across his face.
He takes a step closer, his hand brushing yours with the same ease he’s always had, but now, it feels like it means something more.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he admits, his tone soft but full of sincerity. You can’t help the way your heart skips at his words.
“Well,” you reply, your voice playful but tender, “I guess we’ve both been a little slow to catch on.”
Jisung grins, the familiar mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. “Maybe, but we’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
You nod, your chest full of warmth as you both stand there, the arcade noise fades into the background, and in this moment, it's just the two of you - in your own little world.
Lee Felix
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It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to take a late-night walk under the star-filled sky. Felix had texted you earlier, saying he was picking you up for a walk, claiming he missed his best friend.
The streets are quiet, the world almost still, as you walk side by side with Felix. The cool night air brushes against your skin, and the distant hum of the city seems far away, leaving only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
"You ever think about home?" Felix asks suddenly, his voice soft, carrying a hint of something deeper, something you can’t quite place.
You glance at him, surprised by the question. "Yeah, sometimes. Why?"
He exhales, his breath visible in the crisp air, and then looks up at the stars. "I think… being near you feels like home."
You pause, your heart skipping a beat as his words settle in. You stop walking, a gentle tension filling the space between you, the silence hanging heavy with unspoken emotions. Felix, sensing the change, looks at you, his expression both soft and vulnerable.
"Felix...." you begin, but you can’t seem to find the words to express the warmth blooming in your chest.
Before you can say more, his fingers brush yours. The contact sends a spark through you, igniting something that’s been simmering quietly beneath the surface. He turns to face you, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, everything else fades away.
"You walk in, and my heart beats differently," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I’ve loved you for a long time."
His eyes are wide, searching, hoping for a response. Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve known this feeling for a while, but hearing it from him makes it real. You smile, the warmth in your chest spreading to your cheeks as you step closer, intertwining your fingers with his.
"You are my home," you reply softly, your voice steady but full of meaning.
It felt freeing, finally having the courage to say this to him. Felix’s breath hitches, his eyes wide with surprise, and then, without another word, he pulls you into a hug. It’s warm, enveloping, the kind of hug that feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
His arms tighten around you, and for a moment, you both just stand there, the world continuing to spin, but in that moment, it’s just you two - safe, together, and home.
As you pull back slightly, still holding him close, he smiles, his usual energy mixing with a softness you’ve never seen before. "I’m glad you feel the same," he says, a shy grin tugging at his lips.
With your hand still in his, you resume your walk, the night sky above you and the quiet comfort of each other’s company wrapping around you like a blanket. You don’t need to say anything more - because in that moment, you both know. You’ve found home.
Kim Seungmin
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The movie night had started like any other - just the two of you curled up on the couch, a pile of snacks between you, laughing at the screen. But somewhere along the way, you’d drifted off, your head resting against Seungmin’s chest, your body curled into his side.
Seungmin sighs as he looks down at you, the soft glow of the TV casting gentle shadows across your face. The movie is still playing, but he’s barely paying attention anymore.
You’re so unfair.
You always fall asleep like this - so trusting, so comfortable, so close. And each time, it gets harder for him to pretend that he doesn’t want more.
He hesitates for a second, then, thinking you’re already deep asleep, he finally lets the words slip.
"Everything feels right when you’re here," he murmurs. His hand, which had been resting lightly on your back, stills. "I don’t know when it started, but… I don’t think I just see you as my best friend anymore." His voice is softer now, more vulnerable than he’d ever let it be if you were awake. "Like whenever you walk in, my heart beats differently."
His sighs and continues saying, "and if I had any sense, I’d probably keep this to myself."
"But you don’t," you whisper.
Seungmin freezes.
Your eyes flutter open, meeting his. A small, knowing smile plays on your lips.
"You weren’t sleeping," he accuses, ears turning bright red.
You shake your head, grinning. "Nope."
His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again - but no words come out. His mind is racing, trying to figure out what to say, how to backtrack, but you don’t give him the chance.
Instead, before he can overthink it, you cup his face and press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
Seungmin completely short-circuits.
His body tenses for half a second before melting into you, his hands gripping your waist like he can’t believe this is real. When you finally pull back, his wide eyes search yours, completely breathless.
"You- what- why—" he stammers, ears burning.
You laugh, leaning your forehead against his. "Because I feel the same way, idiot."
His lips part, processing your words, before the softest, happiest chuckle escapes him.
"You’re really unfair," he mumbles, his arms tightening around you.
"You love it," you tease.
And with a shy, utterly smitten smile, he whispers, "Yeah. I really do."
He rests his forehead against yours, the movie now just a distant hum in the background, both of you lost in the warmth of each other, and neither of you can stop smiling.
Yang Jeongin
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Jeongin had planned this. Every little detail. The amusement park, the endless laughter, the way he let you win at a few games (but only a few), and now - this. The Ferris wheel. The perfect ending to a perfect day.
He’d been waiting for the right moment, but as he watches you take in the view, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, he realizes - there is no right moment. There’s just you. And that’s always been enough.
The Ferris wheel sways gently as it stops at the very top, the city stretching below in a sea of twinkling lights. You and Jeongin sit side by side, legs dangling, the warmth of the evening still lingering in the air.
"Wow," you murmur, gazing out at the skyline. "It’s beautiful from up here.
Jeongin hums in agreement, but his eyes aren’t on the view. They’re on you.
When you turn to face him, you catch the way he’s looking at you - soft, thoughtful, like he’s trying to memorize this exact moment.
"What?" you ask, tilting your head.
He chuckles, shaking his head. Then, exhaling softly, he gathers his courage. "You walk in, and my heart beats differently."
The amusement park noise fades into the background. Your breath catches. "Jeongin…?"
He swallows, nervous but determined. "I wanted today to be special because I wanted to tell you that, I like you. A lot. And… I don’t want this to just be another one of our hangouts." His fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve. "I was kinda hoping it could be our first date instead."
Your heart races, warmth blooming in your chest. "You planned all this… for me?"
"Of course," he admits, a little shyly. "You make everything better just by being there. And when you’re near, everything slows down."
A slow smile spreads across your face. "Then… let’s make it official."
And before he can say anything else, you close the distance, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.
Jeongin freezes, eyes wide, ears turning bright red. "W-Wait....does that-does that mean"
You chuckle, "yes, dummy. It means yes."
Jeongin exhales, a mixture of relief and something softer, something new. And then, with the Ferris wheel carrying you both gently forward, he reaches for your hand, fingers hesitantly brushing against yours.
This time, you don’t hesitate. You intertwine them, letting the world slow down just a little more.
1K notes ¡ View notes
rollinouttahere-writes ¡ 3 months ago
Note
One of the mind-only fics I’ve had rolling around in my head is kinda similar to the Strays AU, but whatever, might as well.
Reader is Akainu’s kid and by some series of misadventures ends up being collected by Whitebeard. Kinda shifts between whether the Reader is a marine like their dad wants them to be, or if they ran away because they don’t like their dad. I typically imagine them as an older teenager, but I guess it doesn’t matter.
Maybe a bit much on detail, but if they ran away, Akainu reports them as missing, either because he won’t publicly admit that his child ran away, or he’s delusional and doesn’t realize how much they hate him, so marines are actively searching for them and when they show up with Whitebeard people think that the pirates kidnapped them, (which may or may not be true, not like the old man wouldn’t).
Breaking Point
Next
Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader
4.6k words
Summary: An espionage mission gives you the perfect cover to get away from your Admiral father and the life he forced you into. Everything seems to be going according to plan until some pirates corner you.
Warnings: unhealthy parent-child relationship, akainu being akainu, reader being in a terrible mental state, hopelessness, suicide attempt, blood, drugging
I did tweak the prompt a little bit, so I hope you don't mind. I also hope you aren't opposed to darker themes. If it bothers you, I'll write an alternate version of the scene where the reader snaps.
Clothes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Matches and firestarter? Check. Food and water? Check. Hygiene supplies? Check. Emergency shelter? Check. Money? Check.
Looks like you’re all set. After settling your hat into your head and pulling the bill down over your eyes as you always do, you steel your resolve for what is to come.
With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you march out of the barracks so you can begin your mission. At least, that’s what everyone thinks you’re doing. You’ll let them keep believing that.
A sharp call of your name brings you to a halt, and you instinctively stand at attention. The empty halls allow for the sound of his footsteps to echo all around you. It’s debatable which is louder. The Admiral’s footsteps, or your own heartbeat. 
Akainu comes to a stop in front of you, glowering down at your form. His piercing eyes scrutinize your appearance. Instead of your usual uniform, you’re in civilian clothing for the mission. Spying in a Marine’s uniform would obviously not go well.
“At ease.” You robotically relax your posture at his command. “I trust that you don’t need any further briefing on your mission?”
“No, sir.” Despite the man in front of you being your biological father, this is the only way you referred to him. Both in and out of work. “I understand the assignment in full.”
“As you should. I expect you to come back with results.”
“I will, sir.”
The Admiral stares at you a moment longer, then nods sharply, “You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, you take your leave, stepping down the halls of the base to leave. Just as you’re about to pass the threshold, you hear your name spoken again.
Akainu’s expression is as terse as ever as he stares a hole into you. He then sighs and turns away, “Don’t disappoint me.”
Of course those are his last words to you. Resentment twists inside you like a knife. Fuck this. You can’t wait to never have to see this bastard’s face again. You don’t respond to him, and you know that he doesn’t expect you to.
You hurry out of the base, eager to leave. The swinging doors are thrown open unceremoniously in your rush to put as much distance between you and Akainu as possible.
"Oh? Were you planning on leaving without saying bye to me? I'm hurt." Slowly drawled out words greet your ears, bringing you to a halt and making you whip around.
"Uncle!" A rare smile sneaks across your face, "I thought you were still away on a mission."
"I was. I got back a little bit ago. Just in time, too" Kizaru pushes his lanky body away from the wall he was leaning against and meanders over to you. His hand reaches out and flicks your hat off before gently rustling your hair. If anyone else did this, you would break their arm for the audacity, but you make an exception for him.
If he could indulge you by allowing you to refer to him as Uncle after what was initially just a little slip up thanks to hearing Sentomaru say it so many times, then you could tolerate the mussing of your hair. Just tolerate. You totally weren't enjoying the attention or anything like that.
"So, what is this mission of yours? I heard that you were going to be spying on Red Haired Shanks, but that can't be right."
You shake your head, "That is right. They wanted to send someone that he would be less likely to recognize if he spots."
Kizaru withdraws his hand and sighs in a drawn out fashion, "You don't sound very concerned. You do know that's an Emperor, yes?"
"I know that," you grumble and roll your eyes at his lack of faith in you. "I'm going to be careful. I promise you, he'll never even see me." If only he knew just how true that was going to be. Shanks would never see you. Nor would his crew. Or anyone in his general area, for that matter.
The Admiral stares at you, and you squirm ever so slightly under his gaze. There was no way for him to know what you were up to, but that didn't stop the irrational fear from taking root regardless.
Finally, mercifully, he breaks eye contact and looks away with another beleaguered sigh. "I hope you're right." Kizaru ducks down to pluck your fallen hat off the ground. He dusts it off and drops it onto your head. It's noticeably crooked. You figure that he did it on purpose. "Will you promise your uncle something?"
"Of course." The response is almost instinctual.
"Come back if it starts to get risky. That mission isn't worth losing your life over."
His concern for your safety creates a conflicting storm of warmth and guilt within you. Returning to the Marines was out of the question, but you obviously couldn't say as much. Instead, you do what any rational soon-to-be traitor would do under your circumstances. Lie.
"I'll leave as soon as it gets dangerous, I promise." It's a half truth. Yeah, you'll never be anywhere near Shanks, but you will be leaving danger in a sense.
"Alright." Kizaru pats your head, "Take care of yourself, (Y/N)."
"I will. Goodbye, Uncle." You turn your back to him and fix your hat. "Tell Sentomaru I said bye."
A hum of acknowledgement is all you get in response from Kizaru. There's a 50/50 chance that it'll slip his mind until much later, but what can you do? That's just how he is. You'll miss him and Sentomaru when you're gone.
But that's neither here nor there. You need to leave before Akainu notices that you're still here and lollygagging. You stride toward the docks where a privateer vessel is waiting for you. It was a small, inboard paddlewheeler with an enclosed helm that doubled as a sleeping quarters. A nice ship. Shame you’re going to have to ditch it soon.
“(Y/N)!” There was a call of your name yet again. The imposing figure of one of the men under your command is looming over your ship. He's too big to be getting on it, so he's left standing on the dock near it and tossing some boxes of provisions to someone on the boat. He turns to you with a broad smile across his scarred face. "We've got 'er ready for you!"
A wisp of a smile graces your typically stern features, “Thanks, Sven. I appreciate it.”
The person that had been in the helm squeezes out of the door and joins you two on the dock. Nesca may be on the short side for a fishman, but she's still a couple heads taller than you. The modified dorsal fin sprouting from her head that anglerfish were named after bounces and sways as she makes the jump.
She flashes you a smile filled with needle like teeth and winks, "I snuck some extra snacks in for you with the rest of that stuff."
"Nesca, they're going to notice that when they take inventory later."
"So what? What are they going to do? Fire me for making sure you don't starve while on your mission?" As expected, she was entirely unbothered by the threat of disciplinary action. She was the type to go with the flow of things regardless of where exactly that flow took her. She couldn't care less if it gets her in trouble.
Sven lets out a bellowing laugh, "Besides, we both did it, so they're going to have a hard time pinning down who did it!"
"Might not be that hard if you keep yelling it." You roll your eyes and have to make a considerable effort to suppress the smile threatening to show itself again.
"Well, whatever. Nothing that they will do will be as much of a blow to our egos as being held back from joining you on this mission." Sven crosses his muscular arms and scowls at the base in the distance, "They're letting a kid go and stake out an Emperor, but they won't let us, actual adults, tag along to make sure you have support if things get hairy. If that isn't a kick in the teeth, I don't know what is."
"Yeah," Nesca chimes in, "we've been through so much together, but now is when they separate us? Talk about ridiculous."
These two have been under your command since you became a lieutenant. For every achievement and failure you've had in your career, they've been right behind you. Of course, there have been many more people in your units over the years, but these two were among the three that had been consistent through every promotion. The third... he wasn't here anymore.
"They probably don't want to risk Red Haired Shanks becoming suspicious from seeing a trio following him around." That, and neither of these people could exactly be considered conspicuous. Sven was damn near ten feet tall, and Nesca was a fishman. They would absolutely call attention to you if you three were to go on this mission together.
Nesca was less than impressed with the explanation. "I guess that makes some sense, but I still don't get why they're okay with sending you off like some sacrificial lamb. Can your dad seriously not be bothered to give enough of a shit to at least try and pull some strings to get you backup?"
Hearing Akainu getting referred to in such a cozy term of endearment makes you want to reprimand Nesca, but you refrain. You know that she doesn't mean anything by it. Despite her concerns, Akainu's inaction has worked in your favor. Having anyone with you would have been a massive hindrance to your plan.
Another hindrance would be Akainu coming over here if he notices you're still here and not diligently heading toward your destination. You shoulder past your comrades and leap onto the boat, “I’m not a sacrifice. The rank of Commodore wasn’t handed to me, I earned it. I’ve been trained for this for as long as I can remember.”
"I know, I know." Nesca waves her hand dismissively, "We're just looking out for you. You better be careful out there."
Sven easily unties the rope anchoring your boat to the dock and tosses it to you. “Good luck, (Y/N)! I can’t wait to hear about everything when you’re back!”
"I will! You two stay out of trouble while I'm gone!" While you do hope that they'll behave for their sake, that first part was a lie. You won’t be back. Never. You’d rather die than ever set foot on a Marine base again.
—
Several weeks have passed since your departure and covert runaway. At this point, they still believe you to be on assignment, and if everything continues as planned, it should be several months before your absence becomes known. Due to the high risk nature of spying on an Emperor, there would be zero communications until you got back. Sengoku wasn’t willing to risk you being found out if the Red Haired Pirates had a black transponder snail on them. Not only would it jeopardize your safety seeing as that you were alone and didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell against an Emperor’s crew, but the discovery would likely make them much harder to tail going forward since they would now know to be wary of this tactic.
Of course, you were nowhere near where that crew had been sighted lurking about. Your end goal was to get out of the Grand Line entirely and start life anew on some remote island where no one would ever think to look for you. Ideally, you would be assumed dead. Killed in action while stalking a predator you had no hopes against. 
If anyone knew you were still alive and just deserted the marines… Well, you’ve seen what Akainu does to people like that, and you aren’t naive enough to think that you’ll get special treatment purely because you’re his child. If anything, that would incentivize him more to make an example out of you. To prove that he would never go easy on anyone.
All in the name of his precious Absolute Justice. 
Currently, your biggest hurdle was the calm belt. Even if you hadn’t ditched- and burned- your original vessel, it would have done little to help you cross it. Sure, the absence of wind and ocean currents wouldn’t have slowed it down, but its wooden structure never would have stood a chance against the dense population of sea kings lurking in the depths of that part of the sea.
What you needed was something sturdy and fast. A high powered engine in a preferably metal boat that could take a few hits if need be. On top of that, you needed some weapons to assist you in fending off the beasts. As powerful as you were, even you could only do so much against the likes of such a creature.
Despite all of the risks, you feel relatively confident in your plan. All that you need to do is make it at least halfway through. After that, you think you’ll be able to fly the rest of the way out or at least island hop to the North Blue. Of course, you being a zoan devil fruit user came with risks, but hopefully the fear of drowning if your wings grow too tired will motivate you to persevere through exhaustion.
As long as you can pull this off, and do so without calling attention to yourself, you’ll finally have the freedom you’ve yearned after for so long. It’s so close that you can taste it.
“Commodore (Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here.”
W h a t ?
Once hot blood runs cold as ice through your veins. Who the fuck said that? You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder to see who just recognized you. This could ruin everything. You can’t risk a sighting. You’ll have to kill whoever saw you.
“Whoa! If looks could kill, I don’t think I’d survive that one!” The man laughs and jumps down from the rooftop he’d been perched upon. Oh, fuck. That’s Fire Fist Ace. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-
Another person drops down in front of you, prompting you to whip your head back around only to see Marco the Phoenix blocking the other exit to this alleyway. Oh, this couldn’t get any worse! What’s next?! Is fucking Whitebeard himself going to appear, too?!
More Whitebeard Pirates filter into the alley, but Ace and Marco appear to be the only Division Commanders here. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
Marco holds up his hands in a placating manner, though it’s anything but. “Nothing much,” he steps closer, “I promise that none of us want to hurt you, but we’re in a bit of a bind.”
“And? How’s that my problem?”
“We need to pick up some medicine for our pops, but the only island that has enough of it right now has a Marine base on it. This medicine is really important, we can’t risk it getting destroyed in an attack, so that’s where you come in. In order to guarantee its safety, we’ll let them know that we have an Admiral’s kid in our custody, and that you won’t be released unless we get what we need.” Marco smirks, “Now are you going to make this easy or difficult? Because I can promise you, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”
No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! This can’t be fucking happening! You were so close, and now everything is going to be ruined because of some fucking pirates! Your hands are shaking- no, your whole body is! Your heart is pounding, adrenaline is spiking, your nerves are on fire. No. You aren’t about to give up and let them take you and ruin your life.
“No… you can’t do this to me.” You shake your head and meet Marco’s lax eyes, “I won’t let you!”
In a split second, your arms transform into wings, and you shoot yourself up into the air. Your legs turn next, shifting into clawed talons that you use to send an attack at Fire Fist and the people clustered around him. Everyone but him dives out of the way as the strike slashes through the cobblestones and walls. Ace tanks the hit directly, but all it does is go right through the logia devil fruit user.
“Not bad, but you’re going to need to do better than that to actually hurt me!” Ace erupts into a column of flames and directs it right at you. Just what you wanted. You flap your wings hard, blasting the fire right back at him- but more importantly- the people around him. They all scream as their clothes catch to fire, making Ace immediately panic and focus on them rather than you.
Not wanting to waste a single precious second, you take off, cutting through the air with remarkable speed. That much is to be expected of someone with the Tori Tori no Mi Model: Peregrine Falcon. As one of the fastest animals on the planet, your speed was generally unmatched. Kizaru was the only person that could ever really challenge you in terms of speed. Escaping these pirates should be a breeze.
“You’re pretty good! I wouldn’t expect anything less from an Admiral’s kid!” The voice of Marco comes from above.
You look up just in time to dodge him swooping down to try and grab you. Fuck, he’s fast! It’s time to engage in some real evasive maneuvers. You rip off your backpack and chuck it at him, then shift into your full beast form.
With your body shrunk down to the size of the bird your devil fruit is modeled after, taking the backpack with you would be impossible. You’ll have to come back for it later, or maybe not at all depending on how poorly this goes. 
In your true form, you’re able to take full advantage of the speed the peregrine falcon is known for. Buildings all meld into a blur as you rocket through and around them. A family shrieks as you speed through one open window and out the other, then you’re weaving through lines upon lines of laundry, and next you’re in an open market.
As quickly as you shot off, you stop and slip under a table, the cloth on it easily concealing your presence. Your heart is pounding and you’re panting hard as you wait in silence. The tablecloth doesn’t get ripped off by your pursuer or anyone else, so you’re cautiously optimistic that you succeeded in losing him. Now you just had to figure out how to get out of here without being spotted again. All of those pirates saw what you look like in all of your forms, which was going to be a major problem. The second you leave this sanctuary, you’re going to be at risk.
There isn’t a clear, easy option. You’re just going to have to take a gamble and hope that your beast form will be unassuming enough to not catch their eyes again. You peek under the tablecloth to see if any of the Whitebeard Pirates are lurking nearby. It doesn’t look like any of them are here.
Okay, here goes nothing. You fly out from your hiding spot and high into the air at what should look like a normal speed for a bird. Flying as fast as you can would just draw attention to you. So long as you look like a normal bird at a glance, you should be able to get away unnoticed.
“There you are.”
Before you can even blink, a taloned foot closes around your small form. You squawk in surprise, then immediately shift into a half-bird form to try and break Marco’s hold. Something cold snaps around your wrist, and all of your energy is sapped away in an instant, right along with your powers.
Sea stone cuffs. They came prepared. You fall through the air, but only briefly before Marco catches you. He lands hard on a rooftop, but remains upright and doesn’t drop you. He grins, but his eyes have an odd gleam to them that you don’t recognize, “You’re good. I didn’t think they still made Marines like you anymore.” Why is he complimenting you? Freak.
You start to struggle in his hold, but he’s faster than you and locks the other cuff around your free hand. Now you’re completely at their mercy. This is awful. This is a worst case scenario.
“Now then, let’s get you back to the ship.”
—
The journey from the small seaside town to the Whitebeards’ ship was lost on you. You weren’t processing any of it. As soon as reality sank in, you went completely numb. Every word said by the pirates bounced right off you.
They were going to know. You’re nowhere near where Shanks and his crew are. They’re going to know you deserted. He’s going to know you deserted. It’s over. Your life is over. These pirates signed your death certificate as soon as they locked those cuffs on you.
Distantly, you glance at your surroundings. You’re chained to a cot in what looks to be the ship’s infirmary, if all the nurses milling about are anything to go off of. Only one of your hands is cuffed, the other is free again. They aren’t concerned about a devil fruit user being dangerous while sea stone cuffs are eating away at their strength. What a disaster. Years of training, and this is how it ends. How humiliating.
And to make it worse: your hat is gone, leaving your face bare for all to see. Now that you're thinking about it, you probably lost it during the initial chase. You were so consumed with getting away that you can't even recall when exactly it was lost.
Fingers snap in front of your face, and you look up sluggishly at the person disturbing you. Twin Blade Thatch is at your bedside, looking… confused? Sad? This is another expression that you don’t recognize.
He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You okay there, kid?” When you don’t answer, he looks over his shoulder, “Did you give them something?”
“No,” the voice belongs to Marco. “They’ve been out of it since we caught them. They’re… really upset about getting captured, it seems.”
Thatch lightly claps you on the shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. It’s not like you got caught by a weak crew. There are plenty of Marines well above your rank that wouldn’t have won that fight either.”
“Yeah, you actually gave us some real trouble there at the start.” Ace was in here too, apparently. “Not many people are able to use my own powers against me, that was pretty smart.”
“Before I forget to ask, do you have any allergies? I don’t want to accidentally kill you with my cooking.” Thatch stares at you expectantly, but his smile fades as you neglect to answer his question. “Is that a… no? Come on, I’m just trying to help you out here, you don’t need to be so guarded. I can even make you your favorite meal to make up for the situation we put you in.”
“It doesn’t matter…” Nothing does.
“Don’t say that. We’ve gotta feed you, kid.” That weird expression is on his face again. You wish he’d stop making it at you. “It won’t take long to get the medicine we need. You’ll be back with your old man before you know it.”
No!
���I won’t go back!” Hot tears start to drip down your face, then pour as the last thread of sanity within you snaps, “I’m not going back! You can’t make me go back to that place! To him! I won’t let you!”
Ace is standing close enough that you’re able to lunge at him and rip the dagger from his belt with your free hand. He tries to snatch it back, but your frenzied state gives you the speed you usually only have with your devil fruit’s help. You aren’t going back, you’ll make sure of it! Marco might be able to heal, but he isn’t a necromancer. Even he won’t be able to do anything about a corpse. Dying by your own hands will be better than being burnt alive by the magma Akainu will use on you.
You raise the knife high, then plunge it down at your stomach. A wide, manic grin breaks out across your face in what will be your final moments. You've taken control of your fate. You've won against Akainu. You can die happy knowing that.
Blood splatters all over your torso… but you don’t feel any pain. You blink once, then twice. Your eyes finally focus on the sight in front of you. The knife is stabbed into a hand. It then closes around the hilt and snatches the weapon from your hands. Ace lets out a string of curses as he stumbles back and rips his own dagger from his hand.
All you can do is stare at him. W… What? Why did he do that? That shouldn’t have hurt him. Why would a logia devil fruit user let himself get hurt like that?
Nurses rush toward him, but also you. All of your limbs are pinned down by them. Not that there was any need. The fight had left your body as your mind grew hazy again. You didn’t get it. You couldn’t comprehend what just happened or why.
A prick to your neck snaps you out of it. Your head was being held down, but your eyes flit to the side and see that Marco had a needle pressed into your neck and was injecting you with something. In an instant, a warmth spreads through you, and your body goes completely slack.
Marco heaves a sigh and sets the syringe aside. His hand gently strokes your hair for reasons you couldn’t understand. He speaks softly, “There we go, just calm down. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”
On the other side of the room, Nurses are fretting over Ace’s wound. One even goes so far as to scold him, “What were you thinking? You have logia powers! Why would you let yourself get hurt like this?” Even in your sluggish state, your ears perk at the interrogation. You wanted to know this, too.
Ace looked almost offended by the question. “What do you mean “why”? If I’d let that go through me, it would have gone into them instead. Better my hand, than their guts.”
His answer did nothing but spawn more questions. What did he mean by that? Why would it be better for him to get hurt than for you to die? Your life was of no real significance to him. All that you were was a bargaining chip, and you didn’t even need to be alive for that. They just had to make the Marines believe that you were.
None of this makes sense. What is wrong with these people? You’re an enemy. Your death should be celebrated, not prevented. You don’t get it, and your mind growing more and more foggy by the second isn’t helping.
Your eyes are so heavy. Sleep… Sleep sounds good. Just for a little bit. You’ll figure this out after. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.
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i-get-obsessed-fast ¡ 4 months ago
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Late Night Talking
Bout’ anything you want until the morning
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Summary: You and Spencer stay up till sunrise talking about anything and everything, and the both of you suffer the consequences with the teams teasing…
A/N: songs are really my inspiration atm, also can be read as any season Spencer. Xoxox
BYR(b4 u Reid): BAU!Reader, light teasing, fluff
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You’re curled on his couch, your feet tucked beneath you, and half empty glasses of wine that had been forgotten about hours ago nearby.
Spencer sits next to you, just a little too close but you don’t mind it. His arm lays resting on the back of the couch occasionally his soft fingers touching you lightly without him even realizing but you don’t mind again because it’s comforting, and because it’s him.
“I don’t know, I still think the whole concept of time is ridiculous.” You say, half grinning. “Who decided we needed minutes and hours anyway?”
Spencer’s eyes light up, the way they always do when a debate begins. “Well, the Babylonians first divided the day into twenty-four hours, based on their sexagesimal system. And technically, is a human construct, but it’s a necessary one.”
You scoff, leaning just a little bit closer. “Necessary for what? Stress? Deadlines?”
“Or catching serial killers.” He says, arching an eyebrow.
“I guess.”
The warmth of his smile lingers, and for a moment neither of you speak, both lost in each other.
It was a soft charged stillness, the kind that makes your heart beat a little faster. It’s also not the first time the air between you two has been like this, but it is the first time neither of you have pulled away.
Instead of acknowledging it, Spencer breaks the silence with a grin. “What’s something entirely useless that you know?”
You grin back, ready. “Octopuses have three hearts, and their blood is blue because it contains copper instead of Iron.”
His laugh is soft and genuine, your chest feels a little tighter hearing the sounds leave his mouth. “That’s fascinating.”
“And that sea otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift apart.” You continued.
Spencer blinks. “Wow, that’s…that’s actually pretty adorable.”
“Right? Imagine just two little otters floating around holding hands.” You demonstrate grabbing onto his hand, locking them together. “Just like this.” You say, the both of you smiling at your interlaced hands.
“Honestly, I think I could stay up all night listening to you.” He murmurs, his voice softer. It hangs in the air like a confession. Your cheeks flush.
“Good. Because I’m not tired yet.”
And just like that, the night stretches on. You talk about everything and nothing.
Favorite books, embarrassing stories, the most ridiculous statistics he can pull from memory.
Every so often, you catch the way Spencer’s gaze flickers to your lips, or the way his knee rests against yours. The teasing grows bolder, and the laughter louder.
“Hmm, are you flirting with me Dr. Reid?” You call him out, a grin tugging at your lips.
“Statistically speaking.” He replies, his smile downright mischievous. “There’s a high probability that I am.”
You laugh, but you don’t deny how much you like the way he’s looking at you.
And then, before you realize it, the soft hue of the sun rising seeps through the windows. Spencer glances at the clock on the wall.
His eyes widen “oh no.”
“What?”
“It’s six.” He says, your stomach drops. “Six?! Oh my god, we’re supposed to be at work in two hours.”
“Two hours and thirty minutes.” Spencer corrects, his voice is filled with panic but also amusement as he teases you.
You get up from the couch, grabbing your shoes with a curse. “I can’t believe we actually stayed up all night.” You say shaking your head with a small laugh
Spencer stands up too, running his hand through his messy hair, somehow that makes him more attractive. “Me neither.” He admits.
He walks you to the door, and you quickly slip on your coat. “Thank you, Spencer. This was fun.” you smile
He smiles back, the corners of his mouth curving upward in that shy, boyish way. “Yeah, it was.” Then, after a brief pause, he adds. “Can I walk you to your car?”
“As much as I’d love that, I think you should start getting ready.” You say gently, nodding toward the clock. “It’ll only take a couple minutes.” He insists.
“It’s alright, I got it.” You assure him with a small smile. His eyes search yours, like he wants to say something more, but he only nods.
“Bye Spence. See you in a bit.”
“Bye y/n.”
Neither of you move right away. The silence hangs between you, comfortable but also heavy, like something unspoken is lingering in the air. After a moment you give him a small wave and turn toward the door. Spencer watches as you disappear down the hall, the echo of your footsteps fading.
As the door closes, he finds himself smiling because talking to you all night felt like the easiest thing in the world.
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
By the time you sit in your chair at your desk, coffee in hand and sleep deprivation weighing heavily on you, it’s clear you’re not the only one suffering.
Spencer drags himself in, his hair slightly damp, his tie just a little crooked.
“Pretty boy.” Derek drawls, grinning as he approaches Spencer. “Late night?”
“Not really.” Spencer replies too quickly, clearing his throat. “I, uh, just lost track of time.”
Derek’s grin widens. “Lost track of time? What were you doing? Reading quantum physics journals under the covers with a flashlight?”
“Something like that.” Spencer mutters, already regretting every decision that led him here.
Meanwhile, across the bullpen not to far from the guys, you’re not doing any better. Emily and JJ found you quickly and are now being relentless.
“You look like you’ve barely slept.” Emily remarks, eyeing you. “Rough night?”
JJ smirks. “Or was it a good night?”
“Guys.” You groan, sinking into your chair. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Definitely not like that.”
Before you could even attempt to change the subject, Penelope joins. “I have a theory.” She says with a grin plastered on her face.
You brace yourself. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” She continues. “Two of my favorite nerds, who just so happen to look like they’ve been hit by the sleep deprivation express waltz in all disheveled and miserable. And yet…” she pauses for effect. “You both were fine yesterday. Did you guys have a hangout without us?”
JJ perks up. “So neither of you got any sleep?”
“Funny coincidence.” Emily muses, shooting you a pointed look. “Were you guys…together?”
Penelope’s eyes widen. “Did you guys-”
“No!” You and Spencer both exclaim in unison, far too loud to sound convincing.
You could feel the heat crawling up your neck as Derek bursts into laughter. “Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.”
“I mean.” Emily grins. “We are profilers.”
“Yeah, and I’m profiling a whole lot of guilt right now.” JJ adds, her arms crossed.
Spencer, who is now a permanent shade of pink attempts a weak defense. “Well maybe you guys should rethink your position because we were just talking.”
Derek snorts. “Right.”
“Yes, talking.” You glare. “You know, people do that sometimes.”
“All night?”
“With no sleep?”
Before you or Spencer can defend yourself, Hotch’s voice cuts through the room. “As long as you both are awake enough to do your jobs, I and the rest of the team shouldn't care what you both were doing last night.”
The girls giggle, Derek shakes his head, clearly savoring every moment, and Rossi who had been silently observing from the sidelines, lets out a low chuckle.
“Young love.” He mutters under his breath, not trying to hide his amusement either.
“Not helping.” You glare.
But as the laughter lingers, you sneak a glance at Spencer. He’s already looking at you, lips twitching in that barely-there smile of his. And despite the embarrassment and exhaustion, you can’t help but smile back.
Because truthfully, you wouldn’t trade last night for anything. . .
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Hi guys! Hopefully you love this! Thank you to all who comment, reblog, and heart! It is greatly appreciated.
I will try getting all requests out this week so if you sent one in it should be out by the end of the week, thanks for your patience <3
~ tag list ~
@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna
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zzbubblegumbitchzz ¡ 3 months ago
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All Your’n - Quinn Hughes
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best friends who are 100% more.
AN: i was listening to Tyler Childers while i was writing this, so i guess if you wanna add some spice to your reading listen to All Your’n.
WC: 1.1k
CW: kinda suggestive, besties to lovers, fluff, kisses.
Best friend Quinn absolutely has every one of your orders saved.
Doesn't matter where it's to, has them all saved. and if your order changes based off mood? He's got those saved too.
He takes you on roadies, at first you were just a guest. just hanging out, chilling with the wives you also came along. now you bunk with him, it’s never an argument or “who’s rooming with cap?” it’s always you.
He always goes to the room before he picks you up from lunch with Garly’s wife. He's gotta have time to get all your snacks and drinks and goodies ready for you.
You guys met in school, at a random home game he played. wearing the other school's hoodie. He almost talked himself out of chatting with you.
“Yeah I know, kinda a sin to wear this but ya know, gotta root for where I came from.” He was smitten right then and there but he’d never tell you. He’d never snitch that the pretty girl in an OSU hoodie was what he was thinking about at night.
He learns fast what your comfort movie is - Captain America: Civil War. He sat for hours in your dorm listening to you ramble about how that should’ve been an Avengers movie, and that’s the night he told you he had never seen any. You can’t have that, absolutely not. That following Saturday, you piled in your dorm. All the snacks, with each movie laid out on your desk.
Now, he doesn't care if you aren't home, or if you're in another country than he is. When that new marvel movie comes out, bet your ass he has the tickets, your outfits and the time READY. All shows are reserved for a binge watch with him when you’re together again.
You guys totally have matching bracelets, like those string friendship bracelets we all made back in the day. You've worn them since the first time you hung out and you just make copies of them whenever they fall off.
Marvel movie binges are often. you're an avengers gal, he'll start the timeline beginning to end just so he can watch you fall asleep as soon as age of ultron starts just so he has an excuse to pull you closer to him. He swears you're just friends, but when the next morning comes and you're half asleep in the kitchen with Jack and Luke and he walks in the house with a starbucks cup just the way you want and a big smile on his face everyone is putting pieces together.
“We went to bed late, sweetheart. I got you this and a sandwich, so you’re actually alive when Trevor and Cole get here." and he'll kiss your head and walk away and Jack’s eyeing Luke and then they both look at you, eyebrows raised.
"We're just friends!" you'd swear even though your heart definitely picked up the second his lips were on your head, and how you wish he’d come back and do it again and again and again.
Oh.
Oh. Oh my god.
You have feelings for your best friend. Ya know the best friend who’s always awake when you call at 3am, and the best friend who always knows what you want even before you know, and the best friend who lets you sleep in his bed when you’re stressed because “it’s comfortable Quinny! Please.” And the best friend who just made your whole body light up from such a small gesture, and that's when little pieces click.
Your eyes widen and you’re looking right at Jack.
“Oh you figured it out, huh?” He’s chuckling.
“Jack! Be nice, she just realized something big.” Luke’s understanding, he sees the fear on your face.
“Oh god. This can’t be happening, this is gonna ruin everything. I’m gonna lose him and you guys and the family I've been so lucky to be a part of. Oh my god. I’m gonna have to change my name and move to Peru or something.” Now you’re rambling, voice is shaky and then he walks in and your heart stops.
“Why are you moving to Peru?”
Now you’re wide eyed, Jacks wide eyed, Luke’s wide eyed and Quinn’s confused.
And then when you leave your phone unlocked on the table by him, “why's that your wallpaper?" and now his heart is beating really fast and he doesn't know why.
“Oh! It’s one of my favorites, it’s kind of a big deal winning the norris and you wanted me there. Means a lot to me and I like looking at us. We looked good.” You have this soft tone and your face is flushed up to your ears and your nose is scrunched a little bit and you're just his bestest friend who he can't stop thinking about and he wishes he could call when he's alone and stuck in his hotel room, who also looks so fucking good in his clothes it makes him want to explode.
Oh my god.
He's attracted to his best friend. The best friend who looks right at home in his house, who looks like she belongs in his family. Like everyone already loves her just as much as he loves her. Like the team doesn’t automatically expect her to be his plus one. The same best friend who he calls the second he has something exciting to tell her. The same best friend who took care of him during all those injuries this season. The same best friend he can’t handle even looking at anyone else.
That's when his body moves faster than his brain, his lips are on yours in an instant.
“Can't just say that shit, sweetheart."
It's like a breath of fresh air for him when you kiss him back. Like a piece of his soul is right where it's meant to be. With you, on his lap, lips against yours. Every painful, shit moment he’s gone through leads him right here. To this moment.
"I'd love nothing more than to keep kissing you, but I know the guys are gonna be back any second and I really don't want them seeing you on my lap getting needy."
Jesus christ. Getting needy. You’re getting needy for Quinn. Your Quinn.
Just like he said, the second you're off his lap, and right under his arm; in they come.
You both look like you got caught doing something you're not supposed to, you excuse yourself, too awkward to handle the rest of them right now. Your hand is just hovering on your lips as you walk out. Quinns is quick to text you, "promise when we go to bed tonight, i'll do it again and i won't leave you hanging this time. I’d really like to see how needy you actually get when I have more than 5 minutes.”
Jack kinda cackles when he realizes how quick Quinn’s phone was out.
“Did we interrupt something, Q?"
"Fuck off Jack."
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ms-fade ¡ 2 years ago
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Reaction to making you cum/Fingering for the first time hc’s: My hero academia men.
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Mha characters x Fem!reader +18 drabble.
Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima
This is just for fun because I can’t stop thinking of a certain character’s reaction and decided to do more!
They are all ages up to +18.
Warnings: Fingering, dom/sub, sub!reader, teasing, slight degradation, male’s characters first time, crying, overstimulation, teaching, males having no clue, no really canon but also a bit, mentation of taking pictures.
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Izuku Midoriya/Deku
This boy was always itching to get his hands on you because even if he has a pure heart, he’s still man. I think he’d think about it so much that when it finally happens he realizes he has no clue what to do.
So when you’re kissing and he has you onto of him the only thing he does is grab your waist and get hard underneath you. So when you both decided to go there you guide him and tell him what to do.
But when he gets the hang of it he might get a little cocky at how you gasp when he pushes all the way in. He just really enjoys your moans and the look on your face. He is a slut for giving pleasure.
When you grabbed ahold of the his shirt and rocked your hips to get more, he could feel you gripping onto his fingers and knew you were close. “I’m doing that good? You stop guiding me a while ago, guess I learn quickly.” He’d kiss your shoulders and work his way up to your neck.
When you finally do come it’s all over for him. He stares at you with awe in his eyes from knowing he did that to you, he made you cum. He’s so proud of himself but he can’t keep his eyes away from you.
“You looked so pretty when you cum.” He’d nudged his face into your neck and pull his fingers out getting a whine from you. “You think you can give me another?”
Yes, he wants to do it again. Deku really enjoys fingering you and watching you moan just for him. Think about it, his thick fingers that hold such power- Who wouldn’t cum?
He would moan with you because it makes me feel just as high, might even cum in his underwear or get close.
He also licks his fingers clean each time and always make you cum twice, I don’t make the rules. I think he’s the king of fingering.
Katsuki Bakugo
Man thinks he knows how to do it but he really doesn’t, but bare with me. He would always want to make you bend at his will and make you his. So when the opportunity comes he jumps into it.
Here’s why I say he doesn’t know how to: He’s to rough and tho that’s good for some people, he has no skill and it actually really hurts. Boys like “I’m doing so good.” Until you pull away from him and ask him to stop.
He gets defensives, “What do you mean I’m doing it wrong.” You explain to him that he isn’t doing it right, so you take his hand and guide him through it. How exactly you like and if you like it rough you teach him how to do it right.
Does get good because he takes notice of everything about how it makes you feel. So it doesn’t take him long to have you actually a moaning mess underneath him, because he’s also a quick learner.
“Look at this pretty little hole, so wet for me. Am I doing it right now?” His smirk was as wide and cocky just like he was at the beginning. You didn’t answer him so he grabbed your cheeks and pulled you up and close to his face. “You guided me on how to finger you but you’re embarrassed now?”
He’d laugh as he felt you clinch and added a finger inside to make you more full. Soon he watched your eyes roll back and your stomach shake with your pussy clamping around him. He could feel the cum leak onto his fingers but he couldn’t stop looking at you.
Bakugo couldn’t be more smug then this moment because he made you cum for the first time. You moaned for him, you did everything because of him. “That was so fucking hot.” Licking his lips he pulled out his fingers and licked one of them clean, claiming you tasted delicious.
“Open wide and taste yourself.”
Eijiro Kirishima
Let me tell you something, he has googled it to prepare for you. He has been waiting to pleasure you for a long time and he knows that it’s different then porn so he wants to know. Deku was to embarrassed, and bakugou didn’t think he needed it. But this man? He of course wants to please you so much.
So when things get more heated for the first time he wants to keep it simple. His cock was so hard just by feeling and kissing you but he couldn’t get the thought of actually getting to feel that pussy. So he asks if he can try it and you say yes obv.
So, he knows at little more then the others but still wants your guide since he read that each girl is different. But he will finger you softly until you tell him to go faster. He curls his fingers the way you want, and listens to your words.
He couldn’t believe how warm and amazing you felt that he got more feisty with it the more he sees you moaning. He would kiss all over your neck and work his hands while he listens to your body. Each breath and moan, each twitch or squeeze you give him.
“You like that baby?” He voice sweet but teasing. Kiri was watching you bounce against him with closed eyes and mouth open. “How could you get more beautiful? Fuck- You look so hot.” He couldn’t get enough of how you looked.
When he noticed you were close it was bliss and he egged you on, even pumping his fingers in faster to make you cum harder. He was moaning and breathless just watching you. “Cum. Cum for me pretty girl.” He was demanding you cum for him.
Kiri stared wide eyes when you finally cummed and almost didn’t stop because he was loving the feeling of your pussy. You had to cry for him to stop sinces it felt so good but it was to much. So when he stopped he kissed you and told you how well you did.
“You’re just perfect.” You blushed at his sweetness. “But, I think I want to make you cry more.”
Shoto Todoroki
The least knowing for sure, idk what you say. He’s never really watched porn, or had a high sex drive until he grew older and met you. Having someone so close to him and beautiful made his horny side come out, so he didn’t have a clue of what to do.
But he was a good kisser and he knew basic things and let his heart tell him what to do. So when it came to more sexual things he asked you. “Can you teach me how to please you?” Just straight up asked you. He had no shame because he wanted to touch you so bad.
He was so slow and careful at first because he didn’t want to do anything wrong. He asked so many times if it was okay, please appreciate him. When he slipped his first finger in he was gone. His head went fuzzy at the moan you let out and how your pussy felt.
You guide him through everything from how he rubbed your clit and how to move his fingers, what felt good and didn’t. He took it slow because he wanted to savor the sweet noises you let out. I imagine him just watching you with lusty eyes at everything you did.
It wasn’t until you told him to pick up the pass and pushed down on his fingers that he lost his composure. Shoto loves the juices flowing down your pussy and onto his fingers and your thighs. His pace would pick up quickly and more then you could handle.
“I have never felt anything like this, my love. Have you ever seen yourself like this? It’s truly a work of art.” He couldn’t help but smirk softly at your face. “You’re taking my finger so well, practically sucking me in.” He’d chuckle.
When he noticed you were close he would focus on your face and how it scrunched up in pleasure. “Please cum for me.” His fingers curled like you had taught him and pushed them in farther and deeper. When you came it leaked down because he didn’t stop until it was overflowing.
He’s one to be memorized by how you cum. To your face and then to your cum itself. “Such a pretty face when you cum, almost makes me want to take a picture.” He’d smirk and lick his fingers clean and made sure you watched.
I think he can’t stop thinking of making you cum after that- Man is a slut for your cumming face. (He definitely has pics)
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where-does-the-heart-lie ¡ 9 months ago
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Sabo analysis time!!!!
Do you guys ever think about how Sabo didn't visit Dressrosa to see Luffy again? And him meeting up with Luffy was probably his very last option to secure the fruit, otherwise he would probably avoid it? Cuz i do…
Let me elaborate.
So here's what we know from the source material:
We know Sabo and the other revolutionaries were there since the early morning since Hack was already inside the coliseum for RevArmy snooping reasons.
The prize of the Tournament was revealed after the Revs were already there.
Sabo/Koala were not in contact with Robin to know if the straw hats were anywhere near Dressrosa as seen by Koala saying "I hear Robin-san’s here in this country, too."
Sabo confronted Luffy about getting the Mera-Mera No Mi only after Hack lost during Block B and Luffy got out of his own block.
I had always assumed that Sabo showed up to Dressrosa for the Mera-Mera No Mi and meeting Luffy, but that really isn't the case. Idk why it took me so long to figure that out, it’s literally shown in the Episode of Sabo (EOS) explicitly. Although, the EOS isn't exactly source material. I cant find anywhere stating whether its canon or not, but I cant find anything that would have it conflict with the original plot so i see no reason why it wouldn’t be. All that evidence from before is canon though so even without the EOS, this claim still holds water.
Speaking more of the evidence we have from of the episode of Sabo, we see him snooping around the Colosseum during the tournament, we see the moment he realizes that Luffy is participating in the event, and we see the moment he realizes that Luffy cant participate any further.
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Like look at him here. He looks absolutely unprepared for what he knows he has to do. And after this in the scene right before he starts talking with Luffy, he’s like literally walking to him as slowly as he possibly can. Taking pauses in his stride to probably think about how much of a bad idea this is.
Plus, at the beginning of the episode when he’s visiting Ace’s grave, he says “I guess both you and Luffy are both mad at me.”
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Sabo has had so many opportunities to meet up with Luffy before he actually does, both in Dressrosa and since he regains his memory. But he doesnt. Because he cant. Because he’s terrified of being met with scorn, anger, or even violence from his beloved little brother.
Finally, we see him plucking up the courage to walk over to luffy. All surroundings are silent besides the loud footsteps coming from his approach echoing in the hallway.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.
Then he stops.
Its dead quiet.
Sabo has been pretty much deadpan this entire time, but he then smiles before he says
“I wont let you have the Mera Mera No Mi, ‘Straw hat’ Luffy.”
This is a fairly serious thing that he’s saying to this man in a fake beard and outrageous helmet, and he’s terrified of this meeting with his brother, but he cant help but smile when he’s talking with him.
The conversation that continues is very confrontational, but suddenly something clicks in Luffy’s mind. His body relaxes from it’s tense posture, he starts to tear up, his speech slows,
Then he starts to scream with recognition.
That’s his big brother.
He’s alive…
He’s Alive!!!
He’s here! Right here! Right where he should be!
Alive. Living. Free!
Luffy GRABS Sabo’s face and propels himself towards him. Suffocating and probably giving his brother whiplash in that second within that assault-hug.
All of a sudden, Sabo’s fears of scorn, anger and violence all wash away.
Luffy loves him.
They have each other now.
And now, Sabo is on his way to get that god damn fruit.
Sabo absolutely didn’t think he was ready for this re-connection, but he’s so glad he went through with it.
He has his brother back, his other brother’s powers, and the bragging rights of being able to flaunt both.
This is what I'm sayin with the "seems like fire favors these brothers" post I made. The fact that both the mera mera no mi and Luffy and Sabo were all in the same place to come together at once is a crazy coincidence. How many coincidences does it take, for a happenstance to be Fate? Probably that amount.
In conclusion:
Get this man a therapist. Please.
Heres another sabo analysis if you wanna hear more
Thank you for reading my ramblings about a fictional man. I think about him a completely average amount.
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illusioncanthurtme--art ¡ 4 months ago
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This may be a silly question… but I’m an artist trying to learn backgrounds. I’ve studied perspective until my hands fell off, but I don’t know how to choose an angle or not make things look wonky. I’ve tried asking a lot of artists, but I’m hoping to hear more than “just draw backgrounds”, because I have been, but I’m not improving.
Do you have any tips on how to practice?
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The anonymous ask is much more recent but it reminded me of another ask from @cerealssoggies i forgot to answer thats, OOF... gotten old. Sorry about that. I'll answer your ask more directly at the end of this.
I'll talk about the perspective ask first. Anon... I'll answer your question as best as I can!
I think what makes perspective tricky is the beginning, when you're using perspective lines and grids and such to map out the picture. Because the actual technique of 2 point perspective isn't hard or complicated, it's getting the scene to look the way it does in your head thats tricky. I'm talking about the metaphorical "camera" location, angle, and... idk, focal length? If I'm using that phrase correctly.
So you can draw something like a simple square bedroom, and by the time you're done placing your horizon line, vanishing point, and perspective lines, and actually start drawing, you realize it doesn't look like how it does in your head. And from there, it's hard or nearly impossible to move things around to look like your vision, so you'll be tweaking each thing individually: uhh, let's move the horizon line down, the left vanishing point further? The right one closer? Both further? Huh??? And it's frustrating.
I've found, if you're drawing an environment from your imagination, the best way to start is to draw an teeeeny tiny thumbnail sketch. The smaller the better. Not just environments, but any drawing idea is easier to map out when it's smaller. Your brain can latch onto the visual as a whole when it's all tiny on a piece of paper.
Drawing my current blog header, the one of ford's research tent, I had a similar pickle. I knew exactly where I wanted the camera to be, in the corner of the tent, and I knew I wanted the camera to be more wide, so you could see most of his tent while keeping the feeling that it's small. I started digitally with perspective lines and quickly got frustrated. SO - I took to my sketchbook and thought reeeeeally hard about what it looked like in my head, and tried mapping it out in a tiny tiny thumbnail. Here's what that looked like:
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This was closer to what I wanted than what I first had on my computer. I knew from there that I wanted the furniture items to be closer together and the camera higher (you can see my scribble writing saying this), so I scanned my thumbnail, and drew on top of it to get closer to the vision. Then, from there, I was able to add a proper perspective grid based on what I had already drawn.
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THEN you can finally get down to the fun part - actually populating your room with furniture and details. I put this sketch on paper and did most of the real drawing traditionally:
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In summary: instead of jumping straight into perspective theory, thumbnail the idea as rough as you can. Then base the angles of the perspective lines on your thumbnail.
But.... even still, I don't have the strongest ability to picture things mentally, and not everyone is gonna be able to do that (although it is a good muscle to exercise.) Sort of a segue into the second ask - those backgrounds of dibs car? I straight up traced over pictures I took of my car. I'm not the biggest advocate for tracing, it does kind of feel like cheating, BUT for the purposes of this animation? There's no point in getting on a high horse. I needed to draw his car like 10 times and there was no reason to torture myself. I did photoshop some of the photos before I drew over them because the focal length made the car look bigger than I wanted it to? And a lot of it was guessing what the car looked like behind the front seats, etc.
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But this does remind me of an exercise I did in school for an illustration mentorship class. The mentor for one unit was a set designer working for Netflix. She was given photos of a room that a scene would be shot in, and she drew the set on top of it: like furniture, decorations, etc. So my assignment was to choose a stock photo, and do some world building concept art based on the photo. From the photo, you can figure out the perspective by identifying lines/angles that theoretically lead to a vanishing point. You need at least two lines, and you extend them really far and see where they cross. Where they meet is a vanishing point. Find two vanishing points and they are level with the horizon line. Then use the perspective dots you just found to draw furniture, items, and you can even get creative and change the shape/height/size of the rooms/buildings/etc, while still using the same perspective.
If an image from the internet feels too much like cheating (it SHOULDN'T, you'll only learn from it and your drawing won't look anything like the image by the time you're done), you can always take your own photos. This technique is honestly what made me enjoy drawing backgrounds in the first place. It made it fun! And drawing should be fun.
I still do this sort of thing today. Here's the reference picture I had my sister take of me for my Fairy godmother illustration. (This is from a couple years ago.) I drew on top of it in photoshop to get my best guess as to the lines and angles. I didn't trace this one, but I did use it very heavily for reference!
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So I guess... to summarize both techniques, don't jump right into perspective. Best way to start, that's fun and not wildly frustrating, is to use a photo. If your vision is hyper specific, start from a tiny thumbnail and work your way up. Then the fun part!! Populating the scene with furniture and items and fun little details.
To answer @cerealssoggies question more directly: omg, thank you?? :O💞 I'm always so wowed when people talk about my prints and where they put them. I'm really glad you like the fairy godmother one! My mom also has one hung up in her room lol!
My advice on the design front isn't as specific, because that always felt like the easy part. Once you have the room or whatever mapped out, it's just about drawing all the Stuff. Which for me usually means getting in the head of the character and asking myself what sort of things they'd have around themselves and their environment. And obviously if the setting isn't a characters room/personal environment like the previous three examples, then you'd just have to think about what the environments purpose is, and what sort of stuff would be there. When I'm thinking about a background before I draw it, I'll ask myself what items or features it will have. For the ford tent, I made a list of all the stuff I thought he might have in there (I googled winter camping trip packing lists, as well as science-y tools and gadgets). For dibs car, I asked people on tumblr for suggestions as to what I should put in there.
And look up references! Reference is always a good thing.
In real life, I'm a maximalist and a clutterbug. This bleeds into my drawings - I like it when an environment feels full and lived in.
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Here's my bedroom lol.
WELL typing and compiling this took up a greater portion of my Friday but I really hope this was helpful to you and others!!
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rafeandonlyrafe ¡ 1 year ago
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heat rage
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words: 1k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, fwb, hooking up, mentions of drinking/partying and hooking up while drunk
“topper, will you shut the fuck up?” rafe yells, making topper physically jump, eyes widening as he looks to rafe.
“i didn’t even say anything.” topper argues back, his voice almost sounding whiny.
“and yet you’re still being too fucking loud!” rafe growls, looking like he's seconds away from standing up and hitting topper across the face.
“alright, come on.” you stand, gesturing to rafe to join you.
“what?” he grunts out, the heat and stress of the day clearly having gone to his head, making him frustrated and angry for no reason, ready to lash out at anyone.
“you're being a dick because you're all upset.” you say, reaching your hand out for rafe to take, but he just swats it away.
“im fine.”
“fine.” you shrug, turning away from the boys and walking towards the stairs. “i guess you don't want me to give you head.”
rafe is scrambling off the couch to follow you up the stairs towards his bedroom, eyes on your ass as you make your way up each step.
“you're gonna be more relaxed after this right?” you question as rafe closes and locks his door behind you. “because if you're just gonna be an asshole all day im going home.”
“yeah, promise.” rafe nods, leaning forward to press a smearing kiss across your lips. his version of a thank you, since the words will never actually leave his lips.
you're not a couple, but you don't exactly just hook up either. you guess it would be defined as friends with benefits. rafe often says you're the one girl he can actually stand to hang out with, and it certainly helps that you often end up hooking up after parties where you drink a little too much.
rafe places a hand on your shoulder, shoving you down to your knees, indicating just how needy he is for your mouth.
you smirk when you realize he's tenting in his shorts, having grown hard in just minutes. you tug at the two sides of his pants, opening them to reveal his boxers.
“come on.” rafe grunts impatiently.
“rafe, you said you'd be nice!”
“after you give me head i will be! come on, i need it.” rafe pushes his pants and underwear down his hips in one swift motion, his cock popping up from its confines.
you place your hand around the base to hold it steady as your lips and tongue tease over the head, kissing and licking as rafe moans. you wonder if topper is able to hear his sounds as you sink down on his cock, allowing it to fill you mouth.
“fuck, we should do this sober more often.” rafe tangles his hands in your hair, helping guide your motions up and down.
you're determined to make this good and memorable, not just because rafe is pissed off and needing the relief, but as a reason to continue hooking up without the influence of alcohol or drugs in your system, wanting to experience rafe fucking into you without being sloppy drunk.
you force rafes length down into your throat as you bob your head, his hands tightening and loosing in your hair like he keeps losing control only to quickly regain it.
“god, that's fucking good.” rafe moans out, his voice low and when you look up to his face you aren't surprised to find his eyes closed, face one of bliss.
you place both your hands on his thighs, giving yourself a good base as you use your whole body to move off and on his cock, truly getting into the motions.
“damn.” rafe curses. hes inclined to let you do all the work, but he's too into the way it feels that he can't help but begin to thrust his hips forward and back.
you feel yourself choking around his cock and try to hold back the gagging noises as he rams into your throat, but you can't hold them back for long.
the noises don't deter rafe, only spur him on more, his hips pumping faster as you feel his cock swelling in your mouth, the telltale sign of his imminent release.
you try to suck, rub your tongue against the underside of his cock, or give some sort of extra stimulation, but ultimately you end up letting rafe fuck into your face, mouth ajar and wet for him, drool dripping down your chin.
“fuck, cumming.” is all rafe can get out before his cum is spurting down your throat in long ropes that you're eager to swallow.
you pull off the second he's finished, taking deep breaths intermixed with coughing you wish you could control, not wanting to seem like you couldn't handle it.
“you good?” rafe asks, attempting to fix your hair by smoothing his hands over the curls he was gripping tightly into.
“yeah.” you nod quickly. “just get me a drink of water.”
you move from your knees onto the bed, breathing deeply as rafe puts his bottoms back on before heading into the bathroom, coming back with a cup of water for you.
“thanks.” you mumble, taking it from him and gulping it down.
“no, thank you.” rafe says, leaning down and in a moment of rare softness pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 
“we should get back down to topper.” you say, wiping your mouth and taking one last drink.
“shit, kinda forgot he was here.” rafe laughs, helping you stand before walking down the stairs with you, back into the living room where you flop onto the armchair, stretching yourself out and giving your knees much needed relief.
“damn, if i knew all i had to do was get all pissy to have my dick sucked i would have been an asshole this whole time.” topper chuckles, meaning it as a joke, but rafes relieved calm face quickly turns back to one of anger as he growls out.
“oh god.” you drop your face into your hands, all your hard work undone with one sentence from topper.
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cheftsunoda ¡ 14 days ago
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ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ 22 — ɪꜱᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀᴅᴊᴀʀ
written blurbs
isack hadjar x !flight attendant reader
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isack hadjar, always on the move with the formula 1 calendar, meets you—his flight attendant—on a routine trip. but nothing about you feels routine. a quiet glance, a conversation over bad coffee, and a missed connection later, he realizes he’s in deeper than he expected. you work flight 22, and he starts booking it whenever he can. you fall for him too, but your schedules never quite line up—and both of you are scared of what this could become.
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(a/n) : at the beginning of june, i promised an anon a rookie series and as promised here is a start. i will be doing sporadic posts regarding the rookies all month long and they will all be based off of my favorite kali uchis songs! enjoyyyy
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word count ; 4.45k
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The terminal is quieter than usual for a Friday night. You’re grateful for that — your feet already ache, and you haven’t even boarded the aircraft yet. You’ve still got a good forty minutes before you have to report to the gate, so you slip into the airline lounge, hoping to catch your breath before the long-haul overnight shift.
The soft hum of ambient jazz plays over the speakers. The lights are dim. Someone’s clinking ice into a glass at the self-serve bar in the corner. You exhale deeply, shrug your jacket off, and sink into the oversized armchair near the window — the one with the view of the runway lights flickering against the dark sky. It’s peaceful. For about thirty seconds.
Because then you hear the chair next to you shuffle and creak. You glance sideways, instinctively, and almost wish you hadn’t — because sitting there, hood pulled up, legs stretched out, is Isack Hadjar.
You don’t recognize him right away. Not in that tired, real world way. He’s not grinning like he does during interviews or flanked by engineers. He just looks… soft. Quiet. A little worn down. A duffel bag slung low on one shoulder, a crumpled boarding pass sticking out of the side pocket. He looks like someone trying not to be noticed — and failing, just a little.
You quickly look away.
But then he speaks.
“Hey—do you know if they have real food here or is it all, like, snack mix and lies?”
His voice is smooth, tinged with the slight rasp of exhaustion. You glance back, lips twitching.
“Depends. Are you in economy or business?”
He smiles, caught. “Business. Barely. Last seat.”
You hum, standing and nodding toward the far corner. “Go left. Past the sad fruit plate. They sometimes have pasta. Sometimes. If the stars align.”
“Risky,” he says, standing too, stretching his arms over his head. He’s tall — taller than you expected. And lean. Still lanky in a way that tells you he’s younger than you first thought. His eyes linger on you for a second longer than they need to. “Thanks.”
You don’t expect him to come back. But ten minutes later, he does — holding a plastic ramekin of suspiciously orange penne and a Coke. He sits back down beside you, uninvited but not unwelcome.
“I’m Isack, by the way,” he says, like it’s just something people say in airports. Like it’s normal.
You try not to show your surprise. “I know.”
His smile widens, just a little. “That obvious?”
You shrug, teasing. “You’re not exactly anonymous. And I watch the races.”
That earns you a real laugh. It’s low and warm and bubbles in his throat like he hasn’t had anything to laugh about in a while.
“You crew?” he asks, nodding at your ID lanyard.
“Yeah. Flight 22 to Heathrow. Overnight haul.”
“No shit,” he murmurs. “That’s my flight.”
You blink. “Really?”
He taps the boarding pass tucked into the sleeve of his backpack and hands it over. 2A.
“Well, look at that,” you murmur, handing it back with a smile that threatens to give away more than you intend. “Guess I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
Something flickers in his eyes. “Guess so.”
And for the first time in a long while — even with the hum of engines outside, the ache in your ankles, the weight of hours ahead — you don’t feel tired. You feel... awake.
And as you both sit there, quietly watching the runway light up with incoming flights, you can’t help but wonder if fate doesn’t book her own tickets sometimes — choosing seats and gate numbers and awkward airport chairs just to get two people to look up at the same time.You have no idea you’re about to spend eleven hours with him, thirty eight thousand feet in the sky.
But Flight 22 is just getting ready for takeoff.
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The cabin is already filling when you hear the soft buzz of boarding chimes. You’re standing near the galley in your pressed uniform, checking overhead bins and helping passengers get settled. It’s routine, like muscle memory now — you hardly notice faces anymore. You’re running on autopilot. Until you see him.
Isack steps onto the plane, hoodie swapped for a loose t-shirt and jacket. His curls are messy from the airport nap and his carry-on is slung lazily over one shoulder. He looks up, scanning the rows — and then he sees you. Your eyes meet. His lips curve. It’s not the smirk you expected. It’s softer. Familiar. Like you’re an inside joke in the middle of a crowd. You try not to smile — but you fail miserably.
“Small world,” he murmurs as he walks past, just low enough for only you to hear.
You clear your throat, keeping your tone professional. “Seat 2A, Mr. Hadjar. Right up front.”
He gives you a playful side glance. “That’s Isack.”
You arch a brow. “I’m on-duty. It’s Mr. Hadjar for now.”
He chuckles, and the sound trails behind him as he slips into his seat — just as another passenger asks for help with their bag, dragging you back into motion. But even as the plane fills and the safety demo begins, you feel that little glance still humming somewhere under your skin. He watches you closely as you do your job to a tee. 
After what feels like forever, everyone has boarded and your coworker has began to the take off process. You pick up the overhead speaker and begin your safety speech. Isack has eyes on you the entire time and that huge smile covers his face. You tried your best to avoid eye contact and deny that blush creeping up on your cheeks. 
“There's several exits on this aircraft in the event of an emergency. At this time, please fasten your seat belts, as we are preparing for take off And welcome aboard, Flight 22.” You finish, turn back to your seat and await take off.
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It’s quiet now. The cabin lights are dimmed to a soft blue, most passengers curled up under thin blankets, heads tilted toward the windows. A few TV screens glow. You’ve done the drink service, checked the aisles, answered the call buttons. Everything is calm. You grab a bottle of water and drift up toward the front — just to check in. He’s awake.
Of course he is. Headphones in, curled sideways in his seat, reading something on his phone that clearly isn't holding his attention. He glances up when you approach.
“Still alive?” you whisper, holding the water out to him.
He accepts it with a quiet smile. “Barely. That pasta was a war crime.”
You stifle a laugh, lowering your voice even more. “Tried to warn you in the lounge.”
He rests his head against the seat and studies you for a moment. The overhead light casts soft shadows across his face — over his cheekbone, the slope of his nose, the slight crease between his brows. There’s a stillness in the air. A gravity.
“You don’t seem like you belong here,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “Here as in…?”
“Serving mini pretzels at 2 a.m.,” he says, voice low and rough from sleep. “You feel like you belong somewhere else. I don’t know. A record shop. An old movie theatre. A dream someone keeps having.”
Your heart stumbles. It’s not a pick-up line. It doesn’t feel rehearsed. It’s just… honest.
“Funny,” you murmur, “I was just thinking the same about you.”
He watches you like he’s memorizing this moment. “This job ever make you feel invisible?”
You swallow, caught off-guard. “Sometimes.”
“I see you.”
The cabin is quiet, but the space between you feels louder than ever. Not chaotic — just filled with something real. Something unsaid. Something still rising, like the plane did just hours ago.
You shift your weight, almost reluctantly. “You should get some rest, Isack.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I just... didn’t want to miss you walking by.”
You walk away before he can see the way your lips part in surprise — before he can see the smile you don’t quite fight this time.
There are still six hours left of Flight 22.
And somehow, you already know — this flight might land, but something else just took off.
⋆。° ✮
The plane touches down with a soft thud — the kind you barely feel, the kind pilots quietly pride themselves on. The runway blurs past the windows in streaks of grey and gold as the early morning light breaks over Heathrow. It’s too early for the city to be awake, but somehow… you are.
You’re used to this part — the shuffle of passengers unbuckling seatbelts before the chime, the rustle of jackets pulled from overhead bins, the echo of thank you and goodbye as they step off into the jet bridge and back into the world.
What you’re not used to is him still being in his seat. Isack stays put. He doesn’t stand. Doesn’t reach for his bag. Doesn’t even glance at his phone. He just watches the slow wave of passengers drift toward the front of the plane — and then glances up at you.
There’s a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. Like he’s decided something. Like he’s waited the entire flight for this moment.
You tilt your head as you pass by his seat, playfully quiet. “Tired? Or just really committed to avoiding customs?”
He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe I just wanted to say goodbye without an audience.”
You pause. He’s the last one. The plane is empty now — quiet in a way that feels almost sacred. Like the last few pages of a good book you don’t want to end.
“Go on,” you tease, crossing your arms gently, your voice softer now. “Give me your big dramatic send off, Hadjar.”
He stands slowly, carefully, as though part of him is still debating this. But then he pulls a small folded slip of paper from his pocket — the corner of a torn boarding pass — and hands it to you with the faintest smile. Scrawled across it in blue ink.
 Isack H. +44 •••• •••••
Been a lot of places and seen a lot of faces. But nothing like you, flight 22.
Your fingers tighten slightly around the note. You glance up at him, pulse somewhere between your ears and your chest.
“I’m not sure this is standard post flight protocol,” you whisper.
He shrugs. “Neither is meeting someone in an airport lounge and thinking about them for eleven hours straight.”
You laugh, trying not to show how much that lands.
He shifts, suddenly shy. “I know you probably get weird passengers flirting with you all the time. I’m not trying to be… one of them. But I don’t know. It felt like we were already on the same page. Or maybe just the same flight.”
You press your lips together, heart already betraying you with the warmth in your smile. “You really worked that metaphor, huh?”
He grins. “I’ve been sitting on that line since hour four.”
You laugh again, softer this time, and tuck the paper into your jacket pocket. “Thanks for not trying to use it over the intercom.”
He lifts his duffel over his shoulder and stops at the threshold of the aircraft door. Just before stepping off, he turns.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth… I really hope this isn’t the only flight I ever see you on.”
And with that, he disappears down the jet bridge, leaving behind nothing but the warm trace of citrus and sandalwood and something hopeful in the air.
You’re still standing by the galley when the cleaning crew boards. You’re still thinking about that note in your pocket — like he’s already hoping there’s a next time. And for the first time in a long time, as the sky brightens over the airport tarmac, you feel like you’re not just working flights — you’re chasing something.
⋆。° ✮
You’re halfway through your shift, curled in the crew lounge at the airport hotel, the hum of the city outside mixing with distant car horns and the occasional plane overhead. The soft glow of your phone screen cuts through the dim light as your fingers swipe through messages from family, friends, and the usual work updates. And then — a buzz. A new message from an unknown number. You open it.
Hey. I just landed. You’re here too? This has to be some kind of cosmic joke, right?
Isack. Your breath catches. You stare at the message, heart skipping a beat. It’s been barely a week since Flight 22, but already it feels like a lifetime — and yet, here he is, as real as the dim hotel lamp beside you. You type back quickly, trying to play it cool.
Yeah, crazy timing. I’m on a layover before heading back to London. Didn’t know you’d be racing here.
His reply is almost instant.
I’ve got the whole weekend. Maybe we can catch a coffee? Or something stronger after the race?
Your fingers hesitate. It sounds so easy — so perfect — and yet your mind floods with every caution you’ve ever had about mixing work, life, and the chaos of racing. But the warmth blossoming in your chest is impossible to deny.
I’d like that. But only if you promise not to make me chase you down the paddock.
His laughter practically beams through the text.
Deal. I’m terrible at running. You’ll have to catch me.
For a moment, you just sit there, phone in hand, heart loud in the quiet room. This—this feeling—so new, so fragile—feels like it might just be something real.
Because for once, the world isn’t spinning too fast, the flights aren’t blurring together, and the distance isn’t a thousand miles. It’s just you. Him. And the possibility of something that feels like home.
⋆。° ✮
The city lights flicker through the rain-speckled taxi window as you sit beside Isack, the hum of the engine and soft jazz on the radio wrapping around you like a secret. The night feels stolen — a rare pause in the relentless pace of your lives. You both agreed, quietly and without much planning, to slip away after your shifts — no suits, no uniforms, just you two in worn sneakers and the weight of the day falling off your shoulders.
He pulls the collar of his jacket up against the chill as you step onto the slick pavement, and you catch the small smile he gives you — that look that says, I’m glad you’re here. The streets smell of wet pavement and late-night coffee, the buzz of distant laughter spilling from open doorways of cozy bars. You wander together, no destination but the rhythm of your steps.
Inside a dimly lit jazz club, the air thick with the smoky sweetness of bourbon and the gentle sway of a saxophone, you find a corner booth. He orders a couple of drinks — something smooth and warm — and slides the glass toward you with a grin. Your hands brush as you take it, and the spark between you flares quietly, unspoken but unmistakable.
The conversation flows easily, the kind of effortless connection that feels like it’s been waiting under the surface, just needing the right moment to rise. You talk about the weirdness of airports, the loneliness of the road, the small things that keep you sane — a favorite song, a secret comfort food.
At one point, Isack leans forward, eyes catching the light in a way that makes your breath hitch. “You know,” he murmurs, “I’ve never met anyone who makes the chaos feel less… chaotic.”
You smile softly, heart tightening. “Me neither.”
Outside, the rain has stopped. The city glistens, every puddle reflecting neon signs and streetlamps. You step out, shoulders brushing, and without quite realizing it, your fingers intertwine.
He stops you beneath a flickering streetlamp, close enough that you can see the warmth in his eyes, the faint tremor of something vulnerable beneath the confident facade.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. Then his hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing a light path along your skin.
“I’ve wanted to do this since that first flight,” he whispers.
Your heart pounds, everything narrowing to the space between you.
And then, tender and sure, his lips meet yours.
The kiss is soft, slow — a promise wrapped in warmth. It tastes like the rain, like late nights, like all the moments you didn’t know you were waiting for.
When you finally pull apart, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling.
“Flight 22,” he says with a grin, “might just be my favorite flight after all.”
You laugh, the sound light and free, and for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real.
⋆。° ✮
The first light of dawn filters softly through the sheer curtains, casting a pale golden hue across the quiet hotel room. The city outside is still waking up — distant car horns, muffled footsteps, the gentle hum of early traffic. But inside, time feels suspended between yesterday and whatever comes next.
You lie on your side, fingers entwined in the crisp white sheets, heart still pounding from the weight of the night. The taste of his kiss lingers on your lips — tender, sure, like a promise whispered against the chaos you both live with.
Beside you, Isack stirs. His lashes flutter open slowly, eyes heavy with sleep but sharp with something raw and honest. He watches you for a moment, as if committing you to memory, before finally breaking the silence.
“Hey,” his voice is low, tentative. “I don’t want to scare you… but I need to say it.”
You turn to face him, the soft morning light catching the subtle shadows of his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth. There’s vulnerability there — unguarded, real.
“I want more,” he says simply. “Not just the stolen moments on layovers or in airports. I want to see where this could go... if you’ll let me.”
Your breath catches. His words settle over you like a fragile hope, but beneath it lies a knot of fear you’ve carried too long.
“I want that too,” you whisper, voice barely steady. “But... it’s not that simple.”
Isack’s brow furrows slightly. He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm in a tentative gesture, searching for connection.
“What’s holding you back?” he asks gently.
You pull your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as if trying to hold yourself together. The weight of your past presses down on you — the heartbreak, the betrayals, the loneliness that made trust feel like a luxury you couldn’t afford.
“It’s the baggage,” you say, voice thick with the ache you’ve kept hidden. “Not the kind you check in at the airport and forget about. It follows me everywhere — every city, every flight, every goodbye. I’ve learned to build walls because letting someone in... means risking everything.”
His eyes soften, filled with understanding, but also a quiet determination. “I’m not here to break you,” he says. “I want to be the one you choose to let inside.”
You want to believe him. You want to believe in the warmth of his hand on your cheek, the steady kindness in his gaze. But years of hurt make your heart hesitate.
“Sometimes,” you admit, “believing isn’t enough. I want to trust again, but I don’t know if I can. Not yet.”
A heavy silence stretches between you, filled with the unspoken fears and fragile hopes that neither of you can fully voice.
Isack shifts closer, his hand tentatively reaching for yours. You don’t pull away, but you don’t squeeze either. It’s an invitation — a lifeline — and you’re torn between grasping it and stepping back.
“I don’t expect forever,” he says softly. “Just a chance. One step at a time.”
You nod, tears prickling your eyes, but before you can say more, the weight of reality presses in.
You stand, pulling your jacket around you like armor, heart pounding in your chest.
“I have to go,” you whisper, voice trembling. “My flight’s in a few hours.”
He rises too, the vulnerability replaced by a quiet strength as he steps toward the door with you.
“Please don’t close this door,” he says, voice cracking just a little. “Not yet.”
You look back at him one last time — a mixture of hope and heartbreak swirling in your gaze.
“I’m not closing it,” you promise, “just... taking a moment to breathe.”
And then you step into the hallway, the soft click of the door shutting behind you ringing like a final note — or maybe, the beginning of something new.
As the hotel room falls silent, Isack sinks back onto the bed, fingers brushing the spot where your hand had rested.His thoughts echo the bittersweet words you both carry.
“Maybe we’re not gonna make it... but at least I’m going down with you.”
⋆。° ✮
You’re barely awake when the pager buzzes sharply against the quiet hum of the crew lounge. The early-morning airport chaos hasn’t started yet, but your heart leaps anyway—because you know what this means.
Flight 22 to JFK. All crew report immediately.
Your breath catches. Flight 22 again.
You blink at the schedule on your tablet, scanning the roster for details, and then you see it: the passenger manifest.
Entire Formula 1 grid on board. Including Isack Hadjar.
It feels like your chest has been squeezed by an invisible hand.
You’re both exhilarated and nervous. It’s surreal to think you’ll be flying the people who live your other world—the fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled universe of racing. And, of course, there’s Isack. The memory of his soft smile and that tentative morning lingers in your mind like a secret melody.
The crew briefing is a whirlwind—schedules, special security protocols, VIP hospitality. You find yourself juggling your usual checklist with the knowledge that every step you take will be watched by drivers, media, and maybe, just maybe, Isack.
The terminal is buzzing with the excited energy of the grid arriving in small clusters. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some laughing, others focused, all brilliant in their own way. Your pulse quickens when you see Isack stride through the jet bridge, the same easy confidence he wears both on and off the track.
He spots you, and there it is again—the quiet smile that sends a shockwave through your chest.
Throughout boarding, the cabin is a controlled chaos. You’re balancing passenger requests, coordinating with other crew, and stealing glances at Isack when you can. The hum of the engines seems to pulse with your heartbeat.
During the climb, the tension eases for a moment. You find yourself near his seat, pretending to adjust a blanket or offer a drink just so you can catch his eye. His grateful smile feels like a lifeline.
“Glad you’re here,” he murmurs, voice low enough to keep between you.
You shrug, cheeks flushing. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The hours stretch out, filled with stolen conversations beneath the dim cabin lights. He talks about the upcoming premiere, the madness of the season, and how he wishes this moment felt less surreal.
You laugh quietly, sharing stories about life in the skies—long layovers, funny passenger encounters, and the odd comfort of airplane coffee.
The intimacy grows in the quiet spaces between announcements and service carts. Your fingers brush accidentally once, twice, and neither of you pulls away.
The chaos of the day outside this metal tube fades until all that remains is the space between you and the slow-building promise in his gaze.
As the plane descends toward New York, you realize something has shifted. The distance you tried to keep has shrunk. The hope that this connection could be more isn’t just a whisper anymore — it’s a roar.
And somewhere deep inside, you know this flight—Flight 22—might just be the start of the journey you both need.
⋆。° ✮
You never imagined love would feel like this. Not calm. Not perfect. Not a cinematic fairytale with a neat ending and string music in the background. No—this is turbulence. This is check-ins and delayed flights and last-minute decisions. This is you, half-breathless in an oversized hoodie and tangled hair, running down a street in New York at 3 a.m. to get to Isack’s hotel before he flies out again. Because you had to say it. Because you had to choose him. Because you’d rather go down in flames with him than live safe without him.
You don’t knock. He opens the door before you can, like he was waiting. Like he knew. His eyes are tired. He hasn’t even packed yet. But the second you walk in, everything softens. You drop your bag at your feet. Your voice is a whisper.
“Let’s get away from it all.”
He blinks once—then twice. Like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or just the dream he’s been having for weeks.
“You serious?” he asks, stepping closer, barely breathing.
You nod. “I don’t care where we go. Don’t even care if we fall apart in three months. I just know I don’t want to be anywhere if it isn’t with you.”
He’s still now, chest rising slowly, like he’s scared to break the moment.
“Our baggage might be too much,” he says softly. “We’re both messed up. Our lives are insane. I travel every week. You live on planes. What if this doesn’t work?”
You smile, sad and infinite and real. “Then it crashes. But at least I’m going down with you.”
He breathes out a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. His eyes are shining.
“You’ll hate me sometimes,” he whispers. “You’ll question everything.”
“Probably,” you say. “But I’ll still choose you.”
A silence stretches between you. It’s not heavy. It’s sacred.
He steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You cling to him like a life raft in open water.
“We can’t promise forever,” he murmurs.
“No,” you say, holding him tighter. “But we can promise this.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you—really look—and you see it all in his eyes, the fear, the awe, the reckless devotion.
You press your forehead to his.
“You and me,” you whisper. “Flight 22.”
He kisses you like he’s saying yes. Like he’s saying take me on away. Like he’s saying I’d rather fall with you than fly alone. And when you wake up hours later—curled into each other, surrounded by half-packed bags and a love so terrifyingly real it aches—you know nothing in this world can compare. Not even the crash. Because sometimes, love isn’t about the landing. It’s about the takeoff. And you’ve never felt more free.
⋆。° ✮
262 notes ¡ View notes
wemalyri ¡ 23 days ago
Text
ೀFALLEN FOR YOU જ⁀➴
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pairing: devil!heeseung × angel!fem!reader
༘⋆ genre: smut (MDNI), angst, romance ೀ w/c: ~4k
synopsis: When the highest of Heaven and Hell find out about your secret connection, forbidden between angels and devils, you know there is no way out. Your fate is already sealed. Both of you know — when the sun goes up, you two will be burnt and erased from this world for the sin you have committed. However, instead of spending your last moments in agony of suffering, Heeseung and you choose the agony of your still existing bodies. Because this is your last night together. Ever.
warnings: they turned into human forms to fuck, crying + fucking, soft soft soft, soft!dom!heeseung, a glimpse of mean heeseung, LARGE use of petnames (angel, baby, pretty girl, my love), reader is really sensitive, praise (A LOT) and praise kink, we may assume hee has a corruption kink..., fingering, unprotected sex (they're not humans they can, you don't), a really sad ending
a/n: thanks for waiting!! that was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away....kinda inspired by the cartoon 'Angel's friends' (as a kid I was insane)
English is not my native language, sorry for any mistakes!
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You two knew that falling for each other, spending nights together in the messy bed, filling the room with filthy sounds was a sin. You two knew it would have its consequences. You two knew one day they'd find out.
It was wrong from the start. From the way Heeseung's eyes lingered on you for too long — too long for someone who was on the other side, who was your enemy, who was supposed to make you turn away in disgust and frustration. From the way you never looked away when your eyes met his. From the way you were craving for his lips to touch yours one more time now.
The highest angels and devils clearly let you know — they were aware of everything. Aware of the slight touches you two shared in the beginning, of your wet dreams about each other, of the way you gave in to the temptation and committed a sin. Knowingly.
They also clearly let you know one more thing — they are merciless, and they do not give second chances. Once the line was crossed, your fate was already sealed. And you two were perfectly aware of it.
You two will be burnt out.
Why not send you in Hell, you may ask. Because even Hell doesn't forgive such sins. Even for devils it's a death sentence. And Heeseung was ready to go for it from the start. To burn himself just to feel your lips against his, your body under him, your soft skin pressed to his. You were his angel. The angel who seduced him and made him fall even harder than other devils ever had. Made him fall for you.
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His breath was hot against the sweaty skin of your neck. You could see the lights on the ceiling reflected from the window dance to the devilish, sinful melody only they could hear. The door to the room was locked.  Like it could save you two from your destiny.
Heeseung's hands were traveling down your body in a fever full of gentleness, trying to remember every single part. His lips were desperately rushing from the skin of your neck and collarbone back to your mouth, not able to choose what to focus on — he needed it all.
You suspended a moan, biting your lip and throwing your head back, when Heeseung's teeth bit on the sensitive spot of your neck. His hand caressed your thigh with affection.
"Always so sensitive for me, angel. No matter how much I touch you... Always so responsive," his hot breath burnt your ear in a whisper. "But don't hold back. Let me hear you."
You shakily sighed, looking at Heeseung's face, which was almost invisible in the darkness of the room.
"I can't," you took another breath, chest rising up and down, "they will hear us."
Heeseung's eyes softened. Or maybe it was hurt and realization of the situation in them. Guess, you forgot.
"Angel," he spoke in the softest tone — the one that none of the demons had ever been allowed to use, the one that not even all of the angels had in them, "they already know."
Your eyes became glassy. Right.
When the sun goes up, you will disappear.
He will disappear.
Everything will disappear.
"I'm sorry," you whispered like it was your fault, like you could fix something. Tears ran down your face, leaving only wet lonely paths.
Heeseung's eyes were glassy too. For the first time in his whole existence. They were full of hurt, pain, and something forbidden. Maybe...love?
His fingers gently brushed against your face, pulling away the strands of your hair. He neared his lips to your skin, kissing away the paths on the sides of your face left after your tears.
You felt how something wet dripped onto your cheek. Your eyes looked up at Heeseung's face. He was crying.
Heeseung was broken. His face distorted in the way you'd never seen before. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes from spilling out more.
Your hand tapped the back of his head, encouraging him to bury his face in your neck. When he did so, you heard a broken cry that made your heart clench, your own tears running down your cheeks again.
After minutes of sniffles and sobs, you two had calmed down. It wasn't the way you wanted to spend your last moments of existence.
Your fingers were caressing his hair in a slow motion, his face pressed to your neck, the tip of his nose starting to trace lines against your skin that made you smile.
"I don't regret it," you whispered in the silence of the room. "I never did. And if I could go back in time, I would do everything the same way."
Heeseung lifted his face from your neck, a small smile playing on his lips. "Me too."
Then his lips pressed to yours. Again.
You savored the moment. The way your lips were soft and breaths hot against each other, the way Heeseung's hands traveled under your shirt, causing shivers to run down your spine.
You softly moaned, arching your back when his fingers traced a line down your spine before pressing his hand to your back just right.
"Like that, angel. Sing for me," Heeseung groaned, bending your thigh to have more access to your core, pressing his hardness to your clothed pussy. Your hips grinded against his in response. "Shh, don't rush. You'll get everything you want, baby."
Heeseung's hands lifted up your shirt, helping to take it off. Then he did the same with your pants.
"I want to see all of you," he whispered under his breath like it wasn't even meant for you — more like he was talking to himself. "I want to remember you like this — naked, sweaty, wet, underneath me. Carve it in my memory. Forever."
His mouth moved to yours with new urgency, tongue sliding inside, devouring you like he was hungry. His knee pressed to your clothed core, making you gasp, panties already wet with your arousal.
"Hee," you softly whined when Heeseung started leaving marks all over your neck, moving lower down your skin.
He was desperate. Shameless. Not the kind to be regretful about his past or present actions. His movements were speaking volumes. Even if there was a second chance, he wouldn't be able to hold back, to keep his distance from you. Even if you could turn back the time, he would commit a sin every now and then. Would fall for you again and again.
"My pretty angel," Heeseung groaned in your collarbone before pulling away to look at the work he'd done. Your skin was full of marks. His marks. "So sinful. Fallen for me."
Your chest was heaving, eyes half-lidded. You placed a hand on his arm, moving it upper to his shoulder, to the back of his head. You craved his touch, wanted to feel his presence physically, wanted to not let go of him.
"I need you," you said in a quiet voice on the edge of crying, your eyes locking on his. "I need you so much..."
His gaze softened, lips moving to leave a peck on your jaw.
"I know, angel," Heeseung whispered against your skin, your heart melting at the petname and how gently it sounded on his tongue. His lips started leaving soft kisses down your cheek and jawline, moving to your ear and neck. "I need you too. So, so much."
Heeseung nibbled on your neck, licking the pain away after. His hand moved from your thigh to your hip, fingers brushing under the hem of your panties, making you shiver.
"My angel..." he softly whispered again, his thumb brushing above your clit, not giving you what you want yet. "So sweet... just for me…” his voice was desperate, words mumbled and rushed like in a fever. “My baby…My pretty girl…My love…"
You whined at his words and gentleness in them, at the same time feeling how his finger finally brushed against your folds. Your senses were heightened, you were aroused till the point when it hurt. Maybe it was because of the way Heeseung was torturing you with his touch, maybe because of the thought that was playing in the back of your head all of this time, even at such moment — that was your last time together.
Heeseung felt how your thighs tried to clasp together, but his hips in between your legs didn't let you. His hardness only pressed to your clothed entrance with more urgency.
"You're driving me insane," Heeseung breathed out, now tracing lines against your breast with his nose like he was trying to hold back. To savor the moment. To be gentle. Trying not to ruin you. 
Yet.
"Hee, please," you almost cried out, hand tangling in his hair. His fingers were slowly tracing against your folds, already letting you two to hear how wet your pussy was. “I can't wait anymore..."
Then it happened. His fingers suddenly switched from the featherlike touch, pressing harder to your folds, pulling out of you a moan. Heeseung started rubbing them against your pussy with such urgency that could make you cum from that alone. Then he slowly slipped one finger inside your entrance, your body tensing.
"Angel, relax. How are you going to take me all in if you can't even take my finger?" Heeseung asked mockingly, rubbing your thigh with a free hand.
There it was. His dark side — teasing, mocking, dominant, and so fucking hot. It was that exact devil you met for the first time in the lobby, the one you fell in love with.
You relaxed your bottom, immediately feeling how deliciously a single Heeseung's finger was sliding inside you. You breathed out in pleasure, arching your back to feel him better.
"That's it," Heeseung encouraged, a smirk playing on his lips. He was intensely watching your body from the top to the bottom with a lustful gaze like it was his favorite view, the movie that was playing just for him. "Such a good girl for me," he praised in a low voice, free hand traveling up your body, brushing your sensitive skin from your stomach to your chest. He wrapped it around your throat, making you roll your eyes. "Yeah? Like it, baby? What a sinful angel..." Heeseung slightly chuckled, sliding inside you one more finger, making you gasp.
You held onto his hand around your throat, head throwing back, mouth aping in pleasure. Your back arched, hips rapidly moved to feel his fingers deeper inside you. You needed him. So dirty, so messy, so desperately.
Heeseung parted his fingers inside your pussy, pulling out of you a moan. Then he curled them, moving them in the way he knew you'd like, his thumb starting to circle your clit.
The pressure in your bottom part was building quickly, your hips thrusting to meet Heeseung's fingers, trying to shove them deeper inside you. The room was not silent anymore. You filled it with filthy sounds — your moans and wetness between your legs that was coating Heeseung's fingers.
“I-I’m close, Hee…” you managed to whine, back arching in an unnatural way that would definitely hurt later. But there was no later. Only now.
“Yes, angel? Are you gonna come for me?” Heeseung replied in the sweetest voice, his eyes so dark and lustful intensely watching you.
You desperately nodded, feeling how the movements of his fingers became more rapid and forceful. 
“Yes, baby, of course you are. Such a pretty angel. My beautiful girl…” Heeseung mumbled, leaning against your ear again. His praise only intensified your desire and the pressure in your stomach. You came hard with a loud moan, seeing stars, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 
Heeseung's fingers helped you to ride your orgasm, slowing down after. He pulled them out, causing you to whine, shoving them in his mouth and tasting you on his tongue.
“The kind of heaven I'm ready to die for,” Heeseung whispered, looking at your fuckuped state in bliss. Your back relaxed, falling to the mattress. The unnatural stretch was already giving away, pulsating in your lower back. Heeseung affectionately rubbed it with one hand, another one doing the same with your thigh. He leaned closer to your face to press a kiss on your forehead. “Angel?”
You hummed in response, slowly opening your eyes, damp hair pressing to your temples. Your hand shakily reached for Heeseung's face, resting on his cheek. His gaze managed to turn soft, even though you could still see lust in his eyes.
“I love you,” you whispered, brushing away a strand of his hair. Heeseung softly smiled, reaching to hold your hand and bring it to his mouth. His lips gently tickled the skin of your knuckles.
“I love you too,” he whispered, hot breath against the back of your hand. You smiled back, making him chuckle. “You can't even imagine… how crazy you made me,” Heeseung jokingly confessed, even though his words held the truth. “Can you imagine? A devil in love… and so soft.”
You chuckled, bringing his face closer to yours. “Well, I can.” Your mouth curved into a grin, Heeseung's eyes lowering to your lips. 
You felt something hard pressing against your thigh, making you sigh at the realization. The rush of heat washed over you again. You brought his face even closer to yours, lips smacking against his in the affectionate peck. “Hee,” your voice was quiet but firm. Something serious and sad was in your gaze, but Heeseung couldn't quite catch it. “I want you all to myself tonight."
Heeseung's breath caught in his throat. The way you said this phrase made his stomach flip, his cock becoming even harder — if that was even possible.
"Yeah?" he asked in a hoarse voice, quite affected by your bold phrasing. His eyebrows raised, and the smirk spread all over his face. Yet, his gaze was filled with something deeper, more emotional. Something similar to adoration.
"Yeah," you whispered in reply, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs and studying the lines of your touch with your eyes, trying to remember every single part of his face — his adorable mole on the forehead, his beautiful deer eyes, his plump pink lips, his soft skin. "And I want you to have me too. All of me..."
A lonely tear escaped your eye, soaking the side of your cheek like a reminder of inevitability. Of the predicted future you two were so scared of. The one that was making you doubtful about the next morning, and sure only about the present moment.
One of your hands traveled down Heeseung's torso with a gentle touch, eyes not looking away from his. With the softness of an angel, you tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling them off his hips. Heeseung's grip on your waist tightened, your featherlike touch clearly affecting him.
With another hand, you pulled his face closer to yours, lips finally touching each other, tongues slowly moving in a gentle dance full of love. You led the kiss and your other hand down his hips to palm his hardness through the boxers. Heeseung groaned in your lips, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to yours.
"Teasing is not good for an angel, baby," he breathed out, his dark eyes locking on yours. You gave him a small smile and led your hand under the waistband of his underwear.
"I guess you've spoiled me," your words pulled out of him a chuckle that immediately turned into a moan when you touched him without any fabric in between.
Your hand stroked his free cock, spreading pre-cum all over his length. Heeseung bent your leg, pressing it to you. The tip of his dick was almost touching your core. You ended up gasping at the loss of control when he gripped your hand, pulling it away from his cock and pressing your wrists above your head to the mattress.
"So you're blaming it on me, huh? For the effect I have on you, for turning you into a dirty angel?" Heeseung murmured with a wicked smirk, the tip of his cock pressing to your entrance.
You intended to roll your hips, but he held you still, his free hand pressing your bottom to the mattress.
"Say it, baby. Say it's all my effect," Heeseung's cock teasingly slided between your folds, making you shiver, pulling out of you a whine. "The way you shake and make these pretty noises, the way you're all wet now. Is it all because of me? Answer, sweetheart."
You shakily took a breath, the tension was already building inside your stomach again.
"Yes... It's all you. Because of you. For you," Heeseung groaned at your words, finally sliding inside in one motion. You two moaned from the feeling of being so close to each other, of being in the right place with the right person.
"Gosh, you're insane..." Heeseung stood still for a moment, letting you adjust to his length. Your breaths were heavy, eyes locked on each other.
When you clenched around his cock, he took it as a sign and started moving, settling a slow rhythm. His thrusts were deep, hitting the right spots inside you and pulling out of you two moans. The room was filled with the wet sounds of your hot bodies collided together.
At that exact moment, you realized it. The way Heeseung's body was hovering over you, the way he was pressing you to the bed, the way he let go of your wrist just to hold your hand even when his thrusts were not the most gentle. Everything about it was wrong, yet felt so right. You actually could tell you were loved, happy even. And nothing mattered anymore. You realized that sacrificing yourself for moments like this was your actual fate. And it brought you relief, especially in the moment when Heeseung thrusted deeper, bringing you two to the edge of pleasure.
Heeseung's body weakened, carefully lying on yours, trying not to hurt you. Your heavy breaths became the only sound in the silent room.
You reached to bring his head closer, to run fingers in his soft locks again. He obeyed, burying his face deeper in the crook of your neck, arms instinctively wrapping around you.
Your eyes looked up above you. The ceiling had already started turning light, patterns from the rising sun becoming more evident. While caressing the nape of Heeseung's neck, your hand felt something unfamiliar to the touch. Your gaze moved to his back. That was his wings. Dark and devilish, they appeared on his back, signaling of the fact he was not able to control his form anymore. Your silent tears turned your face wet again.
Heeseung lifted his head from your neck. His eyes, supposed to be dark and sinful, held the unspoken softness and intimacy. His eyebrows were frowned, face wet and slightly red from the tears.
You two snapped.
Your hands cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours. Heeseung held the back of your head, embracing you with his other hand. You sat on the bed, your own wings already making it hard to lie down.
The kiss.
Your lips pressed to each other with unhidden emotion. It wasn't lust or passion, long forgotten in the sheets of this bed. They'd disappeared, turning into a smoke that dispersed around the room. It was love. Maybe something even deeper than that.
When you pulled away, looking into Heeseung's eyes, the tears were running down your face.
"Hee," you said in panic, searching for his reaction in his eyes. He gently held you, eyes soft and — out of a sudden — calm.
"Shhh, I'm here," Heeseung whispered, caressing the sides of your face with his thumbs. But the panic that settled in your soul didn't disappear.
"I don't want you to leave..." you whispered, feeling a lump in your throat from the tears that were blurring your view.
Heeseung gave you a small smile, wiping off the wet paths from your face. "I'm not going anywhere, angel. I'm always here, with you."
The corner of your eye caught a slight smoke coming from Heeseung's wing. You rushed to wrap hands around his neck, lips pressing to all of the possible spots for a kiss on his face.
"Pleasepleaseplease," you mumbled, begging for not knowing who. The panic was hitting hard, the inability to do absolutely anything was only making it worse.
"Angel, you need to calm down," Heeseung firmly said, not loving your anxious state. "Breathe with me, okay?"
You tried to calm down, to breathe. You even managed to do it for seconds. But when Heeseung started talking to you with a dark expression on his face, your face covered in tears again.
"Angel, I want you to know. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I am grateful to every single moment two of us spent together. Without you, my existence would be dull, nothing different from other devils' existence. But your presence made it bright," he tried to hold back the sob, but it didn't turn out successfully.
You hurried to hold him closer again, hands caressing his back in panic, lips pressing to his temple a countless number of times. Your sobs collided together, faces wet and red from tears.
"There is one more thing I want you to remember..." Heeseung managed to start, his wing already starting to be erased. "I love you," he whispered.
Tears started to run down your cheeks even more.
"I love you too," you whispered back.
He gave you a small smile. The wings almost disappeared behind his back, which meant that he was next.
You pressed lips to his again. You weren't kissing him like it was the last time. It was your last time.
His face started slipping away from your hands, turning into a little smoke. When you weren't feeling his lips on yours anymore, you opened your eyes.
He was gone.
You silently lay on the bed, not noticing how your wings had already disappeared.
The patterns on the ceiling were the same. They were still dancing in the sunrise just like they did when Heeseung was still there. When he was holding you. When he could tell you to stop overthinking, could call you 'his angel' and wipe the tears off your face. Now he was gone, but the patterns were still there.
Your hands started feeling numb, but you weren't paying attention. The only thing you could think of was Heeseung. You could still remember his dark, warm eyes, but you were craving to be able to actually see them. They were better in real life than in your imagination.
Smoke.
The smoke started blurring the vision, hiding the familiar patterns on the ceiling from your sight. It was getting harder to think with every second like someone was sucking the energy out of you. The patterns on the ceiling disappeared from your sight at all.
It was hard until it became easy. Until you let out the last sigh. Until you turned into nothing.
This is how you were erased from this world. With the last wish in your head. You desired to meet Heeseung again. To be born and able to find him. To see his warm eyes again. To wrap hands around him. To kiss him.
It was your last wish. But did you have a right to ask for that?
No. Because everyone knows that Heaven doesn't forgive those who are fallen.
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Š wemalyri All rights reserved. Do not copy or translate without permission.
//tags: @ikeugirly
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