#but what if i wrote them getting together like this

[thatonebirdwrites]

Gosh, I can relate to this.

I think about what fandom is a lot since I sort of lurk in a lot of spaces (until I feel brave enough to speak or share).

First off, the point of this addition isn't to guilt trip anyone, but to get people thinking about what community means. What inclusion means, and what engagement means. And how those are interconnected.

One of the crucial pillars of fandom, and the reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

Writing fanfiction and sharing it for free is about building community with one another. It's people who loved a show/movie/book enough that they wanted to play in the world longer, so they play together in that world with other people who love it too. That's what fanworks are -- it's people playing together in community because of a love toward a specific series/media.

But community requires communication. It requires building connections. It requries engaging one another.

I write long fics. In fact, adding up the word counts of my fics in AO3? It's well over a million words in two different fandoms. These are free novels written because the community had been welcoming at first and it had encouraged me to keep going.

But I made a mistake. Two of these projects (in two separate fandoms) I made into a series. Because of how each part in a series means the sequel gets less engagement, it feels like I'm watching a community dissolve, and that's painful. I don't get paid for this. It's all free, and part of the reason I went to fanfic writing was because of community.

Lack of engagement gives, often unintentionally, the author the message that they aren't really part of the fandom's community. At least not anymore (if they ever were).

Some say, "Well, don't write for your readers!"

Well, no, I don't write for my readers, but the act of sharing for free is me giving to the community and building up community.

But part of building up community requires people to give back in turn. Oherwise the community will fracture and fall apart.

The reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

It's the community part of fandom that has helped me to heal enough to write again, but when that community dries up or no longer engages with me, then what am I to do? I've lost that community, and if I continue to engage with it and get very little (if not nothing) in return, then at that point, I'm throwing my energy into a void in hopes for a scrap of community.

It ceases to fulfill the need. It leaves me feeling lost and alone. And finding out later how much people loved a fic I wrote but that fic received very little engagement? It tells me that I'm not loved as a person within the community.

I have watched and listen to people talk about how much it hurts when the work they put in so much effort in for the community gets little to no engagement. It often pushes them to engage less, to stop writing, and watching that happen? It hurts to see.

Community requires communication. Do not treat an fanfic author like a kiosk, where you grab the story and run. Treat them like they are part of your community. By doing so, by including them, you bolster their sense of belonging and are more likely to get stories in return.

Community needs to be reciprocal. And I fear fandoms are losing that understanding of what community is. They expect and sometimes demand more, but what are they doing to support that fanfic writer or artist? Are they engaging them and uplifting them within the community? Or are they not engaging them?

If you read an author's work and love it, include them in that community by sharing your thoughts in a comment. You don't necessarily have to comment on every chapter of a longer work (Though it is so lovely some do), but to at least offer up comments here and there to be inclusive of that author.

Engagement bolsters the community bond.

The lack of engagement breaks the community bond.

And that's a sort of grief. Us writers came for community and to share our love of the fandom with others. When we fail to be included in that community, it will hurt. It's a type of rejection that people may not even realize they are doing.

Community requires communication, and for fandoms, part of that communication is comments, kudos, (and gosh, even tumblr asks).

I hope that helps give people another perspective to consider.

Think it over. Think about what you'd like to give back to the creators in your community.

And please understand, if you can only give back one or so comments? That's okay and valid, and that too builds up community.

Even little actions matter.

Never think your small action doesn't matter or that your comment or kudos doesn't matter. It does. It helps build community too.

Thanks for reading. Be safe.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[notlongtolove]

joy sneaks in

you're chosen to host the BAU's annual christmas party at your apartment, where spencer's books line your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry. the days leading up to the party are a blur of stuffing his things into every drawer and cupboard you can find. it’s your mess. your life together. and it’s everything.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: domestic! and also a christmas party! less on the party and more on how spencer and bau!reader suck at lying though; which make for some humorous moments.

word count: 3.8k

note: i wrote this awhile back and felt like posting it too. honestly a tad bit dramatised for comedy's sake but whatever i love domesticity and nervous!spencer. and it was fun writing them flounder about.

a line: For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

joy does not arrive with a fanfare on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life joy sneaks in as you pour a cup of coffee - donna ashworth

It starts innocuously enough—a draw from Hotch's coffee mug, a simple slip of paper pulled out in front of the team, the scrawl of your name on it in black pen, and the pause before your name is announced in his unmistakably measured tone. “Looks like you’re hosting the Christmas party this year.”

Derek grins, his laugh a low rumble. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he drawls, shooting you a look that’s practically dripping with amusement.

You feel all the eyes on you, and the weight of it sinks into your chest. Your first instinct is to swallow it down, play it cool, try not to look at Spencer. Hosting a party means opening up your space— the space that’s been shared with Spencer for the last six months. Your apartment, which has slowly morphed into a mix of the two of you, a messy blend of both your lives—where his books spill off your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry, where his favourite mug has a place in your cupboard.

Derek leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk a beacon for trouble. “Better start tidying up, huh?”  You laugh it off, aiming for nonchalance but his teasing lands squarely in your chest. Your heart does that familiar flip when your gaze slips, unbidden, to Spencer who to your dismay, is standing there with his eyes ever so slightly widened like a deer caught in the headlights. You can feel the team’s teasing smiles from every corner of the room, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. But beneath their teasing, there’s an edge. Suspicion. They’ve been suspecting for weeks, piecing together the small clues you’ve been desperately trying to keep under wraps. 

And why wouldn’t they? The truth is, you’ve been dodging their invites lately, throwing out flimsy excuses about “errands” or “early mornings” that didn’t quite stick. At first, it was the occasional “I’ve got other plans”, but it became more frequent, more noticeable until even Derek had started to raise an eyebrow. He’d started poking at the seams of your alibis weeks ago, slouching against your desk with an eyebrow arched in pure disbelief. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he’d said. “What gives? You’ve gone full hermit mode on us.” You’d brushed it off, offering up a half-hearted excuse about how you’ll definitely join them next week, but Derek didn’t look convinced. And neither did the rest of the team. They weren’t blind, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was something—or rather someone you weren’t telling them about. 

Then there was Garcia, sidling up to you with that twinkle in her eye that only ever meant trouble. “Spill,” she demanded, hands on her hips. “Who is he? And when do I get to give him the Penelope Garcia Official Seal of Approval™?” You had laughed, and tried to deflect with a vague answer about how busy things had been. “Whoever he is, he better be worth it, because you”—she jabs a finger at you with exaggerated flair—“never skip a night out. Ever. We’re talking borderline-unbreakable attendance!” 

You bite back a smile, your mind flickering to those wild nights—sweaty dance floors, drinks flowing, laughter that echoed until dawn. It’s still a little surreal to think you’ve turned into one of those girls—the kind who would happily trade a night out with friends for a quiet evening in with their boyfriend. That was never your style. It was always a point of contention with past boyfriends. They always wanted more of your time, wanted more of your presence, but the idea of slowing down for someone else always felt like a compromise.

But somehow, with Spencer, it doesn’t quite feel like you're giving up anything at all. The simple, quiet moments with him have a gravity you never expected. Cooking dinner together while music hums softly in the background, curling up on the couch with a movie you’ve both seen a dozen times, or just sitting in comfortable silence as he reads and you scroll through your phone. The domesticity, the softness, the ease of it all—it feels complete. With Spencer, those quiet evenings aren’t boring. They’re grounding. For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

Honestly, you don’t really know how the team hasn’t put two and two together yet. Maybe it’s because you and Spencer had always been close—it was easy for them to chalk it up to that. Since you’d joined a year ago, it just felt natural to click with him, the two of you always slipping into the same rhythm. You were closest in age, after all, and the team had seen you trading inside jokes over takeout on stakeouts, hunched over books in the quiet moments after cases. In their eyes, it was harmless, a friendship born of long hours and shared exhaustion—Not that that came without teasing. 

The question was always there, floating just beneath the surface of their casual remarks. Words unspoken, a line uncrossed. That is, until a tense night in Texas where you had gotten far too close to an unsub. The team had gotten to you in time of course, they always do. But that didn't help shake off the lingering memories of the encounter as you stared out the window of the jet. It was so simple—a quiet look, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb gently tracing over your trembling fingers as you looked out the window trying to dispel the the thoughts of whatever had happened just hours ago—and suddenly, it was like every wall you’d both put up had just vanished. His touch held a weight that words couldn’t carry, and in that touch, something between you shifted, settling into a place neither of you had been willing to acknowledge before. Looking back, maybe you’d both felt it coming long before, but neither of you had dared to say it out loud. 

You and Spencer had made the decision together—keep things quiet a little while longer. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet. You wanted to savour the privacy of your stolen moments: his hand brushing yours during late-night coffee runs, your head resting on his shoulder as you both tried to survive the tail-end of a grueling case. It was fragile, precious. You could already hear the laughter, the surprise, the “We knew it!” and the endless questions about how long it had been going on, how you kept it from them, how you didn’t tell them sooner. And you could already feel the weight of that—how you’d both be under a microscope in a way you just weren’t ready for. You liked the privacy, the simple, quiet moments that only the two of you shared. It was yours, together, something no one else needed to know about just yet.

The days leading up to the party are a blur of frantic cleaning, shoving Spencer’s belongings into anywhere they can fit. “Emily’s a hawk with this stuff,” Spencer mutters, half-buried in a pile of mismatched socks and paperbacks. It had started with a few quick attempts at tidying up, but soon it turned into a frenzy of stuffing things—his things—into every drawer and cupboard you can find trying to make your place look like you’re just you. 

You hold up a pair of slippers with a dubious look. “Do these scream, ‘man secretly living here’?” You hesitate, then stuff them into your wardrobe anyway. “Hotch will see the shoes. He’s thorough.” At one point, Spencer just starts throwing random clothes into a duffel bag with a kind of desperate determination, muttering something about how “Derek knows way too much about my wardrobe”. Despite the chaos, there’s laughter—giddy, shared moments, like when Spencer hisses in horror at your attempt to cram his gift—an English copy of War and Peace—under the coffee table. “That’s sacrilege,” he whispers furiously, clutching the book to his chest as if shielding it from harm. You have to bite back a grin.

There’s a particular moment though, when you’re crouched beside the couch again, frantically trying to shove a few stray novels underneath the coffee table hoping they’ll blend in with the meticulously arranged stack of Architectural Digest magazines you’d placed there purely for ‘decorative purposes’. Spencer suddenly peeks out from the bedroom, his eyes wide with alarm, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic. “Hey, can you, uh, maybe not put those under the coffee table?” he whispers urgently. 

You pause, halfway through your task, and blink up at him. “Why?”

“It’s just—” He looks around frantically as though an ominous presence has settled around you. “They will know. They’ll know,” he repeats, shaking his head, the weight of some unspeakable doom settling over him. It’s all you can do not to burst out laughing. You try to keep the situation light, but then you see the look in Spencer’s eyes. This is serious business. 

And you nearly lose it, stifling a laugh so hard it hurts. The sheer absurdity of the situation.  Yet, beneath the humour, there’s something grounding about it—in the middle of the chaos, the intimacy of it all hits you harder than you expected. This isn’t just a mess; it’s your mess. Your life together. And it’s everything.

By the time the day comes and the team arrives, the apartment looks borderline staged. You feel a little more prepared—almost confident even. You breathe a little easier, relieved that all the obvious signs have been concealed. You act casual, ushering them in with drinks and snacks, but the sharp-eyed profilers in the room are already picking up on things you’ve missed. Rossi’s gaze flickers to the second set of keys on the hook. JJ raises an eyebrow at the coffee machine by your counter. You don't drink coffee. And Derek? He’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary, leaning against the wall and watching it all unfold.

“Nice place,” he says smoothly, his tone loaded. Rossi’s eyes fall on the meticulously organized bookshelf, your heart stutters. “War and Peace,” he says, picking up the hefty copy with a raised brow. “Yours?” 

You freeze, your stomach sinking, silently cursing yourself for giving in to Spencer’s insistence that it was too precious to be shoved under the dusty coffee table. It had seemed fine at the time, but you should’ve known better. 

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “Mine. I’m really, uh, passionate about Tolstoy.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Since when?

You flounder, trying to remember any of Spencer’s ramblings about the book that you may or may not tune out at times. Your mind races as you remember brief mentions about symbolism and war and societal constraints. “Since, um…well, you know, Tolstoy is…deep. About…symbolism. And…life.”

Spencer, bless him, is standing behind them in your kitchen, making desperate hand signals to help you out. He subtly taps his chest, mouthing “individualism,” then points at his head, clearly trying to convey something intellectual that’s just not coming through. His hands flutter around like he’s illustrating the grandness of Russian literature, and you do your best to follow his cues. You latch onto it like a life raft. “Individualism and thinking about—uh—society!” You nod vigorously, wishing you could disappear into the floor. Emily eyes you, smiling a little too knowingly. Spencer, meanwhile, is practically acting out War and Peace like a mime in the background, pretending to hold a musket, then making exaggerated ‘thinking’ gestures, trying to help you navigate this act. 

“I just love Tolstoy’s exploration of, uh, individual identity within societal constraints…” you manage, brows furrowing as if trying to convince even yourself of the words spilling out. Rossi’s brow lifts, skepticism dancing in his eyes, but he says nothing, clearly amused as he watches you scramble, letting you dig yourself a little deeper. He’s David Rossi for a reason—The man’s silence is practically weaponized, making you ramble on and on, as if you’ll somehow stumble your way into a believable explanation. You’re nervous-rambling now and you can feel yourself grasping at threads, scrambling to remember something—anything—that sounds remotely convincing. You start stumbling over a vaguely remembered plot point and that’s when Spencer starts making his way towards you from the kitchen, grimacing as you butcher the story. He walks toward you almost as if to steady you, a silent plea for you to stop digging yourself a bigger hole than you already have. “Yeah, well… it’s, uh, definitely a classic,” he says, stepping in.

Spencer subtly coughs behind his hand, catching Derek’s attention for just a second—enough to let you scramble for closing line. But the team’s smirks only grow. “Well,” Emily says with a laugh, “if you’re such a big fan of this Tolstoy guy, why don't you tell us your favorite passage hm?” You try not to cast a desperate look Spencer’s way. Spencer opens his mouth like he’s about to cut in, but Derek catches his attention with a look that says, Don’t even think about it, Spence.

Their eyes dart between the two of you, waiting for something. You can feel the tension building. Spencer stands there looking on, probably trying to telepathically send you the correct Tolstoy quote—or any Tolstoy quote at this point, but you’re lost in a sea of flailing words and desperate thoughts.

“Uh, no, actually, I don’t have a favorite passage,” you finally stammer. “It’s just, you know, the themes are really profound.”

Emily crosses her arms and gives you a once-over, clearly reveling in whatever spectacle just unfolded. “Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, Rossi smoothly redirects the group’s attention to the kitchen, likely throwing you a lifeline to salvage what little dignity remains. You and Spencer exchange glances, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smile. It’s a private little conspiracy you two have shared for half a year, but now, as the night wears on, it’s starting to feel like the universe has other plans.

It doesn’t help that your team is sharp—they catch everything, a roomful of profilers who thrive on details, and tonight, every small habit, every casual touch seems magnified. Garcia narrows her eyes when she spots Spencer absentmindedly reaching to fix the crooked frame on the shelf. “You know where that goes, huh, Boy Wonder?” she teases, winking, and Spencer mumbles something about “aesthetic consistency,” looking thoroughly flustered.

You try to brush it off, laughing along with her, but then there’s Hotch, eyeing the stack of board games in the corner, the ones you both picked out last month on a whim. “Didn’t know you were into game nights, Y/N,” he comments. “Oh, yeah. Huge fan of… Scrabble,” you say, your voice a little too high, trying not to look at Spencer, who’s doing everything he can to stifle a laugh. 

You can practically hear the thoughts running through his head, probably remembering the night you’d blown up at him after he beat you four times in a row with a ridiculously pretentious winning word—quixotic, no less. You’d been so mad, you’d tossed your tiles and stormed off like a petulant child. Now, judging from the way he's trying to hide his grin, the twitch at the corner of his lips, it's clear he hasn’t forgotten the fiery aftermath either. You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. 

Your life with him has become this strange, endearing mix of shared routines and accidental collections. Where he’s meticulous, you’re spontaneous, always flying by the seat of your pants and, at times, leaving him with a resigned sigh when you’ve left your keys in places you never should. It’s a quiet chaos, but it works. And now, as you stumble through the evening, every little piece of your life— your lives are flashing under the team’s increasingly suspicious gaze. 

JJ picks up a scarf lying casually on the floor, half-tucked beneath one of your jackets. She holds it up with a curious look. “Hey, Spence, this yours?” Spencer’s heart skips a beat, and he quickly tries to school his expression, but the wide-eyed panic is hard to hide. He looks at the scarf as if it’s just been resurrected from the depths of his lost belongings. “Oh thanks!” he says, dramatically, “I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” He reaches for the scarf with an eagerness that betrays his attempt at nonchalance, fumbling with it awkwardly. “I thought I’d lost it,” he adds, his words tumbling out in an over-explained rush as his fingers fuss with the fabric.

JJ doesn't buy it. Not for a second. “Funny, I thought you brought it with you today,” she says, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “Since, you know, it’s right here by the door.”

Spencer freezes again, scrambling for a response. “Right... yeah, that—that makes sense. Of course.” He forces out a laugh, the sound more nervous than casual, and wraps the scarf around his neck with an exaggerated flourish. “Good to have it back,” he adds weakly, trying and failing to look composed.

JJ just shakes her head, her grin widening. “Sure, Spence. Whatever you say.” She watches him for a moment longer, clearly amused by the whole thing, before finally turning away, letting him stew in his overdramatic act. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, but his cheeks are still tinged with pink, and he can’t help but glance nervously over at you hoping you’re doing a better job than him at keeping this increasingly bad act up. 

By the time Garcia corners Spencer in the kitchen, her grin is practically predatory. “You guys are terrible at this, you know.” Spencer looks all too comfortable setting dishes away for someone who has only ever been to your place 'once or twice'. Spencer sighs, defeated, but there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you across the room. “Yeah,” he says, more to himself than to her. “We are.” Spencer, at least, seems resigned, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you across the room, fumbling as you desperately try (and fail) to explain away a forgotten pair of mismatched socks by the door—somehow "yours" now, despite them clearly being too big.

You can feel your cheeks burning as the night progresses, their eyes catching every little detail—his fingers brushing against yours when he hands you a drink, the way you absentmindedly drape your arm behind him on the couch as the night winds down after one too many said drinks. The team exchanges knowing glances, soft chuckles bubbling up around you as they take in every stray look and subtle movement between the two of you. 

As you say your goodbyes and thank yous, it’s clear you’ve been thoroughly caught. Emily snickers, shaking her head as she slips on her coat. “You two are adorable,” she murmurs, grinning without trying to hide it. You clear your throat feigning innocence, trying to look casual. She turns back with a sly smirk, her voice laced with amusement. “So Spence," she asks, challenging, "You staying the night?”

The room falls silent. They all know. You both know they know. Spencer, ever the professional, tries to brush it off. “I’ll help clean up,” he says nonchalantly, but the team is already rolling their eyes, clearly seeing right through the act. They’ve been in this business long enough to recognize the signs.

You try to come up with something clever but Spencer knows it’s game over. He steps in beside you and there’s that look on his face, that soft, earnest expression he gets when he’s about to confess something—whether it’s a fact about astrophysics or a half-hidden truth he’s been holding close. “Alright, alright” he says, glancing at you for reassurance. “You got us.”

Spencer slips his hand into yours, his fingers warm and steady, grounding you in this moment. A round of knowing laughter echoes through the room, with Derek clapping Spencer on the back, Garcia gasping dramatically, and Rossi chuckling, muttering something along the lines of “about time”.

Spencer squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

The team leaves you with a final round of cheers and teasing winks, and as the door clicks shut, you turn to Spencer, his smile mirroring your own. You hear the unmistakable whoops and cheers from outside. A laugh bubbles up inside you.

Once the house quiets and the last footsteps fade away, Spencer pulls you into his arms. The soft glow of the christmas lights he'd helped you put up yesterday creates a warm halo around him as he looks down at you, that adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Guess the secret’s out,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek.

You shake your head, a little amused at how badly you’d tried to cover up something everyone already knew. “We really are terrible at this,” you admit.

“Well,” he replies in a low voice, “it could’ve gone worse.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “Think they bought it, even for a moment?”

“Not a chance sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But it was fun watching you try.”

You lean into him, the warmth of his touch, his presence grounding you in a way you never expected but now can't imagine living without. You look around the room, taking in the space you’ve shared together. Sure, most of his belongings are still hidden away, tucked somewhat haphazardly in the cupboards or behind closed doors, but there are traces of him everywhere. It’s in the small things—the little hints of Spencer imprinted into the fabric of your life.

There are hints of Spencer in the kitchen sink, the one he fixed when it started leaking a few months ago. You had been ready to call a plumber, but Spencer had insisted he could handle it. He always does.

There are hints of Spencer in how you've stopped arranging your plates a certain way just for aesthetics because he'd proven how much more convenient it was to stack them according to how often you used them.

There are hints of Spencer in the stain on the couch from pasta night three weeks ago, a mishap that still makes you both laugh whenever you catch sight of it.

There are things only the two of you can understand. A code only the two of you can decipher. Small, unnoticed details that no one else can see—No matter how observant they are, no matter how well they think they can read you. 

And so maybe it's okay that the secret you’ve shared for months now belongs to the people who matter most. Because as you think of these little hints of Spencer—the way he’s subtly woven himself into your life and you into his—you realize that some things do get to stay your own little secret after all. And in that, there’s something beautiful, something that’s just yours.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[heartfullofleeches]

PLEASE ELABORATE PELASE

Shout out to you and the anon who wrote this:

[Please elaborate about consensual intox play with Sammy, I miss my masochistic guard dog of a boy <3]

For enabling me-

-

[ (consensual) Drugging, Submissive Yan, mentions of alcohol and weed]

He plays it off as a passing thought- A reoccurring fantasy he knows will haunt him until he hears your opinion on the idea.

"I don't really drink... Everyone I've drank with says I'm a lightweight which some think is funny due to how tall I am.. One beer is enough to get me tipsy.."

Sammy bites his lip hard enough to make them bleed- It's so embarrassing, almost humiliating to speak about his desires aloud. You're the only person he'd ever want to play them put with, so it's better out than in.

"Would you ever be interested in... using me while I'm under the influence?"

There's nothing Sammy yearns for more than being under your complete control. Eyelids drooping as you inch closer, encouraging him to take just one more sip. His fingers unable to properly suction to the glass as his weight slumps against the couch, motor skills lose to a battle he had no hope of winning as whatever you gave him hits his system.

"Having a little trouble, Sam? It's okay, I'll take good care of you. Why don't I help you get out of that stuffy sweater? You're burning up, sweet boy-"

Teasing him more, strip him bare and ravage him to your heart's content. Call him useless, useless without you there to pick up the pieces. He can't do a thing without you in this state - so hopelessly dependant as his lips struggle to form the sentences needed to beg you for all you can give.

All this, but with a Stoner Darling instead-

Sammy writhing in anticipation waiting for the edibles Darling gave him to kick in. Watching them take a puff from their smoking method of choice, wishing they'd force it down his throat in the next breath. Poking fun at him for being so out of his mind from one heavy hit when it takes a trained professional like them several to be as totaled as Sam is. They'd never do that to him, but a man can dream-

"Out like a light, already? We're gonna have to build up that tolerance of yours a bit, Sam. Think you can take another kiss?.... Haha, what am I even asking for? I know you can, Sammy..."

Sammy and Darling having a cute date together with consent established prior- Sam's hanging onto their every word, wondering when they'll make their move when he suddenly begins to feel the effects of whatever they slipped into his drink without him noticing. Darling smiles and laughs like nothings out of the ordinary as they drag their flustered, slurring boyfriend back to the car-

I'm feral for this man.

[writergirlll]

can you write something about F1 driver (doesn't matter who) x reader, when they were best friends since childhood, but then suddenly they become strangers. no one knows how, why, and not even themselves, until they meet at the Las Vegas GP after a long absence..

Yeah suree. (I know this is pretty bad, but I wrote this late at night, so sorry, I'll just get better!!)

CHILD MEMORIES /LH44

Lewis Hamilton x reader

I don't know why I put Lewis, but somehow he fit me there..

words: 2k+

You were everything. You brightened up anyone, you laughed at everything, you were the sun of Mercedes. Everyone loved you, you were inseparable.

You and Lewis have been best friends since birth. Your families were close, so you practically had no choice but to hang out with each other. But the decision was great!

You spent whole days together, the same kindergarten, elementary school and then high school. You weren't even separated when Lewis started driving F1 because you followed him to EVERY race. Everyone knew how close you were. Journalists, fans, co-workers of Lewis, your families and you.

That's why you just didn't know what happened. Four months have passed since Lewis' last race. And you haven't seen each other in four months. You didn't know why, you didn't know how.

Lewis stopped texting you, stopped answering your calls, and blocked you pretty much everywhere. You couldn't comment on his posts, you couldn't do anything. When you were waiting for him three days ago after the race, you didn't even get to see him because Russell kicked you out saying that Lewis definitely didn't want to see you.

You didn't understand it at all because you were inseparable and the worst part was that everyone asked you about it. Your whole family asked you, your friends, fans of you and Lewis, or even the press. But you just couldn't answer. You couldn't tell them that you had absolutely no idea what was going on and you wanted to know. You couldn't tell them it was Lewis who cut you off because he would be blamed. And okay, maybe he's ignoring you right now and you don't know why, but you're definitely not a bitch who would betray him and take the blame on him. Yes, he was at fault, but not everyone needs to know that..

And that's why you decided to go to the race in Las Vegas, to find out the answers. You knew it might not be a good idea because you might get fired again and it would be even worse for your psyche, but you had to know the answers. Just had to.

“Y/n no! You're not going to the movies with him” Lewis started yelling at you when you were nine.

,,Why? You are not my mom to order me around. He's nice to me and he doesn't yell at me unlike you" you stuck your tongue out at him and started putting on your mom's lipstick.

"He's not nice. He's just using you" he shook his head and stepped closer to you.

"But he's handsome. You don't know him at all” you mumbled as you concentrated on putting red on your lips.

"I know him. He doesn't do homework at all and his dad is said to have been in prison. He's not nice to me at all" he explained and you turned to him.

“Is it true?” you asked and he nodded quickly, his head almost falling off. "But I already have the tickets and I've made an appointment with him" you whined.

"Then you will come with me and we will write him a letter on the way. He only lives a few minutes away anyway" Lew thought up and you finally went along with his solution.

You took off your lipstick and pulled out a piece of paper and started writing - which looked like a scratch that you weren't going anywhere with. Then you put it in the envelope Lew had made in the meantime, sealed it with saliva, and dropped it in his mailbox when you went to the cinema.

At home, you packed some things, bought tickets and booked a hotel. You told your parents and everyone close to you about your plan and got on the plane.

After a few hours of flight, you finally flew to Las Vegas, called a taxi and went to check into the hotel.

When you did this, you decided it was time to go get answers. You didn't know what you would say to him when you saw him in four months, or if you would see him at all, but you wanted to at least try.

You've been pretty sick these past few months and weeks. You were constantly wondering if it was your fault and what you did wrong. The family told you that it might not be your fault but his, but you just didn't want to believe that Lewis would do something like that. Certainly not the Lewis you knew.

You cried for days and nights and it took you a long time to sort of recover from it. You knew that if Lewis ignored you even today, or didn't let you see him, it would be even worse. But why not give it a try?

You left the hotel straight to the track, where the qualification was supposed to start in an hour so you were hoping to catch Lewis before quali started.

You showed your VIP ticket at the entrance to the track, even though the people at the gate already knew you very well and would have taken you without a ticket, and you headed to the Mercedes garage, more nervous than ever.

You slowly shuffled there, already having several journalists on your neck, which you successfully ignored. And you also successfully ignored the feeling that told you to turn around and not go there at all.

It wasn't long before you saw a boy in a blue jumpsuit who revealed himself to be George Russell. As soon as you approached him, he noticed you and frowned at first before smiling slightly when he saw your expression.

“Y/n hi. You haven't been here long" he said as he walked up to you and gave you a quick hug.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much reason to walk there" you smiled firmly and looked around for Lewis. "Don't you know where Lewis is?" you asked and George's smile immediately disappeared from his face.

"I think he doesn't want to talk to you much. Besides we are going quali in a bit” he said quickly and you frowned.

"I absolutely do not see why you are bodyguarding him, but I want to know the reason why he did this to me. I have a right to know” you got angry.

"I know, I know but..-"

"No, no but. Just let me go to him. I need to know” you whispered the last part of your sentence and with that George pulled away from you leaving you to search the area.

You searched for quite a long time before you finally caught sight of his head. He was already dressed in his racing suit and was looking for something on the table, among all the things. You stopped for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping forward..

Either it will ruin your life or you will find out the reason..

“Lewis?” your little six year old self whispered and patted little Lewis.

“Yeah” he turned sleepily in his bed and looked at you.

"Could I sleep with you? I'm scared on the floor" you whispered and desperately hoped he would say yes. You were supposed to sleep with him, but since his bed was small, you had to sleep on the floor, which you didn't like.

Little Lewis didn't answer, he just shifted on the bed towards the wall and lifted the covers. You quickly took advantage of this and crawled under the covers, where you snuggled up.

"Thank you so much" you smiled a little and felt tiredness wash over you. Lewis barely nodded, himself already in dreamland and put his arm around your small body and hugged you.

"I love you" you kissed his cheek and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Me too" Lewis smiled, pulling you closer and together you slowly returned to the realm of dreams..

“Lewis?” You asked cautiously, stepping a fair distance away from him to give you some space. You could see a light bulb go off in his head that it was you and he tensed slightly before turning to you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without a greeting and glared at you. Okay, maybe you really should have stayed home..

"I came to watch the race" you replied because you didn't want to argue right now even though you knew it would most likely end up like that.

"And did you buy VIP tickets?" he rolled his eyes at your stupidity and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you ignoring me? Why did you just do all this overnight" you asked him and even though it was only the first question, tears formed in your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Lewis shook his head and went back to looking for things.

"Lewis, you know it very well. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? Because I really don't know why you just left me without an explanation after more than 30 years of knowing each other" you frowned and you made him turn around.

"I don't know okay" he started waving his hands and sighed.

“So you don't know?” you whispered, a single tear falling down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, but Lewis seemed to see it. "After all four months, when I cried constantly because I didn't know the fuck reason why you did it, you're going to tell me that you don't know? You don't even know how much I've been worried about this because how could you when you blocked me everywhere and when I followed you George dumped me” now you started crying.

Looking at your tear covered face, Lewis softened slightly and moved a little closer to you. "I couldn't see you" he only said and looked sympathetic. "I really wanted, I wanted to hug you and explain everything to you, but I couldn't".

"But why"? you sniffed and wiped away the stray tears with the back of your hand - and that there were a lot of them.

"I" he started and ran a hand through his hair without continuing. "Maya, my ex-girlfriend. I started dating her shortly before I cut you off, you didn't even get to know her. She was very angry that I was talking to you and on top of that the whole team said that I was fired by you because I wasn't winning so many races, so I thought this would be the easiest solution. I knew it was definitely wrong, but it was the easiest. But when Maya broke up with me a month ago because she found someone else, I didn't have the strength to go to you. I knew you'd be mad. I knew I messed up terribly. Please forgive me. Please" now he started crying too.

His explanation left you completely shocked. You didn't know what to say to that. You may have understood Maya because you yourself have experienced that a person behaves differently under the pressure of a loved one, but that his team said are you distracting him?

“So this was the easiest solution?” you finally asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't know, please forgive me. I understand what you had to go through and I don't want to lose all those years when we were kids and teenagers" he begged walking closer to you before wiping your wet cheeks with his big hands.

"And Mercedes thinks I'm distracting you"?

"Well, George doesn't. The other teams didn't either, but we really had a tough season, everyone thought differently, they certainly didn't mean it" he hugged you tightly and didn't want to let go.

You wrapped your arms around his back and he wrapped his around your waist. "Let's not lose all our friendship, please. I'll do anything" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

He might have done a bad thing that cost you an extreme amount of tears and everything, but he was still Lewis, who you had loved since birth and who would never knowingly do something so horrible.

"Lew i don't want to lose our friendship either. But I will remember what you did. And I also hope that your Maya, who is probably a nice bitch by the way, doesn't show up in my life" you laughed lightly and Lewis too.

So in the end it turned out to be a good decision to go to Las Vegas...

“What if we never see each other again?” you sighed and looked deeply into the eyes of your best friend of 15 years.

"We'll see. I'm only going there for a few days for now, but you'll be able to go to my races. I'll give you a discount" he smiled at you seeing your concern and you shook your head.

Lew got an offer to F1, when they invited him to an audition and if he succeeded, he would go to junior competitions for a few years in Italy.

"You can't leave me here" you shook your head once more and pulled him into a hug.

"I won't let. Never. Best friends forever"?

"Best Friends Forever".

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rumors

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader (no specific characterization, but he wears the eye makeup from The Batman)

Summary: Gotham has shared rumors about you and Bruce for years, and Bruce finally decides to do something about them.

Warnings: none, I think! it's mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Inspired by Rumor by Lee Brice + Battinson's eye makeup

A/N: I just found this and have no idea how long ago I wrote it. I edited it, but hopefully it's decent!

Masterlist | DC/Bruce Wayne Masterlist | Request Info

It’s late; the sun disappeared hours ago, and the pale moonlight took its place. This is when Gotham looks its prettiest, with no bright light to shine on the dark alleys, dirty streets, and criminals lurking around corners. But this is also when Gotham is at its worst. No one knows that more than you and Bruce Wayne.

Everyone in Gotham, you included, has tried to label the relationship you have with the billionaire, but no one seems to be able to decide on a suitable title; you’re too close to be colleagues, not close enough to be partners, friends seems to be too little, but in a relationship feels like a stretch. No matter what the tabloids call the two of you from week to week, you’re constant. Never apart for more than a day or two, Gotham’s prince and his seemingly dearest friend are seen together far more often than you are seen apart.

Your eyes burn as you force them to stay open, clicking the mouse to read another article in the Journal of the American Medical Association. You’re not a doctor and never wanted to be, but it seems to be the only thing able to hold your attention and keep you awake. Somewhere above you, in Wayne Manor, a grandfather clock rings, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. The police scanners have been quiet for several minutes, and the walkie-talkie beside your cell phone is silent. Your head turns toward the garage entrance as you stop scrolling through the abstract for an article about obstructive sleep apnea. Your attention is captured by the familiar sound of the Batmobile rumbling in the night. The engine idles for a moment before silence reclaims the cave, the headlights dimming and allowing the peaceful darkness to overtake the night again.

“Quiet night?” you ask quietly, your voice carrying to not disturb the rare peacefulness surrounding you.

“Yeah,” the gruff voice of Batman responds.

He lifts his tired arms to remove his cowl, sets it on the desk, and flits his eyes across the computer screen before they land on you. Baby blues scan up and down your frame before finding your face as if you were the one who had been in danger all night; as if you could have been injured sitting in the plush office chair and reading medical journals.

“Alfred left your dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry,” you say, smiling softly as you stand.

You lift your hand and push Bruce’s hair off his forehead, a sigh escaping his lips at the contact. It’s been too long since someone touched him like this, even though you did so just this morning before his business meeting.

“‘M not hungry,” he says, his voice returned to normal. Bruce, not Batman.

“You should get some sleep.”

“So should you.”

“After you.”

He carefully removes his suit, places it on its stand in the Batcave, now donning sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking much softer than he had mere minutes ago. You take his hand and lead him to the elevator, leaning against the rail as it takes you up into Wayne Manor, opening into a dark hallway. Bruce takes the lead, expertly navigating his home and entering his bedroom, his hand never leaving yours.

“Bruce,” you say, tugging his hand as he makes a beeline for his bed. “Your eyes.”

“Right,” he sighs, releasing your hand and moving to the bathroom.

You follow him silently, laying your hand atop his own as you gently pull a washcloth from his fingers. Nodding at him, you gesture toward the closed toilet, which he sits down on, and tilt his head up slightly. After wetting the washcloth and grabbing the gentle skin cleanser from his cabinet, you move to stand before him, unsurprised when his hands find your hips and pull you closer, now standing between his legs. The silence surrounding the two of you is never uncomfortable but a relief from the stresses and pains of daily life in Gotham. As you raise the washcloth, he closes his eyes. You gently wipe the excess makeup from his skin before adding the cleanser and watching the color lift off his skin. With each gentle stroke of the washcloth, he looks more like Bruce Wayne.

“Done,” you whisper, stepping away from him and rinsing the black product from the washcloth.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, standing and wrapping his arms around your waist, his chest pressed to your back as he drops his chin to your shoulder. “For everything.”

You smile at him in the mirror before leading him to bed, not arguing when he asks you to lay with him. The comfort of someone you care about by your side all night is unlike any other.

The first Wayne Charity Gala since the murder of Thomas and Martha is officially underway. Gotham officials and citizens have been eagerly and impatiently counting the days since the announcement several weeks ago. You spearheaded the planning, running constant interference between Bruce Wayne and picky Wayne Enterprises partners. The gala was planned to the minute, not a detail forgotten. Bruce had agreed to make a public entrance on the condition he had a table to himself, a wish that was quickly granted. The ballroom is now filled with people, co-planners talking in the earpiece you wear as you survey everything from the corner.

“We need more champagne in section 7,” you say into your microphone.

“On it,” a response sounds immediately. Several servers carrying full trays exit the kitchen and move to their assigned sections.

You begin making laps around the room, sticking to shadows and corners, politely greeting guests as you met them. The gala begun twenty minutes ago, and the building was already nearing maximum occupancy. The entertainment has yet to begin, waiting for the mayor, Bruce Wayne, and several other prominent Gothamites to arrive. The roar of paparazzi from outside the large double doors signals the arrival of one of these people. All eyes are on the door as they open yet again and everyone watches the mayor enter and greet her fellow citizens. Shortly after, the man of the hour makes his grand entrance. Bruce's dark hair is styled, and a new navy suit adorns his strong figure. He shakes hands with a fake smile plastered on his face as he makes his way to his table near the back door. Relief washes across his face as he reaches it, conversing briefly with a Wayne Enterprises associate before she is called away. You watch him with a smile, still listening to the gala workers in your ear.

“The mayor will be on stage in two minutes,” someone alerts.

“Perfect. After her speech, escort the entertainment to the stage,” you respond.

After a short detour to ensure the backstage area is to Wayne Enterprises’ standards, you are surprised to see Bruce Wayne’s table empty. The mayor approaches the stage, the chatter in the room quieting as people find their seats. You walk around a pillar and nearly run into a waiter. You apologize as you step backward and hit someone’s chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, keeping you upright and away from the floor.

“I apologize,” you say as you separate yourself from your savior, nodding to the waiter before he returns to the kitchen. “May I get you anything?” you ask as you turn to face the man who had caught you. Oh.

“You could take a break. Join me at my table. I do have a plus one,” Bruce replies with a smile.

“Actually, you don’t. You waived it when you only RSVP’d for yourself,” you retort playfully.

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“Mr. Wayne, I have work to do.”

“Five minutes. You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want a break from those heels.”

“As right as you are, there is a lot of press in here; you’re dealing with enough headlines right now.”

You peek around the corner and see the lights dimming.

“You need to get back out there,” you say, gently pushing him toward his table.

He catches your wrist gently and asks, “Find me when you get a chance?”

“If you haven’t ditched by the time I get a break, I will find you,” you promise.

He smiles and nods before returning to his table. You continue your rounds during the mayor’s speech and the beginning of the entertainment show. Concerns from the staff lead you to the kitchen, where you decide to open another box of the expensive champagne and begin serving dessert early. Many laps later, the gala is winding down as guests begin leaving, and the entertainment thanks the audience before they exit the stage. Within an hour, only a few guests remain, and the cleaning staff is waiting for them to leave to begin cleanup. You cross the room to gather the guest books from each table.

“You know how to plan a gala. I should let you do it more often,” a familiar voice says from behind you.

You smile as you turn to face Bruce. “No,” you protest softly as he tries to take the books from your arms. “You’re a guest.”

He tilts his head before looking around the room. “As the only one, I think it’s okay.”

You look around too, and notice the last guests are gone. You wave to alert the cleaning crew they’re ready to begin. As they enter the ballroom, Bruce uses the distraction and gently takes the guest books from you.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Bruce says, offering his free arm to you.

“I was going to stay and-“

“You’ve done more than enough, let’s go,” Bruce implores.

You disconnect your earpiece to leave them in the staff dressing room to be picked up in the morning. The guest books are placed aside to be cataloged and used for thank-you cards next week. After, Bruce leads you to his car, opens the passenger door, and helps you in before getting in himself. He drives back to Wayne Manor in comfortable silence, parks in the main garage, and leads you to one of the many guest rooms.

“There should be clothes in the closet, help yourself” Bruce says as he turns on the light.

You open the closet and see everything from pajamas to work clothes to evening gowns, and it is all your size. “What is all this?” you ask, turning to look at Bruce.

“Alfred and I thought that since you spend so much time here and do so much for us, you deserved your own space,” he explains with a shrug.

“You didn’t have to-” you interrupt yourself with a yawn - “do all this.”

“We wanted to. Get changed and meet me in the bathroom.”

You change before entering the bathroom, as requested. Bruce gestures to a soft chair at the vanity, and you sit down, looking up at him as he approaches you.

“My turn to return the favor.” He smiles before removing makeup from your face with soft touches. Pleased with the success of the makeup wipe, he turns and procures a wet washcloth, wetting your skin before he applies face wash and gently rubs it into your skin. After he rinses the face wash off, he picks up a brand-new bottle of your favorite moisturizer and applies it to your face and neck before wiping his hands on a separate towel. “Need anything else?” he asks.

“That was way more than I did for you,” you mumble sleepily.

“You do more for me than you realize,” Bruce states. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I need a plus one to the gala,” Bruce says as he enters your new office.

“Okay, Mr. Wayne,” you answer, pulling up the gala attendance list on your computer. “Who should I put down? Ms. Kyle?”

Bruce pinches his eyebrows together briefly before shaking his head. “No. I wrote it down to ensure you understand.”

He hands you a card, watching with a smile as you read your name.

“Mr. Wayne, I’m planning and working the gala, I can’t-“

“Pick someone else to run this one. You can still plan it, but I want you to come with me. If you agree, of course.”

“I’d love to. What about the press? Aren’t you worried about what they’ll say?”

“Not a bit. So, do I have a date?”

“You do, Mr. Wayne,” you answer with a smile.

“Perfect.” Bruce returns your smile, and you know you made the right choice.

You get ready for the gala at Wayne Manor. After choosing one of the gowns from the closet Bruce prepared for you, you gratefully accept Dory’s help with your hair and makeup.

Bruce knocks on your door, and you take a deep breath before opening it. He stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you. You look very handsome,” you respond.

Upon arriving at the gala, Bruce takes your hand as you both walked through the hordes of press and into the venue.

“You outdid yourself,” Bruce whispers, looking at the elaborate decorations and settings.

You smile, squeezing his hand gently as he leads you toward your table, never releasing your hand as he speaks to several people. After excusing himself, he asks you to dance. You stare up at him, dumbfounded that Bruce Wayne just asked you to dance. He pulls you against his side without waiting for an answer and leads you to the dance floor.

“Bruce, you know all the rumors are going to start again, right?” you ask as he places a hand on your hip and takes your hand in his other. Your hand raises to his shoulder while your eyes stay trained on his, unwilling to look around and see all the people staring.

“What if they weren’t rumors this time?” Bruce asks, leading the dance.

“What do you mean?”

“There have been rumors going around for years about me and you. Stirring up Gotham’s richest and criminals alike. Tell me why we are the only ones trying to deny this feeling. I feel it.”

“I do too,” you assure him softly.

“So, we can shut them down, I can shift the attention of the reporters,” Bruce begins. “Or… we could make it true.”

“Do you want to keep them talking or make them stop?” you counter.

Bruce doesn’t answer, finishing the dance. As the music fades, you drop your hands, but Bruce adjusts his grip on your waist and pulls you into a kiss that captures everyone’s attentions. Cameras flash, paparazzi yell, and Wayne Enterprises employees whisper to one another as several pay up for long-standing bets. Gotham knows what to call us know, you think.

You pull back first, and Bruce rests his forehead against yours.

“Maybe that will keep their focus of Batman for a few days,” he murmurs.

“One rumor at a time, Bruce.”

[adoresia]

── .✦ QUIET DEVOTION

⌗ PAIRING : Megumi Fushiguro x Black!femreader

⌗ SYNOPSIS : After a long day, Megumi waits for someone important to return from a mission. As exhaustion meets quiet affection, the night unfolds with unspoken care and fleeting vulnerability.

⌗ CW : fluff!, slight hurt/comfort tones, Mentions of fatigue.

⌗ SIA HERE ! : Was bored so I wrote this Lol, I have nothing else to say 😜

The dorm room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows over the walls. Megumi sat at his desk, his eyes skimming over a book, though he wasn’t really reading. His attention kept drifting to his phone, which he’d placed face-up on the table so he wouldn’t miss any notifications.

“I’ll come over after my mission, promise. It shouldn’t be too long.”

He had read that text at least twenty times now.

That was hours ago. He wasn’t worried about your safety—he knew you could handle yourself. It was more that a certain quiet anticipation had been eating at him all day. He’d never admit it outright, but he had wanted to see you the moment the morning started. He even debated texting you to come over earlier, but he settled for waiting. Megumi was used to waiting.

When the soft knock finally came at the door, Megumi was quick to his feet. He opened it to find you standing there, looking utterly exhausted, but still managing to give him a tired smile.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stepping inside.

“You’re late,” he said bluntly, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Yeah, well, missions don’t exactly run on a schedule,” you shot back with a yawn, dropping your bag by the door and trudging toward his sofa. “Miss me?”

He rolled his eyes. “You look half-dead.”

“And yet, I’m still here,” you quipped, settling onto the sofa and stretching your legs out. “You’ve been waiting for me all day, haven’t you?”

“I wasn’t waiting.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you teased, smirking as you caught the faintest flicker of annoyance in his expression. “Anyway, I’m here now. So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan,” he said, closing his book and standing, “was for you to get some rest, but clearly, you’re too stubborn for that.”

You shook your head, forcing your heavy eyelids open. “No way. I didn’t come all the way here just to sleep. We’re spending time together.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open.” He shook his head and sat down at his desk again, watching as you tried to sit up straight, clearly fighting your fatigue. “I told you to take it easy if the mission ran late.”

“I’m fine.” You sat up straighter, as if to prove your point, but the movement only made you sway slightly before you caught yourself. “See? Totally fine.”

Megumi sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk. “You’re going to pass out in the next five minutes.”

“I am not,” you insisted, though your voice wavered with exhaustion.

He arched an eyebrow. “Right. Because falling asleep mid-sentence would really make for quality time.”

“Megumi,” you groaned, rubbing at your face to stay awake. “I’m serious. I really wanted to see you today.”

His gaze softened, but his expression remained impassive. “You’re seeing me now. That doesn’t mean you have to push yourself.”

“I said I’d come over, and I meant it,” you said, your voice quieter now, as if the last of your energy was draining away. “I just… I missed you, okay?”

His arms uncrossed, his fingers twitching slightly as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “…I missed you, too.”

You blinked at him, surprised by his honesty, and your lips curved into a sleepy smile. “See? That’s why I’m staying up. Who knows when I’ll get another confession like that out of you?”

He scoffed, walking over to the sofa and crouching down beside it. “If you think this counts as a ‘confession,’ you’re more delirious than I thought.”

“I’m not delirious,” you murmured, though your voice was muffled now as your head lolled to the side. “m’ just… happy to be here.”

“Sure you are.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes fluttering shut despite your best efforts to keep them open.

It wasn’t long before your head fell to the side, your breathing evening out. A faint snore escaped your lips, accompanied by a small trail of drool, your body finally giving in to exhaustion.

Megumi sighed quietly and stood, walking over to crouch beside the sofa. His dark eyes softened as he studied your face, taking in the way your features relaxed in sleep.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

Megumi stayed crouched beside the sofa, his forearms resting on his knees as his eyes roamed over your sleeping face. Your features were soft in the dim light, peaceful in a way he rarely got to see. His gaze lingered on the curve of your cheek, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, the faint smudge of drool that had collected at the corner of your mouth. He reached out and carefully wiped the drool from the corner of your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

His eyes followed the strands of hair that had fallen over your forehead, Then, with the same cautious touch, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering for a moment. His fingertips brushed against your temple. The movement was slow, almost reverent, as if he feared waking you.

Megumi’s expression softened further as his gaze traced the small details of your face—the faint shadows beneath your eyes from exhaustion, the way your lashes fanned out against your cheeks, the subtle twitch of your lips as you murmured something incoherent in your sleep.

He exhaled quietly, leaning in just enough to notice how your breaths fell in time with his. His dark eyes searched your face as though trying to commit every detail to memory: the slope of your nose, the delicate curve of your jawline, the way your expression remained so utterly serene, even when your day had clearly drained you.

In that moment, Megumi felt something deep and unspoken settle in his chest—a quiet kind of gratitude that you were there, safe and close, even if you had worn yourself out trying to keep your promise to him.

The door suddenly creaked open, and Gojo’s unmistakable voice filled the room. “Hey, Megumi, I saw y/n walk in here. I was just wondering—”

Megumi’s glare was instant and cutting. He raised a finger to his lips in a silent demand for quiet, his expression making it very clear he was not interested in waking you up.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you on the sofa and back to Megumi, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Ohhh, I see how it is. I’ll just—”

“Quiet.”

“Got it.” Gojo backed out of the room, shutting the door with exaggerated care.

Once the room was quiet again, Megumi sighed and slipped one arm beneath your knees and the other under your back, lifting you effortlessly. You stirred slightly, your head resting against his chest as he carried you to his bed.

“Megumi…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Shh,” he said softly, laying you down and pulling the blanket over you.

He slid in beside you, careful not to jostle you too much. For a moment, he simply lay there, watching your face in the dim light. Then, leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly he wasn’t even sure if he’d said it aloud.

You stirred again, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I heard that.”

Megumi stiffened. “Go to sleep.”

“You said it first,” you teased, turning to face him with a sleepy smile.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice laced with exasperation but not a hint of regret. “I said it first. I love you. Now go back to sleep.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, closing your eyes and nestling closer to him.

Megumi sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he closed his eyes. “Good. Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. For someone who carried himself with such practiced indifference, who rarely expressed his feelings in words, he had just uttered the most vulnerable confession without hesitation. He huffed quietly, half-annoyed at himself and half-amused by how natural it felt with you. Maybe that’s what frustrated him most—you had a way of undoing all the walls he worked so hard to keep up.

— 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 @/𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 !!

( note : I got the animated divider things from @/valetoria)

[bloodnikki]

Do you think Ekko was ready to have a full on confession on his feelings but was going to say it after the battle? Like he tell Jinx that he'll see her after and she finger guns him with a 'yea, sure. of course'

Do you think he rests at night thinking about how he turned back time to save the world but he broke it saving the world and now he can't use it to save her?

Do you think that Jinx, still alive, hides a note for him about how she's leaving because she needs to heal and that paper he burns has Powder's name on it? That he finally accepts that he needs to let go of who she used to be. He accepts that she's Jinx and she is perfect. It's the only time he agrees with Silco and he doesn't even know it.

Do you think that if Jinx does leave him a note, there's clues on where she's going? Like, he sets out to follow her trail and it's a cute game of follow the leader. She leaves him notes and writes to him long passages as though she fully believes he's going to read them.

Sometimes, it's really lonely and she's tired. It's been so hard and there's tears stains on the pages. She speaks honestly and says 'I doubt you'd ever read these. I don't even know why I bother. I do miss you. Maybe I should go home but it hurts to know you never saw a single letter or even got the first note. You'd be so mad to see me alive and well feed and my hair. I do miss you so much. What should I do Ekko? What should I do?'

Do you think Jinx gets tired of traveling? She wants to set up roots but worries he's really following her notes. She isn't sure what she'd do if he reaches her. Does she even want him to?

Do you think Jinx finally wills herself to go? She realizes it's been too long. If she doesn't go on, she may never leave or worse Ekko may finally reach her. She's setting up the next clue when she hears someone call out to her.

"Jinx?"

"Ekko?"

"I..."

"Wow, you look good." Jinx is holding a bag. It's clear he just caught her.

"You do too."

"I- you've been traveling."

"I... I have. I wrote notes on it. Thoughts I'd like to share with you."

Jinx feels stupid. She can't recall everything she wrote but she knows some of it was insane. He read them. He read them all! Her face flushes and it clicks. He's here for her. He followed all her notes and thoughts. He came all this way to see her.

"I... cool. Cool. Do you have a place you're staying?" Jinx glances around. "I kinda just gave up my place and now I'm kinda no place or anything."

It's been a long time, but they settle in awkwardly and quickly. Two years playing follow the leader. Jinx asks Ekko where she should go next. He seems pleased to share his thoughts and shocked when she says that's where they'll go. For that moment on, they travel together.

They share rooms. Two beds that some times is only one because it's cheaper then it's just one bed. Do you think they remember where they were when she kisses him and he kisses her? Do you think he remembers if it's on a boat or airship that he realizes she's in love with him just as much as he's in love with her?

Do you think it's Ekko's or Jinx's idea to finally go home?

[1-victoria-1]

Can I request for homicipher? Especially Mr Silvair maybe a one shot or relationship headcanons? I barely see content of him 😭 I will be very grateful I give you my liver now 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 HAVE A NICE DAY

I will gladly write for Mr Silvair but please keep your liver, i hope you also have a nice day dear anon ^^

_________________________________________

Mr Silvair x Reader

- Mr Silvair is probably really clueless about what a relationship is or what even loving someone is but no worries with you he will learn all of that.

- If you get sick or even slightly hurt he will examine and patch you up to make sure you're alright and not hurt.

- Because you're a female you still get your period and when you suddenly one day just start whining in pain or it suddenly starts to smell like blood from you, he will take you to his examination room and keep you there until he will learn and understand what's wrong with you, and that was the day he learned about the female anatomy, he touched you literally everywhere to understand the female body.

- Mr Silvair didn't allow you to leave the room he and Mr Chopped stayed in, he didn't want you to get killed by the other ghost like Mr Scarlettela , and if you did leave the room then only with Mr Chopped or Mr Crawling.

- Speaking of, Mr Chopped and Mr Crawling are the sons of both you and Mr Silvair, you can't tell me otherwise.

- I think Mr Silvair would be the type to teach you stuff he likes, for example you literally stayed a whole day in the examination room as he was teaching you about examinations and stuff he has learned that the human body does, and you probably also taught him stuff you like or what you can do in this other world, like dancing! And he honestly loved to dance with you so you both always found time to dance together, or with Mr Chopped and Mr Crawling.

- I would think his love language would be spending quality time or physical touch because he doesn't really understand what a relationship is but his slowly getting there don't worry.

- All three Misters are teaching you their language as best as they can, so you could understand them and they could understand you , and when you learned it to your surprise they didn't have many words in their language so sometimes it was hard to explain them something or understand what they were trying to tell you but you're getting there.

_________________________________________

That's all for now, i hope you all like this little headcanon thingy, i do apologize if i wrote Mr Silvair wrong but feel free to correct me for the future writing ^^

Have a nice day!

[sunsetriwoo]

a few cups of coffee later... here's a small idea i had for my yachtboys!bnd series... it's a wip ig.... (all the readers are fem!readers atm... might change)

bonedo are brothers so all 6 will be yachtboys together (#ot6)... when i think yachtboys i think of them throwing parties on their yacht(s)? for their friends and other people they decide to invite

share your opinions/feedback with me!! i don't bite click more to see what i wrote <3

friendly ✶ yachtboy!sungho x aloof visual arts student!reader

when yachtboy!sungho first comes across the aloof visual arts student occupying one of the studios, it felt like love at first sight. even though he's one of the friendliest people on campus, she pays him no mind. but sungho wasn't going to give up yet... he happens to know her best friend.

bashful ✶ yachtboy!riwoo x the school's social butterfly!reader

when yachtboy!riwoo's at their yacht parties, he's usually sitting aside, watching his friends have fun while he soaks in the overall energy. he takes life as it comes, and lives it however possible. until he laid eyes upon their campus' social butterfly, the one girl everyone simply adores.

confident ✶ yachtboy!jaehyun x serious council president!reader

when yachtboy!jaehyun gets challenged, he never backs down. this time, his friends were betting on if 'mr confident' could crack their student president's façade, and have her falling for him. but little does he know... her own friends have all placed their own little bets for this show.

witty ✶ yachtboy!taesan x sunshine fashion design student!reader

when yachtboy!taesan isn't with the group, he's either in his room making music or looping mcr albums as he walks down the hallways, trying not to draw attention. but when he was walking and bumped into a fashion design student, he realises that she's everything he wanted and more.

charismatic ✶ yachtboy!leehan x oblivious lyrical arts student!reader

when yachtboy!leehan walks down the halls, all eyes are on him. with his charming personality, he never fails to catch their attention. but when he walks by the sunshine lyrical arts student, he was instantly drawn to her. but there's one small issue, she treats everyone the same way.

sweet ✶ yachtboy!woonhak x shy architecture student!reader

when yachtboy!woonhak is called popular, he doesn't really mind it much. but the downside of being popular, is that shyer people tend to avoid him, even though he's one of the nicest guys on campus. but despite that, he simply won't give up on that one architecture student.

[grapehyasynth]

when i picture you

Picture You by Chappell Roan won the poll for this fun fic challenge by @saynomorefic, and that actually slid really easily into place with a little fic idea I'd had a while ago, and so I am almost embarrassed with how quickly I wrote this 🙈

rated M - nsfw - set after s1

Simon’s heart may be broken, and his logical brain may be fully onboard with the break-up with Wille, but his body seems to be determined to not get the message. 

For the fourth time since school let out for their winter break, he wakes up with an erection and a half-dozen fleeting dreams. Dreams of Wille, patched together by the traitorous lizard part of his brain - Wille rowing while wearing a suit; Wille giving a speech to the nation in just his boxers; Wille sucking Simon off on a piano bench, the tie from his school uniform holding back his bangs. 

Simon huffs with frustration and heads for the bathroom. His mom keeps promising they’ll get a door for his bedroom - they’re all a little extra touchy about privacy since the video came out - but it hasn’t happened yet, and there is no way he’ll be able to get himself off when he can hear Sara singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he doesn’t trust one of them to not just come barging through the towel that shields his room. 

He wastes no time turning on the shower once the bathroom door is locked. For a second he wishes he’d brought his phone, for some music, or inspiration -- but that’s another thing that makes him paranoid now, wondering whether his mom can see his searches on their internet, wondering if someone would try to hack their family, to see what the boy from The Video gets up to. He’s put tape over the camera lenses on his phone and his computer but he just doesn’t really trust anything at this point. 

So, when he sits on the ground with his back to the tub and tugs down his boxers, he has nothing but his own imagination. Which, unfortunately, still very much means Wille. 

He wonders, as he gives himself a first gentle ghost of a stroke, shuffling down a bit so his head is tipped back against the side of the tub and his feet press into the wall (this bathroom, this house, is fucking small), if Wille thinks of Simon when he touches himself. He wonders if there’s a masturbatory version of him haunting the castle. What does Wille picture? He never got to ask him. 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes and goes for one of the disjointed fantasy images from last night. They’d been in the library at Hillerska, and Wille had had Simon pressed against one of the shelves. They were both wearing the white robes from Lucia night, something Simon hadn’t previously clocked as sexy, but he squeezes himself now at the thought, his chest lifting a little with the sensation. His own robe was rucked up to his waist, his knees bent and tight around Wille’s hips so that Wille could fuck into him, pushing him against the shelf behind him with each thrust. Simon grasped a shelf behind him with one hand while the other strove to keep Wille’s own gown out of the way, so that he could see. 

He doesn’t have the time to finger himself, but his ass clenches anyway. They never had that kind of sex, and now Simon is both grateful and aggrieved -- it would be another thing to regret, or mourn, but then again, it already feels like Wille is inside him, irretrievably, all the time, so what would have been the harm? 

He imagines one of Wille’s hands on him, on his cock; a ripple of warmth spreads over his skin as he works himself. He’s losing track of whose hands and arms are where and if they even have enough limbs for this but he doesn’t care. He wants Wille to flatten him like a book he can’t get enough of, to crack his spine, to hold him open as he devours him. He presses a heel to the cleft of Wille’s ass to urge him closer; Wille is panting into his neck; the tub is hard and unforgiving behind Simon’s head but he imagines it’s the shelf supporting him as Wille fucks him. And then, in his imagining, the shelf supporting him keels over, catching the next one which also falls, and now Wille is fucking him on the tilted shelves, and the candles of his Lucia crown (had he been wearing that the whole time?) catch on the books and everything is burning around them, the school is burning to the ground, and Wille gasps I love you with every thrust, and all Simon can say is God Jul, God Jul, God Jul... 

It’s such a ridiculous image that he’s laughing as he comes, the twin sensations tugging deliciously at his core, and he falls sideways so that his cheek is pressed to the bath mat. For a moment, before the high clears, he wishes he could tell Wille about this, that they could laugh about it, that Wille would tease him about the silly fantasy until they realized they were both half-hard-- 

“SIMON!” Sara is rapping on the bathroom door. “I need to pee!” 

“Just a minute,” he grumbles, and he turns the shower, which has been running this whole time, to its coldest setting; he will need the jolt before he can go out there and face his life. 

[thefirst3chapters]

There's something about the Danes men recognizing the Gilmores' happiness in their final OS episodes. ("You look happier than when I saw you last." / "I just like to see you happy.") Maybe the S6 writers weren't sure that this was going to be Jess's last appearance, but this was Luke's definitive end for the series; in either case, at the time these episodes were written, they were the show's final statements on who these characters are.

It's established over and over how well Luke and Jess know the Gilmores and vice versa. Luke knows exactly what Lorelai brought to Bid-a-Basket day and has her wardrobe memorized and steadfastly believes that she can start her own inn even when she's convinced that she's failing. Jess knows that Rory isn't herself when she's in Hartford and remembers her birthday even though he's barely seen her in years (and ASP directly confirmed that the intention was to portray them as seeing each other for who they are). This mutual sense of knowing is baked into the first times both couples meet. The first time Lorelai met Luke, she pestered him during a lunch rush for coffee and for him to tell her his birthday until he relented. The first time Jess met Rory, he stole her book and wrote all over it. Both of these actions could've been horrible first impressions for anyone else, and on paper could've been horrible first impressions for Luke and Rory specifically, but they were charmed and intrigued, and they treasured the written keepsakes they were left with.

Even with this intrinsic knowledge, the Danes' failures as partners often boil down to the same problem: they retreat when they're in crisis. With their biggest, relationship-ending conflicts (Luke keeping April from Lorelai and the fallout of Jess not graduating), they spend months thinking that they have everything under control when they really don't and fail to tell the Gilmores anything. This is perhaps Jess's core flaw in S3 even more so than the fact that he left; he didn't have anywhere to stay, and finding out who his father was probably ended up being an important catalyst for the person he became, but he wasn't able to share any of that with Rory. She directly brings up her hurt over Jess not telling her anything when she's in the car with Lorelai and when she's on the phone with him, and her unhappiness here is so similar to Lorelai expressing her unhappiness about her relationship with Luke when she's in the car with the therapist. ("I don't like how I feel and I don't like what I do." / "I'm not happy, and I feel crappy all the time and I just think I've had it.") They've both been left behind.

This isn't the end, though. Luke and Jess spend their time apart from the Gilmores still loving them while also building/rebuilding their professional lives, coming to terms with their pasts, and showing up for their families. This is what I think separates Jess leaving from Christopher leaving. Christopher had options and resources to be in Rory's life but chose not to be a consistent presence, and Lorelai accepted that. Rory points this out to Lorelai in S5 E9: "You're just always waiting for him to get himself together." Rory can tell that dynamic isn't healthy from the years she's watched it play out. She doesn't let Jess back into her life when she knows he isn't ready, and he grows up without her out of his own determination. His circumstances were never really like Christopher's, and Rory was left in the dark about that at the time, but when he returns in S6, I think she recognizes the difference. There's a reason why Rory shares her deepest insecurities with Jess in AYITL and sprints out of her house because she can't wait to share her happiness with him but has such an emotionally distant relationship with Christopher. As for Luke and Lorelai, they gradually get closer in S7 as they learn to trust each other again. Luke turns to Lorelai when April is sick and he needs a character reference, and Lorelai's letter helps him win partial custody and reveals where her heart truly lies, which is a catalyst for her relationship with Christopher ending once and for all. Lorelai asks for Luke's help when she's looking for a new car, and even though it doesn't make sense to him, he finds a way for her to have the exact same model again because he knows it's important to her.

Then we get to those final scenes. At Truncheon, Jess can tell just by looking at Rory that she's happier now that she's back at Yale and is editing the newspaper. She breaks his heart, but he makes sure she'll get back to her car safely and offers himself as an alibi because he still wants the best for her. In "Bon Voyage," Luke stays up all night helping the town set up Rory's party and sewing a tarp together but doesn't even want Lorelai to know. Luke and Jess have hurt the Gilmores and been hurt by them, but for both of them, their final act in the OS is quietly, selflessly wanting Lorelai and Rory to be happy. I just can't fathom a Luke who doesn't love Lorelai or a Jess who doesn't love Rory; that love is imperfect and doesn't solely define either of them, but it's an inextricable part of who they are.

[eerna]

I knew once they actually wrote ekko he would shine. Kid who grew up too fast but is still full of hope and optimism at the end of the day. Top tier writing I’m so soft for him. Also a character that can balance bettering society AND caring about his found family? We have finally encountered an arcane character capable of multitasking. Still mad they underutilized him for so long tho and gave him that ending. MY SON😭

Also what’s so funny is that before watching arc 3 is I had made a post saying that arcane is actually just high quality fanfiction (in animation. Not writing lololol) and for arc 3 to open with happy timebomb alt universe fluff made me scream. Arcane writing its own fluffy fanfiction that’s actually surprise canon compliant? More likely than you think. Also representing yearning for a better world despite the crumbling reality around you and getting up and going Fight for it via a childhood friends to enemies to lovers dynamic was galaxy brained. Timebomb 5eva!!!!!!

I AGREEEEE!!! I honestly didn't think they would ever get to Ekko, which made me sad bc he's been a standout in s1 and I was dying needing more of his dynamic with the sisters. Imagine my reaction when I started ep 7 and saw THAT illustration on the netflix logo record. I feel like he still wasn't written in a way that left me fully satisfied, but damn, he was the only thing I truly cared about the entire season lololol. I love how him being placed within the fluffy fanfic wasn't a question of whether he would get the strength to return to his own bleak reality, but what messages would he take with him to it. And the message he chose was "Being overly optimistic and loving people is the way to go". Like you said, bringing them back full force 3 episodes before the show ends to remind us of how much everyone loves each other was a galaxy brained idea. Which is why it was SO PAINFUL when ep 9 didn't really show any of it... like c'mon... I know they wanted to shock and delight us all by making Ekko and Jinx wear matching outfits and work together, but it definitely missed the same thing pretty much everything else did this season: EMOTIONAL BUILDUP. I wish the season dedicated more time to them and what they think of each other. I wish Isha didn't exist and instead was replaced with Jinx, Sevika, Vi and Ekko as the emotional backbone. This way Jinx seems like she truly doesn't care all that much, not about Ekko, not about Vi, not about herself or her own goals from the past. Why did she just fake her own death instead of going back to the people who finally love her as she is. Why did she do that. Why did Ekko get a tragic ending when he literally saved the world. Arcane writers what the hell were you thinking

[merlincmgirl]

Masturbation - Tech x FReader - NSFW

Summary: When you wake up feeling a bit needy and an empty bed, you go off to find your handsome trooper to help you. Only he's got a few ideas of his own for you to try.

Characters: Tech

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Word Count: 4,208

Warnings: masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs, praise, dirty talk. I think that's it really, if there's anything else, please let me know!

Author's Note: So once I began writing for this one, it just seemed to all flow out of me. I wrote it a bit softer than I thought I would, but Tech deserves all the love and softness in the galaxy.

It had awoken you from a blissful sleep. Heat rolling over you as small cramps pulsed between your legs. You didn’t need to reach in your underwear to know that you would be wet. Whatever you were dreaming about had certainly seemed to arouse you enough that you were feeling needy.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend was readily available to help you out and give you some much needed release. However all you found was cool sheets and an empty bed. Tech had slipped out a while ago it seemed. Normally you would be the one who encouraged and cajoled him back into his bunk with you. It was something his brothers were very thankful to you for; Tech didn’t get enough sleep as it is, but he could never say no to you.

It helped that you couldn’t sleep without him. Every time you slid into bed, he would wrap himself around you, warmth pressed against you as he whispered softly into the quiet atmosphere of his bunk. It didn’t matter what he was saying – sometimes it was facts he had found out that day, a new project he was doing or, stories about different cultures and communities – his voice was always the one that lulled you to sleep.

But now, it seemed that instead of drifting off for a few hours himself before it was his turn on watch, he had instead slipped out of bed and was somewhere on the ship.

You warred with yourself about going to find him, but the pulsing need between your legs was enough to convince you. Just the memory of those long, dexterous fingers curling inside of you had you biting your lip on a moan and clamping your thighs together. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down with, you quietly got out of Tech’s bunk, careful to not disturb the other sleeping troopers around you.

There was only one place that Tech would be if he wasn’t in the bunks. The doors swished open as you walked into the control room. Tech was lounging in the pilot’s chair, long legs swivelled around to rest on the co-pilot’s chair. His eyes didn’t leave the piece of machinery in his hand that he was tinkering with, but he still removed his legs for you to sit down.

“You’re up late, cyare” Tech remarked, glancing up briefly to take you in. “couldn’t sleep?”

Sending him a soft smile, you leant your head on your hand, taking him in. “Something like that. You weren’t in bed when I woke up” you chided, raising an eyebrow at him. Tech didn’t sleep much as it was, and you worried just how long he could go before it all caught up with him.

Tech blinked, looking up at you now and frowning. “I apologise, I had an idea about how to improve the propulsion thrusters of the ship. You looked so peaceful, I did not want to wake you” Tech explained, stopping his tinkering and turning his attention to you.

“Thank you, love” you smiled, feeling the ache thrum through you now that you were sitting next to your lover and how thoughtful and adorable he had been.

“You have not told me why you are out of bed. Was it another nightmare?” he frowned, placing the contraption down and reaching to squeeze your knee. Nightmares were a common enough occurrence for everyone aboard the Marauder. It wasn’t unusual to have your fair share of them as well, especially as you’ve been by their side throughout the war.

“No, not this time. I actually had a really good dream” you admitted, lips pulling into a teasing smile as you squeezed your thighs together. Already you could feel the slick soak into the material of your pants.

“Oh, what was this dream?” Tech asked, his eyes running up and down over you, scanning your face as he catalogued every minute expression. He must have seen something he liked because his breath hitched a little.

“Hmm, you know, I can’t really remember the details but I know that I woke up feeling very, very wet” you grinned, parting your legs slightly so his hand fell to your inner thighs. “Do you want to feel?” you smirked suggestively, trailing your hand down your body until you reached the hem of your sleeping shorts.

Tech’s eyes went wide, everything in his mind screaming at him to lean forward, yank off your pyjamas and pull your legs wide so he could see just how wet you were. However, a thought popped into his head, it was the perfect opportunity to collect data to confirm his research as well as tick something off his kink list. There was a number of things he still wanted to try, but this was the perfect opportunity for one of them.

Sliding his hands up your thigh until he could feel the heat of your core through his gloves. He could just imagine how wet you were underneath your shorts and pants. “Cyare, may I request something different this time?” he asked, eyes rising to meet your curious but loving ones.

“Of course you can Tech, this is a partnership. You’re free to express your wants as well” you reminded, hands slipping to entangle in his own. It had been something you were determined to teach the boys, putting their happiness first and that it was okay to have wants and needs that went against their training or orders. It was still an uphill battle some times, all of them stubborn and loyal to a fault, but you were getting there, especially with Tech.

He used the hand entangled in his to tug you up from the chair and pull you into his lap. Helping you settle against him, you couldn’t help admire his beautiful brown eyes through his goggles. They were beautiful, and warm and reminded you of the hot chocolate that you used to make with your grandma whenever the weather turned cold.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tech frowned, hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your shorts.

Unable to help it you let out a little giggle at the stupidity of the genius clone. “Because I love you, di’kut. Always have and always will” you muttered, resting your head against his.

Tech sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close to him in the pilot seat. “And I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet” Tech remarked, lips quirking up into a small smile.

“Ha-ha, look who think he’s a comedian!” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him before pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. “Now come on, tell me what you were thinking about” you encouraged, cupping his face and stroking your thumb along his sharp jaw line.

“I want to see how we feel while we both mutually pleasuring ourselves in front of the other. From what I’ve found, my research indicates that it can be a very enjoyable and pleasurable experience for all involved. And the feel of someone’s eyes on you, watching you touch yourself can heighten your own pleasure” Tech explained, eyes eager behind his goggles as a blush filled his cheeks before heading south down his neck.

“You want us to get off in front of each other?” you stated, making sure that you had heard him correctly. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, you did, it would be a very fun experience for both you and Tech, but it was something that Tech had never brought up before.

“Technically, yes. Although if you do not wish to do this, we can continue with treating your night time urge in another way” Tech replied, heat rising through him as you ran your hands down his chest, resting on his racing heart.

The thought of it did excite you, the sight of him touching himself, jerking himself off to you, while he watched you do the same did have an appeal. But you thought about the ache in your core, the need to be filled and you warred with yourself. There was nothing to say that you couldn’t ride him in the next round.

But Tech so rarely asked for anything, especially for himself. So how could you deny him his request when you wanted to try it just as much as him.

“Alright then, how do you want to do this?” you agreed, leaning forward to press small kisses along his jaw and towards his ear lobe. Nipping it with your teeth had a full body shudder rolling through Tech. Giggling, you repeated the same on his other side.

“I want you sitting opposite in the co-pilot’s chair, cyare. Take these off” he murmured, tugging on your pyjamas. Just as you went to get off his lap to do as he asked, one of his large hands came to the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet his lips.

Tech always kissed like it was a new experience for him, always taking the time to map out your mouth, leave little nips and licks to your lips to encourage more moans out of you. His kisses were always something you adored, all encompassing and all consuming as you lost yourself to the feel of his lips against yours, bodies pressed close to the other.

“What was that for?” you breathed, panting slightly at the breathless kiss.

“Thank you, for agreeing to do this for me” he replied, voice shaking a little. He wasn’t unaffected by the kiss either.

Smiling sweetly, you cupped your lover’s face and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m doing this for me as well, Tech. I want to explore this with you” you assured him, nuzzling your noses together before climbing off his lap and stepping away. “But I think you should get naked too” you suggested, playing with the hem of your shirt teasingly.

“Yes, excellent suggestion, cyare” Tech nodded, stripping off his blacks in record time. He was so cute in how eager he was to try this with you.

Not wanting to leave him the only one undressed, you too pulled off your shirt and tugged down your shorts and panties, kicking them to the side. The cool air of the control room had you shivering a little, goosebumps raising along your flesh.

Taking a seat in the chair, you pulled your legs up to balance your heels on the edge of the seat, spreading them wide to give Tech the perfect view of your cunt. A flirtatious smirk crept over your face as you looked at him, his eyes glued to where you were leaking because of both the dream and Tech’s suggestion. “This what you had in mind, love?” you teased, hands drifting to your chest as your nipples pebbled in the conditioned air.

Tech’s eyes shot up to yours, blown wide behind his goggles and an awe expression on his face. He couldn’t believe one of his fantasies was coming to life right in front of him. You looked absolutely gorgeous spread out like this for him, and he could feel his cock start to harden more at the sight. He thanked the gods that he had already stripped his armour off for this watch. His codpiece would have been way too tight for any rational thoughts to stay in his brain.

“Yes… you look beautiful, cyare” he breathed.

You blushed at the sincerity in his voice. Not that he would lie to you, but sometimes it was hard to take in his loving compliments.

Deciding to distract yourself, you ran your eyes over Tech’s lithe but sculptured body. Taking him in, you enjoyed the way his muscles tensed and jumped under your heated look. Oh what you wouldn’t give just to touch him, or run your tongue down the contours of his chest.

Travelling lower, you allowed yourself to look at him, just as much as he had looked at you. The bronze skin of his half mast cock gave way to the dusty pink head at the top and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to contain your moan as you watched it twitch under your gaze. It seems that you weren’t the only one affected by the little game that you were playing. He was rapidly hardening under your gaze and you sent him a wild smirk. He blushed even more, hands coming to fidget with his goggles nervously.

“Going to record this, love?” you asked, excited to look back on the recording if he was. Tech was known to record nearly everything, a hobby of his. And you were no stranger to being his muse.

“If I may?” he asked, seeking your permission. With a nod from you, the red light on the corner of his goggles flickered and blinked into life. “Good, I want you to touch yourself for me. I want you to make yourself feel good” he instructed, legs widening as he adjusted his position in the seat.

Licking your bottom lip, you watched as his cock bobbed at the movement. You wished you could take him into your mouth, get a taste of him while he helped you seek your own release. But you had been told to touch yourself, and that was something you were good at.

If nothing else, you knew your own body, what brought you pleasure, what a swipe of your fingers could do. How a harsh tug on a nipple would feel and how to get you over the edge in record time. This would be something you enjoyed. So you started on your chest, giving teasing, barely there touches to your nipples, encouraging them to stiffer peaks.

As they hardened under your touch, you began to work them in your fingers, rolling the nipples in your fingers before squeezing and massaging your breasts. Pushing them together as you continued to feel the heat building and building in your body.

A small gasp left Tech, and you couldn’t help but grin wickedly at him. He always loved your breasts and thighs, preferring to squeeze them and mark them up with his mouth and fingers. So you sighed softly in return, letting the way his eyes run over you. It left a trailing heat in their wake but Tech was right, it was certainly adding to the pleasure of it all.

When your nipples were sensitive from your attentions, you slid your hands down your stomach. You kept your touches light and teasing, just enough to entice but not enough to get you really worked up. You wanted to get these together with Tech. So you trailed your fingers over your stomach and down to your hips, tracing patterns into your skin that you didn’t even think about, just doing what felt good to you.

“Mesh’la” Tech breathed, and you peeled your eyes open to see that Tech was staring at you, face flushed and mouth slightly open.

“I thought this included both of us touching ourselves, Tech” you prompted, tilting your chin towards the hard cock that was straining between his spread thighs.

Tech seemed to have forgotten about his own pleasure, too lost in watching you and seeing how your touches were electrifying you. It wasn’t easy to distract Tech, but you couldn’t help but feel a shot of pride shoot through you at how the way the normally controlled clone was unable to complete his own task.

“Come on, Tech. I want to see you touch yourself” you encouraged, letting out a groan as he finally – finally – began to touch himself.

Tech took himself in hand, his grip tight but not restrictive as he gripped the base of his cock. Realising that he needed lube to make this feel amazing, he reached into his belt and pulled out the bottle of lube he carried everywhere. Just in case. Drizzling some on his cock, he hissed at the cool temperature, but it did nothing to cool his desire as he began to stroke up and down his shaft. A small moan escapes from his lips, thoughts running wild of just how it would feel to sink into you. To feel just how wet you looked as he could see your glistening folds in the low light.

Unable to pull your gaze from him, you slid two fingers down between your legs, brushing against your bundle of nerves. It had you gasping, legs twitching a little at the spark that small touch sent through you. As you continued to tease your clit, you watched as Tech pumped his cock. It was a pretty cock, just like everything about Tech was pretty. His cock curved slightly, but was quite long and of a normal girth. It felt amazing inside of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel him. You’d pin him to the chair and ride him if you had to.

Honestly, just watched the way his skin began to flush, the sweat beading on his temple as he kept his eyes on you as well as pleasuring himself and the way his eyes couldn’t move from you had you feeling like you’d combust from this alone.

Deciding that you had enough teasing, you parted your lips, exposing your centre to him and making him groan out in want. Your fingers easily slid along your slit, you were soaked, slick pooling and collecting on the chair beneath you. Distantly you couldn’t help but feel sorry for whoever would be sitting in the chair next. You definitely would have to clean all of this up.

“Go on, cyare, push your fingers inside. I want to see you” Tech instructed, focus now on your entrance as you did what he said. He let out a small growl in answer to your cry as you pushed both fingers in. They were eased in due to how wet you were, the slick aiding in the stretch. “Good girl, mesh’la” Tech breathed, gulping slightly as he ran a thumb over the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum that was beginning to leak from there and spreading it down his shaft.

Hooking your legs over the arm rests to help keep you spread wide for him, you let out a tiny cry of Tech’s name, conscious to not be too loud. You didn’t want anyone coming in to disturb you. You began a teasing rhythm, pushing in slow and withdrawing fasts as you curled your fingers inside of you. When you realised that Tech was matching your pace, you felt your breath tighten in your throat and your cunt clenched around your fingers.

It must have been clear to see for Tech because he moaned your name, his other hand coming down to cup and cradle his balls for a moment before withdrawing. Slowing his hand down to match your pace once more, he let out a low groan at just how beautiful you looked all spread out before him, two fingers buried inside of you.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, cyare.”

Heat flooded your face at his words, feeling the way his compliment sunk into your skin. Every time he complimented you, it made you feel so beautiful and loved. Tech would never lie to you, so if he told you that you were beautiful and pretty, then he meant every word. It was spoken as fact, and Tech was rarely wrong.

“Tech! You can’t say stuff like that” you gasped, hips bucking into your hand as you pressed another finger inside of you.

“Why not?” he frowned, fearing he had upset you.

“Because how am I meant to think when you say stuff like that” you whined, finding that sweet spot inside of you as you began rocking against your hand. The other slid down to rub at your clit, making you flutter around your fingers some more.

“Fuck Tech!”

Forcing your eyes to stay open, no matter how much you wanted to close them and sink into your pleasure, you watched as Tech began to massage and roll his balls with one hand, the other continuing to pump his leaking length. Oh why did he have to suggest this? You wanted to touch him, you wanted to kiss him and feel just how much you were affecting him.

After waking up half ready to orgasm, and your teasing touches and the mouth watering sight before you, you could tell that you were close to the edge. But there was something you need. You needed Tech. You didn’t know if you could fall over the edge like this. But Tech could always give you mind shattering orgasms, even when he was pushed for time, he always found a way to satisfy you.

“Won’t you help me? You know I don’t like getting off on my own” you pouted, hoping that would convince him to come over here and fuck you through the chair.

“Just a little longer, cyare. You can do that for me, right? I want to see you fall over the edge just watching me stroke my cock to you” Tech panted in encouragement, nearing his own end.

“Please!” you begged, increasing the pressure on that spot inside of you and rubbing at your clit in a way that you knew would push you over the edge. So why was it not doing so now? You wanted to cum. Wanting to adhere to Tech’s lustful words, but it was like you were dangling over a precipice.

“Cum for me” Tech growled, keeping his eyes firmly on you as he bucked up into his hand, teeth gritted as he tried to hold off his own orgasm.

“Tech!” you whined, feeling your release flood through you, legs shaking and panting for breath as your body pulsed with pleasure. It seemed all you needed was his permission before you could fall over the edge.

It took you a moment to realise that Tech was cumming to, his load shooting up to splatter as far as his chest. Both of you were unable to move, just soaking in your releases and slumping boneless against the chairs. Your whole body felt so sensitive, so alighted with the rush of endorphins that came with amazing orgasms.

After a while, you startled as Tech moved, reaching into his belt pouches and crawled over to you. He carefully and reverently washed you down, mindful of how sensitive you still were. With gentle touches, he made sure that you were clean before looking up to smile at you.

Taking a wipe off him, you began to clean him up also, keeping your touches tender and careful as you slid the soft material against his cock. It twitched at your actions, making you giggle and press a kiss to his lips.

“Do you know what, love? I think you were right. Having you watching added to everything” you admitted, running your hand through his hair as he stood up. He scooped you up in his arms, before taking a seat in your chair and holding you on his lap.

“I am glad you feel the same way as I do, cyare. It seems that this endeavour was a success. I look forward to reviewing the recordings when I collect my data” Tech agreed, kissing along your shoulders and up to your neck.

“Maybe we could look at those recordings together sometime? I think that would be really, really hot” you breathed, turning to catch his lips with yours. Tech cupped your face, holding you steady as you kissed, letting all your feelings show in the way you kissed him back.

“I am always open to suggestions, cyare” he chuckled, pulling back just to hold you even tighter against him.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” you wondered, glancing at the clock on the control panels.

Tech sighed, shaking his head before agreeing that it was probably for the best if he could get some sleep. And besides, it was nearly time for Wrecker to take the watch.

“Alright, lets get dressed and clean this place up. We don’t want anyone getting the shock of their lives do we” you grinned teasingly, climbing out of his lap and already reaching for the wipes in his utility belt.

“I assure you, as soldiers, we’ve seen more shocking things than one of us making love to their cyare” Tech rolled his eyes, but helped you clean everything up before helping you step into your clothes.

“I know” you chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin. “How about we go and get some rest now, huh? You’ve worn me out without even touching me. That’s a hell of an accomplishment, love” you remarked, handing him the contraption he was tinkering with earlier.

“Believe me, you have also achieved that accomplishment, cyare” Tech smiled, taking your hand in his and leading you out to the bunks so he could wake Wrecker for his shift.

You felt pride swell in your chest. It had been a very successful night all round then. You were quite grateful for whatever you had been dreaming about. It couldn’t have worked out better if you tried.

[dedeinthewild]

Omd please if you could do a story where arvids girl is teasing him abt being more boyfriendy with pepe bcos they're in the 'honeymoon" phase and she gets jealous

soo, I'm really sorry 'cause it isn't exactly what you requested but I had an idea with Pepe and I wrote it down. Let me know if you like it anyways, or I will make one just like you wanted it!

pepe martí x reader, established relationship

~ "that's a terrible one"

Pepe was determined, kind, and so intelligent that he could make anyone smile just by meeting him.

But above all, he was dedicated.

He was deeply grateful for his journey in motorsport and always trusted the Red Bull driver academy and his team, despite the terrible luck that had made his season challenging.

With the two-month break from Formula 2, and his girlfriend busy with school, lessons, and studying, he had plenty of time to reconnect with the junior categories and work alongside the academy’s new entries.

Among them was the incredible Formula 3 rookie, Arvid Lindblad, who had left everyone in awe and was set to join Campos in the 2025 season.

In the preceding weeks, the Spaniard had traveled to Barcelona to watch the Eurocup3 and Spanish Formula 4 race weekends, reconnecting with his roots. Then, at the team’s request, he and Arvid attended the final MotoGP race, surprising everyone with their instant chemistry before even racing together.

On one side was the tall, polite, composed Spaniard who listened and responded with a smile. On the other was the whirlwind of words that was the British rookie, dressed in oversized trendy outfits, bringing a fresh vibe to Campos.

They had spent a lot of time together, laughing and creating content around the circuit, perfectly delivering what the team wanted while giving fans exactly what they loved.

A week later, Gaby and Christian had decided to organize a weekend in London with Pepe and his girlfriend.

“He’s got Arvid now; he won’t even look at me” his girlfriend joked to the British woman walking beside her, loud enough for Pepe to hear from ahead where he was walking with Christian.

“Sorry?” the Spaniard turned around, hands buried deep in the pockets of his blue jacket.

“I said you don’t even look at me anymore. You’ve got Arvid now.”

“He’s been cheating on me, and you didn’t care to tell me?” Christian chimed in, clutching his chest dramatically as they strolled through St. James’ Park.

Everyone burst out laughing while Pepe’s girlfriend tucked her hands into her scarf, hiding her nose and cheeks, which were slowly turning red from the cold.

“I’m sorry for cheating; Gaby will treat you right” Pepe teased Christian, pretending to steal his girlfriend while Christian clung to his own.

Pepe’s girlfriend, a petite five-foot-something figure walking beside him, smiled. Her hair was tucked into her scarf, and she breathed in the air of a London she loved.

“Are you cold?” Pepe asked, taking her hand and slipping it into the pocket of his Red Bull jacket, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

“I’m always cold, Pepe” she replied, knowing full well that her constant chilliness was something he always took care of.

Pepe and Christian had a strong bond, and seeing them together was a joy. So, when the F3 driver invited them for the weekend, they had packed their bags immediately. Spending time with Christian and Gaby also brought the two women closer, as they, like their boyfriends, perfectly complemented each other, creating a fun and close-knit group.

They loved teasing and joking with each other, and this was the perfect moment to poke fun at Pepe. His girlfriend seized the opportunity without hesitation.

“And what do you mean about Arvid?” Pepe asked, glancing down at her as they walked along the little path that ducks shared with their ducklings.

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about for the past month. Don’t even get me started on those videos.”

Pepe chuckled, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if she was serious. She, however, maintained an honest expression.

“Are you saying that for real?”

“I mean, you’re really boyfriendy with him.”

“And I guess you’re implying that I’m not with you.”

Her head tilted back slightly, the wind brushing her cheeks as she gave him a playful smile. She was joking, and both of them knew it, but they were curious to see how far it would go.

“I mean, you spend a lot of time with him and look at him as if he were the love of your life.”

“And what should I say about you and Gaby?” he retorted, grinning. “You’re always going on your dates; I think she’s a pinned chat on your phone, and—”

She couldn’t help but laugh as Christian and Gaby lined up at a café while she and Pepe stopped, standing face-to-face.

This spot was one of her favorites in London, where she loved walking with a hot chocolate in hand, headphones in, and music blasting.

“I should remind you that it’s only because you’re in your honeymoon phase with Arvid. You’ll see the bad sides later.”

Pepe took her other hand, slipping it into his jacket pocket to warm it with his, moving closer with that sweet look he always wore.

“I have to say, it’s a great honeymoon nonetheless.”

She bit her cheek to keep a straight face, though her playful expression was giving her away.

“And what do you mean by bad sides?” he asked, curious. “Are there bad sides to being with me?”

“Many, many for sure.”

Pepe leaned down slightly, wrapping her completely in his arms and burying her face in his blue Red Bull jacket.

“List them, then,” he teased.

“You’re too nice, and everyone loves you.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, hugging him back, as Christian and Gaby returned with steaming cups of tea.

“That’s a terrible one" joked the Campos driver, kissing her forehead before handing her the cup Christian had given him.

As they strolled down The Mall, the four chatted, surrounded by a slightly windy but not too damp London, kissed by timid sunshine.

The scent of falling leaves mixed with the sweetness of candied almonds from nearby stands, while some passersby asked for directions, and others watched them laugh and enjoy their time together.

“Pepe and I decided something” his girlfriend suddenly announced, grabbing the attention of Christian and Gaby while Pepe played along.

“We’re splitting up but staying good friends,” she said seriously.

At that moment, the world seemed to crumble for the Australian and the Brit, whose jaws dropped as they stared at Pepe to figure out if it was a joke or the truth.

“We realized we have some differences that the other doesn’t enjoy, unlike with other people, so it’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?” Christian asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“We’ve had some flings” she replied casually.

Gaby, convinced that if those two broke up, she’d never believe in love again, couldn’t process it. Pepe and his girlfriend were the perfect match—two people who effortlessly connected in ways she’d never seen before.

“No, you haven’t” Gaby declared, shaking her head.

Pepe and his girlfriend smiled, struggling to keep the joke going, even though their friends’ sad, confused faces made them feel a bit guilty.

“With who?” Christian asked, earning a gentle smack on the hand from Gaby, who thought it wasn’t the time for such questions.

“Your girlfriend” they replied in unison.

The Australian furrowed his brow, confused.

“Both of you? Pepe?” He was at a loss for words.

“No, stop this nonsense; it’s not funny” he said, visibly upset.

At that moment, Pepe and his girlfriend burst into laughter, exchanging looks as if they had just pulled off the joke of the decade while walking ahead of the group.

“You assholes!” Christian exclaimed, exasperated.

“You actually believed it?” Gaby asked, holding onto Christian’s arm, relieved to see them laugh it off.

“As if you didn’t” Pepe retorted.

That evening, after a lovely dinner at a restaurant near Chinatown, they all headed back to their hotel, trying to teach Pepe how to navigate the Tube using a rule his girlfriend had devised.

“If you miss a train or anything, just get off at the first stop and wait there. We’ll come find you.”

“I’m not a child,” the Spaniard protested, sitting on one of the Piccadilly Line trains with his arms crossed, playfully nudging his girlfriend’s feet as she studied the map.

“I’m quite positive you are” she replied with a smile, focused on the intricate map, unaware that Pepe had taken out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

Later, once they were in their room, changed into their pajamas, and cuddled in bed watching a movie, Pepe sent her the photo.

As she opened the message, he began to speak.

“Honeymoon or not, you’re the only thing about me without bad sides” he said.

She smiled, her eyes soft and warm.

“And I love you like I love yapping about nerdy facts.”

“I think that’s the most thoughtful way you’ve told me you love me.”

Pepe leaned his head back against his hands.

“Still, maybe you’re right. I’m rather boyfriendy with Arvid.”

“Be careful, I’m a little jealous of you,” she said, giving him a quick kiss where his ear met his jawline.

“You said it—everyone loves me,” he joked, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer, breathing in her scent and feeling as though, even fifty years from now, they would still be just like this.

Because, as Gaby thought, if those two ever broke up, no one would believe in love anymore.

Beyond all the jokes and teasing, Pepe and that girl had found each other through some stroke of fate, and they were never meant to let each other go.

~ not proofread or anything so there might be a few errors, I hope you all like it 🍀

(please find me a pepe, thanks)

[whosthere54]

Ok ok ok Royal au Royal au ararararah

now to yap about my Royal au cause I’m normal. (Longer post- I just infodump about my AU basically-)

So what I have in drafts is all mainly brothers or prison duo centric, as if you know my fics I usually write from Icarus’s perspective on things. The main ships I would be focusing on are ghaae, nightingstar, Wolftross, and then prison duo- but I have cameos of all of the cannon ships of course. I’m gonna kind of just go through and explain roles of my main guys tho- so hope you like this as a sort of starting summary? I guess?

Icarus is the crown prince of the gilded kingdom. Basically the other full representative of the overworld who’s not Fable. Basically, they are heir to the throne, have to maintain a public image, help Fable out with royal duties and pretty much prepare to be the next monarch to ensure a smooth transition if “mortal king Fable” passes away. (He can’t die- I’ll get to that maybe- but yknow. God.)

I’ll talk about Isla and things later in this post, so I won’t mention it now- but yeah. Icarus is the only heir to the gilded kingdom.

Centross is Icarus’s bodyguard (yes I’m going down that road for the prison duo content. I’m so unpredictable /silly/sarc/lh) Royal guard? Close enough probably. Which- idk if I have to get into what he does. I think you can assume. Protection stuff. He was a former assassin, having used to work with Enderian. I’m doing a cliche maybe- but- yknow- he was sent to kill Icarus, ended up unable to do so… so now he’s a bodyguard for them instead of going back to Enderian. (There’s probably a promise of mutual protection somewhere- I’m sure Icarus would not have let Fable give them a bodyguard before then, and when he did they’d make it everyone’s problem- instead wanting to prove they could protect themself. There’s something there. Yeah.)

Wolftross is yes a thing, I think they were probably together for a while- maybe not long after he first became a royal guard. At Icarus’s request, he can visit Fenris whenever he wants probably. Easton replaces him when he’s gone (even after he became blind- at Icarus’s request he will continue that role. They trust him- and he’s capable.)

In the one thing I wrote, I gave him end features as well. I’m moreso debating on that- but I think it’d be a cool thing as a byproduct of being one of Enderian’s closest advisors and trusted assasin. Or- I give them to him later when he gets to be god. He gets them at some point- for me.

Rae is the crown prince of the end kingdom- full representative of the end that is not Enderian. I’d think she gives him more freedom than Icarus gets from fable, her being the end mother she is. She did have the same I guess cruel past that she does in cannon- I’m trying to figure out how I’m translating s1 into this AU still, and maybe you’ll get a oneshot of that eventually. Atleast the prison arc- of course. He left the gilded kingdom (either with Isla, or later on his own I have drafts for. But- probably with Isla) and lived with Isla for a bit- she runs for help from soul and things like in cannon and she helps hide them for a bit. Though- Isla ends up having Rae stay with Enderian. She probably stays as long as she can without compermising Rae’s safety, but maybe gets caught by Fable eventually.

Fenris is Rae’s bodyguard. He is a former general for the Nether’s army, just like in cannon. (I have to rewatch some of his lore before confidently talking about how he gets to become Rae’s bodyguard, so I’m sorry I won’t have too much info at the moment <3)

He becomes Rae’s bodyguard later- Enderian probably heard of his reputation as “the wolf” and hired him. (May try to include the wolf arc- but am again, trying to figure out how to integrate it.)

Now- basic plot summary? Something of the sort? Yeah. Some random details too cause I have no one train of thought ever and am just writing whatever I think of down. /lh

So for some backstory- Islas story is basically the same as in lore. But it changes for that bit after Rae was born just to adhere to the different circumstances Royal AU brings to the table. So, Rae grows a bit before Isla takes him and runs in this AU- he’s older, couldn’t tell you how old (age is a lie/silly/j) but just. A child. She notices how he’s being treated by Fable, takes him and leaves. She doesn’t take Icarus. There’s a lot of consideration for that fact- of course there is. Their her child. But- they’re not close, Fable makes sure of that. They spend most of their time with him, and their his heir after all. Their disappearance would be the worst to explain. So she doesn’t take them with her.

She takes Rae, and over the course of a few years- stays in a sort of safe house like in cannon, learns the things she does there, goes to soul for help, all that stuff. But she ends up taking Rae to Enderian, he becomes crown prince. She stays with them until it compromises Rae’s safety. Fable finds her, she doesn’t give away that she’d stayed with Enderian and that stays secret for a long time. Fable finds her, messes with her memories and things (he’s messed with Icarus’s too at this point- probably erasing Rae entirely) end she goes into a coma. He locks her away, Icarus doesn’t even know she’s here- and ends up having no memories of her anyways. Only fable knows where she’s locked away. Some tower in the castle sleeping beauty style probably.

Rae grows up in the end kingdom, Icarus grows up in the overworld.

Rae meets Caspian in the end prison- advocating for his freedom and things. He gets him a place in the end kingdom, and they get together at a peaceful festival in the overworld. That is an annual festival- Rae meets aax and takes her there too. He and Cas talk- and probably end up asking Aax out there too- making a whole day out of it probably. It’s a tradition for them, after all.

Aax lives with Cas, and Rae stays with them on weekends? Mayhaps? Something like that. He’s allowed to visit them whenever.

I like to think maybe Cas helps Athena and Bruin run the bakery on occasion. Bed and breakfast. Idk. Rae is definelty still the taste tester on Aax safe foods. And also a waiter on opening day for multiple reasons- one, it’s funny- two, yknow. Royal press. Media(?) purposes. Yknow what I mean hopefully.

Also- end kingdom I think had parts in the overworld and end? Like- overworld has the stronghold portal as the center and then made a kingdom around that, and then there’s an end part of the kingdom. This was probably a result of a peace treaty Isla had led years before between the realms after the war. Because badass mother deserves it. But to explain that- yeah. I think the Nether doesn’t- but has a trading hub spreading through portals and things. Yknow. Just not kingdom- I think the overworld is still more cold to people from the nether so. No kingdom. But portals can be made anywhere instead of having just one like the end, so that makes sense.

Gilded kingdom is just the biggest kingdom in the overworld areas we know- as Fable is the god of creation. I just have cool ideas for kingdom designs. May build them in Minecraft actually who knows- (if I do I will in fact post the pictures)

The Aether kingdom was a thing for souls and stuff as it was in cannon, but fell the same way. Alerion and Will live peacefully in one of the overworld kingdoms living normal lives away from everything, as they deserve.

A lot of the fable characters probably lives in the overworld, and just travel between realms.

Athena’s house probably has an area like his lab, where half is in the overworld and half is in the nether. If not, maybe their bed and breakfast- or atleast she has some nether bakery locations maybe with nether specific treats! Cause I think they deserve it and I just think it’d be cool.

Will has a cartographers shop in his village- like a cartographer villager type thing.

Rae has his archives he runs in his kingdom, there are two- one in the overworld part and one in the nether.

Starbarks definelty exists, does Fenris cannonly in this AU run all of the businesses he runs in actual cannon? Probably not. Do they exist? Probably.

Ven works as a close advisor for Fable, and Ari is hired as a knight or general of a sort for fable. Maybe more like a spy. Cat scratch records exist probably.

The world sisters do exist, most likely- (logistically if this was like a alternate “fable raises Icarus AU” they probably wouldn’t but I can do what I want and I say they’re here cause I love them- /silly)

Addie- Addie idk- maybe they work on like a night shift for the archives? Or like as an intern.

Ulysses- idk where to put Ulysses. Oh you silly fish man you. I will incorporate all the telchin stuff, definetly, I think just think of the cannon lore for that one.

Also- Quixis is there somewhere. Probably not in the same way for plot- but gotta include them in every au somehow /silly

Yeah. Royal AU. I’m eepy so I shut up- but hope you like my rambling ig idk-

I didn’t realize y’all enjoyed this au that much- I appreciate all the excitement about it /gen tehe <3

[baocean]

make up - jj maybank

(gif credit to @devilsmenu)

jjmaybank x kook!reader

summary: after jj hooked up with your best friend, you wrote both of them off. it’d been easy to ignore the both of them, until you came face to face with him.

warnings: sex baby, spitting, swearing

you were sure there was nothing more that you hated than jj maybank.

you never give into the stereotypes of pogues vs kooks, but you couldn’t help but despise that blond pogue.

sitting on a couch at the random house party with your friends, you weren’t even sure why kooks and pogues tried to party together, it never ended well.

sarah cameron walked by with john b, hand in hand, sarah’s free hand waving at you as they passed.

mya, maria, and alex sat with you, talking amongst themselves as you stared at him over your drink.

his blond hair was in his face, shaking back and forth as he laughed. he was talking to one of his friends.

like he knew you were looking at him, his eyes flicked over to you.

you rolled your own. adverting your attention back to your friends, trying so desperately to not look back at him.

but you were done with him, for good. after he got with your best friend, even though you both agreed you weren’t going to hook up with other people, you cut them both off.

the entire island knew you hated jj and that he hated you, but behind closed doors, the quiet sweet nothings and hours wrapped in his sheets told different stories.

he had called you close to a hundred times, texted you twice as much.

you were done. so, you wouldn’t look back at him.

jj hadn’t been there for more than an hour before he was getting into a fight with some kook.

you got up to see what the commotion was about, groaning when you saw jj lay a punch on the guys face. so typical of him.

and somehow, he found you in the crowd, smirking like crazy at you, right before he got hit again.

you didn’t even flinch, because you’ve seen this jj too many times to count. the no good, nasty side of jj.

he spit blood, laughing as he grabbed the guys head and brought his knee up to hit him again.

the kook went down, not getting back up right away. a few people ran to check on him, you just stared at jj.

the arrogant smirk on his face dropped when he saw the look on your face. you turned and walked away.

you headed up the stairs to the second floor, looking for a bathroom to get some space from everyone.

“sweetheart, where you going?” his voice insighted something close to rage in you, motivating you to keep walking.

“don’t ignore me.” his voice was closer, much more demanding now.

it was hard to, even if you had been doing it this past week. everytime he texted you or called you, you wanted to answer. but he hurt you, so you wouldn’t.

“fuck off, jj.” your voice was harsh as you opened a door, finding an empty bedroom, deeming it good enough.

“oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” he cooed, a laugh following. you knew he’d walk into the bedroom with you, closing and locking the door.

“can you not take a hint? i don’t want to fucking talk to you.” you finally turned, almost surprised to see the state of his face. there was blood coming from his nose, a bruise already forming on his cheek, more blood coming from his mouth.

“don’t care. i want to talk to you.” he shrugged.

“well, you look like shit. let me fix you up first.” you shot at him, hoping it would falter him.

of course, it didn’t, not much did. “my girl gonna take care of me? how sweet.” he was so bitter, but so addictive.

“i’m not your girl. get that into your head. just can’t stand looking at you.” you gave him a mean smile, huffing as you walked into the connected bathroom.

he followed you in, watching as you fumbled around with things under the sink, grabbing a cotton pad and running it under the water.

“come here.” you words were laced with annoyance.

this happened too often. it’d only been a week since jj hooked up with your now ex best friend. you were still familiar with this scene. him coming to you, covered in bruises or blood. whether it be from his father or some random kook. he’d come find you, you’d take care of him.

“so bossy. just the way i like it, sweetheart.” he tittered. you wished you had some sort of alcohol instead of water, to sting his wounds.

ignoring him, you dabbed off the blood from his mouth, wiped away off his nose.

“you hate me now?” his demeanor dropped, looking at you in the way he only looked at you when he was really upset.

“always have, especially now.” throwing away the cotton pad, you went to wash your hands.

“i’m sorry.” he sighed.

“you’re not, you just want to hook up with me.” turning back to him, you shook your head, then laughed.

“i do, i won’t fucking lie. but i am sorry. miss my favorite girl.” he reached up to play with the ends of your hair.

“oh, who’s your second favorite? pia?” you laugh at him.

“look, that was a mistake. really, i fucked up. i know.”

“glad you figured that out.” you pat his shoulder, heading out of the bathroom.

“sweetheart, please. give me one more chance. i won’t mess it up, i won’t.” jj grabbed your arm, pleading with you.

you sat there for a second, contemplating. you hated jj, but you missed him. you hated being alone these past few days, after being so familiar with calling jj over.

“fine.” you rolled your eyes, not letting jj’s celebration affect your features.

he pulled you into a hug, before quickly drawing back and kissing you.

his hand came up from your waist to your face, gently rubbing your check with his thumb.

“i missed you, sweetheart. went a whole week without talking to my favorite girl.” his hand on your cheek slowly wandered down to your neck.

“make it up to me then, maybank.” you bit at him.

that was the confirmation he needed, and you were on the guest bed almost immediately.

his lips kissed down your neck, down your collarbone and shoulder.

his fingers fumbled with the straps of your top and bra, pulling them down together. his lips connected with your nipple, sending you shooting foward.

his left hand rolled your other nipple between his fingers, looking up at him through his lashes.

that was almost enough right there, screwing your eyes shut from the feeling.

he left you, your eyes popping open as you groaned. “sweetheart, i will treat you so good after this but i’ve waited a week to fuck you.”

you rolled your eyes as his fingertips dipped under your waitband and pulled your shorts down.

his rough hands ran over your thighs, giving you shivers.

“god, been thinking about this for days.” jj groaned. you were about to let out a sarcastic comment, but were cut off by jj pushing into you, bottoming out.

your hand flung to his bicep, mouth wide open. he steadied his pace, rapid and hard. his hand hooked under your leg, pulling it up to give him a better angle.

it was all so much, feeling him everywhere, because he was everywhere.

his free hand grabbed your chin, your eyes opening just in time to watch jj spit into your mouth. he smiled, tapping your cheek as he continued his pace.

“fuck j, so good.” was all you could manage.

he brought his hand up to your hair, caressing your head and pushing back your hair. he always did this. something so sweet and gentle as he fucked you so hard it would hurt in the morning.

with some force and a whole lot of strength, you flipped the both of you over. jj looked surprised at first, before quickly falling back in and grabbing your tits as you rode him.

your hands were on his chest, riding him hard, focusing on pleasuring yourself, not caring about jj.

you hit your high, crashing on top of him as you came, not being able to hold yourself up.

“fuck fuck sweetheart i’m gonna cum.” jj’s eyes closed, a sour face falling onto his features.

“go ‘head baby.” you cooed, his hands tightening around your hips. he came inside you, his moans filling the room.

he twitched underneath you. you held each other for a moment, before jj flipped you over again.

he kissed down your chest, stomach, down to your legs.

“what are you doing?” you questioned, your hand sliding through his hair.

“i told you id make it up to you,” jj snickered, his hands pushing your thighs apart, “so let me make it up to you.”