#his eyes are the most beautiful in the whole world

[biblical-chronicles]

Observe

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where you force Noel to carefully observe how beautiful he is [18+]

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It started with a magazine.

Noel hadn’t been looking for it but there it was, sitting on the studio table like it had been placed there just to fuck with him. He wasn’t even sure who it belonged to, but the second he saw your face staring back at him from the glossy cover, he reached for it without thinking.

You looked unreal. Dressed to the nines for some event, standing on a red carpet like you owned the whole fucking world. The headline was some over-the-top nonsense about your “jaw-dropping” look, but Noel barely registered it, too caught up in the image itself. The way the cameras caught the gleam in your eyes, the effortless way you carried yourself—it was enough to make something tighten in his chest.

Then, he turned the page.

And there it was.

Noel Gallagher punching above his weight?

The words hit like a slap. A passing remark buried in some fluff piece, probably not even meant to be taken seriously, but it didn’t matter. His grip on the magazine tightened as his eyes skimmed the rest.

An unlikely pairing, but somehow, it works. Noel Gallagher, the ever-broody Manc, managing to land one of the most effortlessly stylish women in the business? Fair play to him. She could have anyone, but for now, it’s the Oasis man at her side.

For now.

Noel shut the magazine with a sharp snap, jaw clenched, and tossed it back onto the table like it had burned him. Suddenly, he felt like a right idiot for even picking it up.

He’d always known it, hadn’t he? That you were too good for him. It wasn’t a new thought—not by a long shot. But reading it like that, spelled out so plainly for anyone to see… Christ.

It got in his head.

---

At first, you didn’t think much of it.

Noel had always been a bit fo a grumpy bastard, always carried himself with that sharp-edged indifference. But this was different.

He was quieter now. Less present. Kept a deliberate space between you, like an invisible line had been drawn that he refused to cross. At night, when you curled into him, instead of an arm pulling you closer, there was a mumbled excuse, a shift of weight, the warmth of his body leaving yours sooner than it should.

And worst of all?

He stopped observing you.

No more lingering glances from across the room, no more quick, shameless once-overs when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The gaze that once held amusement, desire, was now nowhere to be found.

It went on for a few days. Too many. And now, watching him nurse the same drink for the better part of an hour, avoiding your gaze like it might pin him to the spot, you decided you’d had enough.

You leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on your knees, watching him like you were trying to work him out. “Alright. Spill.”

His fingers tapped idly against the glass. He didn’t look up. “Spill what?”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t be a knobhead.”

Noel’s lips twitched—half a smirk, gone before it could settle.

“You’ve been acting weird all week.”

“I’ve not been acting weird.”

“Oh, right. So you always act like you can’t stand me touching you?”

That got him.

The muscle in his jaw jumped, his grip tightening around the glass before he slowly set it down. Still, he wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring at the table like the answer to whatever existential crisis he was having might be found in the wood grain.

You sighed, shifting forward, plucking the glass from his hand and setting it aside. Before he could protest, you reached out, fingers curling under his chin, tilting his face up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Noel.” Your voice was softer now. Steady. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

His lips parted slightly, an answer hovering there, but then he shook his head, huffed out a laugh that held no real amusement.

“S’nothing, love. Just me bein’ daft.”

“Bullshit.”

This time, the smirk almost stuck.

But then it was gone again, lost to whatever was gnawing at him. His shoulders tensed beneath his shirt, his whole body locked up like he was bracing for something.

You exhaled slowly, thumb brushing along the stubble at his jaw. “Come on. Tell me.”

A beat of silence. Then, finally—

“Just… I dunno.” His voice was quieter now, like saying it any louder would make it worse. “You could have anyone, y’know? Proper anyone. And yet, you’re here. With me.”

Your brow furrowed. “And that’s a problem because…?”

He scoffed, barely shaking his head, like he knew how ridiculous it sounded but still couldn’t help feeling it. His hand lifted, raking through his hair in frustration. “Forget it. S’stupid.”

You reached for him again, fingertips just grazing his arm before he pulled away.

“No, it’s not stupid.” Your voice was firm, no room for argument. “You’ve been distant, pushing me away, all ‘cause of what? Some daft insecurity?”

His head snapped up at that, something flickering in his eyes. “Maybe.”

You sighed. Christ. You weren’t going to get through to him like this.

Then—an idea.

“Come with me.”

Noel frowned. “What?”

You didn’t answer. Just grabbed his hand, pulled him up from the sofa, and led him through the apartment, stopping in front of the full-length mirror by the wall, quickly grabbing a chair to sit him down.

Noel just followed you with his eyes as he sat, shoulders tense, jaw set like he was bracing for something. His reflection met his gaze for half a second before he dropped his eyes, exhaling sharply.

“Dunno what we’re doin’ here, love.” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

You ignored him. Instead, you moved behind him, running your hands over his shoulders, feeling the knots of tension beneath your fingers. He was always like this—locked up tight, carrying more weight than he let on.

Your fingers traced along the collar of his shirt before slipping under the fabric, pressing into his skin. “Look,” you murmured.

He shook his head, resisting.

Your grip tightened in warning. “Noel.”

Reluctantly, his gaze lifted to the mirror again.

You took your time, undoing the first button of his shirt. Then the next. Slowly, deliberately, watching his reflection as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the rise and fall of his chest growing unsteady.

“You never look at yourself, do you?” you murmured, pressing your lips to the side of his neck. “Not really.”

He gave a weak scoff, but it died in his throat the second you slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Your hands mapped over bare skin, tracing every dip and ridge, every scar, every inch of him that he refused to see as anything but ordinary.

To you, it was anything but.

Your fingers grazed over his ribs, his stomach, dragging slow, reverent touches across his skin. “This,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “is gorgeous, and it's mine.”

Noel’s breath stuttered.

You trailed your lips lower, along his bicep, over the veins lining his forearm. “Mine.”

His eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back, trying to escape the weight of it, but you caught his chin, forcing him forward.

“Don’t look away.”

His lashes flickered, mouth parting slightly as you guided his gaze back to the mirror. His face was flushed, lips red from biting back whatever wanted to slip out. You could see it, the fight in him—the part of him that wanted to shake this off, make a joke, deflect.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let you tip his head up, let you run your hands over his chest, his stomach, feeling him tremble under your touch.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, lips grazing over his skin. A kiss to his collarbone. Another to the center of his chest. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

Noel’s breath was shallow, chest heaving as you kissed him again, this time with more urgency. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide against his, tasting him, feeling the heat of his mouth. His hands clenched around you, as though he couldn’t hold onto you enough.

“Look at me, Noel,” you murmured between kisses, pulling back just enough to study his eyes. His gaze was wild, glassy with desire. His body trembled in your hands, but it was a different kind of tension now, a kind of need you’d only seen glimpses of before. He didn’t pull away. In fact, his chest pushed against you, desperate for more.

Slowly, you ran your hands over his skin, fingertips grazing his chest, tracing each muscle as if you were savoring every inch of him. You could feel his breath hitch when you lightly scraped your nails along his sides, and you smiled into his skin, kissing him softly again, this time at the corner of his mouth, lingering there.

His chest heaved with every breath, his hand twitching at his side, desperate for some kind of release. You could see the struggle, feel the shift as he began to let go of that ever-present wall he built around himself. Slowly, carefully, you reached for the button of his jeans, your fingers tracing the waistband before you slipped your hand inside, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric.

He stilled, a shudder running through him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” you whispered, voice breathy, filled with adoration as you pressed your lips against his neck, slowly biting down gently, hearing him gasp in response. His hands were on your back now, his fingers digging into your skin as he instinctively pulled you closer.

You pulled away to look at him, gently brushing your thumb over his bottom lip, watching as he struggled to meet your gaze. But you wouldn’t let him look away—gripping his face gently, guiding him to meet your eyes again.

"Look at yourself," you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

His eyes flitted to the mirror, catching the sight of his flushed cheeks, the way his chest heaved with each breath. His expression wavered, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but then he softened, leaning into your touch.

As you kissed him again, you did so deeply, fully, showing him how much you craved him, how much you loved every part of him. The pace of your kiss grew more fervent as you worked your hands lower, skimming over his skin, watching his body arch into yours.

His head tipped back slightly, his eyes flickering between the mirror and you. You could tell he was struggling, trying not to let go. But there was no stopping the way his body responded to you.

“Watch,” you breathed against his lips, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, forcing his face gently so he couldn’t look away. His eyes were wide now, reflecting the intensity of the moment as he watched the way you touched him. Your hand steadily stroking him with the occasional press just below his head making him moan.

With every tender caress, you gave him nothing but praise. “So fucking beautiful. Everything about you is absolutely breathtaking.”

His breath hitched as the intensity of your touch and words drew him closer to the edge. He moaned softly, trying to hold back, but you weren’t letting him. You picked up your pace and pressed your lips back to his, barely able to kiss him through his string of moans.

As you pulled away a thin strain of spit connected you, both of you looking at it before it broke, soflty landing against his chin.

“Look at yourself, Noel,” you said softly, pulling his face toward yours with a steady hand, guiding his eyes back to the mirror as you continued stroking him, now picking up the pace. His chest heaved as you kissed him again, soft but insistent, whispering into the kiss.

“Can’t look away, can you?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear, the teasing note in your voice making him shiver.

He let out another low moan, the sound more strained now, a desperate acknowledgment of what was happening. His eyes stayed fixed on his reflection, unable to tear away from the sight of himself at this point.

Then you stopped for a moment, only to start again, faster now, his body bucking instinctively into your touch as he let out a breathless cry.

You knew it wouldn’t be long now, so you kissed his neck, your hands continuing their relentless movement, keeping him on the edge, making sure he stayed in the moment.

And then it happened.

A breathless gasp escaped his lips as he came undone, his body shuddering under your touch.

As he came down from the moment, you continued to kiss him, each press of your lips a promise. “I love you,” you whispered against his mouth, “You’re gorgeous… Every inch of you, never doubt that.”

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hope you lot liked this, sorry for the later than usual upload, love ya !!

[cupidbedsy]

i would love a part two to the quinn neglecting you blurb :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: quinn feeling like an ass, wrote on my phone so i don’t know how grammatically correct this is

word count: 740

florist cupid: the long awaited part two ! i’m so glad everyone liked this, i honestly didn’t think it would go crazy the way it did but im thankful it did.

it was about an hour that quinn was out of the apartment, thoughts racing through his head as he walked down the street. he’d shoot a weak smile and give a small wave to those who called out his name, even stopping to sign something once and a while.

but for the most part, he spent his time in his own headspace, thinking about the vents that had happened in the past couple hours. he’d been neglecting you for weeks. how could he not haven seen it?

at some point during his walk he stopped outside a flower stand, eyes trailing over each and every flower, finally settling on a small bouquet of one of your favorite flowers, making small talk with the older lady who was working the stand.

“special date tonight?”

quinn looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “no i uh… kind of messed up.”

the lady gave him a knowing smile, finishing wrapping the flowers nicely. it was silent for the next few moments before she handed the bouquet to him. he went to take out his wallet but the woman just shook her head with a fond look on her face, “don’t worry about it.”

quinn fumbled, almost dropping his cash on the ground, “are you sure? i couldn’t just-“

“is she important?”

he nodded instantly, “yeah, most important person in the world. she um-“ he let a smile tug at his lips and tears prick his eyes, “she’s everything to me.”

“then it’s no big deal. you only get one of those girls, don’t lose her now.”

quinn thanked her again, walking away from the stand, but not before slipping money into the small jar.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

when he got back to your shared apartment, he played with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments before sliding the key in and unlocking the door.

you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch the whole time he had been gone, you were too engrossed in your thoughts to move.

the sound of the lock unlocking stirred you from trance, snapping your head to look at the door.

quinn looked even more tired than when he had left, his hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it nonstop on his walk.

your eyes found the flowers in his hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you spoke softly, “quinny.”

he gave you a weak smile, slipping his shoes off and walking over to where you now stood. he handed you the flowers, the fingers on his free hand intertwining with yours.

he leaned down, letting your forehead rest against his. he played with your fingers, his and yours breathing being the only sound you could hear.

“they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“i’m sorry.”

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, taking in his guilty expression. you detangled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, “quinn-”

“i’m sorry.” he repeated, placing his hand on your hip to draw you closer to him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you aside, i shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the team and i should’ve been taking care of myself. you’re the most important person in my life and i wouldn’t have even been able to get through this past year without you, i shouldn’t have taken you for granted.”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him talk, hanging on every word he said. you knew he was sorry, you knew he didn’t mean to do this, but he did and it happened.

it was a rough patch in your relationship, but you would get through it, you knew you would.

he frowned when he saw the tears in your eyes, moving his hand to grasp yours again, “don’t cry, please. you know i hate when you do, especially if it’s because of me.”

he took the flowers from your hand, placing them down on the coffee table to bring you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“don’t need to make it up to my quinn,” your fingers grasped at his sweater, clutching it like a lifeline. “you’re here now, and you apologized, not that you needed to, but that’s what matters. you’re here now.”

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I absolutely love your PA series! And I'm craving some jealous Jamie :) Could you maybe write something like that? 🫣 Maybe Edwin Akufo or Shandy make a comeback and try to stirr shit up for the team? Thanks 🤭

A Nice Guy

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Being Jamie Tartt’s PA meant dealing with a lot of things—his ridiculous schedule, his forgotten appointments, and the occasional existential crisis when he’d suddenly decided he had to go on a juice cleanse and then immediately regret it.

What it didn’t include?

Dealing with a jealous Jamie Tartt. That wasn't in the job description.

But here he was, sitting stiffly across the room, jaw clenched, arms crossed so tightly across his chest it looked like he was physically holding himself back from doing something stupid.

Which, to be fair, was likely.

His glare was locked onto Y/N like she had personally offended him.

Which was insane, because all she’d done was laugh at something Ewin Akufo's assistant, said.

It was a post-match event—some fancy dinner, media, sponsors, the usual. Edwin Akufo was there again, this time he was scouting players from the other team, Westham United, and his assistant and 'hand-shake-guy' Francis was with him. Y/N and him have started a great conversation, both having very eccentric and needy bosses, that's why they kind of bonded. He also bought her a drink.

Jamie had played brilliantly, scoring two goals and basically running circles around the other team. He should’ve been basking in the attention, flashing that cocky grin at every camera in sight.

Instead, he was a table with some Richmond players...sulking.

Y/N caught his eye across the bar, raising an eyebrow. What’s your problem?

Jamie just stared.

Isaac, sitting next to him, nudged his arm. “Mate, you alright? You look ready to kill that man.”

Jamie exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine.”

He was not fine.

Because Y/N was still smiling at Edwin Akufo's assistant—Franky something?—Jamie did not know his name. Edwin Akufo was the enemy and therefore this guy was too. Especially because he was talking to her like she was the most fascinating person in the world. And Jamie hated it....him.

"Oh, no Edwin is here? That is going to be a weird night," Sam interrupted his thoughts. "Uhm guys, why is Jamie staring down Edwin's assistant Francis?"

"Jamie's jealous because that guy's talking to Y/N," Isaac smirked at Sam and the whole situation, knowingly.

"Ah, I see... I mean Francis is a smooth guy," Sam said, having fun in riling up Jamie some more.

And Jamie was not having it.

She was his.

Wait—no. Not his his. But, like… his. Kind of.

She worked for him. She spent more time with him than anyone else. She put up with his antics, laughed at his jokes, rolled her eyes at his stupidity in a way that made Jamie’s chest go all warm and stupid.

And now some random bloke thought he could just—what? Make her laugh? Charm her?

Not happening.

Jamie stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. Isaac and Sam barely had time to react before Jamie was already moving, striding toward Y/N with a forced, polite smile.

“Oi, who the fuck are you, then?”

Francis looked up, blinking in surprise. “Oh, Mr. Tartt. My name is Francis. Y/N has told me a lot about you. Great game tonight, man.”

Francis put out his hand for one of those manly handshakes. Jamie looked at Y/N and she gave him that warning 'be nice' look.

So, Jamie played nice and gave him a hand. And fuck that handshake really was smooth as fuck. He was a smooth motherfucker, fucking prick.

"Well, Jamie. You are lucky you have such a beautiful assistant like Y/N." Francis said, about to put an arm on Y/N's shoulder.

"Ain't I a lucky guy, huh? Y/N's actually pretty busy, so we have to leave now." Jamie ignored his antics to start a conversation completely, eyes locked on Y/N as he tugged at her wrist. “You ready to go, love?”

Y/N sighed, clearly catching on. “Actually Jamie—”

But he was already tugging her away, ignoring Francis's confused stare. He didn’t stop until they were near the entrance, away from the crowd.

Y/N yanked her arm free, stepping back to face him. “Okay, what’s wrong with you? I had a great conversation with him. I also have your schedule memorized and we both have the rest evening off, so...”

Jamie scoffed. “Me? What’s wrong with me? Nah, what’s wrong with you?”

She crossed her arms. “Oh wow, great argument, Shakespeare. Real convincing. Please, elaborate!”

Jamie ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Why were you even talkin’ to him?”

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She let out a short laugh. “Jamie. It was a conversation. That’s what people do at events. I can talk to whoever I want.”

Jamie scowled. “Yeah, well, he was definitely flirting with you.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And that bothers you because…?”

Jamie hesitated. “’Cause…”

Because you’re mine.

But he couldn’t say that.

Instead, he muttered, “He’s a dick. You know he's Akufo's assistant so he's probably proper evil, like his boss.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s your reason?”

Jamie doubled down. “Yeah. That. And—uhhh— Sam was also proper mad at you, because of his thing with Akufo and all stuff.”

Man, oh, man. Jamie used to be so much better at lying... Sam Obisanya mad, at her? Yeah, right.

“Jamie.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” Jamie shot back, stepping closer. “What could he possibly have to say that’s so funny?”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go. “It wasn’t even that funny, Jamie.”

Jamie threw his hands up. “Exactly!”

Y/N shook her head, watching him. He was all riled up, eyes bright with frustration, jaw tight.

And she realized—this wasn’t just annoyance.

This was jealousy.

Jamie Tartt, jealous.

Something about that sent a thrill down her spine.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You do know I talk to men all the time, right?”

Jamie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, but not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you were actually enjoying it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so I’m not allowed to enjoy conversations now?”

Jamie pointed at her. “Not with him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You are ridiculous.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, well, you—” He stopped, exhaling sharply, hands going to his hips as he looked at the floor. Then, quieter, he muttered, “I just don’t like seein’ you with people that think they can have you, alright?”

Y/N froze.

Jamie noticed.

Y/N blinked at him, Jamie’s words hanging between them.

'I just don’t like seein’ you with people that think they can have you, alright?'

For a second, neither of them said anything. Jamie had that look—like he’d said something too real, something that made his chest feel all tight and uncomfortable. Y/N knew him well enough to see it, to recognize the way he immediately started backtracking in his own head.

So, of course, she had to make it worse.

She smirked, tilting her head. "Jamie Tartt, are you jealous?"

Jamie scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. "No."

"You so are."

"I’m not," he insisted, but his ears were turning red.

Y/N grinned. "Oh my God, you’re actually jealous."

Jamie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Nah, see, I’m just lookin’ out for you."

"Looking out for me?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, a little too quickly. "’Cause, like, you deserve better, don’t ya?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Better than a nice, normal guy who wanted to talk about my work and buy me a drink?"

Jamie made a face. "Nice is just another word for boring, and you ain’t boring, are ya?"

Y/N hummed, pretending to consider it. "Hmm. So what you’re saying is, I should be with someone... exciting? Like an astronaut, huh?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. "I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t be wastin’ your time on a prick who works for someone like Akufo. And who doesn’t even know that you hate red wine."

Y/N’s smirk faltered.

Jamie caught it, but instead of panicking, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Yeah. Thought so."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are unbelievable."

"And yet," Jamie grinned, all cocky now that he had the upper hand again, "you’re still standin’ here talkin’ to me instead of goin’ back to your nice, normal bloke."

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. "Well, I would go back, but unfortunately, my very high-maintenance boss decided to have a full-blown tantrum over it."

Jamie pressed a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. "Me? A tantrum? That’s slander, that is."

Y/N laughed, shoving his arm. "Whatever. I’m going to get a drink."

Jamie grabbed her wrist before she could walk away, his grip loose but warm. "I’ll get it for ya."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Making up for ruining my night?"

Jamie smirked. "Nah. Just makin’ sure no one else tries to."

And maybe Y/N should’ve called him out on it, pointed out the way his jealousy kept creeping into everything he said. But instead, she just smiled, letting him hold onto her wrist for a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

"Alright, then, Tartt," she said, glancing at the bar. "Surprise me."

Jamie grinned. "Oh, you’re in for it now, love."

And maybe neither of them were saying what they really meant. But they were still enjoying the tension.

[sundaysconsort]

phainon with a reader who’s kinda like sakura matou from fate/stay night: heaven’s feel? :0

Entry: " Light Candles In Rome "

Pairing: HSR! Phainon | Reader

Information: You've been a companion of Phainon for as long as you can remember, and yet, often feel as though you'd forever live beneath him. He is your hero, and you feel like you're undeserving of his light, as well as his protection. You're unworthy of his love, you're convinced, and only find purpose when made useful to him in some way, so what happens once he guides you to embrace yourself? To see the person he most adores? | 3.4k Word Count

Tags: Phainon x Reader, Anxiety, Fluff, Slow Burn (implied), Gentle Introspection, Found Comfort, Understanding, Light Teasing, Angst (?) with a good ending, Romantic Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dark Themes, Deep Conversations, Confessions, Tender Moments, Themes of Hope.

Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety and Social Discomfort, Major self-doubt and Internalized Pressure, Feelings of Unworthiness, Poor Self-Image.

You stood at the edge of an exquisitely adorned celebration, your attention fixed on Phainon as he effortlessly moved through the crowd of guests. The flickering glow of candlelight mingled with the bright light of torches, casting a warm hue over the event. Yet, amidst the brilliance, you felt as though the lights illuminated everyone but you. This gathering was not meant to honor individuals like yourself; it was a tribute to the heroes of Amphoreus, the legendary realm known as The Eternal Land. Tonight, the festive atmosphere celebrated the brave warriors who had fought tirelessly to achieve this fleeting moment of peace, a victory that felt fragile.

You wore a delicate white dress, meticulously crafted from an ethereal fabric that gracefully embraced your figure, but it did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of inferiority in your heart. As you observed the proud men and women around you, all celebrating the achievements of your hero, the disparity felt almost tangible. Phainon stood out among the crowd, his silver hair shimmering like spun moonlight under the warm lighting. He wore an impeccably tailored outfit suitable for the occasion, in stark contrast to the simple attire he usually favored, and this transformation struck you deeply.

Everywhere he moved, his presence seemed to draw attention. Laughter and exuberant applause surrounded him as he was whisked away by a partner who exuded elegance and confidence—an image so strikingly beautiful that it felt worlds apart from your self-perception. A weak smile graced your lips, torn between envy and melancholy, as you longed for the courage to join in the merriment and perhaps capture his gaze.

In moments like this, your insecurities reared their heads with a vengeance. You were painfully aware of your lack of experience and the finesse that adorned everyone around you. What could someone as illustrious as Phainon possibly see in you beyond the role of a "kind" friend? These thoughts twisted and turned in your mind, deepening the sense of feeling small and unseen. This feeling intensified during your separations from Phainon, who had the uncanny ability to recognize you and make you feel whole—and, for the first time… loved. You were uncertain if this sentiment was romantic, but his endless charisma illuminated those around him, regardless of whom he engaged with.

Just as you spiraled further into these thoughts, your eyes caught sight of Phainon looking back at you from the dance floor. There was something in his deep, expressive gaze—an undeniable warmth that sent a fluttering sensation through your heart, piercing through your doubts. Moments later, he elegantly broke away from his dance partner and approached you with an air of determination, as if he had been weaving through the crowd in search of you amid the jubilant cheers celebrating his arrival.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, his voice rising above the gentle hum of conversation and laughter. A warm, radiant smile blossomed across his face, illuminating his eyes like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere,” he continued, his tone playful yet earnest. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” His request hung in the air, straightforward and brimming with genuine sincerity, as he extended his hand toward you, inviting you into a moment filled with unspoken promise.

Your heart raced at the unexpected proposition. “Me? But… I don’t know how to dance,” you stammered, your cheeks aflame with a mix of excitement and anxiety as you struggled to meet his gaze. The bubbling exhilaration within you battled against the self-doubt that swirled in your mind, shadowing the joy of his invitation.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured, his voice calm and encouraging. “I’ll teach you. I just want to savor this moment with you. Please, don’t let fear hold you back.”

His genuine belief in you melted some of your reservations. With a hesitant nod, you took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped forward, feeling the cool stone floor beneath your heels. Phainon extended his hand—warm and inviting—and you felt a rush of emotions as you accepted it.

As you both found your places amidst the rhythm of the music, you felt his hands guiding you with gentleness and precision. Despite the initial tension, he led you with a patience that calmed your nerves, encouraging you every time you stumbled. Gradually, you found your footing, and the anxiety that had weighed heavily on your heart began to lift, replaced by the exhilarating thrill of sharing this moment with him. You reminded yourself that he had specifically sought you out.

“I’m not perfect,” you murmured shyly, a smile lingering on your lips as you surrendered to the rhythm of your movements together. “But I’m glad you chose to dance with me.”

Phainon’s gaze softened as he matched your steps, his aura steady and comforting. “Sometimes, it’s the imperfections that make a moment truly special. You are perfect just as you are. Just be yourself; it’s what I love about you.”

His words caught you completely off-guard, and you locked your eyes onto his charming features, feeling your heart race in overwhelming chaos. Did he confess to loving you? Are you thinking too into it? The thought sent shockwaves through your mind, causing you to barely avoid stumbling as he took the lead once more, twirling you gently before reeling you back in.

With a teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “What do you say we slip away from this lively celebration a bit early? Just the two of us, like you've always fantasized.” The allure of his invitation sent a delightful shiver down your spine, igniting the palpable chemistry that had simmered between you both for so long. However, a hint of hesitation tugged at your heart, making it difficult to fully embrace such a tempting proposal.

Before you could find the right words, he effortlessly deciphered your hesitation, his knowing smile leaving no room for your usual playful evasiveness. "Let's be honest; you’ve never been skilled at hiding your thoughts, and tonight, I won’t let your usual excuses deter us. All I ask for is a simple acknowledgment. Just say the word, ‘yes,’ and trust me, it’s plain as day that you want to." His words hovered between you, charged with unspoken promise, as you felt the anticipation building in the air around you.

You scanned the cluttered scene around you, heart racing like a trapped animal caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. The vibrant crowd of people surged and swirled, their laughter and chatter blending into a dizzying racket that felt almost suffocating. “But… what if someone notices?” you whispered, voice shaky with uncertainty. A knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “I… I really don’t want to make things awkward.” His consistent kindness was a balm to your nerves, but in moments charged with intensity like this, his presence left you breathless, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that sent your mind racing. "If one of the Chrysos Heirs were to go missing…"

He leaned closer, a teasing light in his eyes. “Come on. Don’t you want to have a little excitement? Just for a moment, forget about everything else. Forget my title, and let me be an ordinary man in your life.” His breath tickled your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

Your heart fluttered at his words, but uncertainty still clung tightly to you. “I… I’ve never really done something like this,” you admitted, glancing anywhere to avoid his gaze.

“I can tell you’ve been waiting for a chance like this,” he pressed, his smile coaxing the walls around your heart to soften. “You’ve been looking at me all night, and I can see how much you want to escape just for a little while.”

“Maybe I have…” you murmured, biting your lip as you stole a glance at him. The thrill of his proposal both excited and terrified you. “But what if they do come looking for us?”

“Let them,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentle touch. “This moment is ours. What matters is what we want, not what they think.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his closeness, the warmth of his gaze making your heart race. “But… what if they find us?” you repeated, your voice wavering.

“Then we’ll just have to be clever about it. Think of a cozy place, just you and me. Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of?” It was hard to resist the pull of his enthusiasm.

You felt butterflies stir in your stomach at the thought. “And what… what would we do there?” you asked, your curiosity barely masking your apprehension.

“Maybe we could talk about all the things we’ve kept to ourselves, or just enjoy a quiet moment together without any distractions.” His tone was inviting, pulling you in like a gentle tide.

Your heart raced, visions of possibilities flashing through your mind. “That does sound nice…” you whispered though the words felt foreign on your tongue.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” he teased, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “So, what do you say? Let’s have a little fun tonight.”

You hesitated, the idea sparking a sense of adventure within you. Finally, the thrill outweighed your doubts. “Okay,” you agreed softly, your voice barely audible. “Let’s go.”

A triumphant smile broke across his face. “Perfect. Follow me. I promise you won’t regret it.” As you took a step forward, something in you stirred with an unexpected excitement, ready to embrace the night ahead.

As Phianon whisked you away from the jubilant crowd, you couldn't help but stare at him in awe. The way his hand grasped yours completely, linking fingers, sent a thrill through your body. Moving to a quieter spot, hidden from prying eyes, you felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

The night air was crisp and refreshing, with a gentle breeze weaving through the branches, causing the leaves to whisper secrets to one another. Leaning against the sturdy trunk of an ancient oak, Phianon held your hand firmly, his fingers threading through yours. The silver light of the moon cast a soft glow on his face, illuminating the warmth in his deep-set eyes as he turned to meet your gaze. "I've been waiting for a moment like this," he said, his voice a melodic whisper that seemed to resonate with your very thoughts.

You swallowed hard, the tension thickening the air between you. “Me too,” you confessed at last, attempting to inject a note of confidence into your tone despite the uncertainty fluttering in your chest. “It’s nice to escape the noise for a while, isn’t it?”

His smile was infectious, an upturn of his lips that brought a spark to his eyes. “Yeah, it's more peaceful here. With you.” The sound of crickets chirping in the background and the gentle rustling of branches created a tranquil symphony, making this secluded sanctuary feel like it belonged solely to you two.

As the serene atmosphere wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, you took a deep breath, the fresh scent of pine and earth filling your lungs. Your heart raced, each beat amplifying your need to address the growing feelings between you. “May I ask you something?” you ventured, your voice slightly unsteady, testing the waters with cautious optimism.

“Of course,” he replied, his expression open and encouraging as if he was inviting you to share your innermost thoughts.

Your palms felt damp against his warm hand, a mixture of anxiety and hope swirling within you. “Lately, I’ve been… well, I’ve been wondering. Do you like me?” The straightforwardness of the question hung heavily in the cool night air, charged with the potential gravity of his response.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features like a shooting star. "Like you? Of course! You’re amazing."

In that instant, a delicate flutter of hope blossomed in your chest, but the need for further clarity gnawed at you. “But do you like me as family, or… as a girl? A partner?” The question tumbled out, raw and unguarded, laying bare your vulnerability under the canopy of stars.

A long pause enveloped you, thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of anticipation. You longed to cease dancing around the truth, preferring the comfort of undeniable words instead of piecing together unspoken intentions.

With a playful smirk, he shifted closer, his teasing demeanor resuming as he met your gaze with a twinkle of mischief. “You want me to spell it out for you, huh? It’s not every day I get probed like this.” He leaned in even farther, a teasing look igniting in his eyes. “Are you sure you can handle the truth? It might be too much for a sweet individual like you.”

Your heart raced at his provocative tone, caught in the delightful tug-of-war between irritation and excitement. “Please stop dodging the question. Just be honest, Not as the esteemed heir, but as Phainon.”

With a laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck, his bravado wavering under the weight of your earnestness. “Alright, alright. You’ve caught me. It’s not just family affection. You’re… well, you’re someone I’ve always cared for more than I should have.”

His teasing demeanor dissolved, replaced by a palpable seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine. “I never said it before, not in my role as a Chrysos Heir. It felt too risky. But you deserve to know: I like you, like really like you. As more than just a sister, more than a friend. A partner.”

The sincerity in his voice washed over you like a warm wave, the flutter of hope within you transforming into a vibrant pool of joy and relief that intertwined in an exquisite dance.

As they stood together, the air crackling with unspoken words, a familiar warmth enveloped them. Moments passed as their laughter faded, leaving an intimate silence filled with the weight of everything unshared between them. He looked down at you, his heart racing as he recalled all the times you had been there to patch his wounds, both physical and emotional.

With each shared glance, the tension shifted, an invisible thread drawing them closer. He brushed a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, igniting a spark that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. You felt your heart race, but alongside that excitement, a whisper of doubt crept in—why would he choose someone like you?

Your breaths mingled, soft and hesitant. He hesitated just a beat longer, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. You looked up at him, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow not enough for him. His gaze held such intensity, and you wondered if he truly saw you, flaws and all.

With a gentle tilt of your chin, he invited himself in, and as he leaned closer, your mind raced with all the reasons he shouldn't want this. The kiss that followed was delicate, a soft exploration that spoke volumes of the connection you had slowly built over countless shared experiences. But as his lips brushed against yours, a part of you felt unworthy of such tenderness.

As the kiss lingered, he pulled back slightly, a teasing sparkle dancing in his crystal blue eyes. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to invite me in like that for ages,” he whispered, his voice low and playful.

A warm blush flared in your cheeks, spreading like wildfire, yet the heat mingled with embarrassment. You looked down, fiddling with your fingers, struggling to find a reply as insecurity gnawed at your insides. You couldn’t ignore the feeling that there was something inherently wrong with you—how could he possibly want you when there were so many others so much better?

Before you could gather your thoughts, he leaned closer, drawing you into his orbit. His breath tickled your ear, warm and inviting, sending delightful shivers down your spine, yet deep down, your heart felt heavy with doubt. “I was beginning to think I needed to adopt a bolder strategy,” he murmured, the hint of mystery weaving through his tone. “But that’s my little secret.”

A frown tugged at your lips, frustration bubbling up within you. “If I’ve laid my heart bare,” you protested softly, glancing up through your lashes, “then you have to spill your secrets too.” The sparkle of curiosity in your eyes misrepresented the vulnerability you felt—would he be willing to share himself with someone like you?

“Hmm, how about this one: I can’t stop thinking about how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you like this?” He leaned closer, his gaze intense and sincere. “Does that count?”

Your heart fluttered at his admission, but the doubt lingered, making it hard to embrace the moment fully. “Yeah- …yeah, that counts,” you stammered, your voice faltering as your cheeks heated even more. “So …what’s stopping you from another?” you whispered cautiously, just wanting to understand how someone so seemingly perfect could want you.

His eyes sparkled as he brought his lips just inches from yours, the tension palpable in the air. In a low, sultry whisper, he breathed out, “Nothing at all.” Then, with a gentle tenderness, he closed the distance and kissed you softly, his lips caressing yours like a feather, igniting a warmth that spread through you, leaving a sweet sensation long after the kiss had ended.

After the kiss, he pulled back just slightly, his lips brushing against your nose as he planted a soft kiss there. A tender smile spread across his face as he moved to your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss that felt like a promise. He then leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, a silent declaration of his affection.

Finally, he shifted to your shoulder, resting his head there, his breath warm against your skin. In that moment of stillness, he hoped you could feel the depth of his feelings—the way he cherished every part of you, the way you made him feel alive. It was his silent way of saying what words sometimes failed to convey, hoping you would understand that this was more than a fleeting moment; it was a connection he held dear.

As he lingered in the dim light, he sensed the tension coiling tightly in your shoulders. With a gentle, deliberate movement, he lifted his head to meet your gaze. "Hey," he murmured softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You okay?"

You hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in your eyes, casting shadows across your face. "I just… sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve this. Like I’m not enough."

His heart ached at your words, a sharp twist of empathy wrapping around him. "You are more than enough," he insisted, his voice steady and sincere. "Don’t let those dark doubts confuse what’s real between us."

Your lips tightened into a thin line, and he could see the struggle etched in your features. "It’s hard to shake those feelings. I want to believe you, I really do.” you replied, your voice barely a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

Taking your hands in his, he squeezed gently, a lifeline threaded between you. "Then let me help you. Look at me—this is real, and it’s not going anywhere. You’ve captured my heart, and I desperately want you to see what I see."

Your expression softened, a flicker of hope igniting in your eyes, and he hoped that his sincerity could pierce through the veil of doubt clouding your heart. "I see you," he continued, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that felt magnetic, "the amazing person you are. Just trust in us."

You took a deep breath, drawing in the weight of his words, nodding slowly as if weighing them like precious gems. At that moment, he knew you both had crossed an invisible threshold together, a small but significant step towards trusting in the love you were nurturing, like a tender bloom pushing through the frost.

A/N: From what I understood of her character, she's kind and has a poor self-image due to past trauma. Honestly, I knew of the Fate series but never got into it due to the complexity of it's story. I noticed she's got another side present in a separate route, but, assumed you wanted her kinder self. One where she's timid, sweet, hesitant, etc. I hope I wrote the reader to your satisfaction! If not, you can always send another request.

[forestdeath1]

pls pls pls more prongsfoot bdsm!!!!!!

Ok then!! Sirius never even knew he could be a sub — until James. But with James, it was so natural, so easy, that he didn’t even realise when he switched.

James is fucking gorgeous when he’s in his element, and Sirius loves it. Loves it so much it makes his stomach flip. That confidence, the way James does everything like he owns it, makes it so easy for Sirius to just let go. To stop controlling everything. He’s a good sub for James, a fucking good one. It didn’t happen all at once but Sirius could feel himself breaking apart, piece by piece. And the first time he hit subspace, it finally clicked — how much he needed this, how much he had always needed this. How this was on a whole different level of intimacy. How this wasn’t about sex at all. It was about trust. About them.

James loves that he’s the only one Sirius would ever kneel for. That it’s his privilege and no one else’s. There’s nothing better than having someone so proud give himself to you; having power over someone who never bows to anyone. And that first time — when Sirius surrendered completely — James felt something he’d never felt so fucking intensely before. This raw, deep need to take care of him. It hit him like a punch to the chest, how fucking perfect Sirius was — especially in that moment. Kneeling, looking up at James, wrists tied behind his back, covered in cum, sweat and tears, trying to catch his breath. His eyes wide open, hazy and wrecked, but full of nothing except trust — except the desperate, willing need to take more, to be more for James. And James just held him by the hair, still almost fully dressed, and watched him. His masterpiece. His most beautiful thing. The proudest. The strongest. Looking at James like James was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Awwwww I love them

[laurajb]

"Changing Tides"

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as I stepped out onto the balcony of our beach house, a steaming mug of coffee in my hand. The salty sea air filled my lungs as I breathed deeply, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore a soothing soundtrack to my morning. I leaned against the railing, my silk robe fluttering in the gentle breeze, and gazed out at the vast expanse of blue stretching before me.

It had been two years since everything changed. Two years since that fateful surfing competition when I caught an unusual wave and swallowed a mouthful of contaminated water. I still remember the burning sensation as it coursed through my body, the foreign chemicals altering me from the inside out. Within hours, my lean, muscular physique had begun to shift and change. My skin softened, my shoulders narrowed, my hips widened. Breasts swelled beneath my chest, my cock and balls retracting inward to form a tight, hairless slit.

I had woken up in the hospital, disoriented and confused. But there was no denying the truth staring back at me in the mirror - where once a young male surfer had looked out, now stood a stunning woman. The doctors were baffled, assuring me it was a rare mutation, an anomaly. But all I could think about was how my life was over. No more competitions, no more riding the waves that had been my passion. I wanted to die.

I managed a weak smile at the memory. Jake had been my rock through it all. The one constant as my entire world transformed. And now, he was my husband. We had fallen in love over late night talks and lazy beach days, slowly healing my broken spirit. Our bond grew deeper with each passing month until he got down on one knee, his eyes glistening with emotion as he asked me to be his wife.

Of course I said yes. Our wedding had been a beautiful, intimate affair on this very beach. Just close friends and family gathered to celebrate our love. As I walked towards him in a white lace gown, a thrill ran through me, my whole body buzzing with desire. Jake had appreciated my new form from the start, worshipping every inch of my soft skin and dangerous curves. He showed me how sexy I was, how much pleasure this body was capable of.

Now, as his wife, I had discovered a whole new world of sensations. My surfer lungs proved incredibly useful in the bedroom, allowing me to take him as deep as he wanted. Jake would throw his head back and moan as I enveloped him in my hot, slick mouth, sucking him down my throat again and again. The obscene sounds of my slurping and gagging filled the room as I swallowed around his thick cock. He'd tug my hair, fucking my face until he exploded, flooding my throat with his seed. I'd lick my lips, reveling in the taste of him.

It was a different kind of ride, but one I had grown addicted to. Most mornings began with me on my knees, wrapping my lips around his morning wood as he watched the sun rise. My pussy would soak through my panties as he used my mouth, dripping arousal down my thighs. His fingers would slip beneath my negligee to tease my clit, making me writhe and moan around him. I loved pleasuring my husband in every way I could.

A large hand slid around my waist from behind and I grinned, sinking back into Jake's solid chest. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling my neck. I shivered as he kissed and nipped at my sensitive skin, his cock stiffening against my ass. Spinning in his arms, I looped my own around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. "Morning, handsome," I breathed against his lips before claiming his mouth again.

We made love right there on the balcony, not caring who might see. I wanted everyone to know I was his. He hiked up my robe and entered me with one smooth thrust, stretching me open on his thick length. "Fuck, you're always so wet for me," he groaned, starting to move. I just mewled in bliss, folding my legs around his waist as he pounded into my slick heat. The sound of our moans and the wet slap of skin on skin mingled with the waves.

Jake set a relentless pace, grunting with effort as he chased his release. I could feel my own building, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Come on my cock, baby," he panted, "show me how good it feels." With a cry, I shattered, clamping down on him like a vice. That pushed him over the edge and he erupted, flooding my fluttering channel with his cum. We clung to each other, gasping for breath and trembling through the aftershocks.

Eventually, he softened and slipped out, a river of our combined fluids dripping down my thighs. "I love you," I whispered, touching his cheek. "I love you too," he vowed, "no matter what. You're more than enough, Alecia. I'm so fucking lucky." Happy tears pricked at my eyes. He was right, I was lucky. Different, but still me. And I had him.

Hand in hand, we went to shower and start our day, his cum still trickling from my used cunt. The contaminated water had taken my old life, but given me something so much better. A beautiful body and an even more beautiful love. As Jake lathered me up, I smiled to myself, knowing I wouldn't trade a single inch of my new curves. Not when they brought my husband such pleasure. This was my new forever and I couldn't wait to ride every wave with him.

[bvrnesher]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐊

cw: none.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 ! 𝒄𝒉𝒃. 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ¡ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉. 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕.

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦𝗡’𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗗 planned; it just kind of happened.

You and Jason weren’t exactly close. You’d see each other around camp occasionally, but you never really interacted, at least not the way you’d wanted to.

Sometimes, though, he’d catch himself glancing your way, finding you at the archery range or just watching you with a small smile whenever he noticed your hair catching the summer sunlight.

Could you blame him? You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he knew his share of pretty girls. But you... He wasn’t sure if it was just your looks or the fact that you always gave him a smile every time your eyes met. That smile? It could light up the whole damn Olympian world.

It didn’t take long for him to notice that every morning, without fail, you sat at the pavilion for breakfast with your half-siblings. And every morning, you had a carton of strawberry milk in hand, no matter what you were eating.

Jason knew today was one of those days when you helped out in the infirmary. The days when you usually skipped breakfast, staying busy taking care of the campers who were hurt.

He didn’t think much of it, just figured it would be a nice gesture—something that might cheer you up a bit. After breakfast, he grabbed an extra carton of that strawberry milk. Not much, but enough to break the ice.

With the carton in hand, he made his way to the infirmary, where he knew he’d find you. Not like he’d memorized your schedule or anything—he did.

When he reached the infirmary, he peeked inside and saw you organizing bandages. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Hey, you're busy?" he greeted gently, lowering his gaze to meet yours. "I noticed you’ve been working hard in here, so... I don’t know, thought you might like a little break." He smiled, charming but a bit shy, scratching the back of his neck.

When you heard him speak, you glanced around, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else. Maybe he’d made a mistake? But no, it was just the two of you in the infirmary.

It took a second for your brain to catch up. Oh. Oh, he’s actually talking to me. Well, that wasn’t something you expected today.

"Oh—no, no!" You waved your hands frantically, shaking your head maybe a little too fast.

Embarrassment flooded you as you felt your cheeks heat up. You gave him an awkward smile.

"I mean, yeah, I’d love a break."

Perfect. That’ll scare him off.

Jason’s smile widened slightly at your reaction, and for a moment, he completely forgot why he was even here. He just kind of stood there, staring at you like an idiot—until he realized you were looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, flashing you a shy but undeniably charming smile. Gods, was this man even real?

"Oh, good," he said, then hesitated, like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

You stood there, unsure how to respond to that incredibly deep, meaningful statement. Your gaze flickered over him, taking him in from head to toe—something he definitely noticed, because he straightened up slightly, looking a little uncomfortable (or more like flustered) under your scrutiny.

Your eyes landed on the carton of milk in his hand—strawberry milk. Your favorite. You raised an eyebrow. Jason Grace didn’t exactly seem like the type to drink strawberry milk.

"Oh, you like that?" You asked with a small smile, latching onto the first topic of conversation that came to mind.

He blinked at you, clearly confused.

"The milk," you clarified, nodding toward the carton in his hand.

Jason mentally cursed himself. He’d completely forgotten to give it to you.

"Oh—uh, not really," he admitted.

You frowned slightly, tilting your head. He quickly clarified, "I mean, it’s good, but it’s not for me." He extended the milk toward you.

Your eyes dropped to the milk carton on his outstretched hand, surprised by the unexpected gesture.

"Oh, thanks," you said, taking the small carton with a soft smile. "It’s my favorite. That’s really sweet of you."

You flashed him a smile. A smile so bright that Jason almost swore his knees almost gave out.

"Huh. Yeah. No problem," he said quickly, trying to brush it off. "It’s nothing, really. I just… noticed you liked it, so I figured you might want one."

"Oh, no. It is something, Grace," you interrupted, "I mean, it’s thoughtful. Not a lot of people would even notice something like that. So, thanks."

Jason smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. A short silence settled between you before he finally spoke again.

"Need any help here? Looks like you’ve got a lot on your plate."

You nodded.

"Yeah, an extra pair of hands would be nice. Thanks, again."

You shot him a grin and went to open your milk—except, for some reason, you just couldn’t get the stupid thing open. You muttered a curse in Ancient Greek under your breath, still struggling, silently praying you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of Jupiter’s golden boy.

"Let me," Jason said, taking the milk from your hands before you could protest. Your fingers brushed, and a small jolt of electricity sparked between you.

You had to pray to all the gods not to start blushing like an idiot.

"Here," he repeated, handing you the now-opened carton.

You took the carton.

"Gods, at this rate, the only word I'm gonna say while I'm with you is 'thanks.' And, thanks," you joked, managing to pull a laugh out of him.

"And is that a bad thing?" He tilted his head, looking a little more relaxed now.

You shook your head. "Not at all. Actually, it's sweet. You're sweet." The last part slipped out before you could process what it meant.

He blushed, but you were almost as red as the strawberries you loved so much. Was this a competition to see who could get a deeper shade of red than Superman’s underwear?

He caught sight of your reaction to your own words and tried to stifle a laugh.

"Don’t worry. A slip of the tongue happens to everyone," he said gently. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.

"Yeah, sure. But I’m not taking it back. Honestly, calling you 'sweet' doesn’t even come close," you admitted, flashing him a smile.

He just stared at you, lost for words, until his brain finally caught up, and then he smiled at you, even more charming than before, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"Huh, you too," he said, quickly clearing his throat. "I mean, you’re pretty. I mean, sweet... I— Gorgeous," he admitted.

You might have died right then and there, but you would’ve died happy knowing that Jason Grace called you gorgeous. No doubt about it.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, finally.

"Nope. I’m free as soon as I finish here." You took a sip of your drink, courtesy of Jason.

ꪆৎ. 1,181 words.

Heyy! This is my first post here. English isn't my native language, so any corrections or advice are welcome.

[callme-holly]

Hi! I love your work so so much omg it's so beautiful 💕 Could you do a Dallas x reader where Dallas is in the reader's room for the first time? And the reader has lots of vinyls and is showing them all to him and lots of books and poster and is just rambling about everything in their room. Just something cute yk. Thank you!!! 💕💕

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: somehow writing dallas fics is comforting to me

If there was one place that represented you as a person, a single space that captured your entire personality, it would be your room. It was one of the only places that you truly felt like yourself, like you were exactly where you belonged. Your walls were adorned with posters, all displaying the things you loved most, shelves covering the wall opposite your bed, covered with books of different sizes, each one well-loved and cared for. Atop your dresser sat a small record player, a stack of vinyls beside it, one spinning under the needle, eliciting a crisp melody that drifted throughout the space.

Everything, every single thing in that room, held meaning, reflected you as a person, and Dallas had never felt more out of place in all his life. He was propped up against your headboard, watching you fondly as you bustled around the room, pointing all the little things out to him, showing him your newest vinyl like it was a prized trophy you held close to your heart.

He’d never really understood your interests; he didn’t get what was so special about records when you had the radio, and he certainly didn’t understand books. He’d only read one in his entire life, and he vowed to never read another after the entire gang had ribbed him for it. But right now, watching the way your whole face lit up as you spoke, he decided that listening to you ramble wasn’t so bad.

With a tentative, almost lazy gesture of his hand, he reached out for the vinyl you were holding, taking it from you and examining it carefully. He was barely registering the words that left your mouth as he read over the front and back, humming absently.

“It’s real nice,” he acknowledges after a moment, unable to contain his smirk as he watched you take it back and set it gently on the pile once more. “They don’t have feelings, ya know. You ain’t gotta pamper them and be all soft with them. They're records."

The look you gave him in response was the same as if he would have slapped you around the face. Shocked, horrified, and slightly hurt. "They're fragile, Dal. What if they broke?" do

He rolls his eyes but holds his arms out for you nonetheless, hating the thought of you being upset because of him. He winds his arms around your middle, pulling you into his lap, hands resting on your hips steadily.

"They're fine," he assures you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "What else do you got to show me?" 

You smile widely at that, settling comfortably on his chest and letting out a long sigh of contentment. "Well... I got a new book... And I put up some new posters." You continue to talk for a few minutes, your world not really registering in Dallas' head, but he just likes listening to you speak, loves the way you relax. Without really thinking, he leans in and cuts you off with a kiss, smirking when you stare at him stunned for a moment.

"What was that for?" You huff, raising your eyebrows pointendly, earning a shrug from him.

"Dunno. You just looked real pretty, doll. Couldn't not kiss ya." His words cause your cheeks to flush, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"Don't be an idiot." 

"wasn't trying to be," he hums, and you can hear the cocky lilt in his voice, his smugness shining through like the last rays of sun currently shining through the cracks in your blinds. "Just stating the facts."

You shake your head fondly and snuggle closer, enjoying the feel of his body heat against yours, his lips pressed softly to your hairline.

"Idiot..." you breathe, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

"You love me." he responds easily, and as much as you want to deny it just to keep his ego in check, you find that you can't, and instead melt against him like putty.

"Yeah... I do." 

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fiction Free-for-All Book Bracket Tournament: Round 1A

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The School for Good and Evil series (The School for Good and Evil, A World Without Princes, The Last Ever After, Quests for Glory, A Crystal of Time, One True King, and other stories) by Soman Chainani

Endorsement from submitter: "Not very known nowadays, and even back when these books were famous they were not that popular, but they’re a wonderful discussion of romantic and platonic love, what that can mean to each person, and what does it mean to have a happy ever after - and what one would do to get it. It’s a very queer story even if rarely any sexualities are explicitly confirmed - especially because this is not a context in which the language we use is known. The author himself is openly gay and the two main characters are heavily coded as somewhere on the aromantic spectrum, especially Sophie. It also has themes of expectations of love and romance and of course, above all of that, said discussion on morality and what does it mean to be Good or Evil. Side characters present even more aspects of queerness."

The first kidnappings happened two hundred years before. Some years it was two boys taken, some years two girls, sometimes one of each. But if at first the choices seemed random, soon the pattern became clear. One was always beautiful and good, the child every parent wanted as their own. The other was homely and odd, an outcast from birth. An opposing pair, plucked from youth and spirited away.

This year, best friends Sophie and Agatha are about to discover where all the lost children go: the fabled School for Good & Evil, where ordinary boys and girls are trained to be fairy tale heroes and villains. As the most beautiful girl in Gavaldon, Sophie has dreamed of being kidnapped into an enchanted world her whole life. With her pink dresses, glass slippers, and devotion to good deeds, she knows she’ll earn top marks at the School for Good and graduate a storybook princess. Meanwhile Agatha, with her shapeless black frocks, wicked pet cat, and dislike of nearly everyone, seems a natural fit for the School for Evil.

But when the two girls are swept into the Endless Woods, they find their fortunes reversed—Sophie’s dumped in the School for Evil to take Uglification, Death Curses, and Henchmen Training, while Agatha finds herself in the School For Good, thrust amongst handsome princes and fair maidens for classes in Princess Etiquette and Animal Communication. But what if the mistake is actually the first clue to discovering who Sophie and Agatha really are…?

Fantasy, fairytale, boarding school, series, middle grade

Running Close to the Wind by Alexandra Rowland

Avra Helvaçi, former field agent of the Araşti Ministry of Intelligence, has accidentally stolen the single most expensive secret in the world―and the only place to flee with a secret that big is the open sea.

To find a buyer with deep enough pockets, Avra must ask for help from his on-again, off-again ex, the pirate Captain Teveri az-Ḥaffār. They are far from happy to see him, but together, they hatch a plan: take the information to the isolated pirate republic of the Isles of Lost Souls, fence it, profit. The only things in their way? A calculating new Araşti ambassador to the Isles of Lost Souls who’s got his eyes on Avra’s every move; Brother Julian, a beautiful, mysterious new member of the crew with secrets of his own and a frankly inconvenient vow of celibacy; the fact that they’re sailing straight into sea serpent breeding season and almost certain doom.

But if they can find a way to survive and sell the secret on the black market, they’ll all be as wealthy as kings―and, more important, they’ll be legends.

Fantasy, humor, adventure, secondary world, queernorm, adult

[lire-casander]

For the drabble asks: 🫂

🫂 Comforting hugs

He remembers everything. It is part of the punishment for the crime of having been sacrificed and sent to Hell—his memory stashes everything that has ever happened to him. Good, bad, it does not matter; he will remember it. Sometimes, it is good—he remembers every interaction he has had with the people he loves. He remembers the first case they had solved together—the hug that had followed, spreading love through his whole soul.

But oftentimes it is dreadful.

Now, with Niko gone, Edwin finds himself replaying in his mind every moment they have spent together; especially that last morning on the rooftop, when the world had seemed to come to a halt around them. Edwin shudders at the memory of his friend, beautiful and sage and alive, as they sat on the edge and watched Port Townsend wake up.

No one’s ever gone, he had told her, bumping his shoulder against hers in an attempt to cheer her up in the face of his imminent departure. And Niko—ever the empath, as he had noted—had seen right through him and his half-truths, before lunging forward and hugging him.

We won’t be apart either, she had replied against his neck. We’ll always be together, here. She had touched his chest right over where his heart had once been, and he had not found it in him to tell Niko that there was nothing left there, as much as he would have wanted to. For, as much as he tries to make up for the time he has spent in Hell—for the sins he did not have the time to commit—there is no beating heart in him where he can store the memories of his loved ones.

And yet, that particular memory of the person who had understood him the most stings in a way nothing has ever hurt him before—hard, fast and indelibly. The hug sweeps out of his memory and into his ghostly limbs, warming him up as tears well up, once again, in his eyes.

He hopes that Niko is in Heaven, where she belongs. And he hopes she is watching over him. Sometimes, he thinks that he can feel her, that same warmth spreading out from inside out at the most unpredictable times, like a warm, comforting hug.

And it is in those times that Edwin allows himself to truly smile.

send me an emoji and i'll write you a drabble!

[exitingmusic]

Dog Tags

AN: Just a little blurb before bed, got this idea during the Super Bowl and I couldn't stop thinking bout it. I won't lie this idea made me tear up earlier so i only felt good if i could make other people feel the same way :)

Warnings: blood, death, angst

You were exhausted from running around, patching up soldier after soldier, not having enough time to even look at the dead one's faces before her watch pinged you of someone else needing help.

Right now, you were sprinting through tunnels underground, this one farther away than most. Dead bodies littered the halls, none you recognized in your quick passing.

The 141 had teamed up with the local forces to stop Makarov's forces from blowing up the tunnel. There had been more troops than expected, turning into a massacre, you having to watch your step to avoid all of the bodies.

As you were nearing your destination, you could see a clearing between two tracks, instantly recognizing one of the figures as Ghost. His mask making him easy to identify.

Your stomach dropped. One of the 141 was hurt. Was it Price? Gaz?

You sprinted faster, slowing as you saw them surrounding a body on the ground, the all too familiar face of Soap, your Soap, looking blankly at the sky.

The men instantly parted for you, guilt flashing in their faces as you could see your soldier clearly.

Nonononononononononono.

You dropped to your knees next to his head, desperately feeling for a pulse even though you knew there wasn't one.

Tears blurred your vision as your hands fumbled around, trying hopelessly to find any source of life from the man lying in front of you.

You felt someone's hand touch your shoulder and heard Price's gruff voice, "M' sorry but he's gone hon'."

Shaking your head, you cradled Soap's head in your lap, his beloved mohawk squished and covered in blood from where the bullet was shot into his head.

It wasn't possible, maybe it was just some prank. Maybe he'd suddenly blink and laugh and brush away your tears while holding you to his chest, apologizing for how dramatic he was.

But the longer you stared into his empty baby blue eyes you knew he wasn't going to blink.

You knew he'd never give you that beautiful smile that lit your whole world up. You knew he'd never laugh so hard he'd clutch your shoulder, crying. You knew he'd never carry you to bed after falling asleep watching a movie. You knew you'd never wake up with his arms around you, his face nestled into your neck.

Letting out a choked sob, you pressed your face into his bloody shirt, not paying attention to your pinging watch. They didn't matter anymore. No one mattered anymore. Not when your soldier, your love, your life was gone. No one else deserved to live when he was gone.

The men let you grieve as long as possible, keeping watch for any enemy soldiers, any that threatened to take you, knowing they already failed their brother in arms once, they wouldn't fail him again by letting you go with him.

You didn't know how long you stayed there, your body shaking with sobs before Ghost picked you up, Soap's body being taken away to somewhere else. Somewhere away from you.

Price was kind enough to tuck Soap's dog tags in your hand, your fist immediately grabbing hold of them and tucking them into your chest.

You didn't feel the rumbling of the car as you took off, didn't feel Ghost carrying you out, didn't feel him putting you in your bed.

No.

You felt the dig of the metal dog tags in your hand. You felt the cool sheets, normally warm from Soap's body.

But most of all, you felt the absence of him. The absence of your other half, forever.

[hurtspideyparker]

ur so right bestie, doing the good work 🙏

mirrorball for Tony Stark means you actually understand his character yesss. Like he acts arrogant because he's the most insecure man in Marvel! He secretly tries so hard to be liked and it never works so he just hides bc he'd rather they hate someone he isn't than someone he is. All he does is TRY TRY TRY. The fact that his death was not only foreshadowed from the first Avengers movie but constantly alluded to. How the worst part about the vision Wanda gave him in AOU wasn't that his friends died, it was that he didn't die with them? He's never enough, my pookie 😭

right where you left me for Strange. I'm not a huge Strange fan but now you got me feeling sad, it's such a perfect song choice. Like damn maybe I do feel bad about him and Christine 😞. Plus the fact that his whole life stopped when he lost control of his hands, meanwhile everyone else's kept going. Everything he cared about was tied to being a surgeon

HOW DARE U! The Prophecy is so near and dear to me I can't believe you'd place this burden on Clinton. He really just could not have it all no matter what. He tried to change his fate but his grip was too weak. "no sign of soulmates" AND NAT IS THE SOUL STONE. thanks now I'll cry everytime I hear that line ✌️

I see what you've done for Bucky Barnes. I see it, and it's too perfect. "Fighting in only your army" when all he does is go to war to fight beside a man who leaves him. "Always rising from the ashes" the way he LITERALLY falls as well as metaphorically before being forced to rise again and again. My man needs to rest. They are constantly torn apart and pulled back together, Bucky is barely a full person anymore.

Natasha as Peace spending her existence fighting for her life, and then trying to scrub herself clean of all the life she took. She joins all these great honourable heroes to try to live up to something good for a change but all she sees in herself is her past. Feeling like she's tainting them by associating with them. Feeling as if she's never done enough good to make up for it. I could never give you peace—to Clint, to her family, to the world that believes in her. She'll die trying, burn out her flame to keep you warm. "Your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the walls" Steve and Tony. The believer and the futurist. "All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" and she did. she loved Clint so much, he gave her the peace she wasn't able to return until the end

loml for Peter Parker is easy pickings I won't even entertain this. In every universe man. EVERY UNIVERSE Peter Parker loses Gwen Stacy. He knew he wasn't supposed to go near her, and yet 😞

Long Live for my precious baby boy 😭💖 I fear I've never thought of this and now I'm jealous of ur brain. I really needed this. He is the golden boy and so many people were rooting for him. Tony, May, MJ, Ned, Happy... the way he used to be filled with such light and eagerness. He glows in my eyes

My girl Yelena deserves this song so bad. Would've Could've Should've is one of the most scathing and despairing songs a girl could relate to. And obviously it fits Dreykov, that freak, but also Alexei. The way he handed that 6 year old over when all she knew was safety and love under him. They took everything from her and now all she can think about are the years without free will forever haunting her because grown men thought she made a good commodity

I've never thought of a song for Pepper but Cornelia Street is a beautiful selection. Tony was such a rocky choice for her but it was the right choice, and she never knew when it would be his last time putting on that suit. The city screams his name, her work her life her daughter her everything. It was all his once too.

Loki How Did It End is so not cool. He wasn't supposed to have an end, and yet here he is. Genuinely gone this time. "A touch that was my birthright became foreign" that hurts so much knowing that his entire life seemed to be a lie to him. He would never get the throne, or their love, or out of Thor's shadow because it was never his to be in the first place. How did he get here, willing to die for Thor? To not have a way out this time? Come one come all is happening again. But he still doesn't know how it was really the end this time.

My tears ricochet is really just the icing on the cake huh. "We gather stones... you know I didn't want to have to haunt you" when they pair that with the time travel scenes and then Natasha's. Gutted. "I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home" and the home is 2012-2015 domestic Avengers 😭😭😭 noooo. The way so many relationships were broken and they all had to come together in the end because the trust never fully went away.

Here's some of my personal Taylor Swift marvel comparisons:

Fresh Out The Slammer as a Bucky anthem. "Bitter, he was with her in dreams" Endgame Steve when I catch you 😠👊 "I'm the girl of his American dreams" Steve the American icon and his great sidekick Bucky! "where we used to sit on children's swings" nuff said... "but it's gonna be alright, I did my time". Bucky's been a prisoner for decades. Now that he's free he can finally live a normal life with Steve right? right???

Tolerate it as Homecoming Peter Parker (irondad). Peter as NWH Peter Parker (lol). But it's sooo Spideychelle coded "said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me"

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys as Steve Rogers. EVERYONE HE LOVES HE HURTS. Bucky Tony Natasha Peggy. All his closest friends and/or lovers. He stays till they get all smashed up then picks up the next shiny thing (I love Steve but it's true)

For a little fun and whimsy: I Did Something Bad for Loki. Plus "they're burning all the witches even if you aren't one" how he's always teased and blamed growing up. Then growing to embrace the mischief and deciding to truly be at the center of all the problems, even when they weren't his to begin with. "They say I did something bad but why's it feel so good ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ mortals 🙄"

Thor as Castles Crumbling. Everyone believed he was the next great king, including, most importantly, himself. Then seeing him slowly abandoning Asgard for Earth, then losing it to Hela, and finally having Thanos tear it to pieces. He completely gave up being king and passed it off to Valkyrie. "They used to cheer when they saw my face now I fear I have fallen from grace" "I will just let you down you don't wanna know me now" "I held that grudge til' it tore me apart" "my foes and friends watch my rein end" still mad about how they made Thor's depression and weight gain into a comedy bit.

Wanda as mad woman. Girl is literally the witch on the stake every movie 😭 first the Stark bomb drives her mad, Ultron torments her, then it's the media terrified of her because she couldn't control the bomb someone else set off, the loss of Vision due to Thanos, the entire Westview incident and her children... she does bad things but every single time it's because she was hurt so deeply first. she's just crashing out !!! "what a shame she went mad, you made her like that"

marvel characters as taylor swift songs but i take no critiques

tony stark:

stephen strange:

clint barton:

bucky barnes:

natasha romanoff:

peter parker (andrew)

peter parker (tom)

yelena belova:

pepper potts:

loki:

[bonefall]

OMG intersex Moonpaw with a cleft lip???

I just used it as an example because cleft lips and palates are a really good example of the quirks of bilateral symmetry, BUT I do actually have a cleft lip in BB LMAO

It's Lizardstripe because she got a glow up in BB, is one of the smartest and most competent background characters in the rewrite, and has an expanded friendship with both Bluestar and Yellowfang. I gave her a cleft lip because unironically it is such a cool feature and it deserves a million examples of positivity.

Her son Deerfoot also got it, he also got a glowup as a TigerClan rebel.

I should give it to more cats honestly... and more lip features in general. I love you people whose lips naturally curl above the teeth. I love you people with cleft lips, both severe and minor. I love you people who have had mouth surgery and have visible scars.

[wildsaltair]

[fancycolours]

My Darlin' Dear 💜

[yujateaandpi]

Hi guys! Yujatea here! If you enjoy my work, I’d like to please ask for a moment of your time to consider helping this family I’m supporting! Shaima is a mother of four children, Abdul Rahim, Walid, Majdi, and baby Amal. Shaima is struggling to support her children since her husband disappeared, and needs urgent help with providing food and resources for them, especially as winter sweeps through Gaza! This family’s fundraising campaign (@familgazaamal1) is completely vetted and I’m trying to use my platforms to raise awareness on their behalf. I’ll be opening my commissions to raise funds for their campaign so keep your eyes peeled! I’ll also post their fundraiser link in my highlights as well! Thanks guys! Let’s do our part to reclaim kindness and uplift each other!

Here's a message from the family:

In Gaza, where conflict looms over daily life, children’s dreams remain a ray of hope. Abdul Rahim, a young boy, dreams of becoming a famous artist, using his drawings to tell the world about the beauty of his homeland. Walid, on the other hand, dreams of playing football in a big stadium, representing his country despite the obstacles around him. Majdi, a cat lover, dreams of becoming a kind person and helping children. Majdi, who dreams of opening an animal shelter to care for animals in Gaza. Even in the midst of war, these children cling to their dreams, believing that one day, despite the difficulties, they will achieve their goals. Their dreams are not only about personal success, but also about shedding light on a world filled with darkness. These dreams symbolize the resilience of Gaza’s children, showing that hope and determination can survive even the most difficult circumstances.

In the heart of the ongoing war, Shaima lives with her four children, constantly struggling with pain and waiting. Her husband, who was once the source of security and happiness, left a long time ago, facing the challenges of war far from them. Every day, Shaima makes earnest efforts to keep life going despite the hardships. She strives to provide food and shelter while trying to instill hope in the hearts of her children, who are still waiting for their father’s return, a father they know little about other than his absence. Her four children, despite their young age, carry great hopes in their hearts. The eldest, who everyone sees as the "little father," dreams of their father returning to embrace them as he did in the past. The youngest, on the other hand, wakes up at night searching for his father's voice, wishing for his return to feel safe again. Shaima's dream is every mother’s dream in this war: for her husband to return safely so they can live together again in peace and security. She dreams of the days when her husband filled their home with joy, and she prays for the end of the war so their family can reunite once more. Yet, amid the destruction and tears, hope remains their strength. Shaima knows that her patience and resilience are what keep the family going. Despite the difficult days, she continues to resist, dreaming of the moment when her family will be whole again, with her husband and the father of her children back home.