#from the look of it you are already doing a great job!

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hi honey, i absolutely love your fics, they've made me smile, laugh, cry and scream in cuteness. i was wondering if you could do this trend:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMB7Aupdp/

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMB7D47xE/

but with the drivers and their daughters/sons, like driver says 'im so hungry i could eat a child' and their kids reactions... if you dont want to, there's no problem at all. love 🩷🩷

Only Kidding

It was a slow Friday at the paddock—calm skies, mild temperatures, and everything running on time for once. Lando sat back in the team hospitality lounge, his race suit unzipped down to his waist and tied at his hips, a plain white T-shirt clinging slightly from the heat. But he didn’t care about that.

All his attention was on the small girl curled in his lap, playing with the braided bracelets on his wrist.

“Careful,” he said gently, watching her fingers tangle a little too tight. “That one’s from Monaco. I like that one.”

Yn looked up at him with the same big brown eyes that made people double take whenever they walked by. “I’m being careful, Daddy.”

“I know you are,” he said with a smile, brushing his hand over her curls.

She looked so much like him it was a little ridiculous sometimes. Same nose, same smile, same stubborn little pout. His heart squeezed just looking at her. Five years old and already the most important thing in his world—no contest.

Max walked into the lounge with a cold drink in one hand and a slightly mischievous grin. “Mate, she’s gonna braid those onto your face if you don’t stop her soon.”

“She can do whatever she wants,” Lando replied without hesitation. “She’s the boss.”

Yn beamed proudly and held up his arm. “I’m decorating!”

From the couch beside them, Ria laughed. “You’re doing a great job, love.”

Lando leaned his head back with a soft sigh. “God, I’m starving. I could eat a whole child.”

There was a pause.

A very small, very deliberate pause.

Yn froze. Her tiny fingers stopped playing with his bracelets. Slowly, she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“You could… what?” she asked, voice quiet and slightly horrified.

Max choked on his drink.

Lando blinked, confused by her sudden stillness. “What?”

Yn carefully slid off his lap, step by step, not breaking eye contact.

“Baby?” he said, raising a brow.

She didn’t answer.

She walked—no, tiptoed—straight to Ria and climbed into her lap without a word, still looking at Lando like he had grown fangs.

Ria burst out laughing the moment Yn clutched her like a safety blanket.

“Oh my god,” Max wheezed. “She thinks you’re gonna eat her!”

“I was kidding!” Lando said, now cracking up too. “Yn, baby, I swear—I was joking!”

Yn blinked slowly at him, her little hands fisted in Ria’s hoodie.

“Why would you say that?” she asked seriously, as if this was a courtroom and he was on trial.

“I was hungry! It’s just a joke people say sometimes!”

“You said you could eat a child,” she repeated, dramatically betrayed.

Ria was shaking with laughter now. “Honestly, I’d go hide too if my dad said that.”

Lando leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Come here, monkey. I promise I’m not gonna eat you. You’re my whole heart, remember?”

She hesitated, still snuggled against Ria.

“You said you were hungry.”

“I was. But I meant I could eat, like, a really big sandwich. Or a mountain of pasta. Not you.”

Max threw in, “Yeah, I don’t think you’d taste very good anyway.”

“Max!” Ria hissed, laughing harder.

Yn’s mouth twitched.

Lando noticed. “Uh oh. Is that a smile?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.” She turned her face into Ria’s shoulder, giggling quietly.

“I got you,” Ria said softly, kissing her head. “We’ll protect you from the Big Bad Hungry Dad.”

“I’m not the Big Bad anything!” Lando insisted, dramatically affronted. “I’m your dad! I read you bedtime stories and make dinosaur-shaped pancakes!”

“You do,” Yn admitted shyly.

“And I sing terribly in the car just to make you laugh.”

She nodded again.

“So can I please have my snuggle-bug back?”

She finally looked at him properly, serious again. “You really won’t eat me?”

“Not even a nibble.”

“Not even a toe?”

“Not even a toe.”

Yn wriggled out of Ria’s lap and padded back over. Lando opened his arms wide, and she dove into them like a little rocket. He hugged her tight, lifting her slightly onto his lap again.

“You scared me,” she said into his chest.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful with my jokes, yeah?”

“Okay.”

From behind them, Max mumbled, “You know, if you just packed snacks like I told you—”

“Not the time, Max.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🤍🦢

[joshujin]

smile, s.coups

you take a photo with rapper s.coups at the met gala.

1.5k words • masterlist • submit a request pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader cw: none

the met gala isn't something you particularly enjoy attending, but every year, without fail, you're told you're invited and yes, you are going and no, as reigning "princess of the met," we cannot debate this. it's the trade-off for doing what you love and being who you are: no longer having a say and simply going where you're told to go, doing what you're told to do.

you honestly blame this on kwon soonyoung. he's been styling you since your popularity really started taking off, and when you got invited to your first met, it was his art that made you a viral topic for weeks on end. your name was everywhere. you couldn't give an interview without someone mentioning your met gala appearance. your third album released a few weeks later and thanks to the attention already on you, it nabbed you your first grammy nomination—and win.

and from there, for the last six years now, you haven't been able to escape this godforsaken party. and all because stupid soonyoung was just a tad bit too good at his job.

you don't want to sound ungrateful; you know being the topic of conversation at an event as big as this one year after year has opened a lot of doors for you—opportunities served to you on a platinum platter. but being at the met gala felt dystopian to you sometimes.

the blinding flashes, the demanding, almost primal screams of your name, the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent to throw the event, then the hundreds more spent on the fashion to attend.

it's a lot and it's not something you ever thought would be a priority when you first started creating music. but here you are, in line to walk the carpet with countless celebrities you still can't believe you are looped in with annually.

the nerves always make you near-despondent in the hours leading up to the event. you hardly talk to the staff that accompanies you—your assistant, manager, and soonyoung—you try not to make eye contact with anyone because you don't want to socialize until you're away from the carpet and away from the photographers, and you try to breathe slowly and deeply in a pathetically weak attempt to calm your heart down.

you fidget for the millionth time, and soonyoung adjusts whatever you fidgeted out of place for the millionth time.

"this is your sixth year," he murmurs gently as his eyes slowly and deliberately sweep up and down your body. you'd accuse him of checking you out if you didn't know that he was just admiring his own work. "this isn't anything you haven't already conquered. you're going to be great."

you give him the tiniest nod and he smiles, resting his hand on your arm briefly before stepping away. it's almost your turn. you raise your eyes and find yourself staring at grey hair. there's something familiar about his stature as the stranger steps forward, immediately welcomed with a wall of roars. it's as disorienting as it always is, but you catch his name early on.

"s.coups!" the name continuously echoes across the carpet.

"s.coups? the rapper?" you ask, looking over at your team, waiting for any one of them to answer. it's your assistant who does.

"yes, he's the ambassador for boss and it's his first time at the met," she steps up and recites it like it's memorized information.

no one ever asks her to, but she studies everyone on the guest list every year like she's in the devil wears prada. however ridiculous, you have to admit it is useful.

"huh," you say more to yourself than anyone.

you were familiar with the rapper and his work. you had even played around with the thought of reaching out to get him on a song, but the idea just never came to fruition. you've been too busy to do much of anything, let alone follow his career, but if the screams are any indication, the man's popularity has substantially grown since you first discovered his music.

it's a cacophony of his name, requests to turn, questions about his outfit, demands for a certain pose. your ear drums rattle at the noise. you're overstimulated. more than anything, you're impressed.

he moves forward to the next spot he's directed to, and you know that means it's your turn.

soonyoung hurriedly prepares your dress to fall the way he wants it to fall, to float where he wants it to float, to stun the world the way he always does. then, staff is waving you to your marker, and you comply, stepping forward.

the crowd gets impossibly louder, and you do your best not to flinch. you see s.coups freeze a little at the sudden increase in noise, and as you walk up to the marker, he turns around, eyebrows raised in curiosity at who could inspire this reaction. when his eyes land on you, it's clear he knows exactly who you are. his eyebrows settle as his lips curve into a warm and knowing smile that reaches up into his eyes.

for the first time in six years, everything is quiet on the carpet. for the first time, you're thankful for the flashes because it allows you to better see s.coups's face. his eyes. his insanely cherry red lips. for the first time, you're not thinking about how much you hate this part of your job or how badly you want to go back to your hotel room or if you'll make a fool of yourself trying to socialize inside.

all your brain can process is the rapper standing in front of you.

it all comes barreling back—the screams, the demands, the nervousness—when you feel soonyoung gently shove the small of your back with a tiny: "what the hell are you doing?"

"oh, sorry," you breathe as you take the last few steps to the tape on the floor.

you make sure you're standing where you need to be and when you look back up, his eyes are still on you, so you return his smile with a small one of yours. his becomes even wider. he turns back to the crowd of photographers, and you both pose for a few moments before the staff is ushering him to the next marker, and you to his current spot.

before he walks to where he's being asked to go, he grins at the photographers and shouts, "i know what you all are really waiting for!" and he makes a show of bowing away from the spot as you walk forward.

you can't help the amused giggle that escapes you, and even with all the sound, he seems to hear it because he looks up and smiles sweetly. you think he's done, but he suddenly offers his hand. and when you take it, not sure of where this is going, he escorts you to the space he was just standing in.

you kind of hope he'll kiss your hand too. that maybe it will leave remnants of his gloss on your skin and you can convince yourself he's real. but he doesn't, simply bowing his head infinitesimally before letting go and following the staff to his next spot.

but the photographers don't let you two get away with that. only a second or so passes before they're screaming at you two to take a photo together. you both try to ignore them at first, but they shout nothing else at you other than: "together! together!"

you sneak a look at s.coups to see that he's doing the same to you, making you both laugh. he tilts his head in question, and without answering, you walk over to meet in the middle. you expect to take the photo side by side, arms politely around each other's shoulders. maybe even just posing together with an awkward distance between.

instead, s.coups has his hands on your waist and guides you to be just a small step in front of him. he lets his left hand rest on your waist, his right slipping into the pocket of his pants. you're thankful that soonyoung's look required an insane amount of blush around your temples and eyes because your face feels like it's on fire.

he looks down at you once you're both positioned and he smiles. "this okay?" he asks quietly.

you nod. "yeah." you're not even sure if he can hear you. you can't force yourself to speak any louder. "it's okay."

he smiles. "good. can't have the princess of the met covered by a nobody like me."

you scoff. "you're definitely not a nobody."

"oh?" he tilts his head again, bits of grey hair falling into his eyes when he does. "and what makes you say that?"

"if you were a nobody, how would the princess of the met know you well enough to know she wants you on a track with her?"

his lips fall open in quiet shock, and you smirk and pat the hand that's resting on your waist.

"smile for the cameras, s.coups."

you don’t bother to wait and see the expression on his face when you reveal you know his stage name. you feel a little more in your element, turning back to the flashes just as a photographer shouts: "OKAY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO PLEASE LOOK AT US NOW?!"

a/n: short and sweet. just felt like writing something while i was streaming this stupid event waiting for seungcheol hehe. it ended up being for nothing bc i completely missed him (or the vogue stream didn't show him, i still don't know). edit: the vogue stream didn’t show him. RAGGEDY BITCH BEHAVIOR!!!! anyway, they definitely bang in some isolated bathroom in the museum far away from the party, but i didn't feel like torturing my single brain cell to produce smut today lmao

[teaboot]

Mr Teaboot do you have any advice on how to communicate in the workplace? I started my first job like 3 months ago and it's all men twice my age and I swear we're not speaking the same language??? Like I ask for them to do something and they do something completely different, but I don't know how to politely say "this is wrong" in corporate speak.

My best strategy for situations like this is to ask exploratory questions. People aren’t always great at explaining themselves, but they also don’t often see reason to lie about their thought processes.

Asking “so why do you do that this way?”, “is there a reason you do X in Y order?”, or “when I say X, what comes to mind?”. Their answers to these questions- asked from a place of genuine interest and curiosity and not from a condescending or passive-aggressive way, because that’s important- can inform you on where the miscommunication in happening and how to better frame what you want to communicate. Different phrasing, terminology, or a clearer explanation.

You can also try flat-out saying what you want accomplished, if you haven’t already, instead of focusing on procedure.

I’ve had issues in the past where someone told me how they wanted me to do something instead of the end result they were looking for, and that distinction caused a lot of grief until we determined that the process didn’t matter so much as the completed task.

If you have any specific examples I may be able to assist more, but these usually clear most similar problems up in my experience

[lisbethsalandsr]

It's so funny to look at this crowd of 2.1 MILLION people in Rio and watch gringos be like: – 'But where do these people pee?' Like, outdoor porta-potties don’t exist? – 'But where do they park their cars?' Well, public transportation exists in Brazil, you know, and Rio made it completely free while Gagacabana was happening. – 'But what if someone yells “bomb”?' While it's not as common here as it is in concerts in the US, some incels actually tried it and guess what? The police were monitoring and arrested them hours before the concert. We only found out after the concert was over and everyone was already back home, sleeping safe and sound.

– 'It's impossible to make a concert for milions of people!' It's not only possible, but we DID and it went great!

I just love watching how xenophobic and racist people try to minimize Brazil’s capacity to handle a concert. Like… we have New Year's Eve in Copacabana. We have Carnaval. We hosted the freaking Olympic Games in Rio in 2016 and did an amazing job, unlike certain European baguettes out there. Madonna brought 1,6 million people to Copacabana last year. And from now on, Rio de Janeiro will be hosting a free concert every year, because Mayor Dudu Paes is just that charismatic.

Millions of Little Monsters showed up for Lady Gaga’s concert at Copacabana beach in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on May 3, 2025

[ava-starrs-girlfriend]

Corner Store Sock Aisle Angel

Bob/Reader, post Thunderbolts* movie ending.

Summary: You met the cutest guy in New York City at a corner store while running an errand. And while he wouldn't call himself an angel, would you? Beauty in the eye of the beholder and all that?

Warnings: none, just a TON of fluff. Spoilers for the movie's ending!!!! Do not read if you haven't watched! No Y/N usage or pronouns for reader.

Word count: 3.5k ish

Author's note: i watched Thunderbolts* in IMAX on Thursday with Rachie and left the theater incredibly compelled to write a fic where i got to kiss Bob. Now have this!

Thunderbolts* movie spoilers under the read more!!!

A week in New York City for work was only half ideal. Half, because you'd have to work, but half because when you werent working, you could explore one of the biggest and most iconic cities in the world.

You hit a couple museums, and then decided you wanted ramen in your hotel on the second night instead of eatting out. The day had been long and exhausting, with your co-workers and people you were meeting being demanding in the most classic office-job ways possible.

It paid well, and you had a nice hotel room, but really, you just wanted to cozy up for the night with something familiar and watch a movie.

But first, you needed ramen.

Of course, you could stop at an actual ramen place, get real noodles and a more authentic experience, but tonight, instant noodles was the desire. Plus, you wanted some candy, and maybe some new socks since you somehow forgot to pack some.

To the corner store it was! Or maybe it was called a bodega?

You pulled out your phone as you waited to cross the street and texted your friend.

"Wtf is a bodega" followed by "isnt it just... a corner store...???"

Your friend responded "how should i know? Im not from NYC!"

You laughed and crossed the street.

It didnt take you long to find a store that looked familiarly safe enough to venture in to. Plus, there were a couple other people in the store.

You walked in and found the instant noodles you were looking for.

Now just Sour Patch Kids candies and socks.

How the hell did you forget socks?

You sighed and turned a corner, nearly running right in to someone.

"Oh! Sorry!"

"Its no problem," he said.

He was *so* cute. And tall. And looked like a dork. He was in a sweashirt and jeans, with worn black converse. Oh, so cute.

"You looking for something?"

"Do- do they have socks here?"

"Yeah!" He said, smiling again, and gestured over to another aisle. "Over there."

"Thanks. I forgot to pack some," you said, passing him. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. That was dumb. All you needed to say was thanks.

"You from out of town?"

"Yeah," you turned back to face him, holding the noodle package awkwardly in your hand. "Here for work."

"Ah, not vacation."

"Not quite."

"Bummer. It's a great week for weather, you should try and get to a park or something at least!" His eyes lit up with an idea. "Maybe lunch, or something? Fresh air?"

You laughed. "Not sure how fresh the air of New York would be, but yeah, that sounds nice."

"Cool. Well, um. Good luck!" He said, and gave you two thumbs up.

Who the hell is this guy. Two thumbs up?? What a dork.

It was adorable.

You gave him a wave and nod, before saying thanks as you turned away, hoping he didnt see you blush, or heard you giggle.

You got over to the sock aisle safely and found a set of pairs that would just have to work.

Finally, you made your way to the candy aisle and saw there were more than one kind of Sour Patch Kids available. What kind of monster gives that many options of basic sour candies?

"Lots of options," a familiar voice said to your left.

You lookes up. The cute guy again.

"Pff. Yeah. For real," you sighed and looked at the options again. "Already a long day and now... more choices."

"These are my favorite," he said, reaching forward and picking up a package of gummy peach rings. He held it toward you. "If, yanno. You didnt want to choose."

"Definitely. Those would work great with my-" you checked the noodles in your hand. "Kung pao chicken instant noodles."

You laughed a little together as he handed you the package.

"Cool," he said. It was kind of pathetic. But also really cute. He offered you his favorite candies so you didnt have to decide. Absolutely adorable.

"Well, thats all I was looking for tonight," you said, looking up at him. "Thank you, corner store angel."

He laughed. "Oh, no, not an angel. Just a guy."

"Just a guy, huh?"

He shrugged, and shyly didnt look you in the eye. "Yeah."

"Alright, just a guy," you said, and, on a whim, handed him one of your business cards. "Text me, maybe. If youre not a serial killer, or anything."

"God, no," he laughed, and looked at the card as he took it in his hand. He smiled and then looked at you. "I like your name."

"Thanks," you said.

Just a moment later, you were walking back to your hotel, feeling like you were floating on a cloud.

You'd met the cutest guy New York City could have possible offered, and randomly gave him your business card.

Not something you usually do.

But how could you not?

~*~

The thought of his cute face and kind laugh diatracted you through the next few days on your work trip. But just as much as it distracted you, it softened the blow of the blunt demands and requests from your team and the business you were hosted by. You felt productive, even if your friend requested Corner Store Angel Boy requests every half hour.

Of course you'd told them. They gushed and were so excited, happy to soak up every little detail that you could remember about the stranger.

But you hadnt asked him what his name was. And you'd forgotten to get his number!

So you were just relying on hoping that he would actually text you. Before you left.

It was kind of hopeless, but at least you hadnt forgotten his face yet, and it kept you looking ahead instead of at the ground as you walked through the city.

On the fifth day, you got a text.

"How are those socks working out for you?"

You couldnt help but smile and swallow a squeal of excitement.

"You good?" One of your co-workers asked.

"Yep," you nodded, and quickly started typing back.

"They're doing the job!" And then "peach rings were the best choice."

"Nice! :D"

Of course.

"Work ok?"

"Would rather be at a park tbh"

There was a moment of watching the little three dots appear and then disappear, then reappear.

Finally, another message.

"There's plenty of parks by good dinner places."

Was- was he actually asking you out?

"Nothing too fancy?"

"Maybe just some pizza?"

You couldnt help the thought that flashed through your mind- *anything with you sounds amazing.* But you didnt type that.

"Send me the time and address"

He sent both a minute later and you could not believe your luck.

You immediately changed over to the chat you had with your friend and told them about the date.

After they sent you a voice note screaming, they made you promise to share your location.

~*~

You had a little time before meeting with the cute guy, so you got back to the hotel to freshen up a little.

Of course, you'd already been in work clothes when you met him, so he'd seen you when you looked pretty good, but at the end of the day.

At least now you could change into something a little more comfortable, and freshen up or touch up your hair. Anything to make you feel less anxious.

You got to the pizza place a little after the suggested time, but he was there, waiting.

You couldnt help but snap a picture before he looked up from his phone.

His face broke out into the biggest grin when he saw you coming. He waved at you, too.

"Hi!" You said, waving and smiling back.

"Hi!" He answered. "How's- how's your week been?"

"Its actually been ok!" You said. "Kept thinking about this reallg cute guy i met, hoping he'd text me." You looked at him, and couldnt help but laugh when he looked uncertain. "You, dude. Im talking about you."

"Oh, duh," he laughed. "Wasnt sure."

"Its not every day i meet corner store angels."

He laughed again, then the smile fell from his lips. "Oh, shit, i never told you my name!"

You laughed again, your hand landing on his forearm. "No, dude."

"Ive known your name and had your number! Im so sorry!"

"You know what'll make it up to me?"

"What?"

"Your name," you said.

"It's Bob."

"Bob?"

"Yeah. Yep," he nodded. "Mhm."

"Cute," you remarked, and looked toward the pizza place. "Well, Bob? Shall we get some slices?"

"Sure!" He agreed and followed behind you into the pizza place.

It still amazed you how the pizza could afford to be just a couple dollars and taste so good. Or maybe you were just hungry. Either way, well worth it, especially to watch Bob get pizza grease down his chin.

He was incredibly cute. Not that you hadnt not thought that before. It was just impossible for you to not think that. And he had the sweetest laugh, and nicest smile.

Maybe he was just new, and it was nice to start learning things about someone.

After finishing the pizza, you asked him about the park he was thinking of showing you.

He opened the door for you and held it as you left the pizza place, and only stared a little as you hooked your arm in his.

You realized as you walked to the park that maybe you shouldnt just walk arm-in-arm with a man you barely knew, at night.

But you also figured that if your friend saw your phone's location in one place for too long that she'd definitely call the cops. FBI, even. National Guard.

The stroll through the park was blessedly uneventful. Bob asked you questions about yourself, happy to listen and hear your stories. He asked clarifying questions and follow ups, and made you laugh with his reactions.

He didnt seem to want to talk about himself too much, but you werent going to press it- a guy who asked questions and was engaged in conversation? Crazy. You weren't going to change that if you could help it.

He also seemed like such a nice, genuine guy. He was sweet, and laughed at your bad jokes.

Part of your brain wanted to process the part that maybe he was still a serial killer, or at least an asshole, but when he smiled at you, you really couldnt see it.

Before you knew it, the time had flown. You checked the time on your phone and it was almost nine p.m.

"Oh, shit! Later than i thought it was," you remarked.

You were sitting with Bob on a park bench, watching the last of the Summer sunset.

"Do you need to go?" He asked.

"Yeah... one more day of work tomorrow, then heading out on Saturday."

"When?"

"The afternoon."

"Bummer."

You looked at him, leaning your arm on the back of the bench and head against your hand.

"I mean, well, i'd really like to see you again, before you go," he said. "Go home."

"Are you busy tomorrow?"

"I figured you'd be?"

"I was working today, Bob," you said. "But I was able to come meet up with you. You're worth that to me, at least right now. And i'd like to see you again, too."

He glanced at your lips before licking his and sighing, looking across the park's path. Then he looked at you again. "Do you think... we could meet up tomorrow?"

"Unless my boss drops a ton of work on me? Yeah, Bob, I'd love to!" You smiled. Your face was going to hurt tomorrow from how much you'd been smiling.

"Really?"

"Yeah, dude," you laughed, and caught him looking at your lips again. You hummed. "You look like you might want to kiss me."

He blushed and looked down at his hands in his lap.

"You can ask, you know," you offered. "Knowing me, I'd probably say yes."

"Ive, uh, just..." he mumbled something you couldnt hear, even though you were sitting right next to him.

"Didn't hear that," you leaned closer.

"I've just never, uh... ive never kissed anyone."

That broke your heart a little. Had no one given him a chance?

Was he a little slow? Yeah, maybe? But you barely knew him, and you couldnt help but like him. Besides, in this world, who isnt a little slow sometimes? He hadnt chosen to talk about any of his own passions, like he'd asked you. There's something that lights his fire, and you were going to find out what that was.

"That's ok," you said, gently. "It's been a long time for me."

"Really?" He scoffed- not in an assumption you were trying to be nice, but just in pure disbelief. "But you're... you."

You hummed and nodded. "Exactly what I thought about you."

He looked at your lips again.

"I'll warn you, my first kiss was not like the movies make it out to be," you said. "No pressure. And if you dont want to-"

"I do want to!"

"Then by all means, Bob, whenever you might be ready."

He couldnt stop looking between your eyes and your lips, and he moved closer to you on the bench.

You met him halfway, reaching over to put your hand over his.

He quickly took your hand in both of his, like he needed the grounding, and then he closed his eyes and leaned in.

You kissed him, just expecting a cute little peck.

But then you felt his warm hand on your cheek and he grew confident, like all he needed was a chance.

You hummed against him, smiling against his lips as he took your top lip between his.

"Woah, Bob," you said, your heart racing as he moved his face a centimeter away from yours. "That was kind of a movie kiss."

"Was it ok?"

"It was great!"

"Can i have another?"

"Well, sure," you agreed, and he enthusiastically kissed you again, his lips soft and touch gentle but curious.

After the second kiss, he looked bubbly.

You couldnt help but mess with his hair a little with your free hand. "Thank you."

"For- oh. Youre welcome. And thanks."

"My pleasure."

He smiled nervously, then glanced at his watch. "Oh, you- you needed to go, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Well, I'll text you? Or should we walk to the train?"

"You can walk with me," you said, and stood up from the bench. You held out a hand, and he took it, standing with you.

~*~

You texted all day with him, and still managed to get the extra work your boss assigned to you that morning done.

Your friend didnt know about the kiss yet. They would have called every five seconds if they did.

But you had enough time to meet Bob for dinner again, this time at a sit down place, but still not too fancy.

He even paid.

He had a job? He hadnt seemed employed.

Bob opened up a little more at dinner, and you were happy to take your turn listening to him.

He avoided talking about a lot of things, but seemed to have a few interesting stories from his past.

You tried not to push anything, however much curiosity you felt. You didnt want to break the bubble that was forming around the two of you, hoping the dreamlike feelings of safety and luck and reality wouldnt burst and come raining down.

It seemed natural at this point to link your arm in his, and he didnt seem as startled about it as he had the night before.

You also secretly loved how solid he felt. As much as sometimes you were curious how his mind worked, he wouldnt blow over with a breeze. When you werent paying attention and stepped out onto the street too early, you were surprised to feel the strength he used to quickly pull you back against him as a car honked and passed by.

He was someone special. You hoped he would be someone significant to you.

After dinner and walking a little aimlessly around Manhattan, he said, "do you want to come over?"

For a guy who'd never kissed anyone before last night, that was awfully bold.

"For what?" You decided to ask.

"Oh, um, just to show you. Also, there's a bowling alley in- in the building."

"You remember that?" You had mentioned bowling when you were younger, and enjoying it even if you were bad at it.

"Yeah!"

"You know what? Sure, lets go bowling."

A few moments later, you could not believe where he stopped.

You looked up, feeling tiny in the building's reflections and it's iconic history. "This- this is the Avengers tower."

"Yeah. Cool, huh!"

"You- do you live here? I didnt know they have condos."

He squinted up at the building. "They have condos? Thats cool."

"Bob, where do you live?"

"Here."

"Like, where?"

"Oh! At the top!" He said, then looked concerned. "Are you ok with heights?"

"Th- the top? Thats where the Avengers live."

"Oooooh." He nodded, pointing at you as if he understood your confusion. "Yeah! Im one of them. Sorta?"

"You- youre an Avenger?" Your confusion quadrupled.

"Sorta! Im kinda their roommate."

You looked at him in disbelief. Then you smiled. "On a scale of one to ten, ten being the best, how good of roommates are they?"

He chuckled, then shrugged. "Well, they almost never do their dishes. But, hey, they save the world sometimes, so, thats cool! And we play video games. I beat Bucky all the time. Beats being high on meth, heh."

You laughed with him, head sort of spinning as you reached up and brushed hair out of his face. "That's good. That you're- You dont get high on meth anymore?"

"Oh, no. Nope! Ive been reading a lot."

"Like what?"

"I finally finished Pride and Prejudice. Ava really wants to watch Bridgerton and said i should read Jane Austen's books."

"Pride and Prejudice, huh," you smiled.

"Yeah! It was really good, have you read that?"

"I think so," you lowered your hand and entwined your fingers with Bob's. "You gonna take a girl inside? It's getting windy."

"Oh! Yeah, sure, of course," he nodded and opened the door for you, letting you go first.

He lead you to the elevator, waving at the security, who smiled and waved back at him.

"Who's this, Bob?" One asked. His nametag reads Bob, too.

"Oh this is a friend!" He said, and explained who you are and where you met.

"That sounds like a meet-cute," the older, Security Guard Bob smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you, honey."

"Nice to meet you too," you responded, smiling back at him.

"Go on up, kids," Security Bob said, and opened a gate for you to go to a special elevator.

As soon as the doors of the elevator closed, you turn to Bob.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"May i kiss you again?"

He smiled. "Yeah," and he leans close to kiss you as you cupped his cheek and moved in against him.

Your friend was *never* gonna believe this.

[mydearzero]

It's Not Just About The Hair | Dark!Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were only meant to dye one guy's hair and get out. How'd you get tangled into this mess? The shadows are creeping and taking over his body, while he is slowly taking over yours.

Contents: NON/DUB-CON, NO Y/N, afab!Reader, reader has hair that is long enough to grip, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, filming, exhibitionism, sex against the window, choking, coming inside, no aftercare, if I missed any warnings please let me know!

3.3K words

uhm so this is not really for the faint hearted sorry not sorry I needed this off my chest. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION PLEASE!!

You should’ve left as soon as your job was done. You should’ve stayed out of Val’s way after she was done with you. Why had you lingered?? 

Okay, maybe you were curious. Could anybody blame you? It’s not every day you get called out to the former Stark/Avengers Tower to dye one dude’s hair for a ridiculous amount of money. Hey, maybe she’d want a touch-up, herself? 

So here you were, hiding under the counter of a bar, waiting for the fighting to be over. The big red guy had already been thrown against the wall you were opposite of. It would only be a matter of time before somebody discovered your hiding place. You were peeking through the crack between the counter and the base of the bar to find a good time to run. 

You saw the young blonde run at Sentry, wrapping her legs around him and tasing his neck. Sentry flew himself to the roof, crushing her against it and dropping her to the floor. Sentry was attacked by the masked woman, along with the knockoff Captain America. 

Red Guardian picked up a barstool, preparing to throw it at Sentry, who’s name was apparently Bob, short for Robert. The guy who’s hair you’d just dyed. So not worth the money. Alexei ran to throw the stool, but was cut off when Sentry ripped the entirety of the bar off the floor and threw it against him. 

Fuck. The countertop had been ripped straight from your fingertips. Parts of the base had cut your fingers, neck and face where it had been roughly yanked out of the floor. 

While the others were distracted, still fighting, you ran behind the next best thing, the column of the stairs. You tried to catch your breath and prayed to whichever god would listen that nobody had seen you. You didn’t dare look at the sound of more commotion. You heard several punches, before they were interrupted by the sound of a mechanical malfunction and bending of metal. Bucky’s metal arm had been ripped straight off him, hit him in his own face and thrown behind him like a piece of garbage. 

The vigilante’s quickly went for the elevator, but not before Val came back from wherever she’d been hiding to give them a monologue. “I’m so glad you were able to catch a glimpse before your, uh, retirement.” 

“Camera crews are assembling. Finish the job, Robert.” Val instructs. You hear the elevator doors close. 

“Finish the job? No.” Robert replied. 

“What?” 

“They’re not a threat to me, so, why do I need to kill them?” 

“You need to do what I say, Robert.” Val’s tone was threatening. 

“Why?” 

“WHY?” Val sounded appalled that he’d even dare ask. 

They argued some more. You looked around for an exit, but besides the elevator, your only hope would be the very open stairs they’d no doubt see you on. You could only hope they’d leave sometime soon so you could get the hell out of there. 

“It needs to be more of a collaboration. The hair for example. Maybe I should’ve had more say.” 

“Don’t let those idiots get in your head. The blonde is great.” Thank you, Val, I did the best I could. 

“You sure? I don’t know, I thought I liked it but now I’m not so sure.” 

“That’s enough about the hair.” 

“It’s not just about the hair.” 

“Well you keep talking about the hair.” 

“No it’s everything! My suit, my name, my missions, I mean.. Why would a god take orders from anyone at all?” 

“I think you’re throwing around the word ‘god’ a bit loosely there.” 

“No, no, because you said I was all powerful, invincible and stronger than a whole team of Avengers, which includes at least one god, so..” Robert trailed off, letting Val fill in the blanks. 

“But I’m starting to think, maybe, you don’t know what I am,” he spoke when she didn’t reply. His words were laced with an underlying tone of malice. 

“Oh, goddamnit” Val spoke under her breath. 

“Or what I’m capable of. Maybe I need to show you.” 

“This is SO… irritating.” Val clicks something behind her back, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sentry grabs her by the throat and flies her against the wall. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp. 

“You were gonna turn on me. Just like the rest of them.” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Robert.” 

You see Mel creeping towards them. She sees you, too. She looks confused at your presence, but doesn’t have time to worry about it right now. 

“It’s not Robert you need to be afraid of.” Sentry says as he starts choking Val tighter. Mel picks up whatever Val was holding and points it to the man basked in gold, clicking it in desperation. Sentry immediately falls to the floor, in turn dropping Val. 

“Good girl.” Val says as she sees Mel. “ You came to your senses. Come here help me up.” Mel helps Val off the floor and they scurry away. Mel sends you one last look before deciding it’s not worth her time to worry about you. 

“I want a raise,” Mel says as they walk to the elevator. “Okay, fine. Get cleanup on the body and tell Holt it’s finally time to go lethal on these losers.” The elevator leaves and suddenly, the penthouse is awfully quiet. 

You count to 10 before deciding it’s safe to leave. Cleanup would be here soon and you did not want to be stuck here any longer. You crept towards the elevator, hoping Val and Mel had gone down far enough you wouldn’t run into them again. 

Just as you’re about to press the button for the elevator, your phone buzzes with a notification. 

Bought you some time to get out. Cleanup won’t be there for at least 20 minutes. Get out NOW. 

It was Mel. Fucking Mel who’d roped you into this in the first place. It’s easy money, she’d said. One bleach job + I’ll owe you, her texts had read. Yeah, right. 

Before you’d had the chance to put your phone away there was a deathly grip on your shoulder. You tensed and slowly turned to look at its owner, who you’d up until now presumed to be dead. 

  You gave him a quick once over. His eyes were glowing. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Shadows seemed to be gathering at his feet, ever so slowly creeping up his skin. He brought his other hand up to your other shoulder, turning you to face him. Your knees trembled as you tried to stand still, every nerve in your body yelling at you to RUN. There was something wrong with him. You weren’t a threat. Hadn’t he just used that excuse to not go after the others? 

His right hand slowly went down to your waist, his left traced your shoulder up to your neck. As soon as his bare hand made contact with your skin, no longer on your shirt, you were doused in a memory.  A horrible memory from your past that rattled you to your bones, leaving you breathless. 

No time seemed to have passed as he held you tightly, grip likely bruising. “Where is she?” Sentry spoke for the first time. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, I’m not even supposed to be here,” you stammered. 

“Don’t LIE to me,” Robert yelled, making you flinch. “You work for her. For Val. Now tell me where she went.” 

“I promise, I don’t work for her. It was just a one off thing. I don’t know where she went!” His fingers slowly traced to the other side of your neck, encircling it with his hand. He brought his face closer to yours, inhaling deeply. He let go of your waist to brush your hair away from your face and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re gonna regret lying to me. Val might’ve gotten away, but I’ll show her, show you exactly what I can do.” His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands shot up to his wrist, clawing at it to get it off. 

A dark chuckle left his lips, the shadows still slowly creeping up his thighs. You tried kicking at him to get him to let go, but it was useless. “I’m not… with… Val…” you managed to choke out. 

“Did she or did she not pay you to change up my look? I think that’s the basic definition of working for someone, don’t you?” He loosened his grip on your throat, moving to hold your chin and run his thumb over your bottom lip as you tried to catch your breath. There was a hunger in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. 

“I wasn’t this strong before,” he mumbled. He fisted your hair and tugged it your head backwards harshly. 

“I like how it feels. The strength, I mean. I can see why people get addicted to power.” You had no choice but to look him in the eyes, his grip on your hair unrelenting. His other hand went back to your waist as he tugged your body against his. The hard metal of his belt dug into your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, mouthing at your jugular. You squeezed your eyes shut, begging for someone to come in and save you. 

He was losing himself, losing control. The shadow had made its way to his waist, creeping higher and higher the longer he held you. You could only help it stopped once it had consumed him, leaving you be. It couldn’t be anything good.

He let go of your hair, bringing both hands to your hips and sliding them up your shirt. You froze, holding your breath and waiting for his next move. Surely, he wouldn’t. 

His hands moved higher. He started peppering kisses on your neck, feeling your heightened pulse under his lips. You tried putting your hands on his chest and pushing him away. “Stop, please.” 

“I don’t think I will,” he groaned into your skin. With a flash your back met the wall harshly, head hitting the concrete. His hands cupped your breasts over your bra, his mouth kissing up to your chin. The shadow had reached his chest now. It wouldn’t be long before it would take over his entire body. 

For a second you felt relieved as Robert pulled away, only for it to disappear when you realised he’d done it to rip your shirt from your body. “Robert.. It’s Robert right? Or do you prefer Bob? Please let’s just talk about this.”

He ignored your pleas and went back to ravaging your neck, leaving bruises down to your chest. His hands fumbled with your bottoms, but he quickly lost patience and ripped those, too. You were only left in your shoes and underwear, pleading with him to just talk. 

“I’m not going to talk. I’ll show you. Prove to the world that I’m a god.” He held you close as he flew to the wall of windows overlooking the city. He pushed you against the window, breasts squishing against the glass with the force he was using. 

“Stop, Bob, STOP! Somebody is gonna see!” You tried pulling your body away from the glass. 

“Sweetheart… That’s the point,” he laughed darkly. “Let them see. Let them see what I can do to anybody who gets in my way, who dares to tell me what to do.” He unclasped your bra and pulled it from between your body and the glass. You tried putting your hands in front of your chest, but his hands grabbed your wrists and tugged them behind your back. 

Your mind was reeling with confusion as both of his hands returned to your body, yet you were unable to move yours away from your back. He put his fingers down your underwear and you thrashed your legs to try and get them out. He kicked your legs apart, placing his feet besides yours so you couldn’t close them. He took your hands and placed them above your head against the glass. You wanted to close your eyes, but something was holding you back. You could only watch through the window and see the slight reflection of his golden suit behind you. If you could be glad for only one thing in that moment, it was the fact you were at the top of the tallest building in New York. The likelihood of someone actually seeing was small. 

He tugged at your underwear and you could feel them strain against your hips. He was playing with you. He could’ve easily ripped them, but he wanted you to feel them rub against you before he did so. He tugged them up, the seam putting pressure against your clit. You let out a surprised whimper. “Robert, please. Stop this.” 

The only response you got was the eventual ripping of your underwear, relieving you of the pressure, but leaving you completely naked between his body and the window. He moved behind you, the noise of fabric rustling meeting your ears.

His hands roamed over your trembling body freely, making himself familiar with every dip and curve. They settled on your hips, pulling them backwards and arching your back. You flushed impossibly redder as it made your boobs press against the window even more, obscenely on display for anybody high up enough to witness. 

You felt it, then. His length settled between the cheeks of your ass. He took it in his hand and slowly slid it between your folds. 

“So afraid… Yet so, so wet for me.” 

You wanted to deny it. Tell him to get off and leave you be. But he wouldn’t, anyway. He was right. You were somehow soaked. 

The invisible grip on your hands disappeared, allowing you to lower them and put them flat against the window. You tried pushing off the window once again, even when you knew he wouldn’t budge. 

“Don’t move,” Robert threatened. You turned your face on instinct to look at him. You could only catch a glimpse of total darkness over your shoulder before his hand forced your head to face the window once more. 

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he mumbled incoherently. 

He took himself in his hand and slowly pushed his cock inside. Without any preparation, the intrusion was tight. You winced as he didn’t pause but took his time stretching you on every inch. He exhaled loudly and chuckled when you gasped as he bottomed out. 

He put his hands on your hips and tugged you back against him as far as you could, skin against skin. He pushed you back against the window slowly, his length leaving you as he pulled his hips back. He went so slow it drove you insane. He pulled out fully, stepping back to look at you shaking against the window, not daring to step away or look back. It was only then you’d noticed all the lights in the penthouse had gone out. 

As his hands returned to your body, so did his dick. He set a gruelling pace, pulling your hips against his own. Heat burned in your core. 

“So good. See how good it can be when I’m the one in charge?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you kept quiet. A slap to your ass informed you that was the wrong choice. “Answer me,” he groaned. 

You yelped at the impact before nodding. He grabbed your hair again, bending your neck as far as it could go without snapping. He continued thrusting as he corrected your behaviour. “I said answer me. Now with your words.” 

“Yes!” you managed to get past your lips. Now actual vocal sounds had left your throat, you couldn’t seem to stop. Moans slowly escaped, even when you tried to hold them in. 

“There you go, attagirl.” He released his grip on your hair, choosing to squeeze his hands between the glass to grasp your tits as he fucked you. He used this hold on you as leverage to move faster. He pulled your back against him and pushed both of your bodies against the window. His fingers were cold, so cold as they toyed with your nipples. Must be a side effect of the shadow. 

A low, breathy laugh hit your ears. Your eyes darted around to see why. You looked down at one of the other buildings and saw why he was laughing. Two guys, pointing, one of them recording the whole ordeal. You came back to your senses, once more struggling against his grip and fighting the pleasure. 

“Stop! They’re recording, let me go!” you whined, but even to your own ears it somehow didn’t sound as convincing as it had in your head. The breathless and whiny tone of your voice was contradicting whatever you said. 

“Good, soon the whole world will know about me. And nobody will tell me what to do,” Robert moaned. “Not anymore.” 

You were mortified to find you were getting close. Your fingers clawed at the window, trying to find anything to grip tight as your body was slowly overtaken with pleasure. You bit your lip and felt your eyes well up with tears. 

“Fuck… Maybe I should keep you around…” Bob moaned. “Show you off like a token of my power.” 

You wanted to come up with an answer, to defy him. “Ah- Please,” was all that would come out. What you were pleading for? Even you weren’t sure. 

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, cutting off the oxygen as he held it tight. Your ears rang as you struggled to breathe, blood rushing to your head. 

“Tell me I’m your god,” he grunted. His cock hit the right place again, and again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as your orgasm approached. 

“Say. It.” He emphasised the words with sharp thrusts. 

“God,” you stumbled. “You… You’re my god… Fuck.” 

“One more time, like you mean it,” he teased. “Hmm and I know you mean it by the way you’re clenching on my cock.” 

You couldn’t utter the words, your mind jumbled as he toyed with your breath and pleasure. 

“Too stupid on my cock to even speak,” The Void laughed. He moved his other hand down your front, moving down until he found the missing piece to make you break. 

“Come for me, come for your god,” he demanded as he matched the rhythm of his fingers on your clit to that of his dick. Your hips moved of their own volition, chasing the high. 

His pace stuttered, his thrust going impossibly deep as he came inside of you. It sent you over the edge, all your muscles tightening and knees sinking as pleasure overtook your body. You’d never come so hard in your life. The only thing keeping you standing was him as the aftershocks of your orgasm worked their way through your body. 

He slowly pulled out and you were finally able to turn around and take him in. His features were mostly invisible, except for the eyes. They were still glowing. 

“You should thank me, you know. For allowing you to feel what true power feels like.” 

“Thank you,” you sobbed out, defeatedly sinking to the floor. The Void flew through the broken window he’d sent one of the ‘Thunderbolts’ through, flying above the city to slowly spread his shadows. All the while you could still feel the warm liquid spilling from inside you and dripping onto the floor. 

You only had a few seconds to make yourself scarce before a team of men clad in black with guns stormed out of the elevator. You’d scrambled together the remnants of your clothes and locked yourself in a bathroom, before suddenly you were dipped back into the darkness of your worst memories, just like the rest of New York would soon be. 

[st4r-th0ughts]

Happy birthday, Kakavasha.

masterlist

Aventurine x gn bodyguard reader

ʚɞ series masterlist

ʚɞ recommend to read this

tw/cw: ‘they were roommates that want to make out but are too idiotic to make a move’ ahh, Aventurine has shitty lifestyle habits, this is in the same au as this, the cat cakes are in here and keep jumping both of you, not proofread!

note(s): I should be studying but I love aventurine so it’s ok, tags: @walpurg @rxzennia @sh1-n0bu @honkai-star-thirst (if you want I can add you to a taglist), @briefblazefox (an apology for the angst)

summary: birthdays are a occasion you have never celebrated. But for him, you’ll do anything.

(word count: 1.3k)

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The alarm blared you awake as you sit up, your hand fumbling by your bedside for the earring Aventurine had gifted you months ago, before it hits the button on your phone to mute the annoying noise making your hed pound.

Turning the screen to you, the numbers read 7:30 am, a rare timing for you to wake as your usually up and about at 4:00- 4:30am, ready to wake Aventurine at precisely at 6 to start the day.

But, the date reads 5 May. The day of the Kakava, and Sir’s birthday. You know this because he’d mentioned it in passing before, when you were accomapnying him through a mall for his usual shopping sprees, and in a arcade, a birthday party was being held for a young boy.

A girl, perhaps a few years older than him, was standing beside him, cheering him with the boy’s friends while he blew out the candles. You caught a glimpse of Aventurine’s face, how he stares a bit too long at the sibling duo, and how his eyes look fondly at them, and how his smile falters before it cheers up and he looks away again.

You dont know much about Aventurine, in all honesty. You only knew he came from Sigonia, and was possibly one of the last Avgins from his homeplanet, and that was only because late one night, you’d gone back to the IPC’s library to consult the records.

Birthdays were a occasion that was not so revered in Everflame mansion. When you came of age, they were barely acknowleged at all, because such occasions never served your job a purpose.

But when Aventurine first managed to pry that information out of you, your last birthday was him spoiling you 24/7 with lavish gifts and decadent food. Sure, he does it often, but you notice that he’d made the effort to buy you things you want, food you had been dying to taste, unlike the inital gifts where it was more of trying to buy your loyalty.

However, Aventurine is rich. He’s a trillionare, maybe even richer than one, consideirng you watched him spend 3 trillion dollars betting on something against the grey haired trailblazer, while you had a decent income just by being his bodyguard.

Therefore, he is able to buy eveyrthing to your heart’s desire, and by entent, his own. How are you supposed to appease his tatses? All the things you think of buying for him, one, he’d either refund the purchase, or it’s something he has already has or tried before.

The only thing that you can think of, is cooking for him. Aventurine, as extravagent and as expensive his tastebuds are, he has shit eating habits. If he isnt eating out with you or during meetings and events, he practically lives off coffee from the hours he spends in his office, you have to be the one to remind him to eat because at best, he’ll microwave instant noodles or a snadwich. It’s infuriating, because he’s always teasing you for eating badly yourself, yet he doesnt take his own advice.

You wouldnt say you’re great at cooking. Your hands were precise and still, making it easy for things like cracking eggs, and knife skills come in handy when cutting and carving fruits. But other things like perfecting the heat of a pan are not your strong suits. Staring at the recipe page detailing a step by step instruction on how to make pancakes, you stare at the part where they said to seperate the yolks and whites before glancing back at the bowl where you had whisked them both together.

You hope the smell of the failed pancakes that sit on a plate either raw or burnt dont wake up Aventurine. Coupled with his terrible eating habits, he sleeps rather late and gets up early. You’ve never seen him when he just wakes up, but you’ve seen him with dark rims round his eyes, and you’d rather he wake up on his own time. The cats are meowing incessantly at your feet, maybe they’ll serve as his mini alarm clocks with how loud they’re complaining about being hungry.

When 8:15 rolls around, you hear footsteps pattering slugishly down the steps, and a there’s a small smile you quikcly suppress out of instinct. You’re proud of what you have accomplished, a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that you had pulled out from the forgotten asscrack of the freezer. The unsuccessful pancakes are on your own plate, and the coffee is steaming in his mug.

“[𓏵]? What is…?”

Ah. Groggy and disoriented, it’s rare for you to ever see Aventurine not looking like his usual smug self and ready with his witty quips. The cat cakes meow loudly as they leap to his feet, one of them pawing and prancing at his feet while the other two leap on the kitchen counter to try and cling onto the gambler.

You let yourself smile lightly, grabbing the plate and setting it gently in front of Aventurine, pursing your lips as one of the cat cakes decide to paw at your slippers, the other two still seeking attention while Aventurine pets them. His pyjamas are loose, and his neck and part of his chest are exposed. You watch as he snags a strawberry slice into his mouth, watching his eyes open from the sweetness.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

You mutter awkwardly, cringing internally at the shit conversation starter, sighing as you scratch the back of your neck, your eyes softening as you gaze at Aventurine, who is looking at the food with a suprised look, which doesnt surprise you entirely, you know part of his past, he’d probably never had much of a decent breakfast, much less have anyone make some for him.

“It’s your birthday, you told me back in December when we were shopping.”

Aventurine’s gaze tilts to face you, his stunned expression sticking as his mouth opens in silence. No one has truly knows his birthday, save for a few like Topaz and Ratio, who send him birthday texts and leave gifts on his office desk. But he’s used to having a silent birthday, just buying a small cake and with only the cats to keep him company on the very day where his life went downhill.

“I dont celebrate birthdays often, I… actually dont think I’ve had one myself until you bothered to smother me with gifts and extravagence.”

You sigh, standing awkwardly agsint the counter as you stare at the floor, blinking as one of the cat cakes stare back with big, googly eyes that make it seem like they have absolutely no thoughts in thier eyes, unlike you, because there are thousands of thoughts racing through your mind.

The man cuts off your thoughts as he stands up, walking towards you and wrapping hesitant arms around you, and the warmth of his body, the proximity makes your face heat up, stiffening as your right arm gently wraps around Aventurine, your palm finding his waist as you lock eyes.

“Aventurine-”

“Kakavasha.”

He interupts you, pulling away from the hug while you’re internally dissapointed at the lack of warmth, your eyes making contact as the blond gazes at you with a soft, grateful look as he smiles, a genuine one.

“My name is Kakavasha, [𓏵].”

After a few moments of silence, you nod. The morning light bounces off Kakavasha’s face, making him impossibly handsome in the bright light, his hair is accentuated by the warm shine, your heart races faster as your hand finds his.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

You murmur softly, the cats yowling wildly in thier protest of not being fed, and Kakavasha laughs as one of them pounced on the counter and smushes thier way between you, the other two trying to accompany it.

“Happy birthday, Kakavasha.”

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

[dammit-tazmuir]

That sounds about right lol.

Adding to the Chatur thing, it's further implied with Harrow Nova. She was also still named Harrowhark but only Crux ever used the -hark, because to most it was a reminder that she was not the proper successor to her father. But the fact that she got a different arithmonym as a cavalier, while not a real thing, was rooted in Harrow's real understanding of House culture, after all.

But yeah, you raise probably the most important point: Our view of the Houses IS extremely skewed by only seeing the elite. And even then...

Camilla and Kiana are said to be close, despite Kiana being 10 years older and both kept very busy by very prestigious jobs, as a member of the oversight council and the Master Warden's cavalier. We don't see that directly but Paul's birth was a very intimate moment with a minimal audience, and Camilla did want Kiki there for it. (It also wasn't that she didn't care about her dads being there, but that she was afraid they wouldn't understand, that they'd disapprove. She cared about their opinions.)

Abigail talks about her little brother several times and her nephew is mentioned. She and Magnus wanted kids, and the way they fill the role with Jeannemary and Isaac instead IS transgressive, but it's not a foreign concept. Other people look at them and understand that their behavior is parental. The Houses aren't so removed from past familial dynamics that they don't know what they'd look like.

Protesilaus had a wife and no less than four kids, and had been cavalier to Dulcie's father, and then took Dulcie in and cared for her as a family friend. Pro's kids all sound pretty happy and normal from what little we hear.

Judith talks about her father as an authority figure and aspirational goal first and foremost, and the memories she shares with him all have militant focus, but they do come across as a father pushing his interests onto his kid, not like an instructor training one of many soldiers. It's not Pal and Juno's professional relationship.

Though on that note, it's further interesting that Pal and Juno have one of the most distant but also BEST relationships of any parent and child. He does call her by name and title, but they share mutual deep respect and admiration. Juno does spend his last minutes doing other things but like... he's already dead and they've already talked and you could also view it as just being at peace with it. Juno never treats him like a child, even when he is one, and perhaps there's something lost there, but I suspect while not everyone would, Pal appreciates it. Being taken seriously by Dulcie was such a big part of his adoration, after all.

Juno does show him and Cam some bias, some special treatment, and slips in small moments of basically breaking the kayfabe to show more parental affection and praise. But for the most part she just fully trusts him and encourages him to pursue whatever he thinks is best. It's not warm or the picture of traditional motherhood, but it's healthy and supportive specifically for Pal. It's certainly better than... Judith in her father's shadow, the Third nobles molding their family to fit their artistic vision, the Fourth's "you need spares" culture, Dulcie's family making her inspiration porn and a tragic art piece, the Eighth nobles breeding interchangeable batteries to treat like livestock, or Harrowhark "one of my strongest memories of my parents touching me was gently pressing a rope into my hands" Nonagesimus.

But even looking at the Ninth then, in the wake of all the horrors they endured... Ortus bitterly doubts Mortus even remembered he had a son, but Harrow has a memory of Mortus lifting her up in chapel in a way that's almost fatherly. Gideon is convinced Aiglamene would laugh at the idea of loving her and they are also distant, but Aiglamene clearly cares so deeply. Ortus's mother is clingy and suffocating, but deeply affectionate, still not great but bad in the opposite way. Ortus as a ghost develops something between a paternal and brotherly love for Harrow. And CRUX hears Gideon is God's kid and basically says "FUCK you and fuck GOD, THIS child is MINE and my loyalty is to HER," so like, THERE'S THAT.

Absolutely none of this is arguing against the very real enforced isolation and the ways restructuring encourages loyalty to the empire above all else, to be clear!! I'm saying it's not AS universally extreme as the noble heirs specifically would make it look, and that there's variation within each House, and that even the coldest ones are in fact at least "conversant with the concept of family." They're at minimum acquainted with the idea, even if not everyone practices it and those that do might do it in unusual ways.

One thing I do find especially fascinating in this is looking at the founding Lyctors, not just John.

The House founded by the loyal attack dog and the former cop who struggled to connect with people emphasizes militant obedience. The House founded by the woman accused of only knowing worship without adoration, who is extremely strict about rules and appearances and getting results no matter how many eggs you have to break to get that omelet, and the literal Catholic nun who killed herself twice for noble but misguided conviction, is.... uh... Like That... People have written plenty of analysis on John's two dead kids and the House of child soldier cannon fodder. And then there was Cassy, the lawyer who was deeply good and kind and prioritized safety and fairness but from a very logically grounded place, a woman who was firm and insistent but almost never raised her voice or showed strong outward emotion, and her artist wife who was timid and still worried about their marriage not being legal in the face of apocalypse, and you get the reserved and studious and bureaucratic but uniquely moral driven Sixth.

And then... What was the last House that doesn't have anything but speculation about ways it might be cold? The only one we have no evidence for producing a worse relationship than Pal and Juno above? The one that loves and nurtures their kids even when they're not theirs, the one with a loving personal relationship between its leader and her cavalier, where she's fond of her mothers and brother and nephew and worries about her family being notified after her death. Who was that founder? Oh. Right. The guy who shared an arithmonym with his brother, for which the connotations hadn't become as strong yet, but for all we know may very well be THE precedent setter, the REASON for the developing connotations of a Unit Name. ... Yeah. I suspect the Fifth IS bigger on family bonds than most...

Thinking about how Palamedes tells Pash that they "are conversant with the concept of family in the Houses" in Nona....because, like, are they? Are they really?

Palamedes calls his own mother by her full name or job title more than he calls her 'mother'. Their relationship is COLLEGIAL at best. The Sixth raise their children in some kind of communal academic system, from what we can see in canon. Meanwhile, on the Second, it's all about that sweet sweet military command structure. On the Seventh, your parents literally try to pass super cancer onto you, and probably die of it themselves before you reach puberty. The Eighth is a monastic order where EVERYONE calls each other 'brother' or 'sister', regardless of family relationship. From everything we hear, the Tridentarius' parents are fucked-up in some way. The Ninth is....the Ninth, and on the Fourth, parents just tend to be dead.

So, like, are they really 'conversant with the idea of family'? Everything about the system John has set up discourages real family relationships. There is no socially acceptable way to share a family name with your spouse, parent, or sibling - the arithmonyms encourage you to identify with your HOUSE, not your family, and everytime characters share an arithmonym, that is considered 'weird' (see the Tridentarii). John's system demands allegiance to the EMPIRE, not any individual family units.

This dissolution of family has the side effect of also dissolving (unjust) gendered roles, but it is also VERY effective at creating the kind of existential, deep loneliness that so many of these characters experience and that John's system then uses to fuel their loyalty to him as God. It's this dissolution of family that creates the codependent structures you see in so many cav-necro relationships (Cam and Pal above all else), because WHERE ELSE but in this (fundamentally militaristic) relationship that was originally intended to serve the Empire could you find the closeness family often provides.

And, like, every time characters prioritise their chosen or blood family over the values of the Empire, it's transgressive. Any relationship that emphasises the individual - as a spouse, friend, lover, sibling, child, parent - over the 'imperial role' of cav, necro, soldier, or servant, is transgressive in the world of TLT. Magnus and Abigail are transgressive for that. Gideon and Harrow are. Even the Tridentarii have something going on that seems to go against imperial power structures, even if it's a different kind of fucked-up. Cam and Pal are such a complex case because they DO earnestly love each other outside of their role as necro and cav, but are so fundamentally alienated from healthy relationship dynamics because of their absurd upbringing that they immediately become *like that*, to the point of doing ye olde soul-merger. Still - they fundamentally hold allegiance to each other as family of some sort, whether romantic or platonic.

Which, I think, is why it's so perfect and messed-up and appropriate that Juno Zeta, Palamedes' literal mother, spends the last few minutes of her son's earthly existence as an individual quizzing We Suffer about her family structure. Rather than. Y'know. Talking to her son. Who is about to eradicate himself as an individual within the one relationship that ever transgressed that enforced, non-familial distance.

Camilla, meanwhile, does not let her fathers watch her death/ascension at all.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

How to Woo Someone

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader

prompt #1464

“Do you have any tips on how to woo someone?”

“You’re trying to woo someone?”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” from @writers-are-writers

After the fall of The First Order, Poe thought life would be a little easier. But nothing ever came easy to Poe. Well, nothing except flying. Everything else was a bit of a struggle.

Rebuilding the galaxy after everything, was no walk in the park. As a general of the Resistance, Poe, as well as Finn and Rey, worked to make sure the galaxy found its peace again.

In the process, he made a lot more friends, a few enemies, but, most importantly, he met you.

You were basically in charge of your small village in Batuu. Poe and a few others had stopped on the planet to refuel and rest. You met him at the market, noticing the Resistance symbol on his satchel. You two got to talking and you brought him and his friends back to your village.

It was some distance from the Black Spire Outpost.

Your village was previously pillaged through by some First Order troops. You asked for Poe's help and he gave it to you.

What was supposed to be a short stop on an Outer Rim planet ended up being a two month's stay. For Poe, at least. He wanted to personally see to it that you and your village got the help you needed, while he let his friends continue their journey.

Poe helped lay more of a foundation again in your village. You already set up the blueprints, he just helped you carry out the plans.

"We make a great team. Honestly, I could use someone like you with the Resistance."

You snort, "Are you offering me a job?" you nudge him with your shoulder and a smirk on your lips.

"If you want it, yeah. Like I said, we need more people like you. People who are still willing to help others," he sighs and looks away from you, instead, looking out on a group of villagers helping build a new set of homes, "A lot of people lost hope and peace when the First Order took over. I want to restore that to them again."

You slowly nod, "I'd love to help, but I need to talk with my council."

"Of course. I'm here for a few more days so you have time," he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and then goes to join the group of builders.

__________________________

While also helping you rebuild your village, Poe became acquainted with several members of your council. One of them being your cousin who was around the same age as Poe.

As he was helping the builders, Poe pauses to watch you interact with some of the village children.

Your cousin, Sendril, slaps him on the chest, "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, um, ye-yeah," he struggles to pull his eyes away from you as you laugh at something one of the children say. Then Poe asks Sendril, “Do you have any tips on how to woo someone?”

Sendril cocks a brow and asks back, “You’re trying to woo someone?”

Poe's face scrunches up in confusion, “Why do you have to say it like that?”

Sendril shrugs, "I don't know, you just seem so...serious all the time. Didn't think you'd wanna woo anyone." He continues to place bricks to build a wall of a home.

Poe sighs and joins him, "Well, wooing anyone was the last thing on my mind, but..." he pauses and looks back at you, again. His attention is brough back when Sendril snorts, "Good luck."

"Has Y/N ever been with anyone?" Poe asks as he smears concrete and then places a brick down.

"Once, didn't go well. They left her to go explore the galaxy with someone else. She was heartbroken, never saw or heard of her being with anyone else since."

Poe hums, "Would she be interested?"

"In you?" Sendril asks, looking at Poe. When Poe nods, Sendril scrunches up his nose, "Honestly, I'm not sure. Considering you don't plan on being here for much longer, probably not."

"I asked her if she'd want to come with me, help people rebuild around the galaxy."

"What'd she say?"

"She has to talk to the council. Do you think they'd let her go?"

Sendril hums, "It's likely. Y/N is a great leader and has helped us keep our heads above water since the First Order pillaged us, but we're stronger now. We can continue without her." He stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. Sendril may be around the same age as Poe but he's taller and stronger. He casts an intimidating shadow over Poe as he asks, "And are you going to treat her right?"

"If she allows something to happen between us, then yes. While I've only been here for a short time, I already know Y/N to be a strong, caring, and wise person. I admire how well she's led you all through these tough times. She's also funny and beautiful and kind-"

Sendril rolls his eyes and interrupts him, "Alright, I get it. You're smitten for my cousin. I'll give you my blessing since I'm the only family she has left, however, hurt her-"

"And you'll lay me in the ground, I got it."

Your cousin snorts, "No. She'd do that to you, herself. But I'd help bury your body."

"...Thanks, Dril."

"You're welcome, Poe!"

______________________________

You told Poe you’d be seeing the council that morning to discuss your potential leave.

Outside of the building, Poe couldn’t help but pace back and forth. He understands if the council would prefer for you to stay since the village is still in the process of rebuilding. However, Poe really thinks you could do a lot of good around other parts of the galaxy as well. So he hopes the council sees it too.

It was thirty minutes of deliberation before you stepped out.

“Well?”

You smile at him, “When do we leave?”

Poe immediately pulls you into a hug a swings you around, “You’re going to do amazing things out there, Y/N. I just know it.”

You giggle in his embrace, “Thanks, Poe,” you say as you pull away.

You two stare at each other in silence. Poe’s eyes are soft as he looks back at you and then glances at your lips.

He slowly leans in towards you, giving you time to pull away. But you don’t, so when his lips touch yours, he pulls you closer.

You kiss him back with intensity, the secret feelings you’ve kept buried inside you for the past two months. Those feelings and thoughts of Poe spilling out as you kiss him back.

“So this is how you woo her?”

You both pull away to see Sendril leaning against the council building with a smirk.

You clear your throat and ask, “Woo who?”

Poe sighs and shakes his, “Ignore him.”

Sendril laughs, “Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” he shoots a wink at you and carries on his with his day.

Poe clears his throat, “So, um, should probably start packing. Got the whole galaxy to see.”

You smile brightly at him, “Right.”

You step aside and begin to walk to your home, but then you turn around, “For the record, I do still expect you to woo me, Dameron.”

He laughs, “Don’t worry. I plan too,” he smirks your way before you turn back to head home.

[maghendearey]

Can I request a fic about Fernando?

I was thinking about him and the new stylist fron Hugo Boss, the Aston Martin sponsor, Who Will dress him and Lance for the entire season and she's at every race beacuse She work with them but with the team too.

She's about his Age, they become Friends but they're both very attracted to each other

Thank you so much. I'm so happy that you shared it. It was really fun.

:in which the two find each other between fabric and outfit planning

Tw.:/

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You loved your job, why not? It was great. You were able to pursue your great passion, fashion, while working with models and other celebrities. Your regular clients included people like Selen Gomez, Scarlett Johanson, and many other celebrities.

But even if you liked working without a company, you quickly learned that not all celebrities were nice and polite, but they showed you much more respect when you worked for a company and when the boss offered you a job, you were happy to accept it. The pay was good, but the best thing was that you could work in F1. As a dresser for the two Aston Martin drivers, but you were still very happy. You were actually a Mercedes fan, but your loyalty to the silver files wouldn't change because of your job.

The first few months were great, lots of traveling and lots of groups. You also noticed that Fernando and Lance were really polite and implemented your ideas without hesitation. Maybe it was because you dressed them properly and not like circus clowns, but you didn't care as long as they did it and didn't argue with you. But what started as conversations about clothes and putting their outfits together quickly became more between you and Fernando. Brief touches, shared laughter, and one day a kiss.

After the kiss it was summer break and you wanted to write to him and ask him out but how could I do that, he was already famous when you were still in fashion school. You knew he could have any girl, any Model of your generation. So why would he want you? And when he didn't get in touch either, you assumed it was just an unimportant kiss for him.

After the summer break, you wanted to meet up with Lance and Fernando to show them the first outfit, but as your karma would have it, Lance was late, which led to an uncomfortable tension between you and Fernando, who was already sitting at the table. "How was your summer break?" you asked to break the silence and without looking at him. As you asked, you noticed his gaze wandering to you with his beautiful brown eyes, but you didn't want to look up. "Very good, I was in Madrid visiting my mum and dad," he said, and you had to swallow when you realized that you were in the same city at the same time, because you were in Spain too. But only to go on holiday, not to see your family. "Me too," you admitted. Within seconds, Fernando had moved and gently cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him. "You know, I wouldn't really care if someone didn't contact me, but don't you think it's unfair to kiss me and then ignore me the whole summer break?"

This time it was your turn to look at him defiantly. What does that mean? He hadn't contacted you. If he had expected that from you, he could have written to you. "You didn't either," you said defiantly. His look was astonished and he pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed you the screen, on which it was clearly visible that he had written to you.

"You probably don't want to talk about it, but if that kiss meant something to you, give me a call."

"Hey, I don't know what you're doing over the summer break, but if you want to meet up, give me a call."

And dozens more in that direction. But with one look at the profile picture, the problem became clear. It was your old number, from the phone that was stolen during a grand prix weekend. "Nando, that's the number of the phone that was stolen from me. I have a new one. I thought you were ignoring me, so I didn't want to write to you." You admitted shyly; maybe you were overreacting a bit; after all, you could have written to him. Before you could say anything else, he had pulled you towards him and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back. This was how it had to be - everything was perfect.

Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment or like.

Love you💋

[satanslovergirl]

°^° Death Wish °^°

“You asked me how I was doing. And I told you the truth. But I guess you’re not really supposed to do that.”

—Dean Winchester, S5E3 “Free to Be You and Me”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x she/her!Reader

Tone: Angst, Romance, Light Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Hunter x Hunter, Protective!Dean, Stubborn!Y/N

Rating: M (language, canon-typical violence, emotional tension, intimacy)

Word Count: ~6,800

Written By: Little Devil ♡

Based On: Season 4–5, canon-adjacent

---

SYNOPSIS:

She’s good at what she does—deadly, clever, and used to cleaning her own wounds. Dean respects that. Loves that. But when she goes rogue on a hunt and comes back half-broken, what starts as a cold shoulder becomes a storm of fear, guilt, and desire. It’s not just the danger that terrifies him—it’s the thought of losing her. And when their bottled-up emotions finally explode behind motel doors, the truth comes out in bruises and kisses both.

---

=°•°= STORY =°•°=

The sky was cotton-colored by the time the Impala hit the edge of town, clouds like wool stuffed against the rim of the horizon. Dean’s hands choked the steering wheel like it owed him something. He hadn’t said a word since they passed the county line.

Sam, riding shotgun, kept refreshing his phone with quiet desperation.

“Still nothing.”

Dean’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. Figured.”

It was supposed to be a simple job. Something small. An old construction site getting turned into a parking lot again—except people kept disappearing behind the high school. Wendigo, maybe. Skinwalker if they were unlucky. But they were always unlucky.

She was supposed to wait. They had a plan. But she didn’t answer her phone that morning, and Dean knew. Deep in that hunter’s sixth sense place—where instinct felt a lot like fear—he knew.

She’d gone in without them. Alone.

Sam cleared his throat. “You think she found it already?”

“If she did,” Dean muttered, “and it laid one finger on her, I swear to God—”

A ping interrupted him. Sam glanced down. “Traffic cam. Her car’s still parked near the school lot. Timestamp says twenty minutes ago.”

Dean didn’t wait. The Impala roared forward, engine howling like it felt the same burn in his chest.

---

°••••••~•°

The lot was quiet. Not the peaceful kind—just empty, sterile, like the world had pressed mute.

Dean was out of the car before it stopped rolling, boots slamming pavement as he scanned the darkened field behind the gym. Floodlights flickered overhead.

Then he saw her.

Half-limping, blood on her jeans and cheek, a machete dragging behind her like dead weight.

“Y/N!”

She turned slowly, and the look on her face—bruised, exhausted, flickering with guilt—lit something volatile in his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he barked, marching toward her. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Dean—”

“No! Don’t ‘Dean’ me right now. You went in alone! After I told you to wait for backup!”

She flinched—not at the volume, but at the way he grabbed her arms like he needed proof she was solid.

“I had it handled,” she said, voice taut.

He glanced at her torn sleeve, the sluggish drip of blood from her temple. “Yeah, you look great.”

“I killed it, didn’t I?”

“Barely! And what if there’d been more? What if we showed up too late?”

Her eyes sparked. “But you didn’t.”

“That’s not the point!” he exploded, dropping her arms like they burned him. “You think being strong means being stupid?”

“I think being strong means not waiting around for permission!” she snapped back. “I saw an opening and I took it!”

Dean stepped back, pacing now. “You think I’m mad because you took initiative? I’m mad because you scared the hell out of me!”

They stared each other down, breathless. No one moved.

Then Sam cleared his throat softly. “We, uh… we should head back. Before someone calls the cops.”

Dean nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Fine.”

She didn’t say another word as she limped toward her car.

---

°••••••~•°

The motel was a worn-down place with floral curtains and flickering neon outside. One room, two beds, three exhausted hunters.

Dean held open the door without looking at her. She walked past him in silence.

Sam, ever the buffer, did his best to bridge the tension with quiet efficiency. First aid. Cold pizza. A few updates on possible lore. She answered with clipped words and half-shrugs. Dean barely looked at her.

The air felt pressurized. Like if someone coughed wrong, the room might detonate.

Eventually, Sam yawned. “I’m gonna hit the gas station. Grab coffee for tomorrow. You guys need anything?”

Dean shook his head. She didn’t answer. Sam frowned, then grabbed his coat and quietly left.

The door clicked shut.

Then it was just them. And the silence. And all the things they hadn’t said yet.

---

°••••••~•°

She broke it first, because someone had to.

“You’re not even gonna ask what happened in there?”

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, elbows on knees. He didn’t look up.

“I already know what happened.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, you know?”

“You almost died. Again. And you didn’t think to loop in your team before playing hero.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Right. Because you’ve never done anything reckless.”

“That’s different!” he snapped, finally standing. “I’ve been doing this longer. I know the risks.”

“So do I!” she yelled. “I’m not some rookie! I saw an opening. I took it. And yeah, it got messy, but I made it out. Isn’t that what matters?”

Dean looked at her like she’d just punched him.

“No,” he said softly. “What matters is that for three hours I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”

She swallowed. “You were worried.”

“I was terrified.”

Something cracked then. In his voice. In her chest.

“You think I’m mad because you’re strong?” Dean stepped closer. “I’m mad because I care about you. And if something happened to you, I wouldn’t just lose a hunter. I’d lose…”

His words stalled.

She blinked. “Say it.”

Dean looked at her—eyes rimmed with that bone-deep kind of pain. “I’d lose the person I—”

She grabbed his collar.

The kiss was a fuse catching flame.

Hot. Bruised. Furious. She shoved him back against the wall, and he let her, hands on her hips, pulling her in like she was the only thing keeping him upright. Her mouth tasted like adrenaline and apology. His hands trembled like he didn’t know if she’d disappear.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping. Her forehead leaned into his.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, real this time. Raw.

Dean’s thumb brushed the cut on her cheek. “Just… don’t do that to me again. Please.”

“I won’t.” Her voice cracked. “Not like that.”

He pulled her in again, slower this time. A kiss that was less fire, more gravity. She melted against him.

---

°••••••~•°

Later, she lay curled against him in bed, her head on his chest, his arm curled tight around her shoulder. Like he was still afraid to let go.

“I’m still mad,” he murmured.

“Good,” she whispered. “I am too.”

“But I’m not letting you go.”

“You better not.”

His hand found hers in the dark.

Maybe they’d fight again. They were stubborn, sharp, built of bruises and baggage. But they’d fight their way through it. Together.

And for now—this quiet moment between the battles—that was enough.

---

=°•°= END =°•°=

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me, Sam. I really don’t. And if this is my last day on Earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward.”

—Dean Winchester, S4E17 “It’s a Terrible Life”

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story and the angst-filled rollercoaster of emotions. If you liked this, be sure to check out my other fics. Feel free to leave a comment or follow for more updates! Thanks again for your support—stay safe out there, hunters! ♡

[ardentpoppy]

X-Files S1E1

- that's a pretty cool title screen

- * woman running in the woods at night * yeah this was made in the 90s

- ooooh aliens (so soon?)

- sir, why are you touching a dead body with your bare fingertips??

- sheriff's shady af

- GILLIAN ANDERSON

- the fashion is very very 90s, also she's so tiny

- cigarette man is sus

- Title Card

- so she's being assigned to essentially ruin this man's career/hyperfixation?

- of course he's in the basement (so was the BAU at first but Jason Gideon and David Rossi got em outta there and into a private jet *sigh* I miss Reid)

- that has to be an iconic line right?

- HyperfixationTM

- and thus the ship that invented shipping meets (Spirk are the still forefathers tho)

- sir, sir, you are staring

- wait they did something cool here. Mulder was introduced as a character in a conversation with Scully and Scully was introduced in a conversation with Mulder

- she rewrote Einstein? He read her dissertation?

- he's so excited someone's listening to him. Oh my God, is Mulder a wet cat loser?

- she's a Skeptic

- "the answers are there, you just have to know where to look" they're going to become the FBI's worst fucking nightmare aren't they

- ma'am what was that smile??

- will her airplane phobia come up again? I think her airplane phobia will come up again

- ew sunflower seeds

- how many apple boxes is the tiny doctor sitting on?

- medical examiner's shady af

- the height difference

- what Final Destination bullshit was that?

- that is a whole ass alien body

- loser cat let me work!!! (He's absolutely definitely a cat)

- ma'am that was not funny

- ahhh the days of dynamic camera work and actual colour grading that doesn't make you wanna weep

- prediction time: Peggy did it

- they're doing a good job of establishing that Mulder is actually the experienced agent and Scully's very green

- so the conversation earlier in the office more or less says that the FBI's been trying to shut down the X-Files for a while. Mulder is probably hella jaded and cynical when it comes to partners, he's made it clear he knows Scully's there to spy on him and yet... he's not blaming her for it, he's listening to her, working with her. What is this?

- tell me she did not just pick up dirt from a crime scene and shove it into her pocket

- I fucking knew the sheriff was shady

- why are you just holding out that dirt in his rental car and touching it with your bare hands??!?!?!?!?

- scully don't ruin his eureka moment (Time is a universal invariance is a great line tho)

- mulder looked cute as hell when he opened the door

- THE HUG????

- ar you kidding me?? Are you fucking kidding me???? They've known each other 24 hours and they're already physically (Scully) and metaphorically (Mulder) stripping down in front of each other????? This is the FIRST EPISODE?????????

- ok I've calmed down

- is there actually a conspiracy here? Or is it a bait and switch?

- also he gave her the bed and sat on the floor

- nvm my prediction was wrong

- the watch!

- oh yeah, there's a conspiracy here

- the ME's daughter?

- blood coming out of a hidden tube is very obviously blood coming out of a hidden tube

- it's the sheriff son isn't it?

- if Supernatural has taught me anything (beside soul-numbing grief and mind- breaking psychological torture), it's incredibly hard to dig a grave actually

- he starts to lose hope she's not actually with him and she immediately tells about the watch. If I'm already looking for a void to scream into during the first episode, I'm gonna be dead by the end of this show aren't I?

- it is the sheriff's son

- *takes fortifying breath* now Scully's convinced it's the son but Mulder's asking her to be cautious because she's gonna have to write all this down in a report. And she's so taken aback by this caution for her sake, she actually takes a minute

- immediately comes up with a scientific way to make it make sense. Worst Fucking Nightmare

- sheriff knew and was covering for him, bastard

- Scully conveniently and continuously missing the proof is gonna be a Thing isn't it

- he got decent proof aliens exist and he ran to check on Scully

- ok smolder holder

- they're looking at each other across a two-way mirror

- that implant is Checkov's gun

- see even she knows the cigarette man is sus

- he called her because he couldn't sleep??? They met 48 HOURS AGO (I don't actually know how many days have passed in total but my point STILL SATNDS)

- the Pentagon? Definitely a conspiracy

[rekino2114]

I absolutely love your Type of girlfriend you did for Kaede~, so I was hoping that you could do one for either Tenko chabashira or Chiaki nanami

"Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend...."

A/n:I went with chiaki cause I like her more than tenko, I like her too but chiaki is just best girl

Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend who can't fall asleep unless you're near her

She used to take naps very often before she met you, but the moment you got together, it was like a switch was flipped. She can't fall asleep unless you're cuddling together or you're at least in the same room as her

If you have to go out during the night for whatever reason, she will stay awake playing videogames until you come back. She doesn't care how late it gets or how little sleep she'll get, it's cuddles or nothing for her

Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend who lets you win when you play against her at videogames

She's the ultimate gamer and could likely beat you in any game but sometimes she lets you win just because she doesn't want to see you sad (which you weren't in the first place, gaming is literally her talent you didn't expect to win) but she just loves seeing you smile after a win so she might "accidentally" slip up and makes some mistakes while playing against you

"Oh looks like you won n/n, great job you've gotten so good at this game"

"H-huh wait a second you clearly let-"

"*yawn* sorry kazuichi, did you say something? Me and y/n are gonna get ice cream winners deserve to be rewarded after all"

Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend who loves it when you ramble about what new game you've been playing

She loves all genres (except dating sims) so she's more than happy to try out any game someone recommends her and if that someone is her love then that's even more of a reason to. You could tell her about the most obscure game ever and she'd still give it a 10/10 just because you like it

And hearing you ramble about it is just music to her ears, hearing you talk about your interests is already great but the fact that it's something she likes too is even better. While she may look not focused on what you're saying since she's often gaming while you ramble she could not be more interested in whatever you're saying

Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend who buys you whatever merch you want from whatever games you like

She has your favorite games memorized (because they're automatically her favorites too) so whenever she sees an action figure, plushie or sticker of your favorite character from a specific game she instantly thinks of you and buys it

Except if she doesn't have enough money, then she'll pout and give up on buying it and just tell you that she saw it so you can get it later if you want. However your birthday is an exception, she will save enough money to buy you whatever game merch you want on your special day, no matter the price

Chiaki nanami is the type of girlfriend who always leans her head on your shoulder when she's near you

She's often playing on her switch while sitting near you and eventually leans on your shoulder because "It's so comfy, just let me rest there for a while ok?"

She often ends up falling asleep on your shoulder and you don't dare wake her up because of how adorable she looks

[miowyaa]

If it's alright, I have another request!!

I LOVED the story you wrote out of my previous request! It was amazing! And hilarious 😂

Do you think (if you have time and are okay with taking another request from me), you could write a Shidou x GN! Or nonbinary reader? I know you don't do NSFW which is totally understandable, but if you could add a touch of ✨spice✨ that'd be great. Oh! And I already have the trope in mind, enemies to lovers 😁

I hope this request is fun for you! If you need to change it in any way, that is perfectly fine. Thanks!

Leave me alone, you freak! ; Shidou x Gn!Reader

A/N: Thank you for your request! This was so funny to write, if you read the wiki/ egoist bible, it says that before a game, Shidou likes to go take a goodluck poop. Not really enemies to LOVERS but definitely enemies with crushes on each other. So um. Yea, enjoy..

CW: you get chased down by an intimidating shidou (not very romantic, i know :( ) , you basically get jumpscared by him. 

It's not everyday that you’re being chased down some random hallway in a large stadium, tablet in hand, praying to whatever force out there to help you make it out alive. As most people would agree, this doesn't usually happen to them either. You’ve never thought of yourself as a bad person, honestly- quite the opposite! If you had to describe yourself (not to toot your own horn,) you’re pretty much an upstanding citizen for the most part. So is it just that bad things happen to good people? For goodness sakes, you’re just trying to do your job.

“Go away!” You cry, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, never in your life have you run as fast you are right now. In hot pursuit, is a demon, a monster straight out of your worst nightmares, the living embodiment of all evil: Shidou Ryusei. Mind you, this was all because you very kindly told him that NO, he could NOT take an extra 15 minutes to go take a good luck dump right before his game especially since everyone was waiting for him already. You thought it was fine, it was cool, everything was all hunky-dory..But apparently not, since right after his match ended, he decided to just start sprinting towards you.

Fear, adrenaline, everything bad is literally coursing through your veins right now. You could care less how stupid you look right now as you flail your limbs around trying to get as far away from this man as quickly as possible. You hear him giggling behind you, and it just infuriates you even more. What is this? Some poorly made horror game you pirated made from free models and random free clips of children cries online? Though, to be fair, those kinds of games have the scariest jumpscares. 

Rounding a corner, you stick yourself to the wall before slumping down. It's a bit hard to believe this is happening, all in the span of a few minutes too. Maybe you can convince Ego to put Shidou on some tranquilizers or something. Alas, this is just wishful thinking. For now all you can do is to pick yourself up and walk yourself somewhere that he hopefully is FAR away from, fingers crossed!

It works out so perfectly, you even bust out a little tune. A little hum, if you will. Free from the beast, you’re given a false sense of freedom, unaware of the looming threat staring, looming, lurking… from afar. You caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure in your periphery, but you brushed it off. No way that's him, absolutely no way. You weren't going to let such a trivial matter ruin the rest of your day, nope!

So why is it now that you find yourself beneath him as he grins way too widely? You’re scared that he’s going to start drooling on you or something.

“KYAAAAAAH!” You scream out, finding yourself trapped underneath his weight. God forbid you want to go take a walk or something, because now, there's a freak basically sitting on top of you, pinning you down. Is this a scene straight out of an otome game? Are you… a pervert for having such thoughts…? Well, no, because this isn't your fault. Nothing is EVER your fault!

After your initial scream, you stay quiet staring directly into his eyes. You don't doubt that your face is a deep shade of pink right now, and it's no thanks to the guy on you right now. Who cares if your mind is cycling through thousands of probably non-PG thoughts right now? Though, your train of thought is finally broken when he finally speaks.

“Got you!” Well, NO SHIT.

“Dont worry, I forgive you,” he muses as if there was really any wrongdoing on your part in the first place. Wrapping his arms around you, he basically traps you even more.. You can feel them getting numb, and although you can't say this position is something you hate, embarrassment prevails! 

You’re shaking from a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and if that wasn't bad enough, he doesn't seem to give a crap at all! (Haha, crap, get it? Sorry.) He releases one of your arms from his grip and uses it to cup your face ‘sweetly,’ his fingers tracing over the outline of your jaw as if this were normal. He even lets out a little “heehee.” Maybe you’ve fantasized about this happening before, or maybe you haven't, whose to say? Though you didn't expect it to happen so quickly, it's definitely happening. This is it, you’re living your main character's life..! Is what you would think if you were sound of mind right now. Sound of mind is one way to put it though, since you’re probably part of a minority who thinks like that normally.

You’re still trapped, dare you say, provocative, position and it doesn't look like he's going to let go any time soon. You’re pretty content with staying in this position forever, just not now. Maybe in a few months or years, when he's toned down or something. But for now, you decide that you need to escape. So with all the strength you can muster, you slam your leg up into the area where the sun refuses to shine.

Expectantly, he weakens his grip which gives you just enough time to flee. As you’re running away for the second time, you stop for a moment to turn around to stick your tongue out at him. If Shidou could read minds, he’d know that you were calling him a “loser” and to have “better luck next time!” And although he does not have the required psychic abilities required to telepathically read your mind, he shoots you a wink which you so lovingly return with a middle finger.

Truly, what a love story! Throw the roses or something, everyone..

© miowyaa | please do not steal, repost, or translate any of my work.

[pascalispunkczechia]

Rules I Break For Him 3

Javier Peña (Narcos) fanfiction

Javier Peña x f!reader More chapters in Masterlist: HERE

Agent Peña gets a new boss - a woman who’s uncompromising, focused only on her job. But how long can she resist him before giving in?

ℹ️ If you’ve seen Narcos, please don’t worry about timelines, years, real events or places - this story focuses on the emotional bond between the characters rather than real accuracy. Enjoy!

Warnings:

• Sexual Content / Explicit Sexual Content

• Strong Language / Explicit Language

• Violence / Graphic Violence

• Guns / Gun Violence

• Drug Use

• Alcohol Use

• Smoking

• Mentions of Death

• Emotional Hurt / Angst

• Power Imbalance

I hesitate for maybe half a damn second. I feel him tense up, his whole body goes tight like a fucking wire.

And then… he kisses me back. Hard. Deep. Like he means it.

His tongue finds mine and it’s a goddamn mess of gin, smoke and peppermint. That smell, that taste… fuck, I’m calling it now: ‘Javier Peña’s Signature Fuck Me Blend’.

I want more. I need more. Every inch of me is screaming for it. For him. It’s like something cracks inside me. Like my body just remembered what it feels like to be touched and wanted. I sigh into his mouth, and heat shoots straight down my spine.

And then he pulls away.

I blink, completely thrown.

He shakes his head, barely. “We can’t. I–” he stammers.

My face drops. “Oh. Okay. I mean…” Fuck, why is the air suddenly gone? What was that? “So, uh…” I try to say something, but my voice is already bailing.

Great. Amazing. I’m such a fucking idiot. Pathetic. Drunk. Naive.

“I didn’t mean–” he tries, but doesn’t get to finish. The taxi shows up.

Good. Perfect. Don’t even explain. You took your shot - drunk new boss, horny tension, kiss her till she melts - and then what? Pull the brakes like a coward when shit gets real?

Cool. Fucking great.

I climb into the taxi without a word and slam the door shut behind me. He walks around and slides in next to me like nothing just happened. I scoot all the way to my side of the seat, like he’s radioactive.

Suddenly I feel stone cold sober. I can feel his eyes on me. Burning.

But he says nothing. Good. Neither do I.

The ride goes by in silence. Thick, suffocating silence. We pull up to the building. I dig out my keys like it’s a goddamn survival mission and bolt inside.

“Wait,” he calls after me. “I feel like I should explain–”

“You don’t have to explain shit,” I snap without turning around. “I’m fine. It was a mistake. Temporary loss of reason. Good night.”

And I’m gone. Slam the door. Lean against it. Fucking hell.

I feel the sting hit my eyes fast and hard. Tears. Are you serious right now? How the hell did this man get under my skin this fast? I’ve known him, what… a day? Half a day? And I’m already unraveling like some idiot who doesn’t remember how heartbreak works?

I’m 33. I made a promise to myself - after the last emotional shitshow - that I was done. Done getting attached. Done letting any man get close enough to fuck with my head.

And then he showed up. Goddamn Peña.

I hear the soft click of his door closing across the hall. Of course. We live across from each other. Because of course we do.

Fine. Shower. Bed. End of discussion. I head deeper into the apartment. Haven’t even looked around yet, not that I give a shit right now. I’m fucking wiped. Physically. Emotionally. Hormonally. I need a shower. Clothes off. Towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash-grabbed. Whatever.

I step into the shower and blast the water as hot as it’ll go. It stings, and good. I want it to sting. I want it to burn away the stupid. I don’t want to wash his touch off. Not really. But I also kinda do. Whatever’s clinging to my skin, I know it’s nothing compared to what’s burrowed in my fucking head.

I lather up. My hands run over my body and of course - of course! - I picture his instead. His fingers. His mouth. That smirk. That fucking mouth. I close my eyes and it’s him. Touching me. Holding me. Pressing into me.

Fuck. Get it together!

Should’ve gone with cold water. But no. I’m not touching myself like some drunk mess with a fantasy problem. Not tonight.

I rinse off, step out, wrap the towel tight. But that ache? Still there. That deep, stupid, throbbing need I’ve been stuffing down for months. And now it’s wide fucking awake.

I blame myself. I’m the one who requested his transfer from the States. What’d I think I was getting? Some washed-out, past-his-prime, flannel-wearing desk agent? Nope. I got this. And now I’m fucked.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror… flushed cheeks, glassy eyes. Lust? Anger? Both?

Brush teeth. Step out of the bathroom. I just want to crash into bed and erase this whole disaster of a night.

But then… ‘knock knock’.

You have got to be kidding me. Who else would it be? Fine. If you didn’t get the message the first time, I’ll spell it out for you again - nice and loud.

I swing the door open, ready to bite his head off… and completely forget I’m only wearing a towel.

And there he fucking is. Hair wet. White t-shirt. Boxers. Just boxers.

My brain short-circuits. My eyes trail down before I can stop them. Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice. Oh, he definitely noticed...!

I look back up just in time for him to close the gap, grab my face in both hands, and crash his lips onto mine.

Hard. Hungry. He kisses me like he’s drowning and I’m the air. And God help me, I kiss him back like I’ve lost my fucking mind. Door slams behind us. He’s all over me and I’m not stopping him. My whole body’s screaming. My thighs clench. I’m soaked and I’m not talking about the shower.

Then he pulls back. Eyes dark. Focused. His hands go to the towel. And he unties it. He unties the towel. And it drops.

I’m standing there… completely fucking naked. No covering up. No hiding. My nipples are already hard. My whole body’s buzzing.

His eyes drag down my body like he’s starving. Slow. Dark. His jaw clenches.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I don’t flinch. I don’t move. I just let him look… because the way he’s looking at me? Like he wants to ruin me. And I want to let him.

His hands go to the hem of his shirt. He yanks it off over his head, and holy shit! That chest. Those arms. That stomach. The veins in his forearms, the trail of hair, the bulge in his fucking boxers.

It’s obscene. It’s perfect. It’s so fucking him.

He steps closer, slow, like a predator. His fingers brush over my arms, featherlight. His eyes are locked on my tits. Then he grips my shoulders and turns me toward the bed. He sits on the edge and pulls me in between his knees. His hands are on my hips. His mouth is on my neck.

And then… down. To my collarbone. To my breast. His tongue circles my nipple, then closes his lips around it.

I gasp.

His other hand finds my other breast, warm and strong and just the right kind of rough.

A moan slips out loud. Fuck it, let the neighbors hear. I press into him harder, fingers diving into his wet hair.

He smells like shampoo and sin. He switches… mouth to the other nipple, tongue teasing, sucking, licking. His hand starts moving. Down. Over my ribs. My stomach. Lower.

Fuck. I’m shaking.

And then… His fingers brush over my lower belly. Then slide even lower. His mouth kisses my navel. And his finger… His finger slides inside me.

I choke out a breath.

He’s inside so easily because I’ve been wet since the moment he showed up at my door in nothing but boxers. He curls his finger, slow and steady, dragging it along the front wall. Right there. Holy shit, how the fuck does he already know?

He keeps kissing my stomach while his finger works inside me. His breathing’s getting heavier. Mine’s fucking ragged.

Then He pulls his finger out and looks at me. And then… He fucking puts it in his mouth. He puts his finger in his mouth!

Tasting me. Watching me.

I forget how to breathe.

He stands up. Kisses me again - hard, hungry, filthy.

I can still taste myself on his tongue. It mixes with the mint from his toothpaste and it’s fucking intoxicating.

Then he grips my hips, flips me, and lays me down on the bed like I weigh nothing. “Fuck, baby…” he growls. His voice is rough, wrecked… and Jesus, it shoots straight between my legs.

He pushes my knees apart and drops between them. Then he kisses me. There. Right there.

His tongue hits my clit and I nearly sob. He licks me slow at first, then with more pressure, more intent.

I’m already on edge. Already so close it’s embarrassing. I grip the sheets. No, his hands. I clutch his hands like a lifeline as he eats me like he’s fucking starving.

He groans against me.

I feel it everywhere.

He starts circling me with his tongue. Precise. Focused. Fucking perfect.

And I can’t take it. I can’t fucking take it. My thighs shake. My hips jerk up. I moan… loud, raw, no filter. “Shit, Javier… fuck! Don’t stop… don’t you fucking dare…”

He doesn’t. He holds me down and licks me harder, faster. One hand moves to my breast, pinching, teasing, making it worse. Better. Everything.

And then… I shatter. My whole body arches off the bed, lights bursting behind my eyes. My orgasm crashes through me so hard I scream. Not moan. Not whimper. Fucking scream.

My legs are shaking. I’m gasping for air. My heartbeat’s out of control.

And he’s still watching me. His mouth slick. His lips swollen. He looks proud. Fucking smug. Deservedly so.

My breath’s still fucked. My legs feel like jelly.

And he’s just sitting there between my thighs, looking like he owns the world.

Well… two can play that game! I push myself up, just enough to reach him. My hands find his chest, hot and hard under my palms. I slide one down… lower, over his abs, past the waistband of those fucking boxers.

The bulge is impossible to ignore. Rock hard. Twitching.

I press my palm against it. He groans, low and filthy. “Fuck, baby…” he rasps.

I look him dead in the eye as I push his boxers down. They fall. And holy shit!

He’s big. Not “oh wow” big. More like “how the fuck is that fitting inside me” big.

I wrap my hand around him. Hot. Heavy. Veined. Already leaking. I stroke him slow. Up. Down. My thumb grazes the tip.

His head falls back, and his jaw clenches like he’s fighting not to lose it right there.

And then I lean down. I take him into my mouth.

His hips jerk. His hand fists the sheets. “Fuuck,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

My tongue swirls over the head, down the shaft. I take him deeper. Slower. Again.

His breathing’s a mess. He looks down at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever needed. And I feel it… his body’s ready to snap. He pulls back, gasping. “No. Baby, no. I need to be inside you.”

I pull off with a pop. Kiss him, wet and filthy. “Then take me.”

And just like that, he grabs me and throws me back onto the bed. Spreads my thighs. Lines himself up.

Pushes in, just the tip. Holy. Fuck. My body stretches around him. I moan, sharp and guttural.

“Shit, baby, you’re so tight,” he grits out, voice wrecked. He waits. Lets me adjust. His hands grip my hips, tight but grounding.

Then he pushes deeper. And deeper. Until he’s fully inside.

My body sings. He fits like he was made for me. Like I was made for him.

He holds still for a second, deep inside me, both of us barely breathing. The stretch, the burn, the fucking perfection of him inside me… I can’t even think.

And then he moves. Slow at first. Testing. Sliding out just enough and thrusting back in.

I gasp. Arch up. My hands claw at his back, his shoulders, whatever I can fucking reach.

He sets a rhythm. Smooth. Deep. Unrelenting. And every time his hips slam into mine, I swear my brain shorts out a little more.

“Oh fuck, Javier…”

“You feel so good,” he grits, voice gravel and sex. “Been thinking about this - fuck - since the second I saw you.”

His words hit just as hard as his thrusts. I moan. Loud. Shameless.

He leans down, mouth crashing into mine, his hips still rolling.

I taste myself on his tongue again, and it makes everything dirtier. Better.

His hand slides under me, props my hips up and holy shit, he hits even deeper.

My back arches. I cry out. “Right there… fuck, don’t stop… please don’t stop!”

He grabs my legs, throws it over his shoulder, opens me up more and pounds. Each thrust is rougher, faster, filthy. The sound of skin on skin. My moans. His groans. The bed creaking.

I lock eyes with him… and that’s what fucking destroys me.

His gaze is wild, locked on me like I’m his whole fucking world. “You gonna cum for me?” he growls. “You gonna cum with me deep inside you?”

I nod, choke on a moan. “Yes, yes, fuck, yes. Javier, please–”

And I fall apart. My whole body clenches, thighs shaking, toes curling. I cum so hard I forget my own name. I scream his name. Over and over.

That broken sound rips out of him as he crashes into me one last time... his body shaking, cock throbbing, cuming like he's never gonna stop. I feel it, feel him pulse deep inside me.

We’re both gasping. Shaking. Drenched in sweat.

He collapses on top of me, breath hot against my neck. His weight is heavy, but in the best fucking way. Like an anchor. Like he’s holding me down so I don’t drift off into the fucking void after what just happened.

His head nuzzles into my neck, somewhere between my shoulder and the pillow. I can still feel him pulsing inside me. Still feel the way we fit. Like he was always meant to be there.

He kisses my shoulder. Soft. A quiet apology, maybe. Or a promise. Or just nothing at all.

I don’t say anything. Can’t. My body’s still trembling and my brain hasn’t caught up yet. Everything inside me is a raw, messy hum.

Eventually, I feel him shift - slow, careful - and slip out of me. I whimper. The sensitivity is brutal.

He murmurs something I can’t make out and presses a kiss to my skin like a balm.

His whole body relaxes. I feel it. His shoulders drop. He lets out a long breath like he was holding it through the entire universe imploding inside me.

He lays beside me now, one arm slung across my stomach, his body molding into mine like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

But we haven’t. This is the first. And I’m already fucked. Not just in the literal, absolutely mind-blowing sense. But emotionally. Mentally. Deep in the marrow.

I should be angry. I was angry. Now I just feel wrecked. Full. Emptied. Rewired.

This man - this stupidly hot, maddening, impossible man - just gave me the best sex of my life. And somehow, I’m still not sure if I want to slap him… or beg him to stay.

I press my face into the pillow. Feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.

His breathing slows. And soon, it’s soft, even, steady. He’s asleep.

Me? I’m lying here, eyes wide open, heart thudding, pussy wrecked, brain fried. And all I can think is:

I am so. Completely. Fucked. Next Chapter soon

[lucius-i-ran]

On the days were the sun is out and the clouds dutifully avoid it, Nico is usually happy.

Although not exactly happy; more serene.

It is not because of the Great Star shining on them all. The light is merciless on his poor eyes and unforgiving to his yet-to-be-olive skin; he is paper thin still, more dead than living but he's doing a good job at regaining his flesh back. It is not in the way the air is warm on his skin. While Nico enjoys the first hot ribbons of wind when he steps right outside his cabin, he's quick to overheat, much more well adjusted to the cold and humid breaths of a cave. It is not even for the midmorning birds singing goodmorning. Nico appreciate the songs and the effort, but he also deems cacophonic the way it clashes with shireks and swishes and distant explosions that cannot be absent for a place full of crammed up magical children. It is not even in the way they laugh. Nico has grown quite fond of almost all of them and he does not enjoy the silence as much as he used to but there is one particular laugh that he's after, to catch and bottle up and treasure until the end of time.

That's where Nico is headed. To cradle himself in the very reason why on these days, he is serene.

It is because of him.

Will is a much different creature than Nico is. Like a plant basking in the sunlight, he closes his eyes and bathes in the warm embrace of a father. The freckled skin is an armour against its horrible punches. His flesh is already feverish, a well-known friend to the hot breaths of air, swinging doors. He tends an ear and a smile for the summer song that has yet to finish. He rolls his eyes but with a colorful expression, he welcomes the annoyed victims of yet another prank or just sheer weaponry malpractice. He flipflops from one to another, always a scolding between his parted teeth and a reassuring hand on a wounded shoulder; he's never in the same place.

So when Nico passes the gilded doorframe of the infirmary, it comes to no suprise that his beloved golden head doesn't come flashing immediately in his eyes. He walks in, still timid and he knits his brows, scanning bunks, beds, chairs, high shelves and doors ajar. Left to right, in the direction he's not used to reading, like Annie had once taught him. His lips seal and he moves a few more steps in, trying to locate another familiar head. His feet push him farward, called to amethyst braids, studded ears and a Sesame Street bandana to tie it all together.

"Hey girl." Her mellow voice calls him, sweet as the first time.

Nico likes Lou Ellen, a lot in fact. It might be for the newly released outcast status that she had to bear not even three years prior or her chthonic lineage, acquainted to his own that made Nico so drawn to her. It might even be because in her sweet manners and honey voice, in the purple glow of her fingers and the constant smell of frankincense, Nico saw so much of Hazel.

"Hey Lou."

Before Nico could even finish to clearly recall every piece of Will's face in his mind, Lou preceeds, knowing. "Lookin' for Will?"

Nico nods, guilty.

"Mourning." Her head shakes and the lips are sealed in a line.

Nico's stomach drops almost immediately. He hasn't felt any soul leaving nor he had given proper burial to the unfortunate one. He feels gulty again, this time the eagerness to find his lover, to cradle, kiss his temple and show him that all is well, grows along with a little cramp in his chest. "Has he.. A camper died? Family?" He asks, maybe a little too greedy but anything to assess damages and decide his next move.

Lou leans in and covers with a flat hand from adverted ears. "Pet praying mantis."

Every knot in Nico's muscles eases and tenses again in the desperate attempt to retain a laugh. Death is death, and it is serious, even for poor Mr. or Mrs. Praying Mantis.

"He was actually looking for you." Lou leans back, gathers the pouch of herbs she was previously holding and starts to walk around with sure steps. She has work to do and Nico dutifully follows her. She stops with a tug of a lip and a warm pat on the leg of a poor little boy that looks absolutely out of it.

"What for?" Nico is handed the pouch and he holds, obidient.

"Burial?" Lou raises her shoulders unsure, fishing out some leaves, thin branches and three red berries and placing them in a stone pot to smash. "You can bearly understand Will's blabber on a good day, what was I supposed to hear?" She forces a bottle of a mystery oil open to pours just one little, tiny trickle in the pot and continues stomping the mixture. "He was weeping."

"Weeping?" Rare for Will. Serious. Dire.

"Dramatic weep, don't worry." Lou looks lighthearted as she warms the prickly mixture on the boy's chest and under his nose. She has known Will for longer, she must know his tantrums well too; but Nico can't help feeling like he's walking on boiling sand the more they keep talking. Lou cleans her hands on a cloth and stroke the sweaty hair of the child. "All done." She assures. With a sway of braids, she face back to Nico. "I think he got sidetracked." 'You know how he is.' Her eyes silently finish for her.

"Mmh." Nico knows how he is. "I'll come by later to help."

"Counting on it."

Nico really knows how Will is. They have been together for a little more than a year and he knows how he is. Nico had to carve and fish out some parts of him but others were completely on display. It was one of the things that made Nico almost immediately enamoured with Will; because he was and still is, always, unapologetically Will. He is loud and present and bright and burning and he is dramatic. Will lets out a high-pitched squeal when something, that for sure will not break and will not even make a sound, falls. Will lets all the air be knocked out from his lungs by long and honestly concerning gasps when he sees something remotely note worthy. Note Worthy, in Will's Solace vocabulary, covers a vast category that spans from a new dent on the wooden window frames to a freakishly huge bug. Will puts on the wounded damsel play on whenever Nico pinches lightly his waist, resting a poised hand on the amber forehead and letting his delicious weight crush Nico's shoulder. Will cries when his pet praying mantis dies.

Nico observes, in the creaking of the lake's pier, that Will doesn't just cry when his pet praying mantis dies. He lets his head hang low and he doesn't concernes himself with curls poking his eyes. He let the shoulders slump and rise with longing sighs. And when Nico steps closer, he observes, Will lets his face relaxed down until the lips coil in the forceful hold of a pout. He lets his burning thumb trace the knots on a little wooden box, and swallows heavily the knot in his throat. Will does not lift his head for nothing in the world, not even for soft steps.

Nico has approached the end of the platform and he sits by his side, hanging his legs, shoes off to not wet them.

"Good Morning, Daffodil." Nico likes calling him like that. Will carries its colors, its story, the beauty and the message of hope, life, resilience. Will is a strong, pretty thing that survives the winter and is ready to sprout once the days get longer.

" 'S not a good morning." Will murmurs with a crack in his words. He strains his lips, trying to force a tear back. "Dolly died."

"Dolly?" Nico tucks the rebellious strands that escaped Will's half bun.

"My praying mantis." Will swallows again.

"Dolly." Nico nods solemnly, letting his cold hand comb through the soft hair.

"Like Dolly Parton." Wil explains. "It looked like it was playing guitar sometimes."

Nico bites his cheeks because his boyfriend is positively grieving besides him, a praying mantis died and it is not fucking funny. "That's a darling name, Gioia." he trembles. "How-- how'd you know it was a Miss?"

"If it was a He, it would've had its head bit off by now." The pout crunches his face some more and a tear slips out of his control. "But this morning," A sob. "I found it curled up in a nook."

"Oh, Starlight." Nico whispers and opens a welcoming arm.

Will falls on him. He slumps like he usually does and, like usually, he doesn't not give in to the sobs. He swallows and strains the lump in his throat, trying to banish the one in his heart. He tenses whenever a tear runs from his blond lashes, down to his temple and onto Nico's shirt. He bites his lips, trying to push everything in because it's stupid, crying that is, and Nico's heart breaks. This time, it really does.

"Is that her little casket?"

Will nods lightly, pressing and caressing on the shirt more than anything and Nico feels his lips quiver against it.

"Do you want a funeral?" Nico should hear the disturbingly high levels of ludicrous in that question, but he only feels the immense heart of his Sunshine, spilling down to his lap.

Will raises his eyes. They're rimmed red, swollen and bloodshot but still hold that fair blue plead of Forget-Me-Not. "You'd do that?"

"In a heartbeat."