#he's the only one that has *more* to do and more room to grow as the story goes on instead of less

[mywritersmind]

THIGH HIGHS - LN4

summary : In which Lando likes thigh high socks and his best friends sister far too much.

listen up : my first time writing full smut… oral, swearing, p in v, teasing, age gap!! fewtrell!youngersister!!

words : 1610

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Lando knew to stay in Max’s room. He was told explicitly to stay put. But Lando has never been good at following directions.

The loud bang in the kitchen was what broke him. He walked down the hall, praying it was Max’s cat or maybe P came home early!

It was not.

Lando mentally swore at the sight. She stood on her toes, trying to reach a mug that was too high. One hand was braced on the counter as her foot popped up. Lando looked at the counter, ceramic pieces shattered on it which explained the loud noise.

He should turn away. He would have, if not for her little squeal as she finally got her fingers on a mug and hopped off the counter, looking directly at him.

It wasn’t her slow blink or the sight of her in a thin oversized shirt… though both those things had Lando close to losing it, It was her socks.

Thigh high, too tight, stark white… socks.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were here.” She smiles softly, turning around and bopping back to the kitchen island to finish her drink making.

She’s lying. Him Max Fewtrell were her teachers growing up, Lando sees right through her.

He clears his throat, “Uh yeah… I could say the same for you.”

She shoots him a small smile before looking back at her mug, the kitchen now filled with the familiar smell of hot chocolate. “Want a cup?” She asks, dipping the spoon in her mouth and slowly pulling it out.

He mindlessly sits across from her as she moves around the kitchen to make more, her hair bouncing behind her.

His eyes were glued to her as she slid around in those bloody socks. They were the same socks she wore all throughout highschool with her prissy little skirt and uniform top.

The same socks that she would flaunt as she draped her legs over the couch while Lando and Max were playing video games.

Lando knew she was in college now but that didn’t make the sight, or his thoughts, any better.

The completion of her outfit, a thin shirt that dipped right above the socks and made it clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra, did not help.

She slides a mug to him, smiling in that sweet and innocent way she always has. “Tell me if you like it. It’s a new recipe.” She sips her hot chocolate at the same time as Lando, her lipgloss being left as a kiss on the ceramic.

Lando nods, “It’s really fucking good.”

This makes her grin grow, biting her bottom lip to restrain herself, “Good. So, what are you doing here?”

Lando quirks a brow, “Max and I are filming later.”

She nods slowly, “Right…”

“Well what are you doing here?” He raises a brow, bringing the mug to his lips again.

“I’m on spring break.”

“And you’re spending it with your brother?”

“I just got back from cabo…” She says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her tan did hint at it though. “I go back tomorrow though.”

“Ah, uni… how’s that going for ya?” He leans back in his chair as she backs up against the countertop.

“Great. Minus the guys.” She sighs purposefully, looking around the room. “How’s the whole F1 thing?”

He smiles at her tone, nodding, “Good.”

“You know! It’s funny… Max gets to go all the time, yet I'm never invited.” She pouts, crossing her legs.

“You never ask.” He makes a point to look at her in the eyes when saying it.

“I’m asking now.” Something about her voice screams DONT CROSS! DANGER! GO BACK! But Lando just sits up straighter.

“Fine then, come to australia.”

She finishes her drink, hopping up on the counter so her head is hitting the cabinets now. Lando sucks in a breath as she looks at him, “Only if I get to stay in your room.”

Christ he might just fall off this bloody chair.

“Stop that.” Lando shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and gripping his mug a little too tight.

“Stop what?” She smirks, completely mischievous and faking innocence.

“Being a little shit.”

She scoffs, jokingly. Putting a hand on her chest and frowning, “You wound me, Lan.”

“You not getting enough attention at school? Guys don’t fall at your feet everywhere you go?” It’s bad but the most he can do to stop his words is a mental slap on his face.

“They do… You’re just more fun to play with.”

“I’m too old for you.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t think it’s hot. Five years isn’t even that bad- Would it make you feel better if I said I’ve gotten with a fourt-”

“No!” He stops her, standing up and washing out his cup to busy himself, “It’s not just the age thing.”

“So you’d get with me if I wasn’t your best friend's sister?” He turns to look at her, her legs squeezed together and practically begging to be touched.

“I didn’t say that.”

Her shirt is riding up her thighs more and it makes Lando’s stomach drop. He licks his lips as she looks at him, “Lan.” she practically whines, “I need someone experienced.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on her body as she rubs her thighs together, “I haven’t orgasmed in forever… at least, not from a guy.” He lets out a little sigh, walking closer.

“You can touch me.” She looks up at him, her eyes full of lust as the tightness in his pants grows.

“I shouldn’t.” He braces himself on either side of her.

“Then I'll touch myself.” It’s almost a whisper, but definitely a promise. She slips her hand under her shirt, making it pool around her thighs and teasing her cotton underwear.

Lando thinks he might be dreaming as she slips her hand into her panties, her breathing picking up as she leans her head back.

“Lan…” she whimpers, “Feels so good…” she locks eyes with him, his mouth slightly open as he watches her.

He watches her fingers move under the fabric, dipping farther as her moans grow louder. His hands slide from the marble to her thighs, just the outsides in an attempt to control himself.

He’s rock solid now, his hands gripping her legs and feeling the smooth fabric under his fingers. Her nipples are hard and poking through her shirt. Her eyes meet his again as he breathes harder, her hand slowly pulls away, dripping.

She’s holding it in front of his face, inching closer just for him to take her fingers in his mouth. She’s smirking wickedly as he sucks. “Good boy.” she whispers.

Her fingers leave his mouth with a ‘pop’ and just as he goes in to kiss her, she shakes her head and slips her hand into his hair, pushing down.

He watches her eyes as he dips down, pulling down her panties and replacing them with his tongue. She moans, loudly, at the contact.

Every doubt either of them had is gone now, replaced with pleasure and pure need.

She grips his hair as his hands hold her in place, his mouth sucking and linking as one of his hands moves up her shirt, grabbing her tit and making her moan louder.

Lando was in heaven, fucking her with his tongue and listening to her moan under his touch. That is, until she pulled him back up.

“Fewtrell.” He growled, neither of them done.

She pulled him closer, kissing him finally. She bites his lip a bit as he grinds into her, his hard length begging for attention. “Someone’s needy.” She teases as he kisses her harder, his tongue exploring her mouth while he fingers the top of her socks.

“Please.” He’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s begged a girl for something.

“Please what?” Her breath is hot against his, “Use your words.”

“Let me fuck you.”

This satisfies her, a cheeky smile meeting him as his hands slowly pull off her shirt.

Her nipples are hard when he takes one into his mouth, her head falling back as he runs his tongue over it.

She reaches down and skillfully unzips his pants, moving her hand over his hard clothed dick. He’s throbbing, so sensitive to the touch he’s been waiting for.

“This for me?” She whispers as his head falls on her shoulder, her hand moving back and forth. He nods, unable to speak as she palms him.

He pulls off his pants and boxers, not even caring to get them off his legs before he lines up to her. “I don’t want you to regret this.” He whispers, out of breath and fully blinded by lust, but not stupid.

She looks straight into his eyes, “Fuck me, Lando.”

So he does, pushing into her and almost losing it straight away. He goes slow at first, watching her mouth shake and her head fall back. She grabs onto his shoulder, moaning loudly in the kitchen that’s neither of theirs.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She moans as he thrusts into her, biting her shoulder and kissing her neck, “Yes!”

He whimpers as she tightens around him, wanting to give her the one thing idiot college guys can’t.

She cums in a rush of heated breaths and her nails dragging over Lando’s skin. He cums seconds later on those snow white thigh highs.

He falls against her in a slump, her heart beating fast against him. She’s smiling still, running her hands through Lando’s curls and saying, “I’m definitely coming to australia.”

[parfaitblogs]

i NEED a angst fic (with a happy ending ofc) based on tolerate it by taylor swift please 🙏 big chance it’s been done before though and im just the most unoriginal bitch ever

tolerate it ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid gets out of prison, and you baselessly feel like your relationship is growing increasingly one sided.  pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. neglectful bf spencer reid. happy (open) ending. communication yippee. themes of self doubt in reader. mentions of spencer not eating.  word count: 2k a/n: writers block isn't real you just need to watch criminal minds season 12 episode 13 'spencer' and then listen to tolerate it on repeat for three hours straight. iiii know human beings don't talk in long monologued speeches but for the sake of my sanity let us pretend i am shakespeare and spencer reid is my leontes. plzzzz tell me if u liked this or if u didn't yay thank u ily

i sit and watch you. i notice everything you do, or don't do. (lines 3–4)

A fork scrapes against ceramic. It emits a scratching sound that hurts your ears, and you're cringing from your curled up position on the couch as you hear it. Silverware shines beneath the bright, warm glow of his kitchen light, his food barely dented as he pushes it around his plate. 

He's been playing with it since he sat down to eat it. 

You're not too sure what's going through his head as he takes barely there bites of a meal you cooked. You don't think you want to know. But it takes him all of twenty three minutes to come to the same conclusion he made last night, and every other night before that. That he isn't going to eat any more of the food, and just like his fork, his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. 

He wraps the plate in aluminium foil, the crinkling of metal being your only indicator that he has plans to eat it later. At least, that's what you hope. 

When he disappears into the bedroom, you follow him. Like a lovesick puppy, you're trailing after him, and your chest feels hollow with how embarrassing it all is. 

He doesn't know you're watching him, though. 

At least, not to the extent you are. He's field trained enough to know that you're keeping an eye on him, but your silence is only indicative of you giving him the space he so politely asked for three days ago. He's not in his right mind to assume you're silent for any other reason, and you've battled to a loss with the thoughts of letting him into your disaster of a brain. 

He doesn't need to know that.

The ensuite door shuts behind him, and you hear the water turn on minutes later. You take the cue to curl up on your side of the bed, your fingers toying with the paper edges of a book you now had in your lap. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, for you were rediscovering your love for children's novels amongst this trying time between you and Spencer. 

"Hey, did you buy me more shampoo?"

Your head lifts at the voice, the snowy Narnia world you had built in your brain shattering in an instant, as you're met with the dull colours of Spencer Reid's bedroom, and a showered and dressed Spencer Reid standing only a few feet away. His bedroom hadn't always been dull. Really, nothing had actually changed artistically within it to make it dull. But there's something about no longer laughing in a room once filled with so much love that mutes its vibrance. 

"Yeah," you say, dog-earing the page you were on and slipping it onto the nightstand. "I saw you were running low."

His lips part as he exhales, and you hate that you can tell he's pushing away something snippy. It wasn't that he was actively trying to start fights with you, but his temper has grown short, and he has more anger in his heart than before. 

"You didn't get the right one, that's all."

And though it isn't said rudely, your chest opens up like a black hole regardless, and a thick ball of emotion lodges in your throat.

"I'm sorry," you force past your lips, despising the hollow sound of your sad voice, and the fact that he notices it. His eyebrows frown towards each other at the sound of you, and he takes a step towards the bed.

It's pathetic, right? To be this upset over him letting you know the thing you bought him wasn't correct. In that almost fake sounding soft, kind voice he has when he is trying to keep his unnecessary frustration at bay. 

But it wasn't like this was the first time you'd done something for him in recent, and been told you did it wrong, instead of simply being thanked. Acts of service he was finding problems within no matter what they were, each new critique chipping away at the scales of your self confidence. You don't even think he's meaning to do it.

Every time this happens, memories of the other times flash violently in your head, reminding you that he could not find the beauty of being cared for by you the way he had before this. This, this thing you were barely even able to string the letters of together, because it seemed so foreign and faraway to you. Spencer Reid in prison is not a sentence that makes sense in this — or any other — timeline. You don't think it ever will. And yet.

You'd cooked him meals every single day since he got out. Meals he'd barely ever touch, wrap in foil, then put in the fridge for his work lunch the next day. You don't know if he's even eating them at work, or if he's just taking them there to throw them out. You've been too scared to reach out to any of his team members to ask. Knowledge is power, but knowledge makes his negligence all too real. 

There's a fear in calling it negligence. It isn't fair of you to expect the same man before and after prison, and you know he's dealing with more than you can fathom. You were prepared for distance. 

Just not this much.

The submerged sound of your name tugs you from your thoughts, and suddenly Spencer is closer than he was before, and he's repeating your name over and over in calling. Once you rapidly blink and shake your head, he determines you've returned to Earth, and he's falling silent again. There's concern knitting his eyebrows together, and he's got his hands hovering in the air, as if he's reaching for you, but second guessing himself at the same time. 

"Whats going on in your brain?" he asks you after a few beats of the two of you just staring at each other. 

Like a dam breaking, his question triggers an onslaught of emotions, and every fear and insecurity you've had inside you spills out.

"I feel like you suddenly hate me," your eyes rapidly search the duvet in front of you for your words. "Or—or I annoy you with my presence? Or my care? I mean, I try to do things for you and you barely even spare them a second glance, or thought. You barely talk to me anymore outside of updating me on your schedule. We sleep with miles of distance between us," you gesture to the bed beside you. "I cook you meals you don't eat, I wash your clothes you don't fold. Both of which are things that I'm fine with, because I can't imagine how skewed your appetite is, and I—I know laundry is a trigger now. But there is not even a slight hint of you—you being thankful. You know, appreciative. I feel like I'm following you around like a servant, and I'm doing things with no gratitude in return. I'm doing things I shouldn't have to, because I'm your girlfriend. Not your maid. But they are things that I want to do, because I care for you, and I love you," you pause, a self deprecating smile appearing on your face. "And—and you haven't even told me you love me since the day we got you home. Do you even love me, still? No, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know. I mean, I do. I don't know. God, Spencer, can you say something?"

He doesn't. For a long while, he stares at you, and you train your eyes on the pattern on the bedding you're currently sitting under. His gaze is pulverising, and every second that passes is another limb turning to dust beneath it. His silence should be enough of an answer for you. Yet, you hold onto groundless hope still.

It feels like eternity has passed you by, by the time you hear his voice again.

"I don't mean to make you think I don't love you," he says. "I do love you. Which feels meaningless to confess to you now, knowing how you feel, and I wish my expansive knowledge of words could come up with a confession that does justice to how you feel, but also makes you feel better. I can only hope you take it at face value, and don't assume I'm saying it because it's what you want me to say." 

He finds a seat on the bed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with each other as he fixates on the wooden flooring in front of him. 

"I am grateful for everything you've done for me recently. I'm sorry I haven't expressed that. I'm having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, let alone stringing together sensical thoughts. I wish I could tell you what my mind sounds like without feeling guilty about it. It isn't nice, and every thought I have is far from positive," he lifts his eyes to you, and you watch in real time as they soften, for the first time since he came home. "I will tell you that there's you. Among every awful thought and feeling I have, there is you. I think I... I think I've been coming across as ungrateful because you are a breath of relief after every bad thought and feeling. Am I making sense?" you nod your head, and he sighs in, namely, relief. "I take a step back from processing my emotions and figuring out how I'm going to talk about them with that bureau therapist when I think about you, because you are the one good thing I have to hold on to. So I just bask in the thought of you, or the sight of you, and focus on nothing else."

You aren't sure when you began to cry, and you only realise it when you have to sniffle before speaking. "You can focus on so many things at once, though." 

"Not anymore," he admits, looking back down. "I don't know what's happened. I've gone from having a brain that works inhumanly — which is objectively an incorrect statement, but I digress — to one that cannot multitask on two separate things at once." 

"Oh," you whisper. "I see."

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as though your efforts go unnoticed, honey," he murmurs. "They don't. This has just been really difficult."

"I know," you say, wiping your tear stained face with the back of your hand. 

There's a part of you that wants this to be the end of it. The end of self doubt, and distance, and instead the beginning of your relationship rebuilding itself alongside Spencer. 

There's a larger, more logical part of you, that knows you cannot just sweep every self conscious doubt under the rug and move on. 

"I just want some time," you tell him, and his shoulders tense as you speak. "Not to—not to break up. Or even for us to have a break. I don't want that. I've just felt very... unloved. Like you're merely tolerating my presence in your life. And now, I know you aren't. But I have to find my confidence in myself in this relationship again before I can move on."

"Okay," his voice is strained as he speaks, and you know he's not exactly content with your request for space.

You try not to focus on that, in order to stand firm in your decision. 

That is where the conversation ends. And just like every other night, he climbs into bed and leaves a considerable amount of distance between your two bodies. You choose not to dwell on it, because this is now him giving you the space you so politely requested. You were catastrophising, and you'd be damned if you let such a thing control your life any longer. 

It maybe wasn't all in your head, but you still had to take the self doubt shaped dagger from your stomach out.

now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. (line 30)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and his... "Quirks"

Everyone is a lil weird. Logan is no exception

Some nsfw headcanons below the cut, it gets weird yall. some are tame. the rest are questionable. You're gonna ask me why i was thinking about it. you don't want to know

he CANNOT sit farthest away from the door. he has to be between the door and you. yknow in case of threats

feel like he would hate microwaves. idk why, i think he would extremely distrust the idea of food being heat up by radiation (Even if it wouldn't affect him?). he cooks everything by hand.

Don't let him catch you heating your food by microwave. He'll get pissy. then he'll make your food by scratch

uses phrases that were popular like 100+ years ago that no one knows. you've had to google some of them to figure out what the hell he was talking about

he taps his fingers alot. against a table, his leg, on you. it's an anxious thing

he doesn't laugh much but when he does it's loud, hes the epitomy of the word "guffaws" bc he's so loud. most of the time when you hear him "laugh" its a quiet chuckle. it's quite joyous to hear Logan across the mansion laughing

logan, as much as he acts like a wild man, is fairly neat. like, weirdly neat about his stuff. well- stuff he cares about. his jacket, his cigars, beer, maybe a few things you gave him. he doesn't need much.

this one isn't so weird, more cute- but he loves when you pet his head. only when it's just you two though

his nails grow faster than an avg person. He constantly has to clip them. BUT he does at least make sure to clean them up

i should add that logans is obv known for calling everyone bub, and gives nicknames to everyone

(he'll call you every petname in the book)

has to have his bed made in the mornings. he gets weirdly cranky if he or you don't make the bed and it's messy when going to bed that night (the man leaves his dirty laundry all over the room but doesn't like his bed not being made???)(nesting...)

hates the smell of incense (too strong) but he doesn't mind a few of the vanilla smelling candles. or the outdoorsy type ones

def will pick up new hobbies at random and then drop them (ahem i do that to)

doesn't finish his beer. he'll have a little left and go open a new one anyway

he acts like he's so gruff but he's actually like so polite about things when in someones house/the mansion. it takes you aback how nice he'll be. (x2 logan was just a bit stress don't worry about him raiding bobbys parents fridge)

ill add his fear of flying in here too

honestly he probably just doesn't like heights in general. he'll do it, go in tall buildings, planes, all of that (as well as we all seen) but don't catch him sightseeing out of the 70th floor of the skyscraper yall are in

he probably likes to wear all those layers because he doesnt let his hair grow out like he could. have you seen how much hair he can get? he keeps himself trimmed for you (if you want to call it that). the layers protects from the cold he gets from not being a hairy beast (let him be hairy)

oral fixation... i'll put this in nsfw

this isn't really weird...but he's able to sit in silence for a long time. just watching the view (you)

hes not an early bird. he'll get pissy if you are, because he wants you in bed with him. (people gotta work logan...)

leaves a clean plate of food. he doesnt like waste.

likes to grab you. hes gotta be holding onto you. even if he's single he's gotta be doing something (smoking, tapping his foot, leaning on someone), when he's with you though, you're his grounding.

NSFW

will drool during sex. he tries to control it. sometimes you feel too good though-

gets incredibly horny after missions. good luck.

also when after he goes into a burst of rage. good luck with that too

honestly he just has a high sex drive. he's a bit of a freak. it's not every time but rarely does he not get hard around you- at the scent of you

The moment you wake up in the morning, logan tells you "your period started" before you even have a chance to even fully wake up, only to realize that indeed you did start your period

he could smell it

dude is really intense about smelling

when it comes to you though he's REALLY intense about it. you know how dogs are when they smell you after you come home. logan is no different

can and WILL smell your armpits and feet if he gets the chance. it may gross you out but shits heavenly to him because thats where you smell the strongest. if you don't let him smell you he'll go for the laundry

your neck too

the man leaks so much pre-cum just at the thought of you. you'd think he came right there in his pants

does not care about you walking into him in the bathroom. he has no shame

honestly id think he'd like footjobs. not because he's got a feet thing- but like feet is where your strongest smells come from and if you...do that. his thang will smell like you

will eat you out and do you on your period btw. no shame

i don't think logan will say no to much in bed, except for the really disgusting ones, or the ones inviting other people in. he's not going to share you, or himself.

definitely has a thing about mounting you. he doesn't do it all the time but sometimes he'll lose himself and next thing you know is biting your neck and thrusting you doggy style, grunting and whining, and he won't stop till he's satisfied. the others have expressed worry over the deep teeth marks in your neck (Is he trying to maul you? - Scott)

doesn't like washing the bed sheets after you two do your thing. will complain but you have to bc you both are fairly active together in that department and you do not need your bedsheets become solid like rock. he just likes the scent :(

loves it when you lick his hands/knuckles

i think we all agree, the claws COME OUT when he cums. hes extremely careful about his hand placement bc of this.

back to oral fixation. if he doesn't have a cigar, toothpick, gum, his next best thing is you.

will SUCK on your skin. hard.

This is all i got for now, some probably really aren't a quirk but my brain was just typing what I could think of...might make more. Feel free to reblog and add your own!!

pain kink. a bad one. we all agreed on this i believe.

You know how animals have displays to attract mates? Logan is no different. When hes in the mood, hell puff himself out to you, do things he thinks youll like. I mean, i suppose avg males do this too but logan gets repetitive over it until you notice.

[clare-875]

Morning Company (Sanji x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Sanji x Female Reader Summary: Sanji wakes before the dawn breaks, and so you find yourself doing the same to keep him company Warnings: Fluff [One Piece Masterlist] _____

Sanji wakes up before five every morning to prepare breakfast for the crew and prepare meals for the day. He is used to waking up to the chill that comes with a dawning day and pulling himself from the warmth of his bed. But the one thing he despised most was leaving you beneath blankets and having to begrudgingly remove you from his embrace. You always looked so beautiful as you slept, and his heart could only beat faster when you reached for his warmth as he pulled away, only making him want to stay.

He was in awe of your love; he couldn't believe you were his.

The pleasant company of you in his room was a stark contrast to the dim kitchen where he would be left to prepare meals for the day alone. Despite the sound of Brook playing his violin into the early morning, he could not help but selfishly miss your presence in the daybreak. He was so used to your words frantically reaching the air or your presence next to him, that he could only wait for the sun to bring you from your slumber and back to him again.

However, unbeknownst to Sanji, you have started to take more notice of the fact that your boyfriend would often be gone from bed whenever you woke. In fact, rarely did you wake up to his warmth next to you, and his peaceful face as he slept or stared adoringly to you. So, you had decided to embark on a secret little mission of yours, one that may require earlier nights, but hopefully result in mornings spent with your beloved.

Today, was the beginning of those mornings.

You can feel Sanji stir from next to you, and trying to hide a smile, you pretend to be asleep. You can feel his arms shift from around you and you hear his sigh as he realises he needs to get up for another day. A few moments pass before he gently shifts you from his arms, and places a soft kiss on your head. "Good Morning, love." His words are soft-spoken as to not 'wake' you but low from his sleep, and it makes your heart jolt in your chest. He then groans and pulls himself to his feet, before stepping to the door and leaving for the kitchen.

You wait two beats before deciding to join him.

Sanji has only just started retrieving ingredients from the fridge and picking out utensils when he hears the creak of the door behind him. Figuring it might be Brook who sometimes comes in for a cup of tea, he doesn't turn at first. "Morning Brook," he says casually, but what greets him instead is a sudden but familiar warmth that has his heart hammering. "Morning, love," you say, pressing your face into Sanji's back and relishing the warmth of him in contrast to the cool morning air. "Expecting someone else?"

Sanji pauses for only a moment in pleasant surprise before he turns from within your arms so he can look down at you. You smile sleepily up at him, and you appreciate the way his eyes seem to enlighten as he looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. "Love, why are you up so early? Aren't you cold? Tired? You can go back to bed if you-" You shake your head against his chest, shushing his concerns and rolling your eyes. "I'm fine, Sanji. Besides, I wanted to keep you company."

One of Sanji's hands reaches for the loose strands of your slightly dishevelled hair, tucking it behind your ear and lingering there. He stares at you in silent wonderment for a moment, how someone so kind and beautiful and loving could care for him in the way that you do. He places a delicate kiss on your head and you smile up at him at the action, just as you hear Brook's violin gently start to play a tune into the early morning. "This is actually kinda nice," you murmur and Sanji's fondness only grows.

"Let me make some tea for you, love."

Sanji's gentle voice interrupts the rhythm of slow swaying but it is you who pulls away from the confines of his arms. "No, no, you continue with your meal prep, I can make us the tea." Before your boyfriend can say anything to retaliate, you have reached for the kettle, and so Sanji joins you by your side as he heats up the stove and starts cutting up vegetables. You teasingly bump his hip with yours, as you reach for two mugs and start boiling the water.

Time passes in the ease of the other's presence; you sip your tea and help Sanji prepare breakfast. During the quiet of the morning, the two of you find yourself comfortable in the domesticity of it all, as Sanji guides your hands to a variety of tasks. You spill your words easily into the morning air, of your plans for the day, of funny things you saw the prior day, of anything that's on your mind. Throughout, all Sanji does is smile softly and nod to your rambling with keen interest.

You only stop when your tasks are finished and you feel you have been talking too much, hearing too much of Sanji's silence. "Love, are you okay? You've been quiet." You ask as you carry finished plates of breakfast to the dining table. But Sanji only looks to you with an expression adorned in love. "Everything's perfect, love. You are perfect." He walks over to you and suddenly you are in his arms once more, as he leans down and captures your lips. You kiss him back with equal fervour and he feels your own smile on your lips.

The both of you pull away just in time for the kitchen door to slam open.

"Sanji, I'm hungry!!"

"Morning Sanji-kun, [y/n]!!"

"Good morning!!"

"Hey, cook! Where's my breakfast?"

The rowdy crew enter the confines of the dining area and makes their way happily to the meals that have been prepared and are waiting for them. Suddenly your quiet morning has disappeared, replaced by a lively atmosphere. "Morning," you reply back in a sing-song voice, smiling as Nami gives you a knowing glance. But you simply take Sanji's hand in yours and guide him to the dining table as he obliges to your actions in contentedness.

"All right, let's eat!!"

Luffy's voice is all it takes for everyone to start their meals, and you do the same, but Sanji can't help but sneak glances at you throughout. When you finally meet his gaze and smile, a light blush adorns his face.

All of a sudden, the morning becomes his favourite time of the day.

[gh0stly-mp3]

ego destruction

sae x gn!reader -> +18

synopsis: sae has been treating you badly, so you decide its time for you to teach him a lesson

warnings: mdni, nsfw, sexual content, mature language, begging, metaphorical degradation?, punishment?, might have grammatical errors

tags: bottom!sae x top!reader, no genitalia mention, not too explicit, sae being sae

a/n: my first time doing nsfw, forgive me if its bad 😓

There was Sae, sitting on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone with an impatient flick of his wrist. You, perched on the opposite side of the couch, observed him, your jaw clenching. It had been weeks of this – the short and dry answers, the constant air of superiority.

You were both working on a new project for your house backyard, something that had turn into a frustrating dance of Sae’s dismissive nature. He treated you more like an underling than an equal, his words sharp and clipped, making you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells.

Tonight, something snapped. You had spent hours perfecting a piece of the project, pouring your heart into it, only for Sae to glance at it dismissively and declare it “ugly.” No explanation, no constructive criticism, just a flat-out rejection that had your blood boiling.

You stood up, the movement sudden enough to make Sae briefly look up from his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. - "Do you need something?" - He asked, his tone dripping with the air of someone interrupted in the middle of something important.

"Yes, Sae," - You responded, your voice low and dangerously calm. - "I need you to stop acting like an arrogant bitch."

Sae’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, the shock quickly replaced by a mask of icy displeasure. - “Excuse me?” - He said.

You walked towards him, and when you reached him, you didn't stop, instead, you pulled him up so abruptly that he stumbled, his phone falling to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes blazed with anger, but you didn't give him time to speak.

They pushed him backwards, forcing him onto the couch, your knee pinning him down. Sae gasped, not in fear, but in furious disbelief. - "What do you think you're doing?" - He growled, his fingers clenching on your arm.

You ignored him. Leaned down, your breath ghosting across his cheek, eyes locked on his. - "You've been treating me like shit, Sae." - You whispered, the soft tone a contrast to the violence of your actions. - "I'm done with it."

You put his hands on top of his head, and with a swift movement, began undoing his belt. Sae’s eyes were wide now, the anger slowly morphing into an unnerving mix of shock and something else...

You peeled his trousers down, your gaze never leaving his eyes. The air in the living room crackled with tension, the silence broken only by your ragged breathing. You didn't need to say anything. Sae understood. He understood with a visceral jolt, the way you meant to take him apart, piece by piece, until nothing remained of his carefully constructed ego.

And then, you were inside him, pushing deep, the initial shock giving way to a building wave of raw, primal sensation. Sae’s hand gripped your shoulder, knuckles white. He fought back, wanting to assert control, to reclaim the dominant position, but you didn't let him.

He started panting, the sounds escaping his throat. He tried to deny what was happening, tried to push them away, but there was a weakness growing within him, a surrender he desperately fought against. He was loving it.

You pushed further, forcing him to acknowledge that, at that moment, you were the one in control, and he felt vulnerable beacause of it. His grip on your shoulder loosened, his head falling back, his lips parted in a moan. The words he'd never say, the admissions he was so stubbornly withholding, were forced out of him with every breath.

"Please... please…" he begged, his voice rough and broken, the arrogance gone replaced by a desperate pleading. His eyes, usually so cold and distant, were wide with a mixture of shock and pleasure. "Don’t…don’t stop. Please…"

You broke him, his ego was shattered, the carefully constructed wall around his heart crumbled. Underneath his hard exterior, there was need, a raw desperation that he couldn’t hide anymore.

You continued, penetrating him relentlessly, your eyes admiring Sae’s face, watching as every layer of his pride was stripped away, leaving behind a vulnerable man. And as you two reached your climaxes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wicked satisfaction.

The cold, arrogant man was gone, replaced by a broken, pleading mess. It was only then that you understood: Sae’s pride wasn't just a shield; it was a challenge. And you had just won.

[tragic-ships-tournament]

Tragic Ships Tournament Round 3

Propaganda under the cut!

Herongraystairs:

"Hey is it polyamory if you and your buddy are both in love with the same girl (and each other)? Is it polyam to die of old age and only have your wife and the guy you were platonic married to as a teenager in your final moments? Is it polyamory if you constantly bring up your wife's dead husband and make it clear you're also deeply in love with him?"

Lawrence and Adam:

No propaganda submitted however I think everyone should read this giant essay written by the submitter

"Okay so our buddy Jigsaw here, John to his friends, puts Adam and Gordon in a trap in the so-called Saw Bathroom.

Adam wakes up from unconscious in a full bathtub and gasps for air trying to get out. In doing so, he inadvertently pulled the plug. It is pitch black in the room. A voice calls out from the other side of the room.

The voice is Gordon. His name is Lawrence Gordon, he's a doctor. For a few moments his voice is all there is until Gordon turns on the light. They are both chained to metal pipes in opposite corners. They introduce themselves. There is a dead body in the middle of the room.

Neither man trusts the other. In attempts to escape, they find clues: a clock that is brand new and as such the opposite of the rest of the room; an envelope with a cassette in Adam's pockets; and a casette, a key and a bullet in Gordon's. The key opens neither man's chain.

But there is a casette player in the hand of the dead man in the middle of the room.

With some difficulty, Adam is able to reach it so that he can play his tape which detailed his crimes (as according to John) and how he will either watch himself die or do something about it. This is a poetic trap on John's part as Adam is a voyeur and is paid by various people to follow others around and takes photos on them. As for Gordon? Well, first he sends his tape to Adam to hear first before hearing it himself. His crime is that as a doctor (his name is Lawrence Gordon, he's a doctor) he spends his days telling people they're going to die, giving them their death sentence. Now he must carry out that sentence himself. He must kill Adam by 6 o'clock or Gordon's wife and daughter will die.

The dead man in the middle of the room was one of Gordon's patients.

The recording gives them several other clues and soon they find a plastic bag in the toilet with two hacksaws and a bag of photos inside. Adam throws one to Gordon and immediately begins on his own chain. The saw breaks.

In anger, Adam throws it at the mirror which smashes. Gordon realises the saws are not for the chains but for their legs. This is when they realise they've been abducted by Jigsaw. Gordon mentions that Jigsaw had previously tried to frame him for murder by leaving his penlight at the scene of one of Jigsaw's crimes. Adam grows distrustful of Gordon because that's a weird detail to mention, huh? And in a fit of panic and anger, he takes the broken mirror shard and threatens to kill our boy Gordon (Lawrence Gordon, he's a doctor) unless he explains what the hell is going on. Then he notices that the mirror is a one-way mirror. He smashes the rest of it until he's cut through the glass and they see a camera.

A camera watching their every move. Adam soon learns that the camera is protected by another pane of glass, this one shatterproof.

Gordon, bless his heart, is able to calm Adam down and he begins to tell Adam about his family. He has a wife named Alison and a daughter called Diana. Adam asks if he wants more children, Gordon replies no as he doesn't think Diana gets enough time with her parents as is.

This nice conversation is ruined when Gordon tossed Adam his wallet so Adam can look at the picture of them in his wallet. That picture isn't there; instead, there's a picture of them tied up and gagged in their apartment. Adam doesn't want to worry Gordon so he quietly pockets it and just says the photo isn't there. This photo also has a clue that leads to Adam asking Gordon to turn off the light at which point they see a glowing X and are able to get the next puzzle in the trap. (It's a very drawn out trap compared to Jigsaw's more oftenly used one and one em traps) Gordon retrieves a box with a lighter, two cigarettes, a note saying the cigarettes arent poisonous (factually untrue consideeing lung cancer but John's an engineer not a doctor) and a phone. The phone can't be used to make calls so no 911 can save these white boys right now.

Adam, who doesn't know about the note, asks for a cigarette. Gordon says no.

Gordon asks Adam how he knew to turn off the light. Adam tries to lie, like a liar, and fails, like a failure, and is forced to reveal the photo. This is how Gordon (his name is Lawrence Gordon, he's a doctor) is able to come up with his big plan. He, having figured out it was poidonous, dips one cigarette into the blood of the dead man in the middle of the room. He turns off the light again. He explains his plan to Adam.

Lights come back up, Gordon gives Adam a cigarette and a lighter. Adam takes a drag. Suddenly what? Oh no? He's dying? Never mind, he's being electric shocked through his chain because boy howdy can that boy not act.

Also, when you turn off the lights, people can't see you. They can still hear you.

Gordon points his anger at Adam for the failure of the plan though again, he did just tell Adam the plan by talking. Like that's not that secure. But the electric shock triggers something in Adam. He remembers his abduction and having no one else in the room to talk to (besides the dead body), he tells Gordon about it. Their traumas are entwining. Then the phone rings. It's Diana. She begs her dad to save them. Then the phone is given to Alison who tells Gordon that he can't trust Adam and that they've known each other for a long time. Gordon confronts Adam. Adam admits that he's known who Gordon was for a few days. He'd been paid to follow Gordon around and take photos of what he was doing. Adam shows him the photos. Which photos, you ask? The ones in that bag that were in the plastic bag in the toilet. I'm sure you've forgotten about them now. They argue and Adam admits he followed Gordon to a hotel where Gordon was meeting up with one of his students, Carla. They were about to start an affair. Adam knows about this. As does John. That's the real reason Gordon is in this trap. A Welcome Home Cheater sign? No, no. This one gets the Saw Bathroom.

Convinced that whoever hired Adam must be Jigsaw, Gordon presses him on it. Adam relents. It's not Jigsaw. It's a detective who's convinced Gordon is Jigsaw.

They fall silent again. They figure out one of Jigsaw's henchmen is a guy called Zep who's an orderly at the hospital. The time runs out. The phone rings again. It's Alison! She's broken free! They're saved! Gunshots. Diana screams. Gordon cries. The chain electric shocks Gordon into unconsciousness. Adam immediately tries to wake him up, terrified Gordon is dead. He's not. But he's broken down. And when he was being electrocuted, he'd chucked the phone out of reach. Out of all other options, Gordon (his name is Lawrence Gordon, he's a doctor) uses his shirt to stanch his leg and begins to cut his foot off. Adam begs him not to and to just calm down, but Gordon's too far gone. When the deed is done (which you don't see in the film by the way, the first Saw was very tame when it came to gore surprisingly enough), he crawls to the dead body in the room and takes the gun out of the man's hand. He loads the gun with the one bullet he has. He shoots Adam. Adam falls back like he's in Looney Tunes. Gordon screams at the camera and begs them to save his family. And then Zep comes in. He was the one holding Gordon's family hostage. Gordon tries to shoot him. Gordon had one bullet in his gun. His shots are unsurprisingly ineffective. Zep is unimpressed with this. It is just a rapidly paling man missing a foot shooting an empty gun like he's in a water pistol battle in a county undergoing a drought. He decides to kill Gordon as he didn't kill Adam by 6 o'clock. And Zep is from the county over and has plenty of water to spare. He aims his gun at Gordon.

But he forgot about Adam. Like a Bugs Bunny reborn, Adam comes in from behind with the toilet tank lid. In his fear and pain and anger, he beats Zep over and over and over with the lid until Gordon is able to calm him down. They stare at each other like sad gay men. Gordon tells Adam that if he doesn't get out, he'll bleed to death here. Adam begs him to stay. Gordon promises to come back for him. Adam begs him not to leave him. Gordon crawls out the room. Adam is left alone, a bullet in his shoulder and his heart crawling away. He's all alone. Apart from John Kramer. He was the dead body in the middle of the room this whole time. He stands up. He tells Adam that the key to his chain was in the bathtub. The one that Adam had accidentally pulled the plug out of. He leaves the room. Game over.

Adam will die in this room. It was always going to end like this. One of them was going to die in that room. If Adam lives, Gordon must die. If Gordon lives, he must kill Adam. There is no way in the world for these two to survive, not together. There was always going to be a dead body in that bathroom."

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

King!Satoru never knew how to share. He's always gotten what he wanted when he demanded it. From women to jewels, this man received what he spoke of no matter what. Emperors from neighboring lands were intimidated by the spontaneous king. He's been known to act quite ruthlessly to those he deems lowly.

King!Satoru has never had a problem taking what he wanted. Especially when it came to a woman who caught his eye. So when Satoru had found you under the rubble and debris left behind by your fallen kingdom, he expected you to run into his arms and thank him. Instead, you ran into his arms and slapped him across the face. He was, for once in a long time, stunned. So much so that he didn't retaliate immediately. If it weren't for his guards, you might have taken his distraction as ample opportunity to attack even more.

King!Satoru immediately instructed his men to take you with them on their return home. You had a spark that no other woman has ever been brave enough to ignite within him. Satoru made sure the guards weren't too rough as they guided you into his castle. He quickly made haste to his room so he could change into comfortable robes and perhaps find some clothing you could change into. After all, your clothes had been tattered and dirtied as the buildings burned and crumpled to the ground around you.

King!Satoru was angry when he learned that his guards had put you in the dungeon. That's no place for a lady under his eye. He ordered some maids to prepare a room for you, and he traversed down to the dungeon and got you himself. Afterward, he wouldn't let anyone touch you or be alone with you again. Although, Satoru quickly realized he made a mistake giving you your own room. Luckily, it was right down the hall from his, unluckily you attempted to sneak out every night. Satoru would always sense when you had left bed, and he made quick haste of catching you before you could escape.

King!Satoru is in a panic when he lazily opens your bedroom door 3 hours after the full moon rose high in the sky, expecting to find you picking at the window locks, only to see your bedroom completely empty. He doesn't waste a moment more as he grabs his sword and shoes before running through the halls of his castle. He should have invested in stronger metal locks for his castle doors. Satoru is about to call out for his guards to prepare to search the grounds when he pauses mid-stride and takes a step back so he's looking into the kitchen. There you were, minding your sweet business as you prepared yourself a warm plate of food. Satoru would have sworn that a kitchen was no place for a lady of your position, but then he saw you doing something so mundane as cooking yourself a meal, and he melted.

King!Satoru doesn't interrupt your time and decides to turn around and go back to his room instead. He almost kicks his feet like a young girl when he hears you walk past his bedroom door to go back to your room. You had stopped trying to escape.

King!Satoru notices the relationship between the both of you growing stronger after that night. He saw you in a different light. You weren't just a woman he had won and brought back as a trophy. You meant a great deal to him. You were the sweet and normal he needed in his life. A bond formed between you both, for better or worse, and you quickly grew fond of the King. You ignored the whispers about your relationship with him, choosing not to acknowledge your growing feelings.

King!Satoru grew extremely protective of you in the past few months you had been with him. There was a voice in the back of his head constantly telling him that you were the one. For whatever reason, he just KNEW it.

You learn quickly that once you've gotten Satoru attached to you, he doesn't let go. He's clingy and needy, constantly protective and possessive, and he is the snarkiest man you've ever met. He's strong, too. You realize just how strong he is as you stand on the balcony of the castle, looking over the training grounds, and watch how easy it is for him to take down men one after another. The clench of your thighs tells you just how fast your feelings for him are developing. And, of course, Satoru notices too.

King!Satoru becomes much bolder around you after he catches on. He constantly flirted with you and made a great show of charming you. Despite his grand gestures and confident demeanor, he was a little nervous he was coming off too strong. Were your eye rolls fond or serious? Should he take a step back and stop being so flirtatious? Oh! Oh, you just..kissed his cheek. Annd~ he's melted into a puddle on the ground.

King!Satoru saw himself as a spontaneous and energetic man, and he loved himself a good ball. The women and men dressed so formally, dancing together and having their fun. And what made it better was that you were by his side now. This was your first royal gathering, thanks to your position by his side. He provided you with a beautiful gown, made sure it was your favorite color, and reassured you that you looked absolutely stunning. And, God's above, you did look gorgeous. Satoru tried not to stare too long at your exposed skin and kept his gaze on the hundreds of royal and wealthy in his ballroom.

King!Satoru kept his arm around your waist all night. But he couldn't believe his ears as you asked to dance. You didn't know a thing about dancing but.. they made it look easy, so why not? As soon as Satoru stepped on the marble flooring with you, a pit formed in your stomach. Your feet were uncoordinated as you stared down at your and Satorus feet. He kept one hand on your waist and the other in yours. The softness in his eyes, the love in his smile, it never went away as he watched you. Not when you stepped on his feet or even trip over your own heel.

King!Satoru would have thought by now that people knew not to mess with his precious woman. But all royals are dumb, except for him, of course. He glanced as he heard snickers from a few men, staring at your attempt at waltzing. Satorus blue gaze fell back down at you, and now he could feel the tremble in your hands travel up his wrist. His heart ached to see you so embarrassed, still trying to waltz with him. Satoru gently stepped forward, bringing your chests together, the linked hands expanded arm length out, and his grip on your waist moved to the small of your back. You could feel his cheek against your temple and his hot breath against your ear.

When he had asked you if you wanted them all dead, you merely thought it a joke. But he didn't snicker or laugh. His grip never loosened on you. Your weak smile faded as it sunk in that he was not playing a bad joke. You pulled back enough just to look at him and shook your head softly. He searched your gaze and sighed, gently breaking the link between your hands and cupping your face in his hands. Your cheeks flushed, and you placed your hands on his chest to steady your racing thoughts. Surely, he wasn't going to kiss you in the midst of this ball for everyone to see, right? Matter a fact, he was about to. If it weren't for the music ending and clapping erupting around the room.

King!Satoru knew you pulled away from nervousness and fluster, not shame or fear, but he just couldn't help himself from feeling irritated. He should have just pulled you in, no hesitation. Your lips looked so soft, and he just wanted to kiss them until your blood stained his lips. And, for sure, he shouldn't have tried such a thing in front of a ballroom of royalty. Such idiotic bastards don't deserve to see you so vulnerable and soft, needy, and desperate. Only him. Only Satoru is allowed to see you as such. But he was close to disregarding his own ball and whisking you away to the side.

Instead, King!Satoru waits patiently for the ball to end. But he's not so patient to escort all the guests out. No, he allows his guards that pleasure as Satoru gladly guides you out of the ballroom. Your laughter echoes off the walls of the castle as he carries you to his chambers. He's been craving your touch for months, yearning for a mere taste on his tongue, but your laughter was worth more than any stained sheet or tinted purity. Satoru takes his time, gently exploring your body and making you his. You didn't mind. Your body and soul lost to ecstacy the entire night until the morning came.

King!Satoru couldn't thank God above enough, relentlessly thanking him for letting Satoru raid your home. Satoru lays on his satin sheets, holding you against his bare chest as you softly snore on top of him. He just watches you and thanks anyone who may listen that he's such a spoiled man. Without his ruthless reputation, he wouldn't have pocketed this sweet treasure in his arms, and she wouldn't have pocketed his heart in return.

[rhyrhy]

Child of a Seraphite

Cw: death, grief/guilt, TLOU universe, angst, Abby finds her way with parenthood! 3.k words, Longer read. Not fully proofread

What does it take to pull a woman out of a life fueled by vengeance? The answer: you, and a baby.

M.list

Present Day

The small room was coated in the soft, warm yellow glow of the worn window. That old jacket hung behind the wooden door. The only sounds were of gentle breathing and the faint rustle of sheets against clothed skin.

Little Lev slept peacefully, his tiny hand half clenched around the hem of Abby’s shirt. You lay propped on your elbow beside them, watching the scene unfold. It was precious, really. You, her, lev and the safety of this room. After everything, this felt like a dream. A small smile tugged at your lips as you took in Abby’s half-asleep face. Her head rested heavily on the pillow, her braid draped next to her. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her.

“You know,” you whispered, careful not to wake lev, “he’s starting to look like you.”

Abby huffed out a sleepy laugh, her eyes still closed. “Oh yeah?” she whispered back. “You seeing a resemblance?”

“Twins. No doubt,” you replied, biting back a laugh. Knowing The three of you looked like you’d been plucked straight from a diversity ad. in the most endearing way possible, of course.

Abby chuckled under her breath, and draped an arm over her eyes. Eventually after some more sleepy snickers she shushed you. You both needed rest before tomorrow. Another day of this new normal you both found yourself tangled in.

Around One year ago

The WLF base was alive with its usual routine soldiers training, patrols heading out, and the familiar buzz of machinery echoing through the safety of the walls. You were in the middle of unloading supplies when some commotion started. You paid it no mind at first, you had your own task to do. Drama was the last thing you needed to be involved with.

When you heard it.

“Abby’s back!” a soldier shouted, running past you. The heavy steps growing faint as they disappeared from your line of sight.

Abby, You hadn’t seen her in god knows how long, not since she left to chase whispers of the Fireflies. The last time you saw her, you’d gotten into a huge fight. You two had this unspoken tension and then she suddenly announces that she’s leaving and has no idea when she’ll be back. It took Issac separating you two to end the discussion with no room for rebuttal. She was going, end of story. All you could do was hope for a safe return or just one at all.

You dropped the crate of supplies in your hands, heart pounding filling your ears as you turned to face the large gates. The thought of seeing her again, made you feel a mix of relieved and terrified.

she had been determined, revengeful, dead-set on her mission that she refused to explain too much of. And now?

There she was. Abby was here.

dirty and bloodied, trudging into the base with exhaustion in every footstep. Some familiar faces scrabbled over to help, looking like she was going to collapse face first onto grass below her tired feet. Those broad shoulders slumped, Your breath caught in the back of your throat as she stopped a few feet away. her eyes meeting yours for the first time in what seemed like forever.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything. You were glad she’s back, you were sorry for the fight, you were pissed that she left you with no hug or proper bye—you wanted to say a million things at once, to save time.

But all that was pushed to the side when you seen a tiny hand reach up out of the old jacket she was tightly clutching…swaddled?

Your voice was low, full of surprise as you stepped closer to her.

“Is that a…?”

Abby shifted on her sore feet, glancing down at the baby before looking back at you. “A baby” she said, almost breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

And then it struck you—there was no one else with her. No backup, no team. Just Abby and the baby.

“Abby- Wh- …what the hell happened out there?” you asked, stepping closer, voice low so the growing crowd of onlookers couldn’t hear. Whispers already starting.

Abby glanced at the baby again, her jaw tightening. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

The ‘long story’

To say this journey’s outcome was the complete opposite of what Abby expected, is beyond an understatement.

Here she was, the same woman who can bench a little over two hundred pounds was captured. At the mercy of the cult the ‘wolves’ The WLF had been at war with. ‘Scars’ Seraphite’s. Hung suspended, her arms and wrists wrenched painfully behind her, the thick ropes cutting into the skin of her neck as she wiggled. Burning with each movement. Her breaths came in sharper gasps, blood trickling from the corner of the small cut on her lower abdomen. Her vision beginning to blur.

“Cut her down” Yara panted out, her back pressed against a large rock, wincing with every breath. Her other arm remained clenched tightly around an old, worn jacket, refusing to let it go even during chaos. The tussle was over now, Three of her ‘own’ now lay dead. Deserved, as it was them or who she was protecting.

“She’s one of them-“ The other scar, cross bow in hand protested.

“Just do it!” she commanded. “Demons are coming, hurry”

With a loud thud to the ground Abby ripped the noose off of her neck. Then quickly staggered to her feet, body on fire from being bound for so long. Small cut stinging on her lower stomach. However, before she could fully orient herself, the wounded young woman thrusted something into her arms. As she couldn’t with her now broken one. Holding it there firmly against her chest.

A baby.

Abby froze, staring down at the tiny, squirming bundle in disbelief. “What the hell—”

“It’s my brother,” Yara interrupted, her voice breaking as she turned to yank the axe of a dead body “We have to go. Now!”

The groups feet were moving faster than their minds, survival being the only thing on it.

But Unfortunately, for the wounded young woman, She’d have to make one last sacrificial effort to keep her brother alive.

Gunned down by wolves as a distraction for the safety of her brother, yara laid there. A sight Abby would never forget. But the one thing she would? The promise she made to now lifeless body. Her last words being…

“You Take him… take him to your people. Promise me, he lives.” Yara’s plea was barely above a whisper, eyes locked onto Abby’s.

And promise, she did.

The air was thick, mixed with the pit of devastation in Abby’s gut. The only thing keeping her moving was her feet. After Yara’s sacrifice, Abby alone with a crying baby that she couldn’t seem to soothe. had to now make her way back to Seattle. What the hell was happening. What the hell was she going to do with a baby. The baby of the cult who’d almost disemboweled her. The child of a scar.

With almost being bitten, annoying cries she couldn’t coo away, and the stench of a dirty make shift diaper Abby was beyond exhausted. This journey was seeming to be more than she could handle, But she had promised the woman who’d saved her life. It had been weeks but That lingering feeling of that rope around her neck sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. Without yara and the other scar who’d gotten spilt up during the mess of escaping infected, she’d be hung.

Take him, protect him. She promised.

Revenge now taking a momentary backseat..but with that, bring the spawn of the enemy wasn’t going to blow over lightly. despite her reasoning and constant explanations tensions inside the walls rose. A faction within the WLF distrusts Abby for returning with a Seraphite child, now seeing her as a liability.

It was getting out of hand. Lips of other soldiers got looser than needed. However, you seemed to be a solace as she’d seek you out to rant about the growing conflict.

“I mean he’s a child for Christ sake!” “Leave him out to what, Die? Are they insane?!”

You could recite her words like a song at this point. Some days she wouldn’t even knock on your door, just opening it and leaning on it with her arms crossed tightly Across her chest. You would give her the green light to get it all out, and trust it poured out every time. The words were full of colorful language and most importantly hurt.

Those light arm pats and words of reassurance gave her more strength to stand her ground than she’d admit to you, not now anyway. Those looks that were held too long, her shoulder brushing against yours while sitting quite close, or the blush that crossed your face when she adjusted your hold on a weapon you were unfamiliar with. Occasional pillow talk of this farm you’d found, joking of how’d cute you’d look in overalls cleaning up the place. Came pouring back in with light flashes as two came back around each other more. Much more.

It started with you having a little more knowledge in this department, you found yourself doing the little things to help her out.

“Here, uh..try this” you said adjusting the child’s head in the crook of her arm to support his head.

The Light touches and small smiles became another silent reoccurrence. Along with taking lev for a few hours so she could rest. Falling into this oddly comforting position didn’t sway you away. She was asking you for help, she never did that before leaving. Everything was ‘I got it’ or ‘I’ll handle it myself’ but now things were miles different. Amongst this, typical Manny making a passing comment on how well you two coparented, made you both awkwardly laugh. Feeling the cracks from before begin to fill with this new experience.

Yes, You two still hadn’t spoken about where you stood before she left. You decided to choke it back, there was something much bigger now. Another life, innocent and blissfully aware of the cruel words being spat him and his saviors way.

Abby had a decision to make. And fast.

But how is she supposed to turn over this child who clearly was not better off. Yet, her loyalty being doubted was stinging just as equally.

Days blended together as the sky stormed along with Abby’s conflicting feelings.

A situation she’d never thought she’d find herself in, standing with her arm out over the child protectively. The heavy drumming of rain against the metal roof of the outpost and almost drowning out the muffled arguments behind the door. her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

They wanted him gone.

“He’s a liability,” Isaac’s voice echoed in her ears. “We took you back, Abby. But that… that Seraphite child has no place here.” “If you wish to follow in Owen’s footsteps of betrayal you may do so, outside of these walls.”

They wanted her gone.

Her knuckles brushed her pants, fist clenched. Nails digging into her palm to control her temper.

Isaac’s words felt like they were carved deeper into her skin than any wound she’d gotten these past few months of travel. “You owe us, Abby. His presence is risking the people here, the people who took you in. You choose. Him or us.”

The ultimatum that felt like it had no right answer.

One night, Abby entered your room quietly. The soft click of the door woke you.

There she stood, teary eyed, cheeks stained and a look of defeat smacked on her face. Lev on her hip, had his small head rested on her chest, half awake. Belongings that were once in hand, now dropped next to her with a harsh thud.

before you could ask her what’s going on it came out with a choked sob, ramblings of the past few months and how it was all weighing on her.

You learned of her promise to yara, and you saw the hardened woman who was once full of stubbornness and hatred now a beaten down emotionally drained individual. Pleading for the universe to ease up on her. Tore between the walls that she once called home and failing the child she promised to keep safe, from a woman who now only a memory.

You’d stood frozen in place before embracing the broken woman who looked like her knees would buckle under her with the slightest gust of the wind.

When you pulled back looking at her and the small figure clinging onto her, that conversation washed over you, a lightbulb flickered on.

It was as nuts as it sounded but you asked her anyway.

Before she left the base

“…Like old McDonald?” Abby laughed, listening to you describe a farm you’d come across while traveling Wyoming before joining the base.

You asked her to imagine it. The grass, fresh air, and warm sun beaming down on her skin during the summer.

“Hey, I’m being serious! Give me a broom and hammer I’d make it sparkle. Swear” you joked, and continued to explain how’d you live on the land. Taking the skilled you’d learned to the new environment.

Abby felt a pang of warm air pass over her seeing you in hopes of finding a more peaceful and quiet life. She agreed, but debated with finding the comfort of routine at the base. Losing herself in the conversation. Loving how you seemed to have an answer for almost every rebuttal she threw out.

And now a year later, you asking her if she’d be willing to take this shot in the dark. Making it a reality.

With you. Now.

After a few more days of preparation, she placed one foot outside the gates of base. Looking over her shoulder to the familiar faces she’d once found comfort in only to met with cold gazes because of the small hand she promised to hold. To keep alive.

A few nights before

A heavy sigh echoed as Abby carefully folded small clothes into a not too heavy duffel bag. Uncertainty hung in the air. Was this really what she wanted?

Manny leaned against the doorframe, watching his friend prepare to make a decision that wouldn’t just shift her life but his too.

“You’re really doing this, huh, amiga?”

“I am” she said dryly.

After a few more beats of tense silence weighted between them, He stepped into the room, handing over a small stuffed animal from behind his back. A worn elephant plushie came into her vision, a farewell gift. What a sweetheart he was. Her shoulders eased and she let herself actually talk to him.

Manny softened, leaning down to zip up one of the bags. “Abs, I get it. Just… you better come back if this whole farm thing doesn’t work out. You’ll be missed here. Despite the bullshit, you will”

Abby paused, taking the plushie from his hand, gently packing it away. “Thanks, Manny. For everything.”

“No need to get mushy, not your style” he said with smile. “And , if you ever need a babysitter…you know where to find me.”

“Mhm… I’ll send a postcard, yeah?” She replied jokingly feeling a small weight be lifted.

“Yeah” he repeated and gave her a small ‘you got this’ back pat.

As her other foot stepped outside the gates, she pushed any uncertainty down. She was keeping her promise, for yara…

For herself,

For lev.

The first night settled in Wyoming

Lev, feeling restless had cry’s bouncing off the wooden walls of the semi empty room. Abby sprung awake, heavy breathing as it startled her. With a heavy groan, she made her way over to try and hush the child. After no avail, you felt a small shake on your leg. On the make shift bed that was surprisingly comfortable for the time being.

“Your turn” Abby said with a pout.

You shift in the blankets, taking a moment to take in the image of this hardened soldier, hair a mess, half asleep, holding a baby out to you.

The sight never failed to make your heart swell. A beautiful sliverlining in this world which showed no mercy. A hand slowly made it way to cover your mouth.

Abby tilted her head in confusion, then a small smile crept on the corner of her lips.

“Oh this is funny to you?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, she followed suit after a halfhearted eyeroll. Yeah, Moments like this were definitely the sweet after the sour. Moments like this, reminded her of the tough decision she’d made. Feet sore, eyes heavy, but a smile on her face.

And you’d be damned if you thought she wouldn’t choose it all over again.

————————————————-

Note: the idea of baby lev was too cute not to write! It doesn't follow the original story but idk I like this version! And yes I brought out the farm! Abby deserves the peaceful life too! Me writing a happy ending for once Any typos will be fixed LMAO

Thank you for reading!! 💐

[takamimami]

Hiii! i loved your last work with benn so much, could you please do shanks x f reader headcanons? tyyy

Hi lovely! Thank you for this request!! I was so nervous to post the Benn request since I hadn't written for him before, but the reaction was so positive around it, so tysm :3

Ironically after you sent this I got two more Shanks requests, so be ready for more Shanks content coming soon!!!

As for these headcanons, I kind of just let my fingers take over and go wherever they wanted to go - and this is what I ended up with. It's a lil short, but I hope you enjoy the read - and thank you again for submitting an ask :3

Shanks x F!Reader HCs THOTS UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: NSFW, no outright smut but v suggestive + Shanks has a filthy mouth, Shanks is a Shameless Flirt™, two stubborn idiots falling in love, don't tell kidd but he got me feeling some type of way --- word count; ~800

I imagine Shanks to be a one of those goofy guys who can snap his fingers and turn into one of the smoothest talkers on the planet. 

HUUUUUGE flirt, I think that is universally agreed upon, but I think 80% of the time he isn’t even trying to be flirty. Yeah... one of THOSE guys. 

Shanks has a competitive streak when it comes to the ladies, and that’s actually how he ended up chasing after you. Despite your massive crush on the pirate captain, you didn’t fawn over him and throw yourself at him like the other women – which he took as a challenge.  

Little did he know, he resorted to doing exactly that to win you over. Taking every opportunity, he could to make you laugh or blush (gods, the sight of you blushing really gets him going), growing more and more clingy the longer you fended off his affections. 

Finally hits his breaking point after a night of drinking with the boys, saunters up to your room blazing drunk after declaring he was going to give you the best lay of your life to make you fall in love with him. You answer his knock on the door and he drunkenly stumbles into your room and collapses on your bed, mumbling his professions of love for you as he slowly fell unconscious from the effects of the alcohol (he then wakes up confused the next morning why you both still have clothes on, and you have to break it to him that he fell asleep within minutes of coming into your room). 

From that moment on you two grow even closer, which results on both of you tiptoeing around a very fine line for some time, with both of you being too stubborn to be the first one to cross that line. 

Shanks, ever the competitive man, makes a bet with Benn and Yasopp that he’ll get you to cave first – and decides the best way to do so is to rile you up the easiest way he knows how. Besides, he loves how sassy you get when he makes you jealous.  

One night you are sitting at the bar while out with your crew, watching Shanks be his typical flirtatious self. 

One particular woman is trying VERY hard for his attention, and it rubs you the wrong way so you decide to interject yourself in their conversation. 

Shanks notices you getting jealous, so he pushes your buttons a bit more and keeps flirting with the waitress, which eventually causes you to head back to the ship early. 

Shanks didn’t realize just how upset you were until you left, so he comes to check on you when he gets back to the ship.  

You are still very much mad at him, even though you have no claim to him or his affections, and you start to feel embarrassed while yelling at him. 

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about your captain,” he teases you, his smirk making you both angry and even more embarrassed.  

You feel your cheeks flush and watch Shanks’ face turn devious (seeing you all worked up is practically his kryptonite). 

You cross your arms and offer him a glare, telling him it’s because he’s blind and that he only thinks with his dick. 

Shanks drops his chin and closes the gap between you two, pressing you up against the wall as he dips his lips down so they graze your ear as he speaks. 

“If I only thought with my dick, I would have had you bent over the command table the first day you joined the crew, pretty girl.” 

“If I only thought with my dick, I’d have you chained to my bed so no one else could ever get their fucking hands on you again.” 

“If I only thought with my dick, I’d ditch this dream of becoming King of the Pirates and spend every waking moment pumping you full of my seed, pretty girl.” 

Your body shivers despite the sweat building on both your bodies, and when Shanks finally pulls back enough to look at your face again, he thinks he might just come in his pants from how flustered you look. 

“Now, are you done being mad at me so I can get on my knees and apologize?” 

Words are not the only thing this man’s mouth is good at, to say the least. 

Spends the rest of the night apologizing to you, even long after you’ve forgiven him.  

After that night, he tones it back on the flirting – though he still gets a little out of control when he drinks a little too much. 

Always knows when to knock it off, however, and never comes close to crossing the line of being unfaithful to you. 

Should I do a part 2? 🤭 ✨come say hai :3✨

[windvexer]

Being that helpful spirits may be absent, here are three ways to facilitate their presence

Have got a few people in the tags saying they vibe with this other post about my animistic views, so here's a tie-in with Witchcraft:

You know how in that other post I say that the spirit of Lavender isn't already present in the physical lavender, and that's why I have to call him? Well three things!

One, what you are doing when you lay a compass opening metaphysical roads and gateways that make it easier and less burdensome for spirits to travel to you!

Imagine you live in a hut in the middle of the woods with no roads leading to it. You could call a spirit to visit you and they could, but it would be a laborious journey for them because they have to hike across the rugged terrain.

But as a witch, you have the power to weave gossamer fairy roads that float upon the air like spider silk, scintillating in the moonlight, floating high above the clawing trees, dense underbrush, and slippery rocks.

Spirits can walk back and forth across these magical roads, making it easier for them to arrive much more fully to you by exerting the same amount of effort. Also, it's nicer for them!

The point of opening roads is to facilitate the movement of the spirits, so that they are not wasting energy just traveling, but may have more left over to help you with, or appear to you.

Two, one way to get Lavender fully present inside of the physical lavender is to carefully harvest the lavender under auspicious times, and using charms and techniques meant to preserve the spiritual power of the plant.

This is wild foraging magic - and it's a very powerful way of gathering and storing power so that it lives with you in the hut, and you don't have to call for the attention of faraway entities.

One way to think about going out and gathering magic in this manner is mushrooming. You know how those mushroom people are like, "wait until the weather gets warm and it rains, then a few days later look under fallen hardwood logs"?

It's the same thing when witches say "wait until midnight on a Saturday and go to the churchyard fence and sing this charm while you harvest a flower stalk."

It's the same in the sense that it's not arbitrary steps you have to do to prove you're more traditional. It's a map to instruct you how to find power that is only present sometimes!

The nature of magic is such that the datura growing on the graveyard fence may always be physically there, but its spiritual power may wax and wane. If you harvest the datura while it's spiritually hibernating (or if you harvest it in such a way that the spirit retracts itself and leaves your harvest inert), you are not necessarily harvesting something of power just because it's not commercially grown.

Three, if I have a really wonderful relationship with Lavender or I really like this spirit and would love to have it be a big part of my practice, I can go through the steps to request that Lavender enter my home and my life as a familiar spirit, a tutelary spirit, or a helper spirit.

You know how we live in a hut in the woods with no roads leading to it? Well I can build Lavender a room in my house so he can always just stay there with me - that room is a spirit house, spirit vessel, or shrine that you build which is dedicated to Lavender and is sort of like a permanent, hardwired road for Lavender to travel down.

In this way, every single time I want to call on Lavender, I do not necessarily have to lay a compass and open a road to call to him. That is because he has permanent access to my house, until such a time as I sever the relationship or remove the shrine.

With a big step like this undertaken, Lavender may then be available to help me in many more ways than just simple acts of sorcery - maybe by teaching me things, protecting and guiding me while I engage in spirit flight, becoming a guardian of my home, and so forth, while in return receiving the support, attention, appreciation, and care deserved by such helpful and venerable spirits.

[estcaligo]

Serene by Your Side

Sebek x Reader, romantic A few small notes on his guest room lines + a drabble at the end

One of the rare occasions when the loudest (half) fae around grows quiet is when he's immersed in his favorite hobby - reading.

And it's absolutely endearing that, out of all the places on campus, he chooses Ramshackle as his preferred reading spot. (lines are from twst wiki)

In the original Japanese text, however, Sebek says:

ここで読書をすると集中できそうだ。 場所を借りてもいいか？

A more literal translation would be:

"Could I borrow a spot here to collect my thoughts/focus while reading?"

It's not just a good reading spot for him - it's a peaceful environment where he can relax and focus. Despite what he claims, by your side, he feels calm, undisturbed, and at ease. Ramshackle becomes his harbor, where he can let his guard down for a while.

He also has this line:

Getting too comfortable, aren't we? :)

And when he says it, it sounds like he's starting to doze off (resting his head on your lap as you tenderly caress his mint-green locks)

Of course, the lines are designed to appeal to the player. But he also says this:

"I could visit you again and again."

He notices and appreciates the way you arrange space. The way you've piled those cushions? He finds it charming. The flowers you've picked and placed in a small vase? Adorable. The single curtain you left open? Such a thoughtful touch. Everything about how you design your environment feels cozy to him.

When the two of you start dating, he secretly begins to imagine what your future home might look like one day. How your talent for creating such a warm and welcoming atmosphere could make it perfect. He doesn't say it, of course.

Instead, he simply visits Ramshackle at every opportunity.

And his friendship max line?

"Reach out to me whenever you like." He really wants to add "Please", but his tsundere nature just won't let him (yet)

But he's reaching out to you, in his own way.

He's surprised, too.

He never imagined he could find peace of mind at the side of a mere human. But then again, you're no ordinary human. There's something about you - something that fills the air with tranquility, simply through your presence.

What? Is it not like this for everyone? Is it just him who feels this way?…

This feels different from the peace he knows back home with his family. Different from the quiet moments he shares with Silver during their breaks.

Sebek is not an idiot. Is this what it feels like? What he's read about in so many books?

"This is… nice" he whispers in quiet disbelief, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, did you say something?" you ask, looking up from the book in your hands.

"Nothing! Don't distract me, human!" he blurts out, cheeks tinged with red as he raises his book to hide his flustered expression.

You blink, a little confused, but return to your reading.

Moments later, you glance at him again, and your eyes meet. But this time he doesn't look away. His gaze lingers, soft and unguarded, a silent note of gratitude in his eyes, and it makes your heart flutter.

It's an expression only you ever get to see - the look he wears in his "reading haven".

Without thinking, you shift closer, pressing your shoulder against his.

"Human! How do you expect me to focus on my book with you clinging to me like that?"

"I'm sure you can. I believe in you." you tease, resting your head on his shoulder and returning to your book as though it's no big deal. He grumbles in mild protest but adjusts his posture to make it more comfortable for the both of you.

Silence falls over the lounge of Ramshackle once again, wrapping you both in a veil of stillness and serenity. The only sound is the gentle rustle of turning pages.

Peace, quiet, with you by his side - one of Sebek's most cherished ways to be.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 4.9 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

twelve

tuesday, february 11th

being a good multitasker has always been one of those skills you prided yourself on. it was something you’d perfected over the years, something you needed in every facet of your life—being the responsible older sister, the student body president, the volunteer, the worker. juggling everything, keeping a hundred things on your mind, your to-do list, was second nature. it was just how you lived.

but all of that—every skill, every strategy, every ounce of focus—vanished the second rafe cameron kissed you 38 hours ago. you hadn’t been prepared for it, didn’t know it was possible for someone to completely scramble your mind, to set your body on fire with just the press of their lips. there are about 1,300 nerve endings per square inch of skin, and rafe had somehow activated every single one with that kiss. your brain chemistry had been rewritten, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t undo it.

it didn’t matter what you did, who you talked to, what you watched—you couldn’t escape him. his lips, his touch, haunted every thought, clung to every waking moment. he was embedded in your skin, in your mind, from the moment you woke up to the moment you closed your eyes. even then, your dreams had no mercy.

it only took a blink, and you were back in that room, rafe's arms around you, nipping your bottom lip, feeling his breathe mingle with yours, you could still feel how his chest felt whe you'd rested your hand on it, could still remember that little sound he'd made right before your mom burst into the room.

a little voice in the back of your head whispered the reason you were still thinking about it, why it was still playing on a loop in your head—you wanted more. you craved more, and it was consuming you, gnawing at the edges of every thought. more of rafe, more of that kiss, more of whatever this thing between you was.

"y/n," a sharp voice cut through your daydream, yanking you back to reality. startled, you blinked rapidly, your head jerking toward your english teacher. ivy, who had been carefully scribbling something in her notebook, glanced at you in confusion, noticing your delayed response to the question you hadn’t even heard.

"uh—yes?" you managed, trying to sound coherent despite the fog of your thoughts.

mrs. campbell raised a brow, her gaze expectant. "can you answer the question?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

you cleared your throat, scrambling to pull yourself together. the quiet shuffle of ivy’s book caught your attention, and you glanced over, spotting a small note tucked in the corner. 'meaning quote,' it said, the words a subtle lifeline as your mind scrambled to catch up. your gaze flickered to the blackboard behind mrs. campbell, and there it was—‘so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’

the words from the great gatsby stood out like a beacon. for a heartbeat, everything inside you went still. the weight of the room—the eyes on you, including mrs. campbell’s—felt like it was pressing down on your chest. but then, slowly, you straightened in your seat, drawing on a sliver of confidence, the reminder that you’d read this book twice now.

“i think…” you started, your voice shaky at first but growing steadier with each word. "he's saying that people are always fighting against things they can't control. like… no matter how hard we try to move forward, the past always pulls us back. our memories, our regrets, maybe even guilt—those are the currents he’s talking about."

there was a long pause as mrs. campbell studied you, her eyes sharp, weighing your answer. finally, she nodded, turning back to the class. "exactly. so what we can deduce from that is—" her voice trailed off as you tuned her out once again, giving a quiet nod of thanks to ivy.

"what's going on?" ivy whispered, her concern evident in the way she leaned in. it wasn’t like you to zone out like that, especially in class. "what did bootleg messi pull now?" she added, her voice light but teasing, and you smiled, turning back to the board but not before giving her a gentle shove. you heard her quiet giggle fill the space between you.

of course, you hadn’t told your friends about the kiss. that would’ve been like asking hazel to strangle you in front of everyone—which, knowing hazel, she’d probably do without hesitation.

you’d made it clear to them, especially to hazel, that you wouldn’t let him in, that you’d protect yourself from whatever this thing was. and yet, here you were—letting him all the way in. the situation would’ve been different if you had any plans to cut him off, but you didn’t. you wanted more. a lot more.

when class ended and you found yourself standing by devon's locker, waiting for her to dig around for her chemistry book, your mind drifted again. was this normal? did everyone feel this kind of almost desperate withdrawal after something as simple as a kiss? it felt ridiculous to admit, but you were completely disheveled by a boy. by a kiss. a damn good kiss.

"ready?" hazel's voice pulled you from your thoughts, her tone a little sharper now that devon had finally shoved her book into her backpack and nodded in agreement. without thinking, you looped your arm through hazel's as the four of you started walking out of school. "did you ever hear back from that angry customer?" you asked absently, your mind still somewhere else.

hazel hummed in acknowledgment, then chuckled, "yeah, she reached out to customer service, and guess what they told her?"

"the exact same thing you told her?" you guessed, grinning, and hazel gave a quick nod, her lips curling into a smirk. "yup," she said, popping the p in ‘yup’ like it was the final nail in the coffin.

your small smile faltered when you stepped outside the building and saw what was unfolding in front of you. "what is going on?" ivy's voice was filled with confusion, and you couldn’t help but feel the same.

rafe and topper were in the middle of what looked like a heated verbal argument. you and everyone else could see the anger between them, but the exact context was lost in the shuffle of their raised voices. their friends had formed a circle around them, trying desperately to intervene, but it was obvious nothing was getting through. rafe kept attempting to walk away, but topper blocked him each time.

on rafe's third attempt, he finally shoved topper, who stumbled but quickly regained his balance. before he could do anything else, kiara stepped in, her face furious as she shoved topper back, shouting ‘enough’ and ‘stop’ in his face with an intensity that made the entire scene feel dangerously close to something more.

rafe took the opportunity to break free, even though his friends were trying to stop him. it was clear where he was headed, though—straight toward you.

hazel's voice was low and confused. "is he coming over here?" she muttered, and you could see rafe’s friends trailing behind him, likely to make sure he was okay.

you started walking toward rafe to meet him halfway, your voice sharp with tension. "what are you doing?" you asked before he even reached you. there was no way he was about to start something in front of half the school.

"come with me," rafe said, his tone brokering no argument, the command obvious in his words. "i'm driving you home."

"rafe—" you tried to protest, but before you could finish, john b’s hand landed on rafe's shoulder, his voice urging him. "rafe, c'mon—"

rafe spun around to face his friend, irritation clear in his expression. "i’m not in the fucking mood to deal with him, alright?" he snapped, not bothering to wait for a reply before grabbing your wrist and tugging you along with him.

"rafe, slow down—" you tried to keep up, your steps faltering as you struggled to stay with him. "rafe, i came on my bike, i can’t just—"

"i'll pick you up in the morning," he interrupted, his voice as firm as steel, cutting off any further protests. before you could argue, he flung open the passenger door, blocking you in the small space between the car and the door. it was clear what he wanted: you had two choices—get in or physically fight this six-foot-tall athlete who wasn’t giving an inch.

his jaw was clenched tight, his posture rigid, and you felt an overwhelming urge to kiss the anger right off his face. you could feel the intensity building inside you, the heat of the moment becoming unbearable. it was that urge—raw and undeniable—that finally made you climb into the car. a few more seconds of standing there, and you knew you would’ve done it, would’ve kissed him and made everything even more complicated than it already was.

he doesn’t say a word as the car hums to life, just starts driving with a tense grip on the wheel, his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap. you're left staring at him in disbelief, the weight of what just happened sinking in. was that real?

you can tell something’s wrong when he moves his hand from the gear stick to the steering wheel, and you notice his hand trembling—just slightly, but enough to make your heart skip. “rafe,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper as your hand moves toward his. the second your fingers brush his skin, his whole body tightens, and he pulls his hand away like you’ve burned him. “not when i’m driving,” he snaps, the coldness in his tone like a slap to your chest.

you watch him, sadness pulling at your chest, and slump back into the seat, the air between you two thick with tension. only then do you feel the sharp throb in your feet, the pain from the new shoes you’d barely managed to keep on all day. you shift your bag aside and carefully pop your heel out of your patent black ballet flats. they were new, from steve madden, whose shoes were designed with a particular vendetta against women’s feet. blisters were basically guaranteed.

you wince at the sight of the angry bubble forming on the back of your heel, and despite the sharp sting, you already find yourself daydreaming about soaking in a hot bath tonight, the relief already calling your name.

"what?" rafe’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up at him, unsure what he’s seeing. "what? nothing." you frown, sitting up a little straighter.

his eyes flick back to the road, but his tone softens just a little. "you're in pain. you just winced. what's wrong?"

you shake your head, dismissing his concern as you try to shove the discomfort aside. "i have new shoes on. just a blister." you try to brush it off, but when the car stops at a red light, you notice rafe’s eyes flicking down to your feet.

"take them off," he says, almost like an order, but you hesitate. how were you supposed to relax your blistered feet in his car without feeling weird about it? and how was he not disgusted?

"no, that’s not proper. it's okay," you tell him, your voice a little shaky. he rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"you're gonna make me do it?" he mutters, but before you can answer, he’s already leaning across the seat, his hand reaching for your shoes, completely ignoring your protest.

"rafe!" you gasp, startled as you kick your feet, trying to push him away, but he grips your shoe like it’s his personal mission to take them off. the light turns green, and you panic, "rafe, stop, the light turned green!" you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s relentless, fighting you for your second shoe even as the cars behind honk impatiently.

finally, he lets go, and with both of your shoes in hand, he tosses them casually into the backseat as if nothing had happened, his eyes back on the road like the whole scene had been completely normal.

"you know you’re insane?" you mutter after a beat, disbelief creeping into your voice. rafe’s lips press together, his eyes still focused ahead.

"i have very little patience today," he mutters under his breath as he pulls into your street. the reminder of his earlier anger stirs a knot in your stomach, and you hesitate, wondering if you should ask what happened. but you don’t—prodding him further would only make things worse.

he parks his car and you reach behind to find your shoes he carelessly threw to the back but before you can, he's opening the backdoor and grabbing them. you blink when he slams the door shut and leaves you with no shoes.

you're just about to open the door, ready to ask him for your shoes, when the door swings open and rafe scoops you up into his arms. "rafe, what are you doing?" you ask, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck for support.

"i'm skydiving, obviously." he says flatly and with one swift kick, he shuts the door behind him, then presses the button on his car keys to lock it.

you can't help but grimace at his sarcasm. "you're just being so lovely today," you mutter, offering him a fake smile. he smirks in response, clearly enjoying this. before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, rummaging through your bag for the keys.

"i am, aren't i? and you really don't deserve it since you've been avoiding me," he says, a small edge to his voice, his tone playful but with something else lingering under the surface.

your cheeks flush, the heat creeping up as you finally manage to unlock the door. "i… h—"

"whenever you do that, that subtle hesitation," he interrupts, his voice suddenly serious, "you're about to lie. have you ever noticed that?"

your eyes widen as he gently sets you down on your feet, his words making you feel caught off guard.

"i mean, i'm saying it to help you," he continues, "when you become president, you can't be caught lying this easily."

you let out a soft sigh, the warmth of embarrassment spreading across your face. you cover your face for a moment, feeling exposed. "i'm sorry," you murmur, the sincerity in your voice not lost on him.

he shakes his head, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, grounding you. "i looked it up. i think it's a defense mechanism."

your jaw drops just a little, surprised that rafe, of all people, has done research for you. research was your thing.

"you don't like confrontation," he continues, his voice calm, "and you don't like dealing with your emotions. you like things you can control and predict and feelings are probably the most unpredictable and uncontrollable things we experience. i think you're willing to do a lot to avoid those two things, including lying."

it’s a strange feeling, to be psychoanalyzed this way, the way you so often do to others. you’re not used to being the one on the receiving end of this kind of observation.

his hands shift from your shoulders to cradle your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks in a tender, almost reverent way. "i can feel that you're afraid."

"is it that obvious?" you whisper, your heart fluttering as your nose brushes against his, the proximity making your breath hitch.

he nods slowly, his lips just inches from yours. "just can't figure out why," he murmurs, his voice low and soft. then, with a gentle teasing bite, he nips at your bottom lip.

you want to tell him why, to explain the gnawing feeling in your gut that something is bound to go wrong, that eventually, he’s going to break your heart. but you don’t say that. because, well…

you're a liar.

"i've never done this," you begin, your words rushing out in a nervous ramble, "i… i avoided you because i didn’t even know how to look at you anymore after sunday."

your hands fidget nervously, eyes darting around as you feel the panic rise. "i watched…" you hesitate, unsure how to say it. "..adult content yesterday," you whisper it like it's a secret, "and it was so scary. i almost broke my laptop from how hard i tossed it off my bed." your voice is barely above a murmur, and rafe’s eyes widen in amusement.

he starts laughing, shaking his head as you quickly look around, despite knowing no one will be home for another hour.

"you watched po—"

"don't say it!" you hiss, your cheeks burning at the thought.

he’s still laughing, amusement dancing in his eyes as he pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "c'mon," he says, his tone light but insistent as he takes your hand. "let’s go."

you let him lead you up the stairs, your nerves gnawing at you. you're unsure what’s next, what’s going to happen between the two of you. but that's what being with rafe always feels like—you never see anything coming with him.

you both settle on your bed, the quiet hum of the room filling the space between you. you sit cross-legged while he turns toward you, his gaze steady and soft, as though he’s trying to convey everything without saying a word. then, his voice breaks the silence, low and calm, like a soothing balm.

he looks at you and the distance you've put between the two of you. “firstly, you have nothing to be afraid of,” he says, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. with an easy pull, he brings you closer until your leg is draped over his, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “this doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. i just want you to feel good—feel okay. we’ll go at your pace, yeah? wherever you lead me.”

his words settle over you like a promise, steady and unyielding. you nod hesitantly, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap. “i think… we can take it slow, right?” your voice is quiet, unsure, as you glance down.

he tilts his head forward, his forehead brushing against yours, forcing you to meet his eyes. “course,” he murmurs, the weight of his sincerity making you exhale softly.

with tentative fingers, you reach up, your thumb grazing over his lips in an almost reverent motion. “i don’t know anything,” you admit, the words slipping out like a secret.

his smile softens, a small, reassuring thing that makes your chest tighten. “m’ here,” he mutters, his hand resting gently on your waist. “i’ll help you, just like you help me.”

and what was the harm in this? something quiet and undefined, not quite a relationship, but not nothing either. it felt safe—like an agreement between the two of you, unspoken but understood.

“like… comparative advantage,” you murmur, your voice still soft but gaining a touch of animation.

he raises a brow, clearly unsure where you’re going with this.

“comparative advantage,” you repeat, lips brushing against his. “it’s when countries—or even people—specialize in what they’re relatively best at. it’s about focusing on what they can produce most efficiently, with fewer resources or less effort, instead of trying to do everything.”

he blinks, his head tilting slightly as he considers your explanation. “you know what i find fascinating?” he asks, his voice carrying a quiet, teasing warmth.

you hum, encouraging him to continue, a small smile already playing on your lips.

“the more you ramble about shit i don’t understand, the more attractive i find you,” he says, his tone light but earnest.

a laugh bubbles out of you, your heart racing as he dips his head, pressing playful kisses along your neck. “tell me more!” he demands, his hands sliding around your waist and tugging you closer.

you giggle, your arms looping around his neck as your mind scrambles to find something—anything—to say. “uhhh… oh! i was just reading about nuclear fusion!”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his brows raising in amused curiosity.

“it’s when two lighter atomic nuclei combine to form a heavier one,” you explain, your voice picking up speed. “and it releases a ton of energy in the process. that reaction—it’s the same one that powers the sun and stars. isn’t that wild?”

“so wild,” he hums thoughtfully, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. the gentle contact almost derails your train of thought, but you push forward, determined to finish your point. “and what’s even more fascinating is that the ingredients—deuterium, which comes from seawater, and tritium, which can be bred from lithium—are virtually inexhaustible. it’s sustainable energy, rafe. the potential is endless.”

he hums again, his lips brushing along your jawline, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “that’s very interesting. tell me something else,” he urges, pulling you fully into his lap, his hands steadying you like you belonged there.

you can’t stop smiling now, your head tipping back as his lips find the curve of your neck. “mmm… did you know that some theorists believe modern politics has moved beyond traditional ideologies like communism or liberalism?”

“had no idea,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled but attentive, his focus clearly divided between your words and the way you react to his touch.

“they think political life is more about pragmatic management and technocratic governance now,” you continue, your voice gaining a touch of excitement. “and like, look at italy or greece. during their financial crises, they elected experts—economists, and engineers—as politicians. moving toward different kinds of ideologies has such detrimental changes for people like you and i so the fact that it's actually happening just blows my mind. isn’t it crazy?”

he pulls back just slightly, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile as he meets your eyes again. “crazy,” he agrees, though the glint in his gaze tells you he’s not entirely focused on the politics you’re rambling about.

but you don’t care. because in this moment, heaven looks like a boy who lets you ramble about the chaos in your mind while kissing you silly and what could possibly be better than this?

"how does your brain store so much?" he mutters, his voice low and laced with genuine curiosity. his fingers brush absently against your skin as he pulls back to look at you.

you grin, shrugging lightly. "i think it’s easy to remember things you find interesting. how many soccer players do you know by name?" you counter, raising a brow.

he nods with a lopsided smirk, conceding the point. "got me there," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on you. something shifts in the way he’s looking—soft but heated, like he’s cataloging every detail. his hair is tousled from your hands, his lips swollen from the past few minutes of losing himself in you, and those dark, dilated pupils seem to see through you entirely. he looks utterly undone and so painfully perfect that it makes your heart stutter.

you hesitate for a moment, nerves battling the growing pull toward him, before slowly shrugging off your knit cardigan. the weight of his eyes doesn’t falter as you tug the fabric from your shoulders. it’s not the cold air against your skin that makes you shiver—it’s him, the way his gaze turns unreadable, intense.

as your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, you lift it inch by inch, exposing your tank top underneath. you tug it into place as the strap—too loose and stretched from wear—slips down your shoulder. his gaze snaps to that small sliver of bare skin, and you swear you see his jaw tighten.

your breaths come slower, more measured, as you reach up to push the other strap down, your fingers trembling slightly. just as it slips, his hand darts out, stopping you gently but firmly.

"you don’t want—" the words tumble out of you in a rush, panic and self-doubt crashing in like waves.

"of course, i do," he interrupts, his voice immediate, steady, grounding. "course, i want you. i want this." his thumb brushes featherlight over your shoulder as he leans in to pull the strap back into place. the gesture feels like both a reverence and a reassurance, and your chest tightens at the tenderness of it.

"but," he continues, his tone soft but deliberate, "ten minutes ago, you asked me to go slow. and just before that, you couldn’t even handle me saying the word 'porn' in your presence." the corner of his mouth quirks up in that teasing way that feels like it’s meant to defuse the tension.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh, one that eases some of the nerves still coiled in your chest. "mm, okay. true." you slide off his lap reluctantly, preparing to create some space, but he doesn’t let you go far. his hand catches yours, tugging you back into place.

"but," he says again, this time a whisper that dances between the two of you, heavy with promise, "we can do what we did last week…" his free hand trails up, his fingers brushing your hair back. his lips find yours, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch setting your skin aflame. "and maybe a little more."

his words linger against your lips as he kisses you again, this time deeper, and you melt into him. your feel weak, and you’re grateful for his arms around you, steadying you, keeping you grounded. for now, you’re here, with him, the rest of the world fading into an unimportant blur.

your lips finally meet, and the sensation is overwhelming, a fever spreading through your body as heat blooms beneath your skin. every nerve feels alive, crackling with electricity as your fingers instinctively thread through his hair, your grip hesitant at first but growing firmer as his hands find your waist, pulling you closer like he can’t bear to let you slip away.

the kiss is everything—more than last week, deeper, more intense. his teeth graze your bottom lip, and your body arches toward him involuntarily, a soft whine escaping before you can stop it. he takes the opportunity to part your lips, his tongue sliding against yours with a confidence that makes you melt. you know he can tell you’re inexperienced, his movements deliberate, guiding you like he’s speaking a secret language through touch alone, teaching you how to follow his lead.

as the moments pass, you start to understand—how to move, how to meet his rhythm, how to make it good for him. the realization that you’re succeeding comes when he lets out a soft groan, the sound low and raw and entirely new. it’s exhilarating, uncovering pieces of him no one else has, learning what makes him tick.

you pull back just enough to breathe, gasping softly as his lips trail after yours, placing feather-light kisses that leave you dizzy. before you can steady yourself, he shifts his attention, lips brushing down your neck. at first, you think it’ll be sweet, the same soft kisses from earlier, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

his mouth turns ravenous against your skin, nipping and sucking with a ferocity that leaves you reeling. your body tenses at the sudden intensity, a flood of pleasure replacing the brief surprise. soft moans spill from your lips, unbidden, and your hands tug at his hair, urging him closer as his mouth maps every inch of your neck.

"rafe…" you exhale, the name slipping out in a breathy whisper as he continues his assault, each kiss igniting something deeper inside you. he’s relentless, leaving no spot untouched, and while your brain tries to remind you to tell him not to leave marks, your body doesn’t care. you’re too far gone, too wrapped up in the moment to consider future consequences.

he has you completely undone, your body pliant under his touch, and when your hips buck against him without permission, he freezes. slowly, he pulls back, his breath heavy as his eyes meet yours. they’re dark, hazy with desire, yet tinged with restraint. "alright," he murmurs, his voice low and strained. "that’s good… think we’re getting a bit carried away."

the rational part of you knows he’s right, but the part of you currently tangled up with the most magnetic boy you’ve ever known? that part couldn’t care less.

"uh huh.." you're nodding as if you agree even though your lips are finding his again, hungrier this time, desperation spilling into every kiss. you can’t bear the thought of letting him go, the taste of him too intoxicating to resist. his hands come to your shoulders, trying to steady you, but the moment he pulls back, the beginnings of a warning on his lips, you silence him with another kiss, deeper this time, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. and for a moment, he lets go—he kisses back with a force that steals the air from your lungs. his resistance crumbles beneath the weight of his own desire, the kind of need that’s buried so deep it aches to surface. his lips move against yours, his hands trailing to your waist as if he’s forgotten why he should stop, as if it’s impossible for him to resist, and he doesn’t—at least, not right away.

you’re insatiable, your thoughts scattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. but rafe pulls back again, this time with a sharp, frustrated breath, and gently moves you from his lap onto the bed, standing so quickly it feels like he’s trying to physically distance himself from the tension.

he runs a hand through his tousled hair, pacing toward your desk. "slow," he says, his voice strained, almost pleading now. "we just said slow." the firmness in his tone doesn’t mask the desire still lingering in his eyes, a battle between restraint and something far more primal.

you’re left sitting there, panting softly, your body alight with sensations you’ve never felt before. your mind is racing, flickering like a switchboard as you replay every moment. how were you supposed to be patient now, knowing what his touch felt like, knowing how easily he could unravel you? waiting even a day, a moment longer, feels impossible.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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[milkteabinniechan]

♡Inspiration; Motivation - Hyunjin

(This is a milk members exclusive + preview 👀 read the entire story here) <- <- <- <-

pairing: artist! Hyunjin x afab! reader

summary: Hwang Hyunjin has hit a creative block. Nothing inspires him anymore and everyone is waiting for his next big piece. He needs a release, he needs to let go. He needs you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, angst, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dom hyunjin/sub reader, public sex, size difference, cum eating(?)

You picked up another tray of hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen and made your way back out to the crowd. Some people were murmuring that the artist has finally arrived and we're moving towards the front to try to catch a glimpse of him. You motioned your tray towards a few people and offered the tiny pastry cakes and puffs to the rich yuppies around you.

Once your tray is clear you decide to sneak off and walk around the gallery for a minute. You stop at one of your favorite pieces, a simple painting of a long-stemmed single tulip. The petals are painted in a deep purple that nearly turns to black towards the middle of the bud. You stare at the mix of purples and greens and nearly forget that you're technically working, you're on the clock and if your boss saw you with an empty tray again then there would be Hell to pay. You were on your last strike as he loved to remind you.

“I didn't think anyone even noticed this one.” A voice lingered in from behind you. You turned quickly to see a man dressed fairly decent, definitely not one of your co-workers or your boss, so you let your shoulders loosen a bit as you gave him a simple smile. “Yes, it's one of my favorites.” You admit, your eyes staying glued to the tulip. The man sidled beside you, both hands in pockets and a smell of scotch and paint thinner soaked through him.

“I have to admit, this is one that I never ended up hating. She's still pretty to me. She never asked for more, just perfectly content with being my little flower.” His voice was raspy and a bit pained as he spoke. You cautiously turned your head to face him. “This is your piece? Why didn't you sign it?” Your finger pointed to the blank corner of the canvas vacant of a signature. The man smiled wide and let out a low chuckle running his fingers over his shaved head. Another practiced motion when his hair used to hang in front of his face. “I didn't sign it because I don't own her. Sure, I painted it. But she was never mine.”

You tilt your head at the painting, picturing not only a flower but a woman too. Was that what the painting was? A beautiful woman transformed? You straighten your head and look from the flower back to the man. “So what inspires you, Hwang Hyunjin?” Hyunjin's eyes light up in surprise and shock. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You're who everyone is here to see.” You smile softly. Hyunjin's face drops in disdain as he glances at the other room full of people. People who are so eager for the next big thing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“So,” you fasten your hands on your hips and give him a playful expression. “Everyone wants to know, what inspires you?”

Hyunjin's eyes narrow as he steps towards you, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips. “Do you want the answer I give to the magazines or do you want the real answer?”

His smell grows strong the closer he stands to you. An aroma of hard work and pain and chaos that threatened to consume you if he stepped any closer. Your eyes flickered up to where he was. “The real answer.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thanks for all your hard work, I’ve found so many good fics through here.

Do you have any recommendations for human au fics where Crowley and Aziraphale have known each other for a long time before becoming romantically involved. Could be acquaintances or co-workers or even friends, but looking for a good rec without a real meet cute/strangers-to-lover situation! Thanks so much :)

Hi! We have #friends to lovers and #childhood friends tags which you can check for lots of fics like this. Here are some more to add...

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

Slipping by AppleSeeds (T)

When Aziraphale's friend and colleague Crowley asks him out at their work Christmas party, Aziraphale turns him down, having only ever thought of Crowley as a friend. Months later, Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley have changed, but due to a series of increasingly ridiculous misunderstandings, they both become convinced that the other isn't interested in a romantic relationship. (They're just adorable, oblivious, and pining, that's the whole fic.)

Wanna Bet? by Mimsynims (E)

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t find my name’?” “I’m sorry, sir. We have bookings for all of your colleagues, but your name is missing. Unfortunately that means there’s no room set aside for you.” “Right…” Crowley could guess who had made the ‘mistake’. “But surely there’s another room available? It doesn’t have to be on the same floor as the others’.” He would actually prefer it if it wasn’t.  “I’m afraid not, sir. Due to the conference all of our rooms are booked already.” The young woman on the other side of the counter looked genuinely distressed. “Most hotels within the vicinity are.” Crowley sighed and furrowed his brows. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place, and now he didn’t have a place to sleep? Knowing Gabriel, it would be no use asking to be allowed to go back home.  “Let me check something…” The woman brightened again, a small smile growing on her face. “Yes. It’s not ideal, but it seems that two of your colleagues have been placed in double rooms. Perhaps you or someone else can consider sharing?” Anyone want to guess who he ends up sharing a room with? ;)

On The Side by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale is far too pure of heart to be anybody’s bit on the side. Or so Crowley thinks. But when his friend starts seeing walking red flag Jim, with his dodgy smiles and mysterious past, Crowley does everything he can to protect Aziraphale from disaster. His own heart might just end up being collateral damage.

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

- Mod D

[tinylilacbun]

n e r d y l i t t l e k o o k ⋆ ˚ ｡ 𖦹 ˚

The second Rafe steps into the country club, your eyes are on him, a faint smile forming on your face as you watch him get settled on a sofa that's in a more secluded corner.

You take a sip of your mimosa, watching him take out a book from his bag and lean back in his seat, pushing his glasses up his nose before he flips the book open.

He has cought your attention a while ago, Rafe Cameron, the eldest and only son of one of the most wealthiest families on the island, graduated as class best and most definitely future CEO of Cameron Industries.

Rafe is uncharacteristically shy for a Cameron, as the family is almost seen on every event and being social is something he just can't avoid.

You know his sister, Sarah, she's sweet but can run her mouth if she wants to, just like their younger sister Wheezie, so it's endearing to you how that boy across the room never lifts his gaze from the book he's utterly engrossed in, completely in his own world.

Rafe flips to the next page when he sees a set of legs stop right in front of him, only lifting his head when the person coughs softly to get his attention, pushing his glasses up.

"Mind if I sit?" You ask with a gentle smile.

He stares for a second, quickly gathering his thoughts again as he gestures to free spot next to him. "Not at all, um- here." He stammers, grabbing his bag and placing it between his legs to make more room for you.

You gladly sit down next to him, telling him your name as you hold out your hand to him, which he takes without hesitation and know instantly that he seems to be nervous given how slightly sweaty his hand is.

"I-I know who you are, your father is a business partner of my dad, well- almost, he still has to sign that contract." He says, fiddling with the bookmark in his hand.

"What are you reading?" You ask, trying to change the subject, not wanting to talk about your father or his work since you have no actual idea of what he does nor do you care.

"Oh, um, it's about..." He starts to ramble instantly, and you can't stop taking in the way he keeps rubbing at his nose or has to adjust his glasses a few times, clearly a little nervous.

How could he not be? You're a sight for sore eyes and Rafe can't even fathom the fact you're talking to him.

"and it's actually interesting because, wait, sorry-" He apologizes, shaking his head and you furrow your brows in confusion. "I shouldn't bore you with all that stuff you probably don't want to know."

You chuckle at that, it's cute how he gets embarrassed for rambling his current interest. "It's okay, I asked didn't I?"

He smiles a little. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I'm just not used to, y'know, people actually listening to what I say..." He mutters, his fingers tracing over the spine of his book.

"I see...and who's that little guy?" You ask, pointing at where the head of a brown teddy bear peeks out of his bag, which Rafe quickly shoves in and zips close.

"That- It's nothing just...probably one of sister's trying to pull a joke." He tries to brush it off but you see right through him.

"Of course." You smile at him, pulling out a pen from your purse before reaching out to grab his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, he doesn't pull away though, his eyes fixating on your face as you scribble something onto his palm.

As you finish you stand up, giving him a wink. "Call me."

Rafe watches you walk away, his smile growing even more as his face heats up, looking down at his hand where you had written your number on.

Just before going through the entrance door you glance one last time towards him, seeing how he reaches down towards his bag, adjusting the bear inside it carefully before zipping it close again.

[toasttt11]

youngest

December 6, 2024

Gemma was sitting on the floor in front of Luke’s stall resting her head on Luke’s knee messing with a pen in her hand as she has just been signing stuff before warms ups.

Luke noticed Gemma fidgeting and looking bored and he handed her his glove making her take the glove and look confused, “Go ahead.” Luke gestured to the pen, he knows she likes to doodle on her gloves and stick.

Gemma’s face lite up with a smile and she immediately started doodling on Luke’s glove.

Gemma started doodling flowers across the palm of the glove and towards each finger.

Luke let Gemma doodle on his glove until she needed to get up and start warming up.

Luke smiled looking at his glove as she handed him it to him, it was adorable and very Gemma, “Thanks Emmie.” Luke ruffled her hair softly as she smiled at him.

Gemma and Luke headed out of the locker room to start warming up before the game.

Gemma was skating across the ice skating around the Krakens defender and passed the puck to Luke.

Luke shot the puck and got his first goal of the season.

Gemma beamed and immediately skated over to Luke jumping on him hugging his tightly.

Luke laughed as Gemma gave him a head pat and was beaming at him so proudly.

Gemma has wanted to see Luke score so bad and she was able to assist his first goal of the around.

Luke and Gemma shared a grin and a fist bump before heading back to the bench.

Later in the third period Luke assisted on Gemma’s goal.

The Devils won 3-2 against the Krakens.

Luke ruffled Gemma’s hair after they both showered after the game, “I guess i need your doddles more now.” Luke mused with a fond grin, it seemed like her doddles were good luck.

Gemma grinned at Luke’s words.

“Bows!” Stefan called out walking over to Gemma, “Do you have a second?” Stefan asked seeing Gemma was about to head out.

“Sure.” Gemma nodded.

“My daughter really was hoping she could see you after the game.” Stefan explained to Gemma.

“Oh she wants to see me?” Gemma blinked looking surprised, sure she has met most of the team’s kids so far but she has not gotten closer to any of them or talked more that a few words to any of them.

“She told me to ask you.” Stefan grinned shrugging.

“Sure.” Gemma smiled slightly awkwardly but started following Stefan to the family room.

“She doesn’t go there often does she.” Nico spoke to Luke and Jack just realizing now he’s only seen Gemma in the family room for a few minutes over the past few months.

“She isn’t use to kids.” Luke whispered to Jack and Nico and they followed Gemma and Stefan to the family room. Luke knew Gemma has barely been around kids especially younger ones if they aren’t fans and she doesn’t necessarily know what to do.

“Because she is the youngest?” Nico realized, he was pretty similar as he was the youngest is all of his family growing up and there was never really anyone younger than him.

Luke nodded as they walked through the doors together.

“Leigh!” Stefan called out smiling ad his daughter rushed over to him and he bent down hugging her gently, “There’s someone here for you?”

Leighton gasped seeing Gemma, “Hi!” She beamed as Gemma kneeled down in front of her.

“Hello.” Gemma smiled sweetly and spoke awkwardly speaking, she felt out of her comfort zone and didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing. She was a bit better with kids a few years old but she had no idea what to do with babies.

“Mom said i can get your jersey.” Leighton beamed making Stefan sigh and shake his head fondly.

“You want to wear my jersey?” Gemma looked shocked but touched.

“Of course you’re the coolest on the team.” Leighton giggled as Stefan playfully gasped.

“Why don’t i help your Dad get the jersey for you?” Gemma offered giving Stefan a small look as she had a plan for the jersey and Stefan nodded smiling seeing how well Gemma was doing with his daughter even if she was being awkward.

“Really!” Leighton gasped and clapped her hands happily as Gemma nodded.

“I made something for you.” Leighton pulled out something from her tiny little purse and handed it to Gemma.

Gemma delicately took and saw it was a beaded bracelet that had red and white beads and her name spelled out with red bow charms, “Woah this is so pretty thank you Leighton.” Gemma softly spoke to the younger girl making Leighton perk up happily.

“We match!” Leighton held up her arm that was covered in hand made bracelets and a lot of them had things for Gemma.

“We do. They are very pretty.” Gemma softly spoke feeling a bit more comfortable talking to the child.

Eventually Stefan had to take Leighton away to head home and Gemma waved bye.

She was standing with Nico, Luke and Jack talking with Jacob and his wife Amanda when she felt something tap her leg and she looked down seeing Jacob’s one year old son Clark holding two mini sticks and looking up at her.

Gemma’s eyes widened in worry she had no idea what the baby wanted, Gemma looked at Jacob for help.

“He wants to play mini stick with you.” Jacob explained with a fond smile. He’s realized Gemma doesn’t really know what to do with kids.

“Uh okay.” Gemma slowly nodded and walked a few steps following Clarke and she sat down.

“Ba.” Clark babbled as he handed her a stick making her nod at him.

Clark backed up and hit the ball at her and Gemma softly hit it back at Clark. She felt a bit more comfortable with the baby playing mini sticks with him.

It was adorable seeing Gemma playing with Clark and it was a soft reminder to the ones in the room that Gemma has only been officially been an adult for a few months, she’s still incredibly young.

Clark was babbling to Gemma as they played and it seems to make her more comfortable with him.