#codependency x 2

[chaos-deimos-et-eris]

Everyone knew that the Fenton children were not close. Don't get them wrong, they teased each other and fought as they walked home together but that was it. The Fentons had moved to Amity when their youngest was 8 but neither had gone to school until the following year, to take care of their youngest, the Fentons had said.

It was clear the the older, smarter, Jasmine had resented Daniel for that. She had been seen for weeks into the new school year walking slightly ahead of her glaring brother. This early separation had saved her, setting her apart from her crazy parents and rabid and werid brother. Danny settled into a sweet boy and Jazz walked her brother degilantly to and from school and when she left the house on the weekends to go to the library, she no longer went by herself.

But no one in Amity really forgot those first few weeks. The older Fenton started terrorizing the city and the children started to pull each other into random bathrooms to wrap burns and cuts. They did not meet up in school, did not greet each other in the hallway, did not play or sit together in recess, did not talk on the way home. The Fenton house disappeared for the weekend and when it reappeared, Jazz had wordlessly dragged her brother to the girls bathroom to wrap a cut and they were both sitting in their seats by the time the Monday bell rang. The Fenton kids presented a perfect united front. Amity did not forget those first few weeks.

Danny was a sweet boy. He loved space and liked going to the library and had befriended a boy named Tucker. Jazz was a sweet girl. She liked magic and helped her classmates with the homework and befriended no one. Jazz was an angel, the city's golden child, smart and independent. Tucker was shunned and left with his only friend Danny. It was better to sacrifice one then to deal with the devil child.

It was better to sacrifice both then to deal with the parents. The only CPS agent that was ever sent had said it was a false alarm. The city watched nervously as guns were installed inside the house. The children presented a united front and Amity said nothing and didn't hold it against her.

Jazz turned 13 and walked Danny to school but did not walked him back. He had befriended another child, a Samantha that had just moved and hadn't been warned. The children walked after school to the nasty burger before separating, the trio to Tucker's house, and Jazz to library. They still waited for each other on the corner to walk the last stretch into the house together. The city thanked the Foley's for their sacrifice.

Jazz and Danny start talking to each other on the way to school, facts about space and magicians. Sam and Tucker proved to be too cool and smart to be ignore by their communities, taking care to interact outside of Danny. The Fentons nearly kill someone and Danny is alone when the first punch is thrown. He does nothing. Good, the city hisses, maybe he will go away. Jazz picks up an interest in child psychology. Good, the city praises, maybe she can fix him. The Fentons are acquitted. Amity learns to work around them.

Jazz is in high-school and still walks her brother to school. Their walks are filled with space puns and test taking tips. After school Sam meets with environmentalists and goths and Tucker with the geeks and nerds and Danny walks to Nasty Burger to eat and meet up with his sister. The walk back is silent. Amity thinks that if their brother was Danny, their walks back would be silent too.

Danny is in high school and clumsy. He used to graceful, but now he drops everything. A teacher, new to the city, notices his hands, covered in the pale white of scars made of blade and the shiny pink of burns healed not quite right. A delinquent, she huffs. No one notices that Jazz's hands are the same.

Not two weeks into the school year there is an explosion at Fentonworks. The Fenton parents had not been in the house (unfortunately the city muttered angrily, robbed) but their children had (unfortunately the city whispered mournfully, robbed). The Fentons had been frantic and when no bodies had been found, they took to the streets looking for their children.

But the city remembers wrapped burn and guns and united fronts and weekends at the library and they had been such sweet kids (they choose to forget those first few weeks and how they treated Danny because while not everyone is perfect in life like Jazz had been, nearly everyone becomes perfect in death) and so the children are declared dead, thier bodies vaporized by the heat from the explosion. They wished Jazz (and her brother too they guessed) the best and Amity Park finally finally finally get ready to rid themselves of the Fentons.

DP x DC prompt:

Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.

It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.

He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.

He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!

He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)

His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.

Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.

Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.

Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.

In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.

In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.

Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.

"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"

Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.

He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.

"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.

Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.

"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"

[theriverbeyond]

we criticize Ianthe for things like "body autonomy violations", "being a creep and weirdo", "murder" but have we ever considered she also saved Harrow from the indignity of growing out a buzzcut. she should be hailed as a saint.

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.

[where-our-stories-start]

Heartstopper (2x08): Perfect

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Ohhhhh 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Source of video/translation as above

GMMTV Musicon x Hong Kong

18/08/2024

[ahollowgrave]

-- a postcard for an old friend.

Dearest Lamb in Wolf's Fur, Do you know how often I think of you? It is painful. Like a bruise I cannot help to poke, to press upon with the same fingers that entwined with yours, if only for the brief glimpse of you. That’s why I am here, though it is a long and dangerous trek. Do you remember when we sat here, in the ruins of your fallen city, the snow falling soft and slow?  Do you come here too? Do you think of me? If I leave you a kiss, will you blow one into the wind for me? Always a Little Yours, Odette

P.S. Forgive me for only sending one kiss. Please share it with Lupercal so that he thinks of me!

Sometimes a girl needs a brief but incredibly intense fling that takes place over the course of a Garlemald winter.

[hoperays-song]

Fights with Rynny

Ryan: l'm still angry with you!

Johnny: Well, I'm still bloody pissed at you too!

Ryan: Let's give each other some space then!

Johnny: Good idea!

Ryan: *gets off Johnny's lap and sits next to him, still holding his hand*

Meena, came over for tea and is now very confused: ...

Meena: ... You two do know how fights actually are supposed to work, right? Because I'm starting to think you don't.

[adrianlikesdinos]

yes i am absolutely obsessed with them loving eachother tenderly and fucking nasty, and yes, i will refer to them a best friends and gush about how much "i just love their dynamic" to my less fandomy online friend just to be able to talk about THEM at any possible moment.

[blcssom]

open to: f/m/nb ft. aiden perry (he/him) plot: they were childhood sweethearts who got separated by whatever reason and while they've moved on with someone knew, he's still determined to prove that no one's better for them than he is: by any means possible

he's not surprised they've found their way past the main gate of his estate: after all, aiden had planned the lavish party they wandered into for them and them alone. he allowed them to make the rounds, ogling at the various entertainment he'd secured for his soiree, waiting until their date had excused themselves to get refreshments before he made his presence known. "they're your favorite, aren't they?" he met their confused gaze with a small smile, gesturing to the flowers. "d'you like them?"

[fakescorpion]

Chapters: 2/3 Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Dracule Mihawk & Crocodile, Dracule Mihawk/Crocodile Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Crocodile, Cross Guild

Additional Tags: Unreliable Narrator, Childhood Trauma, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Psychological Horror, Insanity, Mental Instability, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, Backstory, Worldbuilding

Summary: The privilege of royal blood, and the first step in the ladder of preference. A crown is a crown, and divine right is not free. Dracule Mihawk was a prince once upon a time, and Crocodile was the price that paid for his everything. (they were childhood friends, but with an insidious twist.)

[bee-ina-boat]

idk if this is an autistic thing or whatever but oh my god why is writing so HARd? like, im afraid of constantly implying things other than what they mean

"does this sound like im demonizing mental illness?"

"what if this makes it seem like i think the answer to struggling with mental health is suicide?"

"what if this relationship comes off as toxic,"

"does this seem like x character is trying to fix y? what if it reads like x is being manipulated to try and help y?"

"did i accidentally give x a savior complex?"

"does y come off as an abuser just because they did bad things out of desperation? what if giving y a happy ending ends up feeling like abuser sympathizing?"

"how do i make y's character arc without it feeling like they suddenly realized something obvious and were fixed magically"

writing is hard

[elialys]

#helen and dale are both this and thats why theyre both perfect and terrible for each other (via gerrycarla)

big fan of characters with abandonment + attachment issues so profound that they leave claw marks in everything they touch but would sooner gnaw off their own leg than admit they just want someone to stay for once. in a totally normal well adjusted and not at all projecting way of course.

[muntitled]

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

[hoperays-song]

Week 2 of The Majestic Stay

Ryan, running around the hotel room: Hey, have you seen the-

Johnny, on his bed: -underneath the tape in the first drawer, but don’t forget-

Ryan, nodding: -right, okay. I’ve got it covered. See you in a bit, out for dinner?

Johnny, giving him a thumbs up: I’ll send you the address.

Ryan, darting out the door: Sounds good, I’ll text you when I’m heading out!

Nooshy, so confused: How are you two not married yet?

[paperbunny]

Clearly Aziraphale was invited to the Stoker house, and Crowley (likely because he didn't get along with Bram) was not. Az was so conflicted, looking out the window and seeing Crowley creeping around or sometimes pressed up against the glass of the second story bedchamber, making sure Aziraphale was alright.

Stoker finds Aziraphale up at all hours -Angels don't sleep- and is troubled by this sleepwalking that plagues Mr. Fell. Is it that rat Crowley who he keeps seeing in town? He has some strange animosity toward Mr. Fell, though the gentle bookseller never seems to notice. Stoker throws open the door to Mr. Fell's room one night, having heard strange noises, and startles Crowley who hisses and dashes out the [second floor] window. Mr. Fell, abashed, sits in the armchair by the fire with a cup of tea. "My apologies, Mr. Stoker, my friend just ... well he's rather high strung."

The next morning in a fit of pique, Stoker bemoans his lovely Croatian holiday is ruined by the endless nerves of where Crowley will turn up next. Soon, Dracula is born.

how many times do you think crowley has been mistaken for a vampire throughout history

[reminiscingtonight]

Pretending (Pt. 2)

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Word Count: 986

Part One

[WOSO Masterlist]

“Do you want to get married?”

You’re soaking in the sun, a welcome change from the cloudy skies of Manchester when Aitana pops the question.

You crack open an eye. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

She says it with the most serious face that you start questioning if you’re the crazy one here.

“Are you asking me what my thoughts are about marriage in general or marriage between us?”

Aitana doesn’t have to say anything, she only gives you a look. 

You sigh, propping yourself up on an arm so you can face Aitana when having this conversation. “We’re not even dating.”

Aitana shrugs. “If it matters that much to you we can give it a day.”

It’s such a ridiculous proposition that you can’t do anything but laugh. “So what? We can tell our children we dated for a day before we got married?”

This time she grins, finger drifting to hook around your own. “Time doesn’t matter. We both know whatever this is, whatever we are, it’s been going on far longer than a day.”

You’ve been back in Barcelona for close to a year now. The two of you picked up right where you left off, spending almost all of your waking moments with one another. Even when night comes round, it’s rare to find you sleeping apart. 

Ona calls you both codependent idiots, Ingrid calls it something sweet, all you know is that it works for the two of you and although you’re not dating, it’s a life you can find yourself getting used to.

When the break came around and Ona announced she was going somewhere tropical with Lucy, Aitana was quick to make some plans for just the two of you. 

You didn’t question it much, happy to just spend time with the girl you’ve been pining after for years. 

At first everything was normal. Sure, Aitana’s been a bit more sentimental than usual, opting to reminisce about your childhood adventures or bring up the unofficial first dates of yours from all those years ago. But you don’t think too much about it, choosing instead to focus on not ogling all of the skin on display as Aitana’s primary activity these past couple days have consisted of nothing but sunbathing.

It’s not like you haven’t caught Aitana eyeing you up and down a couple of times too, but it’s different between the two of you. You’re still patiently waiting for Aitana to drop the pretense that you’re anything more than just friends, hence the respect you’ve been giving (though if she continues wearing two-pieces and hanging off your arm all day every day you might have to catch an early flight home before you combust). Aitana on the other hand… well you’re not really sure what she’s doing.

Though you can probably conclude that she’s not pretending anything anymore if she’s asking for your hand in marriage.

“I love you.”

Though her words fill you with warmth, you can’t help but frown at her sudden change in demeanor. Just three days ago when you were still surrounded by your teammates in Barcelona, Aitana cracked a joke about loving you when hell froze over --- though you probably deserved that comment after you let Mapi convince you to dunk her socks in the ice bucket. Although she’s affectionate with you, she’s never this affectionate.

“Aita, what’s going on?” you sit up, taking care to scoop Aitana’s hand into yours.

The smile slips off her face as her eyes drop, fingers nervously tapping by her side.

It’s automatic, the way your free hand rises, rubbing at the furrow between her brows.

Aitana melts into your touch, face leaning forward until your hand has no choice but to cup her cheek.

“It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of,” you murmur, trying to prompt Aitana to speak her mind.

Aitana looks lost in thought for a moment. She bites at her lip before letting out the longest sigh known to man. “Aren’t you ever going to get tired waiting for me?”

You’re not able to stop the laugh that bubbles past your lips. “If that’s what you’re afraid of, you have nothing to worry about. I’m in this for the long run, even if that means waiting for you until we’re gray and old. I’m happy with what we are right now as long as you’re happy too.”

“But what if I’m ready now?” 

You blink, not expecting the sureness behind her voice. There’s a slight fire in Aitana’s eyes, the midfielder looking like she’d move mountains just for you to understand how serious she is. 

“I know I’ve always put football first but you have always been the one thing I’ve wanted to commit to. You’ve been so patient with me, loving me when I never gave you a reason to. You bring me up when I’m sad, give me reasons to smile when I just want to cry, you’re what I love falling asleep to every night, and seeing your face when I wake up just fills me up with joy.”

Your eyes flutter shut when she leans forward to press her head against yours. You can feel her breath running hot against your lips and it takes everything in you to not bridge the gap. 

“I love the way you know me and I love the way you’re you.”

When your lips finally meet there’s no other way to describe the kiss than perfect. It’s short and sweet but it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. 

“I love you. So much.”

Aitana’s giving you a teary grin when you open your eyes, and you can’t do anything but smile right back at her. 

“So will you marry me?”

---

Ona’s eyes nearly fall out of her head when she sees the matching bands on your fingers when you stroll into the locker room a week later.