#i feel like it's such a weird and impossible ask

[marsmaximoff]

i’m begging you. namgyu x reader, it’s lights out and namgyu needs to relieve his stress, SMUT!!! but consensual duh

🌑; lights out * ✧₊☽⋆˚

content warning: fem!reader. smut. unprotected. exhibitionism. praise/degradation. light choking. fingers sucking. getting caught. cum swallowing.

word count: 1k

author's note: oh, anon, if only you knew the way i smiled when i read the request.... anyway, first time posting smut (you can tell), and can we talk about how fucking weird writing it is? i did what i could, also english is not my mother language so bare with me. im sorry y’all 😔😔

dividers by @cafekitsune and @strangergraphics <3

voting leaves the room plunged into an eerie environment. you lay awake, haunted by the hopeless souls, when some ruffling is heard and your bed sinks slightly. you don’t need to ask to know who it is.

“you good?” he doesn’t have to utter a single word to show his agitation. the sounds he lets out are proof enough.

“i can’t fucking fall asleep. those x motherfuckers are riling me up the wrong fucking way.” he scoffs while finally lying down. uneasiness is clearly staining his voice, and you know that tone; he’s on the edge.

“you high?” he snuggles closer to you, pressing his back to your chest before playfully whispering in your ear, “how’s that feel to you, baby? mhm?”, his hard-on against your lower back. 

“fuck” 

“exactly,” he purrs. “i’m desperate as fuck.” needy hands begin to roam all over your body. “and you’re gonna help me.” he leaves a sloppy kiss on your neck before rasping out, “right?” his fiery breath has goosebumps exploding on your skin alongside a certain pressure starting to arise on your belly. still, you’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers all piled up mere inches away. “can’t you get out and jerk it off?” his frisky laugh intensifies your arousal and you feel yourself getting hotter with every word he mutters. how can someone’s voice be so damn attractive? “why the hell would i do that when i have you right here? come on, be good for me.” his hands move underneath your shirt, and the dangerous mix of his alluring tone with the fire the physical contact is igniting on your back while he caresses it with his fingertips turns your brain into mush, making it almost impossible to stay sensible. 

“shit, gyu. here? now?” you make an incredible effort to fight your lust, “shhhh. don’t you wanna help relieve my stress?” and he shatters all of it, sending your remaining clarity away.

“fuck, yes.” you turn around and immediately yank his face towards yours, finally tasting heaven-like relief. “good girl,” he pants against your lips. “you feel so much better.” the kiss is messy and hungry. desperate. like you need it to survive. and in a way, he does. 

when your tongues make it too laborious to breathe, he pulls back with your lower lip caged in between his teeth. “why don’t you ride me a bit, mhmh? make me forget those assholes.” you don’t think ‘no’ could ever be a possible answer, not to him. so you nod, already craving that pleasure, and he quickly removes your green sweatpants. he doesn’t bother prepping you or even pulling your underwear down, tho, he’s way too gone for that. he simply grabs you by the hips and makes you sit on top of him. nothing else. the work is yours to do. 

without hesitating, -you want this way too bad-, you take his reddish, stiff member out and give it a few strokes. he grunts and you can't take it, so pushing your panties to the side, you sink in.

“yeah, that's what i'm talking about.” he gasps, totally unconcerned about the circumstances, as always. who cares about the other players when your pussy is taking him so deep? you however, bite your lips to hold back a moan while moving up and down, following a leisurely rhythm, not wanting to get too carried away. although the speed doesn't really matter. he feels wonderful, and a few seconds are all he needs to have you seeing stars. “you're so wet, such a perfect slut for my dick.” you shiver at his praise and he chuckles, gripping your waist with such passion it hurts. but only because you have to suppress your burning satisfaction.

“ride me harder.” the sight of him lying back, talking to you like this with the way he’s staring, has you instinctively bucking your hips. the pace escalates, and you slowly let loose. the grinding turns into bouncing, whimpers become full moans, and you're both so fazed the bed screech accompanying your noises goes unnoticed. 

you use his lean arms as support, gently tracing his perfect veins as a comfort gesture. “god, you’re so good…” your voice is groggy and strained. “i know.” you could get pissed at his overly confident attitude, but truth is you find it hot as fuck. he knows no one could make you feel like this.

“i- i’m- i’m sorry, could you please be quieter, if it’s not too much trouble?” 

it takes you a moment to process what’s happening, your lewdness acting as a blinding veil, but namgyu answers for you. 

“give me bullshit like that again and i’ll break your face, whore.”

the random woman is astonished as well as appalled. she apologizes again and seemingly leaves her bed, the footsteps dying out.

“fucking cunt. bothering me when i’m railing my girl...” he pushes you down and gives you a harsh kiss, the new position snapping you out of your trance. “what the fuck? ur still hard?” you ask through moans. “goddamn, if you knew how fucking good your pussy feels, you’d understand. ‘ts a damn drug.” at that, your walls clench, his sweet talk getting you every. single. time. and it motivates him to change positions, laying you on your side, as you were initially. but you're still a bit weirded out, and he notices. how could he not, with how well he knows your body?

“focus on me. don’t want you thinking ‘bout that or anything that isn’t me and the way i’m fucking you, got that?” his hand travels to your throat and adds a bit of pressure.

“yeah.” 

his girth perfectly stretching you out turns off anything that's not his cock, his movements get harder and deeper due to the still present indignation. “i’m close, gyu…” you cry out, yearning for that release. “of course you are, with how fucking much you’re leaking,” those words only make it worse. “i think you were just as desperate as i was, huh? such a perfect nympho for me”, he groans, thrusting faster. your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder, his dick hits you with such precision it’s hard to even keep your eyes open. slender fingers climb up your skin and reach your lips, which you instantly part letting out a low moan. with that, he pushes them inside, pressing down your tongue. and you suck them with all you’ve got left, licking and slurping while he fucks you in both holes. 

the double pleasure takes control over your body and you start to notice your shakiness. “gyu…” you babble, the capacity of forming full sentences is gone, not only because of his hand. “cum on my cock like a good girl, come on.” he demands against your neck, and your brain listens, as usual, sending throbs and contractions through your hips. your belly drops as if from a plane, he abandons your mouth eager to hear your falling over and you don't disappoint, squeezing his biceps while panting for air. “oh, fuck…” the aftershocks keep going while he pulls out, “damn, you drenched me” you’re not in your right mind to fully comprehend yet, “now, i don’t want it to go to waste, so you’re gonna swallow me up real good. yeah? not gonna drop any?” you answer by sticking out your tongue, and before you know it, the thick, salty, warm liquid fills your senses. you swallow and hear him sigh, relieved.

“shit, i’m spent. you’re such a good stress reliever.”

he falls asleep on your bed and ends up snuggling against you :3

❤️‍🔥 want more namgyu?

[tossawary]

Moshang fanfic idea that I've been holding onto for a while but have no strong plot for: the Airplane Extras meet-ugly happens as per canon UNTIL Mobei-Jun asks why Shang Qinghua saved him / what Shang Qinghua wants from him.

At which point, a panicking Airplane desperately searches for a compelling and believable character motivation as to why he would stupidly save the life of a murderous demon who might still kill him, and hastily blurts out: "You're so beautiful that I fell in love at first sight!"

Important to note: this is not true. It is bullshit. Airplane thinks MBJ is incredibly hot, obviously, but he does not know or like this guy as a person, because MBJ is both a relative stranger and a scary asshole.

Also important to note: some demon cultures have a marriage kidnapping tradition, but that happens under very specific and usually pre-arranged circumstances that obviously do not apply here. Mobei-Jun being whisked off to the equivalent of a shitty motel room by some random human outer disciple, who absolutely cannot forcibly keep him there, has no real romantic connotations. It's just weird. There's not even any life debt tradition aspect to it; Mobei-Jun could just kill this guy now and it wouldn't say anything about his personal honor even if anyone found out. This guy would have to be fucking nuts to think this interaction is anything that anyone, especially any authority, would recognize, and that's not what this guy is claiming anyway. All he's doing is claiming that he's suddenly in love with a hostile stranger, which is still nuts.

So, Mobei-Jun (who is also still a teenager) is just... surprised and extremely confused. Does this kind of thing... honestly happen... in real life? Really??? And Airplane is like, "Aw, fuck, I made it weird. Well! I have no choice but to go with this!" and starts up the "Please don't kill me!" thigh-hugging routine.

Somehow, Moshang make it out of that meet-ugly similarly to how they usually do. Airplane is like, "Well, fortunately, nothing will ever come of this! No way would someone like Mobei-Jun ever return the feelings of his gross, pathetic human servant. I can freely express how sexy I think he is and it'll just be meaningless lovesick flattery to this asshole." Real emotions? That soft, squishy bullshit? Airplane does not have the TIME to contemplate having sincere feelings. He's in survival mode.

And teenage Mobei-Jun, spoiled demonic nobility extraordinaire, who otherwise would have spent the next 20 years or so thinking of his human servant as gross and pathetic and repulsive but strangely useful, is like, "I think... I'm being wooed...??? Is this working on me...? He's kind of... not unattractive, actually, for a madman. Maybe I should try to be... nice... to him??? How do humans do this???"

And THEN, months to years later, young and in-love Mobei-Jun somehow finds out that Shang Qinghua outright lied to him. (And by this point is pretty fond of Mobei-Jun but still hasn't looked directly at his own real emotions for years. He's busy.)

Arguably, the above idea is one way to interpret normal canon already, with Mobei-Jun reading more than is mutually understood into Shang Qinghua's bullshit, failing to communicate what he thinks their relationship is (if he even fucking knows himself), and then feeling betrayed when Shang Qinghua ditches him for being an asshole. But I'm charmed by the idea of distracted Shang Qinghua explicitly lying, actively making it WORSE by knowingly behaving "romantically" under the assumption that it's harmless because Mobei-Jun basically doesn't even HAVE emotions, and then getting blindsided by having his impossible "unrequited" love returned and accidentally, apparently breaking Mobei-Jun's heart. Fuck!!!

[sqrkyclean]

i don't really understand the whole tickling thing (I'm ticklish but I fucking hate it when people try to tickle me without asking), why do you find it hot?

On the submissive side: The humiliation is a big one. Asking for it is nearly impossible without getting a head rush from the shame. It’s incredibly vulnerable. You can’t worry about looking stupid or performing badly if you’re a giggly puddle of humiliation-induced arousal and can’t string a sentence together because your dom’s finger is running up and down your ribcage. And the anticipation feels so good. And when you ask for it, and it’s wanted, it just. Feels good. Feels like being carbonated. Like every atom in ur body is singing? This can’t be because I’m a fetishist that it feels like this every time

From the dom pov: it doesn’t matter how big or strong or unbreakable a bottom is, with this one weird trick you can get them blushing and whining and giggling like a loser!!

[wendichester]

hi! I was thinking if you could write something kinda angst??? where reader have been acting kinda strange and having those little moments where she looks sick, and then she tells dean she's pregnant ! how you think he is going to take it?

Or maybe secret baby ! dean and reader see eachother again after a little bit more than a yer and she's with a pretty baby that looks like him !

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ not ready yet,

summary. you've been keeping your pregnancy from dean and he doesn't take it well.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 681

notes. i do feel like his initial response would be flight--too scared that he'd turn out like john, that we'd mess you and the baby up. though he would eventually get his head straight and come running back, wanting to do this with you. thanks for the request, love! 🩷

Dean Winchester knows when something’s wrong.

You’ve been acting off for weeks now—ducking out of conversations, getting quiet when Sam asks how you’re doing, disappearing to the bathroom for longer than usual. And the worst part? You won’t tell him what’s going on. It’s eating him alive.

So, when you sit him down in the motel room with that look—wide-eyed and scared, your fingers twisted together like you’re holding yourself together—it feels like a punch in the gut before you’ve even said a word.

“Alright,” Dean says, leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, his jaw tight. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird for weeks.”

You flinch at his tone, but you don’t blame him. He’s been patient, and you’ve been distant. Still, his frustration only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“I need to tell you something,” you start, your voice shaky.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean snaps, and immediately regrets it when he sees the way your shoulders tense. He softens, exhaling through his nose. “Sorry. Just... talk to me, alright?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the words, but they feel stuck. Heavy. Impossible.

“I’m pregnant.”

It comes out barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the silence that follows.

Dean blinks at you, his expression blank for a moment. And then he laughs—short, sharp, bitter. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’m serious, Dean.”

He stares at you like you’ve just told him the world’s ending. “You’re serious,” he repeats, more to himself than to you. He rubs a hand down his face, pacing a few steps before stopping and turning back to you. “How the hell did this happen?”

You bristle at his tone. “You want me to explain the birds and the bees, Dean? Because I thought you had that part figured out.”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, his voice rising. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this a joke.”

“I’m not joking!” you snap back, standing up now, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I planned this? Because I didn’t. I didn’t ask for this, Dean.”

“And you think I did?” Dean fires back, his voice breaking. “We’re hunters, for God’s sake! We don’t get white picket fences and diaper changes. This isn’t our life!”

“I know that!” you shout, tears stinging your eyes. “But it’s happening, Dean. Whether you want it or not, it’s happening.”

The room falls into a tense, suffocating silence. Dean looks away, his hands on his hips, his head tilted back like he’s trying to find some kind of answer on the ceiling.

“I can’t do this,” he finally says, his voice barely audible.

The words hit you like a slap, and your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I can’t...” Dean shakes his head, his voice rough. “I’m not... I’m not built for this. I’ll screw it up. I’ll screw you up. I can’t—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice breaking. “Just stop. If you don’t want to do this, fine. But don’t stand there and act like you’re protecting me by walking away. You’re just running, Dean. Like you always do.”

His head snaps back to you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is this,” you say, tears spilling over now. “But I don’t get to run. I don’t get to walk away from this. So, if you can’t handle it, just say that and go.”

Dean stares at you, his jaw working like he’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out. Finally, he shakes his head and storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

The silence he leaves behind feels heavier than any words he could’ve said.

You sink back onto the bed, your hands trembling as you press them to your stomach. You’re not sure if you’re more angry or heartbroken, but it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you’re doing this alone.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos

[infinity-or-oblivion]

heyyyy realm nation I have an au for y'all: arranged marriage foolhalo. now hear me out I'm thinking longgggg history of conflict between warring kingdoms (think montagues and capulets) I'm thinking fundamental moral differences that make peace nearly impossible I'm thinking innocent people caught in the crossfire and most of all I'm thinking doomed yaoi. foolish and bad hate each others guts so intensely and somehow have so much in common and I just think forced 'romance' is so fun. anyways foolish is the eldest prince of his family which includes ros and owen and clown and tango and perhaps sneeg and phil and then bad wants to strengthen their kingdoms alliance so he marries foolish except they HATE each others guts and bad’s kingdom/family of pili and pangi and hannah and baghera all keep attacking foolish and his family

okay so that was my initial idea and then I started thinking about the kingdom of fools found family dynamic (because I watch almost exclusively ros pov btw) so here's my pitch: eldest prince foolish and his siblings are Owen, clown, and ros. that’s all i really want tbh BECAUSE LIKE THE DYNAMICS ARE SO GOOD I WANT SOME FAMILY CONFLICT THAT IS ULTIMATELY ROOTED IN LOVE IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR

so like: middle child that often feels slighted owen, sometimes feels threatened by more talented clown, foolish who cares about all of them so much but he’s stretched thin and can’t do everything himself, and of course. clown and ros my beloveds, baby of the family ros, and all of her brothers love her and feel very protective of her. but sometimes she feels like she doesn’t add as much to the kingdom since she’s more of an artist than a fighter, and also others see her as a weak point, and sometimes she doesn’t get the support and validation she needs from her brothers (except clown??) and of course then there’s clown. he’s got weird eldritch shit going on, something about messing with the magical and ethereal that he becomes intertwined with it, also some ctechno-esque feelings about only being seen as a weapon/tool for others, ANYWAYS I love tr!clown wish he would FUCKING STREAM MORE. rotating them all in my mind like a rotisserie chicken

but like ive been thinking about that time foolish and ros went on a fishing trip after foolish came back from the dead and how good that was and I'm also thinking about the low-key jealous (??) vibe Owen has going on all the time and of course I'm the number one clown and ros fan so yeah. I can't stop thinking about them teehee

and tango is probably a trusted advisor to foolish or something along those lines, as well as sneeg (sneeg and clown divorce canon???? must've been the wind...)

and then on the red/green side there's bad as the king/whatever patriarch, with pangi as his nephew or something like that idk, and then pili is an assassin pangi somehow befriended that hangs around all the time and won’t leave. and also has/had some sort of insane situationship with ros?? also hannah and pac as trusted advisors and the rest of red team as other mercenaries/hired hands (architect sausage, pirate baghera, etc). and let's not forget that pangi and pili have some sort of insane doomed yaoi thing going on too, they truly are the most dysfunctional found family

and with blue, there’s tubbo, cpk, kind of phil and beky and coy and scott (??) and of course aimsey. oh my god tr!aimros is fucking insane, ros is having a Rough Time and foolish is really good at supporting her even though he doesn’t always have time or really get what the hell is going on with ros and aimsey. anyways tubbo is an old friend of foolish, gets along great with ros, and his ex-husband is ‘friends’ with pili. so that’s great. (huge fan of tr!Tommy just kind of being there and annoying tubbo from time to time very in character for him). and tubbo, aimsey and cpk are canonically brothers I don't make the rules, beky is silently recording everything and judging everyone, coy is just trying to build a cool farm and keeps getting pulled into drama

anyways. there's my concept and I keep trying to write something but I can't figure out how the fuck to go about it, so I figured someone else might like the idea. godspeed soldiers

[4rticbolt]

Anxieties |Master-List|

!Multiple parts! <1 (Here)>

Platonic, Fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, happy ending trust, 1st/2nd POV, y'all I yapped, sappy, wise crew I guess, tried to make it cannon to their character

Characters in this chapter: Robin, Sanji, Brook

!TW Anxiety/Panic Attacks!

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

|Intro warning|

As someone who struggles with anxiety, it is hard. Like...very hard. My greatest wishes go out to the people who struggle with it, and obviously those who don't! Regardless we're all just human trying to get by.

And I am proud of y'all... though that sounds weird coming from a stranger on the internet who knows nothing about you... it's true. I really do mean it. Things are just getting tough, and they probably will continue to, so all you can do in the time being is just hang in there!

Especially when your anxiety is being a bitch. Which isn't always easy.

It's a struggle. And you are very strong for dealing with it--even if not.

Just take it easy on yourself, and make sure to hydrate and grab a snack! A small change goes a long way.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the Strawhat Crew, anxiety is probably a sensitive topic, though it isn’t uncommon. It’d never be overlooked or ignored, given the crew has their own struggles.

I mean, take one good look at their character, ONE good look at their character and tell me they don’t have some kind of crippling fear...

The Straw hats would always be incredibly understanding with you, more so than others—but they’d would know how it feels, and they’d help you in their own lovable way.

There is NO difference if you’re a man or woman, or girl or guy or whatever you want to call yourself, because everyone is equal.

Everyone deserves to be treated with the same help AND respect another can get.

Which the Straw hats would strictly stand by, given they're morals, and not to mention they are literally sweethearts...

And at first, you might not think of it that way. You'd obviously trust them, but your anxiety was different. It felt…burdening. Knowing you're safe and loved, but it’d still eat at you.

However, the crew would see that as they are all emotionally intelligent, so it’s pretty much impossible to keep something from them like that. Even if some are more dense than others. Cough cough emotionally constipated.

Regardless, Robin was the first to figure it out. She’d caught your anxious mannerisms out of the corner of her eye. The way your knee would restlessely bounce, the fidgeting, the nervous stumbling... she knew.

She never caught it in the act, but she had always been your silent support.

Robin is more of the gentle type—motherly if anything as she had always been the person to quietly hold your hand, pull you aside, or ground you with her soothing words.

Reminding you there was always someone there.

No matter where or why you'd panic, she wouldn't judge you. The thought could have never possibly crossed her mind.

And it was no different when she'd come across your trembling form, leaning against the deep red seats in the aquarium bar—later into the night.

. . .

“____?” Robin asked quietly, knocking on the door to attempt to alert you of her company. Her heart wrenched at the sight of your tear streaked face, bathed in the blue light from the tank.

Your skin was discolored, even more exposed and vulnerable in the subdued lighting—struggling to catch a damned breath; limbs sludge as a result.

You felt as though everything weighed you down, converting you into something you'd hate to recognize. The familiar feeling of everything crashing atop you, reminding you no matter how much anything changed—you were still you.

Robin repeated your name, leaving it echo louder throughout the room, snapping you out of your daze. The storminess of everything filtered away, replaced by a sharp jolt to your heart as she'd startled you.

The archeologist quietly apologized, carefully stepping into the room waiting for a sign to continue forward. Her mind was alert, troubled by whatever seemed to have plagued you—reducing you to this. Diminishing your loved smile into a water work of tears.

Having to watch the way your hands dug into your sides, embarrassingly turning away from her—it was unfair. It was cruel to think someone as kind as you suffered so much.

Even if it was life, it seemed it’d been especially hard on you

Robin slowly came to your side, letting you adjust as she placed a comforting hand to your back, pulling you in for a hug.

She wasn’t necessarily sure what to say, or what to comfort you with, but she’d try. She had too.

She couldn’t bare seeing you this way.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m right here.” Robin whispered, letting her arms tighten around you, hoping to aid your distress.

You practically melted into her touch, surrendering yourself. Everything had been tormenting you for the last hour—and you couldn't bare it any longer.

"I'm sorry," you choked, your breath hitching as your chest tremored.

“Don't be, there's nothing to apologize for, you've done nothing wrong." She hummed, her hand gently rubbing into your back.

"Just breathe ____, you’re okay.”

Robin let you rest in her arms however long you needed. No matter the hour, no matter the cause, she was there for you. She didn't leave you to your silence for a moment, as she knew the feeling of it. The loneliness, the memories, the pain...

She always chose to look out for you, as you were her dearest crew-mate. Her dearest friend, and dearest family.

•-•

Sanji and Brook were the next to see it in action.

A pair you wouldn't think would go together, but does. They were a underrated duo to say in the least, both of course perverts—but you knew they meant well. And you know that hat they say: great minds think alike.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse idiots use.

However, Sanji was surprisingly well with you. He wouldn’t bombard you with his lovey dovey tendencies, nor mix his flirty temptations with your troubles. He was always incredibly gentle with you, as your state would affect him greatly.

He could always empathize with you, given his own cumbersome experiences.

Sanji often tended to read you when in distress, picking up on your small cues, or just having a hunch. He might not exactly know what caused it, but he could sure as hell sense it, much like the others do.

It's just a feeling he had, a slight pinch in his skin, a reminder. A reminder of how protective he could be with you and his crew.

He’d be the type to assure you, tell you it wasn't a burden to reach out, and depending on your preferences, he would hold you close.

Sanji would always ask you if you needed anything, and if you did—without hesitation he’d get it for you. The cook would do anything for the ones he loved, much more cherished. Especially when it came to you, someone who hit a little too close to home.

Now, when Brook came into the knowledge of your anxiety, it’d kinda just clicked for him. The gears in his skull would comically grind and turn—leaving a solemn feeling to wash over him.

He would silently realize why you acted the way you did, why you had your questionable habits, and why you had your required ‘alone time.’ And he'd understand all of it.

He’d gone through the feeling of it for more than 50 years alone. So he could sympathize, even if he didn’t know what you went through—what mattered now, was helping you out if it.

The skeleton had always been fond of you, as he was with everyone, but this was under different circumstances. It was at your own expense, and he quickly wanted to help you.

Which he did, as Brook gave out surprisingly good advice as well as an easy means for distractions.

From liners of comedic relief to your favorite tune—he'd have your back. Even if he didn't have his.

His musical talent would be a blessing in the frantic moment, and the calming notes of his violin eased your inner torment. He brought a calm to your storm, and his corny jokes never failed to make you laugh—so you had nothing to lose if you'd ever gone to him. Brook would always be more than happy to support you.

•-•

Nevertheless, even with the exception of their help it never felt like enough, your anxiety simply wouldn’t budge. It was stubborn, and it tormented you.

You were triggered off an on and it was set off by the littlest of things, amplified to the point of bringing yourself down. The constant stress weighed, and it frustrated you to no end. Ultimately making you feeling like a bigger burden, so you simply avoided yourself. And the others around you.

When in need, you stopped going to Robin as you tried to just shut it off completely. You didn’t mean to, but you tended to push away the ones you loved away, further adding to your apprehensions.

And as a result; it took you down.

It’d been late at night when you had another panic attack, left exhausted on the kitchen floor, chest heaving as you quietly cried. You’d yet again given up, far too weak and tired to trek back to your room. So you succumbed to your exhaustion there, deciding it was a good place to sleep it off.

Which you later found out it wasn’t, but you were too groggy to care.

•-•

A light quietly flickered on in the un-assumed room, and Sanji casually walked in to prep breakfast. Accompanied by the joyful company of brook while the two had light talk, speaking of an island that was soon to come up based off Nami’s observations. Which had everyone in high hopes and in dire needs since Luffy had raided the kitchen the night before.

Brook casually leaned against the kitchen’s sidewall, letting out a dramatic yawn as he reached down to play his violin, a peaceable tune filling the room.

"I feel as if today will be…special," He hummed, mindlessly scanning the room, opting to watch cook as he prepared the much needed morning coffee.

"Mm, and why is that?"

"I can feel it in my bones."

"Of course you can." Sanji sighed, bringing the water to a boil as he grabbed some ground coffee, adding in the essential ingredients.

"The ratio has to be perfect or Robin's coffee won't taste right." He muttered, not bothering to question the musician’s gaze.

“Hah quite so, the dedication of a true chef! Do you think she notices your efforts?" Brook replied, casually looking up to the cook.

“. . .” Sanji’s felt his eye twitch, glaring up to Brook—but something was caught in the corner of his eye.

"I'll take that as a maybe then yohoho!" He laughed, muttering something incoherent about losing his breakfast.

Sanji only ignored him, focusing his attention to the cartoony pair of socks that lied awkwardly behind a chair’s legs.

“Looks like someone camped out in here…” he turned off the stove, opting to check on the sleeping figure.

“What? Who? Where?” Brook blurted, immediately scanning the room. He jumped when he finally spotted someone’s feet, letting out a high-pitched girlish scream as they twitched. His hand clasped over his ‘heart’ and he quickly hid behind the kitchen’s service hatch, peeking through.

Ironically enough Brook’s mind flickered to the thought of a zombie, or even worse—a ghost.

“Shh!” Sanji hissed, flipping around to send the man another glare, “Dammit don’t go waking up the whole ship, It’s probably just Luffy or something—the idiots probably ‘starved’ by now.” He drug a hand down his face, walking around the table towards your unsuspecting form.

He knew he couldn’t full-proof it was Luffy—given those ridiculous socks he’d caught a glimpse of, as he knew deep down his idiot of a captain barely ever wore socks—always raw dogging it in those god awful shabby sandles.

So when his gaze finally land on you, he paused. He suspected it, but it uneased him to no end, and his irritation vanished completly replaced by a creeping sense of worry.

“____?!”

Sanji knew you never came to the kitchen this early—you always slept like a rock in your room, and you didn’t show yourself till late afternoon. If they were lucky.

Another holler finally seemed to stir you awake, and you let out a sleepy groan sorely rolling to your back to meet their concerned faces.

You could see Sanji’s mouths moving, but you couldn't bother to hear his words as they were far too faint, and you were much too tired to care. It felt painfully early, and you'd maybe gotten a few hours of sleep.

Reaching your arms over your eyes, you wiped away any crispy tears that had dried from the hours before.

“S’too bright,” You mumbled, rolling back to your side as you hid your expression in your arms. You felt like a slug, so slow and grimy, and you’d slept at an awkward angle which killed your back.

“____? Are you alright? Why are you up so early?” Brook leaned over you, his worry growing as more time without answers went by. This wasn’t necessarily a normal occurrence for you, as he didn't often see you this... peachy.

And the two hadn’t missed the way it’d been evident you had been crying—given the puffiness in your eyes and the faint tear marks.

“More importantly why are you asleep on the floor in MY kitchen huh? What’s gotten into you,” Sanji gently patted your shoulder as he tried to get your attention.

"Nothing," You muffled, regretting not forcing yourself to walk back to your room last night.

"It doesn't seem like nothing." He chided, knowing you were going to be stubborn about this. However, he'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you.

"I'm just tired," you excused, knowing it was a lame throw, but you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t really want to talk about—it was the same ol’ same ol’, and you only felt it burden them the more it occurred. And knowing the two, you knew they could already tell something was up, and exactly what.

Though roughly enough it had to get worse as an awkward silence washed over, and without your knowledge—Sanji and Brook shared a look.

You heard one of them let out a sigh and Brook suddenly laid down on the floor beside you, his bones clunking against the floor.

"Is the floor really that comfy?”

Sanji hummed, "Must be," he agreed, coming to a causal sit at the other side of you, leaning against the table's leg.

There actions were kind, though for some reason it made your eyes water. You hesitated to say anything—or even move, you didn't really know what to do now. How to continue, or what words to say, but deep down you knew they only wanted to be there for you, and that was enough to try. It always was, and the thought of knowing someone was confirmed in stone to be there for you, it was all anyone could ask for.

You let out a soft sniffle, leaning up to sit with a knee against your chest as you wiped your oncoming tears with your sleeves.

"Yeah, it's pretty comfy," you murmured, cursing the way it weakly came out and broke.

"Could use a few blankets though," Brook adjusted, also coming to a sit as he let out his classic laugh beside you.

"Mm, let's just stick to our own beds for now," you could hear Sanji grimace, before he gently placed his hand on your head, easing your tears by far. He softly patted your hair before his hand trailed off and he offered for you to stand.

"How about I get you something to eat or drink?” He waited, but you didn’t reply as you didn’t feel in the mood to take anything in. You felt sick enough as is to just throw it up.

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, sorry Sanji,” you said quietly, lowering your gaze as you felt more tears surface.

“That’s okay, you can always snack later,” Brook assured.

“If there’s anything left of course,”

“There will be.” Sanji glared, kneeling beside you again—knowing it’d take a little more than a nudge or simple ask.

“____.”

. . .

Silence washed over the three of you again and you could only shrink further in on yourself. You gently shook your head hiding your face in your arms.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to rely on us, you know that don’t you?” He affirmed, patiently waiting for you. His gaze softened as Brook silently watched, and could only agree—he couldn’t have said it better himself.

“He’s right you know, we’re here for you, we’ll always be.”

Your shoulder’s shook, and you felt your lips tremble, and you could only nod your head in response.

“You don’t have to hide you know.”

“I know that.” Your voice broke.

. . .

“Then why do you?” Brook wondered. He knew you struggled, but not to this extent. You were always so quiet about your troubles, and he wished you wouldn’t feel the need to keep them at bay.

“B-because I—I don’t know. I just, it feels like I’m too much.” You struggled out, “It won’t stop sometimes and everything just feels so constant, I cant get ahold of myself and I feel like I’m burdening you all with it.”

“What? How could you ever burden us with that?”

“Oh ____ ,”

You finally lifted your head, tears streaming down your face as you frustratingly wiped them away, “It’s just never ending, and no matter what I do, or what anyone else might—it still hurts me. Everything feels—just so intense. I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels so weird, and I can’t ever fucking stop it.”

. . .

Brook leaned forward slightly, his skeletal fingers resting lightly on his knees as he looked at you with a rare solemnity. “____ ,” he began softly, “do you know what makes a symphony truly remarkable?”

You sniffled, shaking your head as your eyes continued to stream, silently waiting for him to continue.

“It’s not the constant perfect harmony,” Brook said, his voice unusually tender. “It’s the ups and downs, the quiet moments, the dissonance that resolves into beauty. The silences between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Without them, the music would be overwhelming—chaotic.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You understood his metaphor, but regardless you didn’t feel entirely different, and you lowered your gaze letting tears spill into your hands.

“And life, ____ ,” Brook continued, “is no different. Sometimes, the melody feels too fast, too loud, like you can’t catch your breath. But do you know what makes it bearable?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “What?”

Brook leaned closer, his empty sockets meeting her teary eyes. “The orchestra,” he said gently. “A symphony isn’t carried by one instrument. When your melody falters, the others step in to support you. The violins soften when you’re tired. The percussion steadies you when you’re overwhelmed. Together, we make something beautiful—even when the song feels messy or broken.”

“But it feels like I’m always off-key,” you whispered, “Like I’m dragging everyone down.”

From your other side, Sanji’s calm voice interjected, breaking through your anguish.

“____ ,” he said firmly, “Even if your rhythm falters, we’ll match it. We’re not here to judge the song you’re playing. We’re here to play it with you.”

Brook nodded, his hand gently tapping the floor as though playing an imaginary tune. “That’s right. And no matter how many times you lose the beat, we’ll be here to guide you back. Even dissonance has its place in a masterpiece, ____. It doesn’t make the music less beautiful—it makes it human.”

Your tears finally came to a stop, for the first time in a while—a glimmer of relief shown through your expression. You swallowed hard, your voice shaky but audible. “But I don’t want to ruin the song.”

“You could never ruin it,” Sanji said with a soft smile. “You make it better just by being part of it.”

Brook sighed, coming to a stand as his tone lightened with a small laugh, “And if you ever need a duet partner, I’ll always have time for an encore. Yohoho!”

You smiled, wiping the remnants of your late tears chuckling a bit, feeling much lighter.

Sanji then came back to a stand, gently pulling you up with him, “I’m not a musician but I will gladly be listen to you anytime.”

“Yohoho good, now I need some tea, my throats feeling rather dry.”

“Oh get it yourself!” Sanji snapped, averting his attention from you--to yet again send the skeleton a glare. And for once, you felt as ease, it felt...easy to breathe, not forced--but casual. And you knew you'd be okay, because you had them. As the two would always be there for you--even if you were stubborn.

You could never be a burden for your struggles, and they'd always welcome you with open arms. You just hoped you could uphold that front and be true to yourself--to be true to them. To trust the crew and let a bit loose.

Though, even if you didn't it'd be okay. Because being on the straw hat crew wouldn't mean specifically to be strong, but to stick together, to help each other through the thick and thin of life, to have adventures, and live life to its fullest. To live and survive to achieve dreams--to hang in there, and push through and to protect each other no matter what.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 40/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

(This jumps back to the hospital time wise, I think it’s obvious but stating it here for clarity)

CHAPTER FORTY – Iceman and Maverick Interlude

              Pete’s glad to be alive.

              That everyone is alive and the mission is a success on all fronts.

              Miracles on top of miracles.

              Though as he lies in the hospital bed back on the mainland he’s still trying to unpick exactly what happened from a personal point of view. Seresin’s ‘thanks for saving my life pops’ on the carrier had seemed a weird combination of sincere and wry. He doesn’t know what Bradley has told Jake about him. Because Seresin has been with Bradley since before he and Bradley reconciled…

              So he knows that Seresin doesn’t like him for some reason, and if it’s because of how he treated Bradley then he can deal with that. Understands it even... He’s used to people not liking him. However he’s never had reason to care before. He wants Seresin to like him. Well, he wants Bradley’s partner to like him, not look at him like he’d rather have left him to die.

              Okay. That’s maybe a bit too harsh.

              Because Seresin had saved his life as well, but he’d also said he was engaged to some guy called Leo. Or Leon. Or maybe Leonardo, he can’t really remember now, but it had definitely not been Bradley’s name that tripped from his lips so easily. He remembers that much. So either there are two Seresins that look identical and they both happen to be engaged to men. Which would be odd, but not impossible. Twins exist. He feels like Bradley would have mentioned that though. He needs to ask Ice. He’ll have made it his business to know.

              The other option it that Seresin is somehow engaged to two different men, which again… He’s not going to judge, he doesn’t have the full story. Maybe they all know about each other. He’s seen some shit in his life and as long as Bradley is happy that’s all he cares about. However if Bradley doesn’t know and Seresin is a two-timing asshole, well, Pete wouldn’t be averse to punching him. He’s pretty sure Ice would help.

              The third option, the one he thinks is the most likely, is that Seresin is suffering from a worse concussion than he’s letting on. That he’s forgotten the name of the man he’s engaged to. Pete himself has had plenty or practice making light of his injuries and faking it until he makes it. Seresin is likely the same and got the medical staff fooled. He just doesn’t know how to go about raising the matter. He’s still musing the issue when Ice steps into his room and he grins at him widely, signs I love you. It’s returned immediately but there’s an accompanying eye roll and displeased twist of lips.

              Uh oh.

              He licks his lips and wonders how bad it’s going to be. The fact that Ice cannot physically and verbally yell pains him sometimes; because he knows it always made Ice feel better, getting it all out and then deflating, his anger and cold fury spent. Now he mostly signs, saving talking for special occasions or moments when he just has to speak. Right in this moment, his jaw tense, Pete can tell Ice is probably wishing he could yell too.

              “I am so angry with you I cannot find words. Fortunately the anger is overwhelmed with the fact that you’re alive. But this was too close Mav.”

              He opens his mouth to say something, sorry would probably be a good start, even if he’s not really feeling it, but Ice holds up a hand indicating Pete is not allowed to interrupt him right now.

              “And then you BUZZED THE TOWER!” Ice signs, his arms flailing large and wide, hand slapping into the other for emphasis, and apparently this is his equivalent of yelling. “What were you thinking?”

              He’s not going to make his quip about not thinking, not only because it’s not true but he also hates that he’s the cause of Ice’s worry. The anger and frustration he can deal with, the worry is something else entirely.

              “That it would be my last flight on active duty…”

              As he suspected it stops Ice in his tracks, his sincerity and seriousness of his tone.

              “What?”

              Pete shrugs, and not quite every joint in his body aches, but it feels close to it.

              “Think I’m just going to stick to the mustang from now on…”

              “What do you mean?”

              “I still can’t cook but I could be the stay-at-home husband… retire.”

              “Pete…” Ice rasps out, and he looks terrified; Pete reaches out a hand, beckoning him closer. They’ve always had to be so careful, years of ingrained habit meaning that affection just doesn’t happen naturally in public. He laces his fingers with Ice’s, squeezes them as Ice lowers himself into the chair beside his bed.

              “I… I might feel differently in a couple of days. But I just… when I was flying I just had the thought that I was too old for that shit.”

              That earns him a huff of amusement and he grins, pleased with himself.

              “Still buzzed the tower…” Ice croaks out and Pete grins.

              “I might be getting older, but I’m not dead.”

…          …          …

              Tom has never dared bring up retirement, the fact that Pete has makes him feel so many conflicting emotions. He can’t imagine a Navy without Maverick in it, or Mav without flying, but the idea of him always being there when he comes home is an intoxicating one.

              “I’m worried Seresin has a more severe concussion than he’s letting on…” Pete is saying and he pulls himself back to listening to what Pete is saying and he frowns. He just saw Seresin and he’d seemed completely fine. He pulls his hand free so he can return to signing.

              “You a doctor now?” Pete gives him the finger, pulling a face and Ice snorts, glad he’s also feeling okay. So so glad.

              “Are there any other Seresins that Bradley could be engaged to?”

              Ice shakes his head, expression going serious and he looks at Mav carefully.

              “He didn’t say he was engaged to Bradley. He said he was engaged to some guy called Leon. You don’t think… he wouldn’t be engaged to two people do you?”

              Ice shakes his head, remembers something, a comment Slider made in passing, can’t remember what it is, but he’s certain he’s heard the name before. Then Pete is mumbling about not jumping to conclusions, which is laughable considering that’s Maverick’s fucking trademark. Except then he’s signing open mind and Tom rolls his eyes.

              “If it’s not that, then I think he might be suffering from a worse concussion. He’s forgotten Bradley’s name… Thinks he’s engaged to someone completely different. I didn’t want to say anything to him, confuse him any more than he already was.”

              “Have you considered that your concussion has made you forget who Bradley is engaged to?” Ice signs, glad Pete put in the effort to learn ASL. It also reassures him that even if Pete’s brain is a little shook, it’s not actually bad. Pete opens his mouth to protest then he narrows his eyes and Tom tries very hard to stop his lips from twitching in amusement.

              “You’re winding me up. Asshole. I’m literally lying in a hospital bed right now.”

              “I’m desensitized,” Tom signs, having to finger spell the last word. “Anyway, I just invited him to dinner tomorrow night,” Tom adds.

              “Who?”

              “Seresin,” Tom spells out.

              “Oh. Can I… can I invite the Daggers? To dinner?”

              He knows Pete is asking about more than just dinner. Inviting people into their home is a declaration of trust and show of vulnerability. Not one Pete often extends.

              “Of course.”

              “Great. I’ll talk to them.”

              “I’ll cook. Or Bradley can help me…”

              “Bradley is here? Bradley will take over the kitchen…” Pete mutters, but his words are beginning to slur. He’s still a little sore over the fact that Bradley won’t let him help in the kitchen. He’s been permitted to watch, sometimes help under very strict supervision. It’s been nice to see them relearn how to be around each other. Mav’s eyes are blinking slowly, like he’s going to fall back to sleep and he leans forward to press a kiss to Mav’s forehead.

              “Sleep…”

…          …          …

              He sleeps fitfully, keeps waking just to check that Pete is beside him. He is, sacked out in the spread-eagled way he always adopts whenever he’s not in a berth on a carrier or bunk. Like he has to make up for all the space he hasn’t had. He gets up finally, sets about making coffee and making some toast and eggs. Maverick was discharged with strict instructions to rest, which is always a tall order. Fortunately Mav’s body seems to be exhausted, so it probably gives him a couple of days at least before he has to begin either bribing or physically restraining him.

              He manages to rouse Maverick enough to get some food into him, and he’s awake and moving around for nearly two hours before he crashes and falls asleep on the sofa while Tom is making a shopping list; instructions from Bradley coming in thick and fast via his phone, including pictures of what things looks like and Tom just shakes his head. He forces Pete awake again and back to bed, before telling him he’s going to the grocery store. He doesn’t know if hosting a dinner is the best thing right now, considering how tired Mav is, but he knows if he tries and suggests they postpone it he’ll receive a withering I’m fine.

              He gets back, make sandwiches for lunch and takes some upstairs to find Mav awake and doing something on his phone. He frowns and puts down the plate on the bedside table.

              “No screens…”

              “I’ve got the brightness turned all the way down, it’s fine. No different from looking at you…”

              Tom isn’t quite sure how to take that, just shakes his head and takes the phone from his hand and replaces it with a sandwich.

              “Ah… there’ll be crumbs…”

              Tom doesn’t bother with replying, there have been far worse things in their bad than a few sandwich crumbs; when he glances back at Mav he realizes the thought must have shown on his face because Mav is grinning and he shakes his head with amusement. He’s received the full de-brief report now, and he plans to share it with Bradley. Seresin is likely going to have nightmares, and it’ll be good for Bradley to know why. Not that Bradley can do anything about them, but he still feels it’s a case of understanding what, exactly, they’ve just gone through. That’s still a few hours away though, and as he considers Pete lying in bed he make a decision and pulls his shirt off and undoes his belt, stripping down to his underwear.

              “Mmm… I know what you’re doing…”

              Tom grunts, slides against warm skin and closes his eyes.

              “I didn’t need an incentive to stay in bed, but thank for providing one anyway.”

              Tom grins.

…          …          …

              He wakes up to the sound of yelling and he blinks, listens closer. It’s one-sided yelling, so he suspects Tom is signing or writing… although even if he’s talking the volume is barely above a whisper anyway. It sounds like it’s Bradley. Well. Pete’s going to avoid an angry Bradley for as long as possible, he’s not an idiot. Ice has always been better at dealing with that side of him, quiet and calm whereas Pete would often yell back.

              It’s nearly five, and he feels so much better for having rested or slept all day. What he needs now is a shower and water, both of which he can get in the bathroom without going anywhere near the yelling. He starts the shower then fills the water glass beside the sink, throws back three glasses in quick succession. Rolls his neck and wonders if he should take a preemptive Tylenol for the low-grade headache. It’s not bad, but he also doesn’t want to have it distracting him from spending time with the Daggers. Plus if Ice sees him taking any painkillers later he’ll kick everyone out and insist he needs to rest. So now it is…

              He’s in the shower when he hears the tapping on the glass and he wipes away the steam and droplets to see Tom standing there, and he’s clearly been up longer.

              “Bradley is here…” Tom signs, and Pete grins. He wonders if he can tell Bradley what his sign name is, that Ice named him Baby Bird, because the initials match but they used to call him Little Goose until he asked them to stop.

              “I heard…” Pete says wryly and Ice snorts and rolls his eyes.

              “He checked on you, then I let him read the debrief report.”

              “What! Ice!”

              Tom raises an eyebrow, and he supposes of all the things they’ve done over the years this is far from the worst. Except it’s usually him leading Ice into trouble and him getting them out. For Ice to have done this… well. He’ll have his reasons and he looks completely unrepentant. Explains the yelling at least, and Pete wonders who exactly Bradley is madder with.

              “How angry is he?”

              “Very. He’s working through his anger on the vegetables…”

              “Oh. So I probably shouldn’t go in there.”

              “He’s holding a very sharp knife. Maybe leave him for a bit.”

              “Yeah. Good call.”

…          …          …

              He still hasn’t been brave enough to venture into the kitchen. Bradley has come out, wrapped him in a tight hug that made him wince, muttered under his breath in what Pete assumes was Italian and then gone back into the kitchen, closing the door very firmly behind him. Ice has gone in and out freely though, coming out with plates covered in little bite-sized bits of food, and the smells from the kitchen are making his stomach grumble. The kitchen door bangs open then and Bradley stands there glaring at him.

              “Mav! Don’t even think of it!” Bradley says, pointing the knife at him and Pete draws his hand back, shares a look with Tom who is laughing silently. Then the door is closed again and he quickly snatches a little thing off the plate and shoves it into his mouth. It’s sweet and tangy, fluffy but crisp pastry and he looks closer at the plate, wonders what it is he’s currently chewing on. It’s good. He expected it to be of course, but he wants more. A little mouthful isn’t enough. He’s reaching for another when the doorbell rings and Ice’s eyes go wide and he’s stepping toward his study.

              They realized that Mav is going to have to introduce the Dagger squad to Bradley, which is going to likely cause a bit of a stir, which he’s secretly looking forward to. And then Ice will step into the room, and Mav will introduce him as his partner, which he knows will also cause a stir. It’s the kind of chaotic energy he likes and he blows Ice a kiss and throws up the I love you sign just before he reaches the front door.

              He opens it to find most of them there, and they must have decided to carpool, or no one wanted to be first so they waited outside until they were a group. A team. He grins at them and waves them inside, offering them drinks and accepting their compliments on the smells, and he admits that he’s not the one cooking.

              “I didn’t plan this by the way, he wasn’t meant to be here, we were just going to do something simple on the grill but my godson was in town…”

              It’s not intentional, at least he doesn’t think so, but Bradley is pushing the door to the kitchen open, carrying another plate and he takes in the gathered aviators with an easy smile.

              “Everyone, this is my godson Bradley. Some of you might know him…”

              “Holy shit… Bradley Bradshaw.”

              “Your godson is Bradley Bradshaw?”

              “Just… you can just call him Bradley. Right? They can just call you Bradley?” Pete asks him and Bradley laughs, nods.

              “Yeah. Of course. Please do not full name me. Hi. It’s nice to meet you… any chance of maybe getting some names?”

              “Oh shit. Sorry… Uh. You want full names or…”

              “How about you sort out drinks while I go round and introduce myself.”

              Pete nods, because bottles of beer and glasses of wine and juice he can deal with, sorting them out as Bradley makes the rounds, shaking hands and smoothly accepting compliments and answering questions, and he supposes he’s grown into his fame. Wonders if he’s had training or it’s just all come to him naturally. It reminds him startingly of Carole, her friendly and easy-going nature before Goose died. The doorbell rings again and that’s now everyone except for Seresin, and he wonders what time Ice told him. Hopes it was the same time Pete told all the Daggers.

              “Mav… you never told us your godson was Bradley Bradshaw…”

              “I’m telling you now.”

              “This is so cool. Do you think he’d sign something for me? Of agree to a selfie?”

              “Just ask him. He’ll let you know…”

              “It’s a really nice place you’ve got here Mav.”

              “Thanks. Most of it is Tom’s taste. The garage and hangar are more my domain…”

              “Tom?”

              “You have a hangar?”

              “Yeah. Beautiful P51 in it as well.”

              There’s a cough then and Pete looks up to see Ice standing in the doorway, expression amused. Oops.

              “Ah. Tom. I believe most of you know my partner, Tom Kazansky.”

              Even Bradley seems to get a kick out of how every Dagger squad member seems to straighten up as if pulled by an invisible string, although something has spooked him and he’s pulling out his phone and heading back toward the kitchen, expression grim.

              “Talk about fucking bombshells,” Coyote says.

              “Wait… if this is also Admiral Kazansky’s house…”

              “Yeah. Where’s Hangman?” Phoenix asks, and she is the one who looks the least surprised about the whole Ice reveal.

              Then there’s the doorbell again and Pete opens it, knows Seresin has to be on the other side. Except it’s Violet, he’d forgotten Ice had mentioned she was coming as well. He accepts Violet’s hug and kiss to each cheek easily and then Hangman is there, right behind Violet, his expression tight, eyes scanning the room, giving a single nod to Ice.

              “Violet… what are you doing here?” Phoenix asks, and Pete wants to say that she’s invited. She’s like Bradley’s sister, although the one time he called her that she’d pulled a face and insisted she preferred being called his cousin.

              “I’m with him. He’s my cousin.”

              “Hangman is your cousin?”

              “Jake is my cousin… Hangman can be left at the door thanks…” Violet says, and for some reason Seresin is grinning, throwing a wink to Violet but he’s zeroed in on something, is taking steps toward the kitchen. Pete’s still trying to make sense of the whole cousin comment, because she’s Bradley’s cousin, how can she be Seresin’s cousin as well? Although not related by blood, so maybe it’s the same with Hangman? Hangman who has his hand on the door to the kitchen and Pete needs to warn him.

              “Ah, Lieutenant, I really wouldn’t go in there. My godson, Bradley, he gets really particular about who’s in the kitchen with him… and he’s already not in the best mood…”

              Seresin is looking at him like he’s the crazy one and Pete shoots a look to Ice, hand waving because some help right now would really be appreciated but Ice does nothing and then Seresin is stepping into the kitchen, someone is asking Phoenix how she knows Violet but Pete needs to see this, because he’s still not sure how Bradley and Seresin fit together. If they are actually together like Ice is convinced they are.

              “Hey…”

              “You,” Bradley says, and he’s pointing a large knife directly at the middle of Seresin’s chest and Pete steps into the kitchen quickly, needs to diffuse the situation immediately, shutting the door behind him.

              “You disobeyed direct orders,” Bradley starts.

              BANG as he slams a pan on the hob.

              “And I know it was to save Mav –”

              THUMP as he drops a large bag of flour on the bench.

              “But holy shit Jake…”

              CRASH as he grabs three glass bowls stacked within one another. None of them break.

              “Leo… baby…”

              Pete blinks. Because Bradley isn’t even put out by being called the wrong name, and maybe times have changed, but he’s pretty sure if he called Tom another man’s name he’d be out on his ass before he could even apologize or explain.

              “No! You don’t… fucking hell Jake!”

              Then Bradley is yelling, and it’s in Italian, Seresin is standing there and simply listening, like he can understand what Bradley is saying. Yelling. Huh. Maybe he does understand. Regardless, Bradley is spitting mad and Pete is reminded of him as a teenager, his inclination to lose his temper quickly, although he already seems to be losing steam in the face of Seresin’s calm acceptance.

              “I’m sorry baby… mi dispiace… ti amo…” Pete does a double take, because okay, Seresin not only understands Italian, but speaks it too. “Posa il coltello Leo amore mio… put down the knife.”

              Bradley looks at the knife with sudden realization and places it abruptly on the bench, then he’s reaching for Seresin and kissing him and Pete sucks his lips into his mouth, not sure quite what’s happened.

              “Uh…”

              Bradley and Seresin pull away from one another and both turn towards him.

              “Hmm. Maverick… And Admiral Kazansky. You kind of missed a chunk when you were telling me about them.”

              “What?” Bradley asks.

              “The fact that they’re together. A couple? Have been for decades?”

              “Uh… you said you knew!”

              “Leo! I knew about your relationship with them. Not their relationship to each other!”

              “Uh… fuck. Sorry…”

              “Mmm… you will be…”

              Pete frowns, because he still doesn’t understand why Seresin is calling Bradley a different name, and that Bradley doesn’t seem to mind. And he’d say something about the whole you will be but is fast realizing he maybe doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t need to know. Bradley is an adult.

…          …          …

              Tom cannot understand a single word of what was being yelled out just now, but Violet was standing there, nodding along, occasionally frowning and then nodding again. The other Daggers are standing around, looking a combination of confused, amused and uncomfortable.

              “Is… that’s Bradley yelling at…”

              “Maverick?”

              “No,” Violet corrects. “Jake. For being an idiot.”

              “How does he know Hangman?”

              “I mean… he just stepped into Bradley Bradshaw’s kitchen. That’s a pretty idiot move right there…”

              “Do you need to know Hangman to want to yell at him?”

              “Oh god, he probably just told Bradley Bradshaw his food was awful…”

              “Or that he likes his ketchup range and puts it on all his meals…”

              “Oh man, I would pay good money to watch Hangman sit down to a meal cooked by Bradley Bradshaw and just see him drown it in sauce…”

              “Hey. Hangman can actually eat a meal without adding sauce. I’ve seen him do it in Italy…” Lieutenant Avalone states.

              Interesting Tom thinks to himself, that they all think Hangman and Bradley don’t know each other. Yet Violet isn’t acting anyway out of the ordinary, for what he knows of her at least. And he notes that Lieutenant Trace is watching her more than anything or anyone else. Hmm.

              “Come on… I want you to come and meet my friends properly…”

              Now Seresin is tugging Bradley out from the kitchen, and Tom can’t think of any way to describe the look on Bradley’s face other than lovesick. Or simply deeply in love. Their fingers are laced together and Seresin is grinning and relaxed, despite clearly being yelled at for reasons Tom knows are in a folder on his desk. That’s fine, it helps them to remember there are people who love them waiting for them to come home safely.

              “So, I guess you’ve met my squad, but Javy… He’s special. He’s going to be my best man.”

              “Yeah. Coyote…” Bradley says, and he’s holding back a wide grin, clearly amused by something.

              “Yeah man… we met already… but… Uh…” Lieutenant Machado starts and Tom is amused.

              “Hangman?”

              “What?”

              “You want to tell us something?”

              “What?”

              “What are you introducing Bradley Bradshaw to us like you… know him?”

              “Uh. Because I do? I’m going to marry him as soon as we figure out a date.”

              “I thought you said his name was… Leo?” Lieutenant Machado says slowly, and Maverick is signing at him across the room See! See! I told you! LEO!

              Oh… now it’s coming back to him. Slider’s comment about how Seresin always referred to Bradley as Leo. Oh. This is brilliant. He ignores Maverick, which seems to make him confused. It’s kind of cute.

              “Leo. Bradley. Same person. I told you I was getting married. You agreed to be my best man already…”

              “Um. Yeah. Your fiancé is Leo…”

              “Yeah. And this is Leo.”

              “No. That’s fucking Bradley Bradshaw. We all know who he is…”

              Jake’s eyebrows go up and Bradley bites his bottom lip.

              “Because you just met him?”

              “What? No… he’s… like… famous.”

              “Hands up if you would have recognized him before Maverick introduced him…”

              Eleven hands get raised and Violet is leaning back, her arms crossed as she stares Bradley down and Tom watches with interest. He’s starting to understand Mav’s love of chaos and drama a little bit more right now. As long as he or Mav aren’t in the middle of it then it’s infinitely more amusing. No wonder Slider always wants to hear about Mav’s antics.

              “Famous…? How famous?” Seresin asks, and he’s turning toward Bradley with narrowed eyes and Tom cannot believe he’s getting to watch all this play out. Bradley is looking embarrassed.

              “Like… TV shows and recipe books and guest judging on other cooking shows and… like. Famous. We all know who he is,” Lieutenant Garcia says. “Seriously Hangman? You didn’t know you were engaged to someone famous?”

              “I don’t care about his fame,” Seresin states, a sentiment that Tom approves of whole heartedly. “Don’t think he’s going to forget about me in a hurry either…”

              “Non potrei mai dimenticarti. Tu sei il mio passato, il mio presente e il mio future…”

              Seresin flushes then, looking happy and pleased, Bradley pressing into his side and pressing a kiss against his cheek, all while Violet is rolling her eyes. Tom wonders if he should start learning Italian.

              “Giovane amore…”

              “What did he say?” Machado asks.

              “You sure you want to know?”

              “Uh…”

              “I could never forget you. You are my past, my present and my future. I love you,” Violet provides, without waiting for a further answer and there are several low whistles of appreciation, because yeah, damn. Bradley’s a romantic.

              He still doesn’t understand why Seresin calls him Leo though.

[kaisentine]

THIS IS DEDICATED TO @cup1ds-bow (i’m being held hostage)

itoshi sae doesn’t understand why you can never make eye contact with him.

whether it’s him who starts the conversation or it’s you, you will gaze anywhere but his eyes. kinda like your main focus is the stuff behind him, the things that perfectly align with his head, or maybe the way your hands become clammy every time you accidentally pass his gaze with your own. well, the main point is that it feels like he is never your main focus.

eye contact just comes naturally to him because of all the interviews and the intense matches with other teams—probably other things too. he basically chases your eyes but like a track-star, he can’t seem to catch up with your fidgety eyes.

it’s not like it’s impossible to make eye-contact with him but it sure does feel like it. every time you try, you can’t help but realize how bored his eyes—specifically—look and that’s how it’s always been—that’s the appeal… mostly.

it feels like an insult straight to the heart to look directly at them, like his eyes are telling you to fuck off even if he’s speaking directly at you.

can someone kill you right now? you promise you won’t press charges!

“some dude tried to get my number. what a creep.” he says. “really? which one was it?” you ask while scrolling on your phone (you’re legit not scrolling on anything—your phone is dead).

sae raises an eyebrow at your questionable action what the fuck are you doing. “…eyeliner guy.” he starts speaking slowly because he is utterly confused on why you’re swiping on a black-screened phone.

“uh-huh! that’s weird.” you nod

“can you at least look at me?” and you do—kind of? you look at him the way you always do—you don’t.

he continues to speak and you continue to listen. he’d say you almost look interested if it weren’t for the way your eyes kept wandering anywhere but his eyes.

it’s become quite normal for him to ignore your ignorance to his very obvious advances to make eye contact but now he’s just irritated—does he just not matter to you anymore?

with a quick move, he catches your chin between his fingers (IM SO CLICHE STOPP) in hopes of getting you to look at him. and you do but only for a split second.

your eyes are wide in surprise before looking away (which defeats the whole purpose of this cringy move 😅). “haha… what’s this about?” you sheepishly laugh at the gesture to play it off cool.

“geez… even like this, you won’t look at me.” he groans and lets go. “what do you mean? i do look at you.” his face contorts to annoyance because are you actually being for real? please tell him you aren’t.

“no you don’t.”

“yes i do!”

“you’re hopeless.”

now you realize you did.. kind of… fuck up.

“do you not realize the way you look?” you start. “how do i look??? are you telling me i look ugly?” he’s offended because he knows you know how much he cares about his appearance.

“no! it’s not like that!” you shout with your arms flailing in defensiveness. “it’s your eyes…” you admit but it seems he took it the wrong way. “okay so now you’re saying my eyes are ugly.”

you need to reject that idea because no way in hell were you trying to say that! it’s the exact opposite, his eyes to pretty—too pretty.

and he keeps staring at you!

“i didn’t mean it like that!” is this what it feels like to self-sabotage? “then how did you mean it?” he’s questioning you with full intent on still making you make eye contact with him.

“…not like that…” you say only to mentally punch yourself because you don’t even understand yourself. “okay so look…” he trails off, “look at me in the eyes.” he asks the impossible.

“i can’t.”

“why not?” okay so now it feels like he’s a ticking time bomb. “because… gosh if you look at me that way, i might kiss you.”

“then kiss me.”

[ihearteijirokiriiishima]

dating kirishima headcanons ≽^•⩊•^≼

warnings: fluff 🥹, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

-HEAVY on the petnames (not those weird ones)

-i feel lkke he would call you "love" or "honey" and ofc "pebble"

-the sweetest most gentle boyfriend u could ask for!! he def randomly surprises you with your favourite snacks and flowers ‘just because’

-also as i mentioned in my last post he would open doors for u

-and if you guys are shopping he will not let you carry anything

-even if you can do it on your own he will insist

-lovesss cuddles. he likes to be able to hold you in his arms and play with your hair, pulling you impossibly closer to him

-sometimes gets scared he will accidentally bite you when u kiss

-so he also likes to be reassured

-when youre on your period he will do everything and anything for u (grabbing hot water bottles, painkillers and ofc chocolates) and is the best at comforting u on ur period or not

-asks you to help him dye his roots

-alwayss making you laugh cause hes so cutesie 😖

-will never get tired of talking about you to his friends

-he would say stuff about how amazing you aree and how pretty you are and they would get tired of it

-doesnt stop him from doing it tho

-ok i feel like he would also tie your shoelaces even if you don’t need him to

-omgee he loves holding your hand fr

-he has that nice gentle yet firm grip on your hand so he knows youre still next to him

-always pays on dates he does not want 50/50 its always him paying for u

-doesnt let you even if you insist on paying

-has a little confidence boost any time you call him manly and he will giggle and blush about it

-enjoys cooking for yiu!! -knowing you enjoy something he made for u makes him so happy

[nyxthedeity]

𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

Synopsis: Draco has never experienced aftection. He is a literal void where if you put some love, you don't know where it goes. Until he met a specific someone that managed to fill that void.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!femreader

🍏🍀🐍🧣

Draco has always felt like an empty shell. He's convinced there is nothing inside of him anymore as his family did a good job carving it all out.

He was looking for anything anymore and the only ambition he had was no longer to be the best of best but to just get out of the deadly grasp his family has on him. Everything was not how he imagined it would be.

Everyday was like a blur to him, just passing by and time was almost nothing to him. Life was no longer an adventure waiting to be taken, life is no longer a path for him to take.

So goes for love.

Every turn of his head he sees people falling in love. Crabbe even got himself a crush and he could only blankly stare at something as Crabbe babbles on.

But that was when before he saw her.

A random day in the hall of Hogwarts, he was walking alone. And he heard something normal, yet his head seemed to just snap it's way.

And there, the famous sunshine girl everyone adores, giggling over something that her bestfriend said.

Why is he attracted to that sound? He hears giggles and laughs all his year, why was hers so different? Why did he like that smile so much?

But he couldn't let himself stay any longer, he'll look weird. So he forced his feet to keept moving forward, though his mind stayed on her.

Then suddenly, his eyes seemed to always roam around. His eyes that used to look so tired suddenly wanted to find someone.

He was in courtyard one free period, and he felt something when he saw you enter with your friends and sat on the grass. She looked so kind... Like she would never look at him with pity or disgust once she knew what he has on his arm. But he knew that's impossible. Who wouldn't be disgusted? Who wouldn't want to get away from him?

"Hey, Y/n, Malfoy seem to be looking at you." Said her friend as they talk a few distance away from him. When Y/n looked over her shoulder, Malfoy casually torn his eyes away.

"Was he?" Y/n asked with her head tilt and looked back at her friends. "Why do you think so?" She asks.

"Maybe he wants to be friends?" One friend answered, "Oh! Maybe he noticed you!" Said another.

"But, don't you guys notice that he's looking so gloomy? I wonder what's up." One brought up. It is true, everyone noticed how Draco's been quiet. Always observing... Always staring, not the loud and arrogant one from before.

"I've been wanting to get close to him. Though he's kind of hard to approach." Y/n said after a pause. He just became a closed book so fast that Y/n couldn't help but wonder what is exactly going on?

"I'm sure he'll appreciate you as his friend. Pansy is not really improving and Crabbe and Goyle are still dumb idiots." Said a friend that received nods in agreements.

Y/n took that in mind, making a mental note to always peel her eyes for opportunities.

And opportunity it is.

Draco had an Astronomy class, different from his minions. Y/n was in the same class so when it was over, she quickly packed up her bag and approached the Slytherin boy.

"Malfoy." She greets with a charming smile. "I didn't saw you partner up with someone in the project, you don't mind being mine, right?"

Well he just stopped working.

Why is this Hufflepuff talking to him and even inviting him to be his partner? Him? Why?

"Earth to Malfoy?" Y/n waved a hand in his face. "You good?" She flashed a smile.

Draco swears he need sunglasses for how bright that smile was.

"I'm fine with myself..." Draco mumbled in which she confusely frowned to. "But it's pairwork." She says.

So what? It's not like anyone want to work with him.

"C'mon, let's partner up!" She invited cheerfully again.

Draco just nodded his head slightly and it already brought a smile on her bug round face. Was Hufflepuff always been this kind? He feels like he's missing out.

Y/n hopped her way happily out of the classroom after securing her partner. But she doesn't want the project to be their only result. She wanted to crack that cold shell around him and spread that Malfoy was not a heartless jerk. She has always believed that no one is born like that, so she wanted to find out everything and make people understand.

The chance to do that came naturally as they meet up in the library to start their project.

She arrived a bit late with a bunch of books (some unrelated) in her arms and dropped down to the table with a proud smile.

Draco couldn't say anything and simply continued writing. A pout planted itself at Y/n's face as she got ignored. Her wish is for sure hard to get.

She opened one book, not related, but definitely interesting. She held up a page in his face, "Did you know that Hippogriffs can only lay one egg and it only takes a day to hatch and a week for it to start flying?" She said with enthusiastic voice.

"And that's... Connected to astronomy how?" Draco replied with hesitation.

"Just saying. Hippogriffs are rare to come by." She put the book down with defeat. "I really hope they are. The only Hippogriff I met scratched my arm." He said bluntly.

Oh yeah. That one.

They finished it all up with less talking than what Y/n had hoped. But well... She believes that she'll get a chance soon enough.

And she did.

Though it was not pretty.

She was running late for potions, it's bad enough that she's late, it's worse cause she's a Hufflepuff. But being late was soon off her mind as she saw Draco fast walking towards the boys bathroom and she swore he got tears in his eyes.

So she ran, not to get to class but to catch up to him. She hesitated at the door to the boy's bathroom. But who cares? Draco may need her help.

So she pushed the door gently, seeing Draco lean over the sink with his sleeves pulled up as he wash his face.

"Draco?" His name fall over her lips so naturally as she called. Draco jumped at the voice, his face dripping as he looked over at her.

He looked surprised and... Scared. What for?

Her eyes then gazed down at his arm. The dark mark.

Her eyes went back to his eyes and he was terrified that he doesn't even know what to say.

He knew she'd be disgusted, terrified, even report him. But it took him by surprised when she entered and locked door and hurriedly came to him with a worried face.

"Are you okay? What happened?" She asked as if she knew him for long. Like he held a special place in her heart.

He couldn't bring himself to talk, not when shes looking at him like that.

She touched the trembled hand containg the dark mark and caressed it. How could they do this? He's 16. Why is this on his arm?

"They forced you, didn't they?" She mumbled with her brows furrowed. His silence says it all. Her eyes met his, but instead of pity, he saw empathy. Understanding. When's the last time he saw that in someone's eyes?

He felt so vulnerable and weak that when she brought him into a hug, all she could do was hung onto her and cry like he's on his mother's arms.

He loved how her hands came up to his head to gently pat it, he loves how her arms were keeping him grounded. Why did it take so long for someone to be like this to him? Why did she only arrive when he's already weak?

Only then did he felt like there is tomorrow. There is path he could take. All from a girl who held him.

🍀🐍🧣🍏

Finally, I have a Draco fic! It's so great to post something cause I was dead for a long time because of school 😞

With this fic, I wanted to show just how powerful a single simple gesture does for a person experiencing something such as depression. And with that, I can also portray just how much Draco can change if he just received the right support, so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Feel free to request something and I'm happy to be in your service!

Your dearest Author,

NyxTheDeity

[otomehoneyybearr]

Azel Radwan Bonus Story!

Our First XX with the Twisted God This story contains NSFW content, Minors please DNI

This follows the Fake Lovers Event Story, so please read @shatcey’s summary here before continuing ❤️

After becoming a true couple with the living god, Prince Azel—now simply Azel—that particular misfortune happened once again.

Azel: "Are you stupid?"

Emma: "I don’t have an excuse."

(That was careless of me.)

Fresh out of the bath, my body felt unnaturally warm, and my breathing became shallow without me realizing it.

The urge to curl up and claw at my own skin was painfully familiar.

Azel: "This has happened before, hasn’t it? The soap in the bath being swapped for one laced with an aphrodisiac."

Azel: "And it was the exact same soap as last time, wasn’t it?"

Emma: "Now that you mention it, I thought it smelled a little different, but I didn’t think much of it..."

Azel: "Your sheer idiocy almost brings me to tears."

Emma: "I-I’m sorry."

Azel: "...So? Why are you clinging to my clothes like that?"

Emma: "If possible... um..."

Azel: "No."

Emma: "I haven’t even said anything yet."

Azel: "Do people affected by aphrodisiacs really have the luxury of making requests?"

Emma: "Ugh..."

(He knows I want him to touch me.)

(I was going to set aside my shame and ask, but he’s tough to convince.)

From the start, Azel hasn’t met my gaze even once. It feels like he’s purposely trying not to have me in his line of sight.

(…But his ears are a little red.)

(It doesn’t seem like he’s upset or disgusted. If anything he looks… embarrassed?)

Emma: "I’m your lover… aren’t I, Azel?"

Azel: "As I always say, you’re a self-proclaimed one."

Emma: "Even a self-proclaimed lover is still a lover."

I deliberately moved into Azel’s line of sight, and his faint blush seemed to deepen.

Emma: "Please help your self-proclaimed lover."

Azel: "...Absolutely not."

Azel: "More importantly, shouldn’t you do something about your appearance first?"

Emma: "I’m just wearing my usual nightgown."

Azel: "Put something over it."

Emma: "It’s... too hot."

Azel: "Shall I throw you outside, then?"

Emma: "…You twisted god."

Azel: "Twisted and proud."

Emma: "…"

Azel: "Please stop looking at me like that."

Emma: "Then how am I supposed to look at you?"

Perhaps growing impatient, Azel grabbed my shoulders to push me toward the bed.

Emma: "Mm…!"

(Even just a slight touch makes me feel this way…)

The hands on my shoulders quickly withdrew, as if startled.

Azel: "Don’t make weird noises; it’s awkward enough as it is."

Emma: "You’re asking for the impossible!"

Emma: "…I’m doing my best to hold back."

Azel: "Then try harder."

Emma: "I would if I could!"

Emma: "I know it’s improper, but..."

(The last time I was affected by an aphrodisiac, I endured it until the effects wore off.)

(But now… the person I love is right in front of me.)

(It’s the same aphrodisiac, yet I feel like I can’t hold out this time.)

(Isn’t it normal to want the person you love to touch you…?)

Abandoning all reason, I threw myself into Azel’s chest.

Azel: "Hey…!"

Emma: "…I can’t help it. I love you, Azel!"

Azel: "..."

Azel: "............"

Emma: "Is it… really no good?"

Azel: "……"

Looking up at him, I saw Azel’s gaze wandering, as if struggling with something internally.

Eventually, he rested his forehead against my shoulder in defeat.

Azel: "…Just for today. Don’t expect me to help next time."

Emma: "Ah…!"

Suddenly, his tongue brushed against my neck, and my knees almost gave out.

(This... is far more intense than I expected...)

As soon as Azel decided to go along with it, his resistance from earlier felt like a distant memory.

As he skillfully teased my neck, I had to clutch his clothes just to keep myself upright.

Every little breath seemed to set my hypersensitive, aphrodisiac-affected body ablaze, making me unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips.

Emma: "Ah… wait… I need a break—"

Azel: "I can’t hear you."

Emma: "Ah…!"

He boldly kneaded my chest over the nightgown, making my back arch involuntarily.

The overwhelming sensations exceeded my limit, and I eventually collapsed onto the floor.

Azel: "You were the one who asked for this."

Emma: “I… didn’t know."

Azel: "Didn’t know what?"

Emma: "That an aphrodisiac could… make me feel this out of control…"

Azel: "Good. Consider it a lesson learned."

Azel: "…Not that I’m stopping now."

Emma: "Huh?"

Azel sat cross-legged and pulled me toward him.

Before I knew it, I was completely nestled between his knees, with no way to escape.

Emma: "P-Please, go easy on me…"

Azel: "Did you say something?"

Emma: "Ah…!"

His hand slipped inside my collar, directly brushing against the sensitive peak of my chest, teasing it relentlessly.

I wanted him to stop—but at the same time, I didn’t. It was agonizing, yet I yearned for more—a confusing, overwhelming mix of emotions. Despite this, my body involuntarily tried to retreat.

But my body couldn’t keep up with my feelings, and I unconsciously tried to pull away. Azel pinned me down with his knees and slid a hand between my legs.

(I… feel like I’m losing my mind…)

The wet sounds stirred up a deeper heat within me, making my body grow even hotter.

Emma: “Ah… It’s… too much…”

Azel: "…Already at your limit? That’s not my problem. After all, I’m the so-called twisted god."

Emma: "Aah…!"

A sharp pinch of his fingers left my mind blank.

(It’s frightening… how good this feels.)

The tears spilling from the corners of my eyes were wiped away by a slightly rough kiss.

(Huh…?)

Getting a closer look, I realized something strange.

He furrowed his brows as if enduring some inner torment, and when our eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze.

Emma: "Could it be that…?"

Emma: "The aphrodisiac affected you too, Azel?"

Azel: "What?"

Emma: “You look like you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

Azel: “Are you an idiot? Don’t spout nonsense when you can’t even read the mood.”

Azel’s scowl deepened as he leaned in to bite my ear.

Emma: “Ahh! Not my ears!”

Azel: "Don’t complain."

Emma: "Hyah!"

His tongue traced the edge of my ear, teasing it mercilessly and my mind went blank again.

But Azel didn’t stop.

Azel: "Damn it… I thought I hated women under the influence of aphrodisiacs."

Azel: "…But when you show me this side of you, how could I possibly hold back?"

Emma: "W-Wait… n-no… stop!"

Emma "If this keeps up, I’ll die!"

Azel: "You won’t die. If anything, I’m the one who feels like I’m about to die."

Emma: "That’s ridiculous—"

(Wait…)

Using what little rationality I had left; I pressed myself against Azel’s chest.

Through the fabric, I felt a heartbeat pounding just as wildly as mine—if not more so.

Emma: "...Even though I’m just your self-proclaimed lover?"

Azel: "..."

(Thank goodness.)

(...It doesn’t seem like I’m the only one caught up in this.)

Azel may be twisted, cunning, and utterly dishonest, but his actions and expressions spoke louder than anything.

That realization made me happy. I wanted to know more about him. Perhaps it was that very feeling that made me cling to him so desperately as the effects of the aphrodisiac coursed through me.

Azel: “What’s with that grin? Still have the energy to be smug, huh?”

Emma: “N-not at all! I’m completely at my limit here!”

With a tug, he slipped the nightgown off my body, his relentless touch left no part of me unclaimed.

The pleasure was so overwhelming that my body stopped obeying me. My protests melted into incoherent cries, and I could only shake my head in vain.

I desperately shook my head to signal I’d reached my limit, but my lips were sealed in a kiss.

When I peeked through half-lidded eyes, I realized I wasn’t the only one nearing my breaking point.

Those mystical, star-filled eyes spoke more than any words could.

Azel: “Just so you know… this isn’t because I like you or anything sentimental like that.”

Azel: “This is... a matter of primal instinct, nothing more."

Emma: “….”

Azel: “So don’t look at me like that. This is just the aphrodisiac at work.”

Emma: “Didn’t you just call me an idiot earlier when I suggested the same thing?”

Azel: “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, this is purely the aphrodisiac’s fault.”

Azel: “Definitely not because of your … allure or anything like that.”

Azel: “Absolutely not.”

Emma: “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

I chuckled at his roundabout confession, but he quickly stripped me of even that fleeting moment of levity.

Though the aphrodisiac might have started this, the way my body ached for him made it clear—it wasn’t just the drug.

(This feeling… it’s the first time I’ve ever felt this way.)

▼・ᴥ・▼

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 Body Swap AU HC Expanded

As requested, I've expanded to the cast of characters, rearranging some from the original. :) I was going to add Pharah and Alex... but I didn't and tbh, those two would not get rounded up into this chaos lmao. this was too hard to figure out but... ii happily did it.... also idk y but in my head, roach is mute or not talkative which we can unpack later so yeah

Based off this post! and this ask!

WC: 1200 Warnings: none

Ghost:

Ghost woke up in Laswell’s body and immediately felt wrong. Everything was too light, too open, too exposed. Her smaller frame felt like it couldn’t hold a shadow, let alone a presence. His usual solid, grounded movements felt jittery.

The face in the mirror was a shock. Sharp lines, piercing eyes—nothing to hide behind. No mask. No armor. Just skin and hair and a fragility he wasn’t used to seeing, let alone feeling. Even standing still felt vulnerable.

It was a far cry from the towering wall he’d been.

He did appreciate that there was no urge to smoke or eat the awful things he puts in his own body. And he respected the hell out of her. And he'd do his best to keep her body healthy, clean, and unbruised. and if it came time to shower, you bet your ass his eyes stay up, as if it were even a question.

Laswell:

Laswell in Nik’s body felt like she’d been dropped into a machine. Everything about him was large—his shoulders stretched further than she expected, and even walking felt like trying to navigate heavy equipment. His hands were rough, oversized things that didn’t feel like they were meant for desk work. Which they weren't.

The height was disorienting. She kept brushing doorframes and misjudging distances, her new longer stride throwing off her usually measured pace. His accent coming with her words we weird, but she found it charming, something oddly familiar.

He was strong. And when the boys started giving her more and more things to lob around and carry, she entertained it. Nik simply asked that she not break him too badly.

Nik:

Nik in Roach’s body felt like a shadow of himself. Everything was too small—his arms, his legs, his hands. He moved without the weight he was used to, every step feeling almost… unfinished.

The silence was the hardest part. Roach didn't speak, now he understood why. He was very able, and could manage short sentences, but otherwise his-Roach's-body refused. It wasn't meant for someone who had a snarky reply to everything.

He eventually took advantage of Roach's agility. He ended up scaring the hell out of Soap and Kyle, to everyone else's delight. Not so bad, then.

Roach:

Roach woke up in Price’s body and felt like he’d been rooted to the ground. Nope. Nope. Nope. Big ol' nope. Everything was heavy—his arms, his legs, even his steps carried more weight than he was used to. His shoulders felt impossibly broad, and his hands, rough and massive, were clumsy at first.

The mustache was a constant presence, an itch he couldn’t ignore. Every time he moved his mouth, he felt it bristling against his lip, teasing him. The hat sat snugly on his head, though, and he found himself very happy wearing it.

He found that words were easier, but still didn't speak. Watching the chaos unfold around him, content with sitting back to rest his now aching legs... Surely Price wasn't that old...

Price:

Price in Rudy’s body felt… small. Not weak, but light in a way that made every motion feel less grounded. His hands were steady, sure, but they lacked the roughness and weight he was used to. His legs carried him with a quickness that didn’t suit his usual deliberate pace, and his smaller frame made him feel like he’d been cut down to size.

His reflection was jarring—clean-cut, almost unassuming. There was nothing wrong with it, but it wasn’t him. Rudy's voice was also lighter than Price's, carried in a way that Price's own didn't.

He did force a hat on, happy enough to enjoy the smaller frame that was less battered than his own.

Rudy:

Rudy in Alejandro’s body felt like he was wearing a suit of armor. A warm, gruff suit of armor. Everything about it was broad, loud, commanding. His shoulders filled the room, and his steps carried the kind of weight that turned heads.

It was disorienting. His movements were heavier, and his usually precise, careful gestures felt exaggerated in the bulk of the frame. His reflection was overwhelming—sharp jawline, intense eyes that trapped him in the mirror, a figure that seemed built to lead. It was too much, all at once.

Alejandro:

Alejandro in Gaz’s body felt like someone had stripped away all his power. His arms were too light, his legs too quick, and the smaller frame lacked the presence his own body offered. Every step felt like it carried less weight, and it gnawed at him.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Gaz’s sharp features and lean build stared back at him, unassuming and calm. It wasn’t a bad face—it just wasn’t his.

Gaz was athletic though, and that athleticism was refreshing. He couldn't help but enjoy that bit, at least a bit. But Spanish coming out of Gaz's body? With Gaz's voice? Oh nonono.

Gaz:

Gaz woke up in Graves’ body, and he hated it immediately. Everything felt too heavy, too stiff. His arms were bulky in a way that made every motion feel slower, less precise. His legs carried him like a tank, deliberate and cumbersome, as if the body itself was built for brute force instead of agility.

The face in the mirror didn’t help. Graves’ sharp, clean-cut features stared back at him, smug even when he wasn’t trying. His shoulders felt wrong, too wide, too squared off, and the Southern twang that came out when he spoke made it all weirder, but he learned to enjoy it quickly. "Anybody fancy a cuppa?" drawn in Grave's southern accent was hilarious.

Egged on by Soap and Ghost, slowly it became comedic gold. He gleefully tormented Graves body by indulging in black pudding, marmite toast, and other “proper” British foods, knowing Graves will hate it. If his taste buds aren't altered forever, Gaz will consider it a mission failure.

Graves:

Graves in Soap’s body felt like someone had crammed him into a sports car—surprisingly way too agile for his liking. Everything moved too quickly. His legs carried him farther than expected, constantly jittering.

The reflection in the mirror was a shock. The mohawk, the sharp lines of Soap’s face, the complete lack of bulk—none of it looked or felt like him. He ran a hand over the hair, feeling its stiff edges, and scowled.

He tried to stand still, to ground himself Soap's frame, but even then, it felt like his own body was mocking him with its lightness. Mocking him with the mohawk. Mocking him with some innocent, childlike look he wasn't used to.

Soap: (no change)

Soap ended up in Ghost’s body, of course. If anyone was going to get stuck in the most inconvenient switch possible, it was him. He realized this about ten seconds after waking up and nearly knocking himself out on the doorframe. Everything was big. His arms? Massive. His legs? Long enough that stairs suddenly felt like a death trap. And don’t even get him started on the shoulders—those things could barely fit through the locker room doorway without scraping the sides.

He wasn’t complaining about the other large part of Simon’s body though.

The mask was its own kind of torture. It clung to his face, hot and suffocating, like it had fused with his skin. He tugged at it a few times before giving up. “How does he even breathe in this thing?” he muttered, his new, gravelly voice startling him every time. Still, he’d respect it and keep it on.

When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he almost jumped out of his skin. Ghost’s mask stared back at him, hollow eyes and that skeletal grin. It wasn’t just eerie—it was downright unsettling. Soap quickly turned away, feeling every inch of the sore, strong body he inhabited.

[moonflowerrhapsody]

SHY YANDERE! X POPULAR GN READER

Another ordinary day at Maplewood High began, the sun filtering through the windows as students buzzed with excitement for the upcoming spring festival. Yuki sat at the back of the classroom, his heart racing as he clutched his pen tightly, trying to focus on the lesson. But it was impossible. Because there, in the front row, sat you, laughing with your friends, your voice music to Yuki's ears.

Every inch of Yuki’s being yearned for your attention, yet he remained rooted in his seat, an invisible wall between you both. Watching you live your life, taking on the world with charm, only deepened Yuki’s affection and desperation. It was a daily torture, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill whenever you glanced his way, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

That day, during lunch, everything changed. Yuki sat at his usual table, buried in his sketchbook, drawing your face in the margins. Just then, he noticed the vibrant laughter growing louder. You and your friends were heading straight toward him. Yuki's breath quickened as he felt their eyes land on him.

“Hey, Yuki!” Your voice rang out, causing Yuki to freeze. “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”

Yuki's heart leaped to his throat. “Uh, sure!” His voice barely above a whisper, he tried to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks.

As you settled down, the energy shifted slightly. Your friends looked at him in quietly as if judging him, while he struggled to keep his focus on you, hoping you wouldn’t read the sheer panic in his eyes, as he was fiddling with a page of his sketchbook.

“Do you draw?” You finally asked breaking the tension, a friendly smile lighting your face.

Yuki’s cheeks flushed, and he nodded. “I do… sometimes.” He hesitated before adding, “I… I drew you.”

“Oh really?” Your interest piqued. “Can I see?”

Panic seized Yuki as he fumbled with the sketchbook, holding it out with trembling hands. The moment you flipped it open and gasped at the portrait, Yuki felt a dangerous surge of pride mixed with fear.

“Wow, this is amazing! You’re really talented,” You said, eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Isn't it weird that he drew you Y/N? Dosent that mean he's like a stalker or something?" One of your friends added in, eyeing Yuki suspiciously.

You ignored them and turned back to face him "Ignore them, I really like your portrait Yuki, thanks for deeming me worthy of being drawn. Hang out with me after class 'kay?" You smile at him and before leaving with your friends.

And in that moment, the world seemed to stop for Yuki. For the first time, he was seen, not just as a shadow but as someone worthy of notice. His heart swelled with emotion, but then a horrific thought came to him...what would he do, he thought, if someone else caught your attention like this?....No, he would get rid of them... he would get rid of anyone who stood in his way... and that meant your friends too.

Days slipped by as Yuki's fixation grew. He watched you from afar, learning your routine and memorizing every detail—the way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your favorite soccer team. But as admiration turned to obsession, so did his thoughts grow darker.

Soon, he started to get rid of your friends; it started out small, like getting that filthy himbo you always talk to expelled for spreading nudes around the school (Oops), then getting that happy go lucky jock arrested for drugs that were found in his backpack (totally didn't plant it there <3) then getting your best friend killed in a bar fight (that he TOTALLY didn't start)

He always followed you after school, waiting until the coast was clear before he’d trail behind you, hiding in the shadows. With each step, Yuki felt more alive yet more terrified. What if he was seen? What if you found out? Each day, he collected small mementos—a broken pen, a discarded soda can, anything that could connect him to you.

In his lonely sanctuary of sketches and trophies hidden from view, Yuki created a wall of you, a shrine where he could escape reality. Yet with every thrill of his secret, a gnawing dread consumed him. He had seen you talk to a girl a few minutes ago while stalking you, he knew it wasn't a relative (he knew everything about you).

Yuki's blood ran cold. A jealous rage constructed, you didn’t need her; you needed him; someone who could worship and show you how perfect you are... but sadly perfection attracted others.

Protectiveness ignited within Yuki as he planned his next move. If you were his, then no one else could have you. In his heart, he believed you were meant to be together; he just needed to remove the distractions.

The day of the spring festival arrived, and the school buzzed with excitement. Stalls flourished with color, laughter ringing out like a symphony sent from the heavens, a grand stage that would draw everyone’s eyes. Yuki, dressed in a nondescript hoodie, lurked in the background, eyes locked on you.

As the festival wore on, Yuki’s mind raced with possibilities and fears. He followed you, and saw that you had met the girl in an area secluded from the festival. His blood ran cold and all he could see was red marched toward her, fueled by a surge of emotion that blurred rational thought.

The knife went in two times, three times and continued... while you watched in horror. By the time he was done, her face was so disfigured, you could hardly recognise her.

He looked up at you and gave you the most unhinged smile you've ever seen. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this but I couldn't control my anger when I saw you kiss her" His voice sweet as he slowly walked up to you.

You couldn't say anything, you were terrified as you backed away from him. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked

No response.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway" He took your hand and you flinched as you felt a needle prick your skin, your eyes felt heavy as you collapsed on the ground. The last thing you saw was that girl's bloody disfigured face and his chilling smile.

"YOU BELONG TO ME"

Well.. that was fun! This literally just came to my head as I was scrolling through tumblr so... yeah... y'all want a pt 2 of being locked in his basement???

[reputationolivia]

sandpaper - qh43

18+ minors dni | quinn x fem!reader | whole lotta fluff | inspired by zb’s song | mutual pining (kinda) | many flashbacks | italics = flashback

(please listen to the song if you’re able to.)

wc: 3.5k

barely proofread

a/n: i was driving home & thinking of quinn (as one does) and this song started playing so i just HAD to get my thoughts out here hehe.

“summer was a drag, but spring was a friend… i’ll love you til the summer comes back again.”

quinn stomped over in your direction, monkey bars long forgotten once he saw you sitting in the sand, back against a metal pole after some kid on the playground stole your spot on the swing set. you sat there with a sad expression as jack swung carelessly on the next swing over - oblivious to the situation.

the other kids at the playground didn’t stand a chance against quinn when it came to sticking up for you. only seven years old & jacks best friend which meant you were a constant presence in their household, feeling the same responsibility when it came to protecting you as he did with jack and luke.

“hey go play somewhere else!” he said as he finally reached earshot, walking up to the kid in question as you looked up to see quinn standing in front of him, his tone quite sharp for only a kid of age 10. the kid had run off as quinn turned to you, offering his hand out to you “you’re okay right?” he asked as she took his hand, standing up and brushing the sand off herself. “i am now, thanks quinny!” she thanked him before wrapping her arms around quinn in a tight hug, showing her appreciation. quinn stood still - mostly because she was holding his arms hostage - quinn ended up pushing her on the swing after she somehow managed to convince him, claiming she couldn’t swing on her own as good as he and jack could.

you’re reminded of the memory as quinn leaned over to grab your hand, guiding you across the icy sidewalk. “careful there” he murmured, warm hand steady against yours. “still looking out for me, huh?” you tease in reference to your earlier memory but knowing there’s many more instances where he’s been protective over you.

“always” he responds, his eyes soft as he looks down at you. “you’re welcome by the way! this relationship? all me!” jacks voice cuts through, like a record player scratching a vinyl. you rolled your eyes, holding onto quinn’s bicep tightly in order to avoid falling on the sidewalk while walking over a particularly icy part of the street.

“jack!” quinn groans in annoyance. “can we get through one day without you taking credit?” jack only smirked, the memory of how it all started was impossible to ignore. meanwhile luke only rolled his eyes playfully before he began bantering with jack a few feet ahead of you and quinn.

“when did you know?” you asked softly. “know what? that i had feelings for you?” he asked and you nodded. “remember that day at the rink when a boy from jacks team came up to you?” he asked and you nodded, recalling the events.

that day happened to be one of the days the skaters and hockey players had to share the rink, and we were just a couple of minutes late due to arguing over who got to ride shotgun on the way over. practice was in full swing, with both teams mostly working on specific skills and horsing around occasionally during the small breaks. once practice finally ended, you skated over to the bench and put your guards onto the blades of your skates, walked over to the locker room to pack your gear. you finished up before us and decided to wait outside the locker room near the lobby.

you recalled that day.

“hey there, y/n.”

you looked over to see a boy from jack’s team whose name you couldn’t remember.

“hey…?” you trailed off.

“liam,” he said.

“hey there, liam,” you said, slightly confused about why he came up to you. by this point, both luke and jack had come out of the locker room but were too busy horsing around while waiting for quinn to come to your rescue.

“sorry if it’s weird i came up to you. i just wanted to introduce myself—you’re friends with the hughes, right?” he asked.

“uh, yeah… i am.” you shifted on the balls of your feet, unsure where this conversation was heading.

“so, listen, i’ve been wanting to ask you out, but i wasn’t sure if you were seeing anyone. my friend said he thinks you’re going out with quinn?” he looked at you, questioning whether it was true or not.

you didn’t know how to get out of this because, honestly, you were afraid he’d ask you out, and you weren’t particularly interested.

“oh, um��”

“hey, y/n, you ready to go?” quinn asked, putting his arm around your shoulders. you were confused by his gesture but also thankful for the out it gave you, so you chose not to question it.

“yeah, i am,” you said, looking up at him before glancing back at liam. “i’ve got to go,” you said simply before walking off with quinn, his arm still around your shoulders as you walked toward jack and luke, who were now a couple of feet away, looking in your direction.

“hey, thanks for that,” you said in reference to his gesture, figuring he’d only done it because he thought you were in distress.

“uh, yeah… no problem. who was that, anyway?” he asked, his arm now returning to his side.

“i actually don’t know. he just randomly came up to me—said his name was liam. he’s on jack’s team, i think. why?”

quinn hummed. “no reason,” he muttered, but the words felt heavy in his mouth.

“you two were talking for quite a while,” he said as you all walked toward the exit.

“is that… bad?” you asked, tilting your head and studying him.

“no, i just—” he stopped himself, realizing how ridiculous he sounded. what was he even trying to say? that you couldn’t talk to anyone else? that it bugged him when other boys talked to you? he couldn’t say that without sounding insane.

“forget it,” he mumbled.

the truth was, he didn’t know if you were in distress or not. when he walked out of the locker room, he saw his brothers messing around, and you were talking to some boy with your back turned. he stood there for a moment, feeling his stomach twist. it wasn’t like you hadn’t talked to other boys before, but there was something about this one—the way he leaned in a little too close. he frowned, his jaw tightening.

he tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal and that you could talk to whoever you wanted. he was just… looking out for you. that’s what older brothers did, right? except jack was your best friend, and jack didn’t seem to care. jack was busy horsing around with luke and a couple of other boys, oblivious to the fact that someone else had your attention.

you stepped closer to him as you looked up and squinted your eyes. “you’re acting weird.”

“am not.”

“are too.”

he sighed, feeling heat creep up his neck. “i just… i don’t know. i didn’t like the way he was looking at you, okay?”

your eyebrows lifted, but instead of teasing him, you smiled softly. “well, i wasn’t paying attention to him looking at me,” you said. “we were just talking. actually, you kind of saved me back there.”

quinn blinked, caught off guard. “oh.”

“yeah, oh.” you grinned, nudging his arm. “thanks for looking out for me, though.” - a new sort of vibe between you two blossoming, though it would remain unspoken.

it wasn’t much—just a quick touch—but it sent his thoughts spiraling. why did your voice sound soft all of a sudden? why did that tiny smile make his chest feel tight? he looked away, shaking his head as jack and luke fell into step with you and quinn.

“hey! you’re hogging her!” jack whined, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “what are you two whispering about anyways?”

“nothing,” quinn muttered.

jack didn’t seem convinced, though. a mischievous look crossed his face as he leaned closer to you. “you know, i think quinn gets jealous when you don’t pay attention to him.”

“shut up, jack,” quinn snapped, his ears burning.

you laughed, shoving jack off. “don’t be ridiculous.”

but when you glanced at quinn, your smile lingered just a second too long.

quinn had been quiet for a while after his flashback, the silence between them only filled by the sound of their footsteps on the snow-crusted sidewalk. she glanced up at him, her arm still wrapped around his, but his expression distant for a second, like he was lost in thought.

“quinn?” you asked softly. “what are you thinking about?”

he shook his head of his thoughts, a smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “nothing.” his tone shifted slightly, and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “that was the first time i realized i didn’t want anyone else to have your attention.”

your heart skipped a beat, surprised by his words, dropping your hand from his arm and into his hand, squeezing it softly. “you? mr. i’ll protect you like a little sister?”

quinn chuckled softly, “yeah really.” he said, voice lowering. “i thought it was just me looking out for you. but after that day, i started realizing i wanted… more. more than just watching over you. more than just being your ‘big brother.’” he raised his free hand, motioning air quotes.

you stopped walking for a moment and turned to him fully. he looked down at you, gaze softer now, more earnest than before.

“so…” you started. “that was the moment huh? when you realized?” quinn nodded slowly. “yeah it was like something clicked, but i didn’t really get it at first.” he paused, his thumb running over your hand softly. “it was confusing feeling that way, especially when jack was always there, making jokes, and you were… well, you. i didn’t know what to do with all those feelings.”

you smiled softly. “i didn’t know either,” you admitted. “not at first.”

luke’s voice cut through the moment from ahead of them. “you two are cute with your ‘i realized i liked you first’ speeches but can we get to dinner already?” he whined.

quinn groaned, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. you laughed as you continued walking alongside quinn, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. the years of friendship, moments of subtle longing, the way it all led to this moment.

as you all reached the restaurant, you glanced at quinn one last time, your heart full of the unsaid things that hovered between you both. and for the first time, you realized that maybe you and quinn didn't need to say it all-because you already knew.

-♡ ♡

“can you believe we’ve been together almost 10 years already?” you ask incredulously, joining quinn on the couch, the boys having gone out to visit some friends while they were in town.

“i know, it’s really crazy - and to think we finally admitted our feelings because of jacks meddling.” quinn says. “yeah, but i’m glad.” you sigh happily, laying your head on quinn’s chest.

“yeah me too, really glad.” he states, running his right hand through your hair. “y’know i wasn’t really sure if you felt the same way at first?!” you say, sitting up and placing your left palm on his chest.

“what? really?”

“yes! i totally thought it was one sided and i was just being delusional.”

“baby, i thought i was being so obvious.” he groans, smile beginning to form on his face as he tugs you back down onto his chest.

-

quinn was playing a casual game of volleyball with jack, luke, and some of their friends in the yard. he keeps glancing toward the dock, watching as you laugh with one of his cousins who came over to chat with you.

jack smirks as quinn completely misses the ball being served to him, too distracted by whatever you and the cousin are talking about.

“dude, what was that?” jack teases. “sorry, i wasn’t paying attention,” quinn mumbles, though his eyes are still glued to you. jack follows his gaze and grins knowingly. “you’re so obvious, it’s painful.”

“what are you talking about?” quinn snaps, turning back to the game and pretending to care about what’s going on. “you’re staring at her like she hung the moon,” jack says under his breath, just loud enough for quinn to hear. quinn rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush. “shut up, jack.”

jack just laughs. “you should probably stop glaring at ryan, though. he’s literally just making her laugh.” quinn doesn’t reply, but the scowl on his face softens as his cousin waves goodbye to you and walks back toward the yard.

once the game is over, quinn heads toward the dock where you’re still sitting, your chin propped on your knees as you watch the water.

“hey, you want to come inside? we’re about to eat,” he says. you look up and smile. “i think i’ ll stay out here for a bit. the sunset looks pretty.” quinn hesitates before sitting down next to you. he’s quiet for a moment, and you nudge his shoulder.

“you okay?” you ask, genuinely curious. “yeah. just tired,” he lies.

you frown slightly, shifting to face him more. “you push yourself too hard, you know. you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time, quinn.” your words make his heart ache, but he just shrugs and avoids your eyes. “it’s fine.”

you don’t press him, leaning back on your hands and glancing at the water again. “your hoodie’s really comfortable, by the way. i’m keeping it.” he smiles, feeling his face heat up, finally looking at you. “you always say that, and yet it somehow still ends up back in my closet.”

“maybe because i’m nice and give it back eventually,” you tease. “or because you can’t fit it in your dresser with all the other stuff of mine you steal,” he shoots back. you roll your eyes but grin at him, and the way the golden light of the setting sun reflects in your eyes makes his stomach flip.

luke and jack come running over from the yard, yelling about how dinner’s ready. jack glances between you and quinn, shaking his head with a knowing smile.

“you coming or what?” jack asks, clearly amused. “yeah, we’re coming,” quinn says quickly, standing up and offering you a hand.

as you take it and get to your feet, jack leans in just close enough to quinn to mutter, “you’re hopeless, bro.” quinn glares at him, but jack just laughs and runs off with luke.

you don’t notice the exchange, your attention already on the house as you head inside. meanwhile, quinn trails behind, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long before following.

“i think everyone realized it before us.” you say, your left arm tucked underneath you as your right arm is thrown across quinn.

“i think so too.”

“we realized it soon enough though, don’t you think?”

you sat on the edge of the dock, your feet dangling above the water as the ripples glimmered in the fading sunlight. the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore filled the air, but the sound of jack and luke’s distant laughter reminded you this wasn’t just a peaceful evening—it was a setup.

quinn sat next to you, his knee brushing yours as he leaned back on his hands. he seemed unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“they’re up to something,” you said, breaking the silence.

quinn smirked, glancing over at you. “when aren’t they?”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “true, but this feels different. like… why would they just leave us here after insisting we race down to the dock?”

quinn shifted, sitting up straighter as he pulled his hands into his lap. “maybe… maybe they thought we should talk,” he murmured, his voice so low you almost missed it.

“talk about what?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

he hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. his cheeks were flushed, whether from the fading sun or something else, you weren’t sure.

you wondered if he was talking about that slightly awkward vibe that’s been between you two lately.

what could he possibly say? i mean what was there even to say? sure your dynamic had changed over the past few months, but you weren’t sure it was something he acknowledged or it it was just you.

“about us,” he said finally, the words quiet and unsure. oh. your heart skipped a beat, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and nerves. “us?”

quinn nodded but didn’t look at you right away. his eyes stayed fixed on the rippling water in front of him, his shoulders slightly hunched.

“yeah. um…” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “i—I don’t really know how to say this, so… i guess i’ll just say it.” he paused, finally turning to meet your gaze. his eyes were wide and uncertain, and he gave you a nervous smile. “i… like you. like, like you like you. as more than… as more than just friends, more than my little brothers best friend.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him, stunned. the confession hung in the air between you, heavy and fragile. you stared at him, your mind racing. he must have taken your silence as a bad sign because he quickly looked away, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“i mean, i know it’s probably stupid, and maybe you don’t feel the same, and i don’t want to mess anything up between us, but i’ve been keeping it in for so long, and jack and luke keep telling me to just—”

“quinn,” you interrupted, your voice soft.

he froze, his lips pressing together as he finally dared to look at you again. “yeah?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “i like you too.”

his eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. “you… you do?”

you nodded, your cheeks burning. “yeah. i just… i didn’t think you liked me back, so i never said anything.”

he let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders relaxing as relief washed over him. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you said, your voice warm. “i was just as nervous about ruining things as you were.”

quinn shook his head, laughing softly. “we’re both so dumb.”

“biggest idiots,” you agreed, grinning. you couldn’t believe this was really happening.

he smiled back, his confidence growing slightly as he shifted closer. his knee pressed against yours, and his hand hovered near yours.

“so, uh…” he swallowed hard, glancing down at your joined knees before looking back into your eyes. “can i… i mean, would it be okay if i…?” he was so awkwardly cute.

you didn’t need him to finish. your heart pounding, you nodded. “yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

he leaned in slowly, his movements tentative and careful. when his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and unsure, but the warmth of the moment made your head spin. the kiss deepened slightly, and you felt a rush of emotions—relief, happiness, and something you couldn’t quite name but never wanted to let go of. ever.

when you pulled back, both of you were blushing and smiling like fools.

“so… what do we tell jack and luke?” you asked, your voice breathless. quinn’s forehead against yours.

quinn laughed quietly, shaking his head. “nothing. let them figure it out.”

as if on cue, jack and luke appeared at the edge of the dock, both wearing triumphant grins.

“called it!” jack crowed, punching the air. “you’re welcome!” luke added, smirking.

quinn groaned, his face burning, but when he glanced at you, his expression softened. his heart felt like it was about to burst at the seems.

“thanks for making me race to the dock,” you teased quinn, your smile bright.

“thanks for beating me,” he replied with a shy grin, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them. you felt your cheeks heat up again under jack and luke’s eyes, using quinn’s chest as a shield to hide from their eyes.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you walked back to the house together, jack and luke trailing behind, their laughter filling the air. quinn surprising you by taking your hand in his.

this was the perfect way to end the summer, feeling blissful, and carefree like a massive weight was taken off your shoulders.

“i don’t think i would’ve ever confessed how i felt about you if it wasn’t because of luke and jacks meddling - and even then you were the first to admit your feelings” you say recalling how nervous you’d been.

“i’ve loved you since we were small, i’ve loved you as a friend, and as the years went by it blossomed into something more, a different kind of love.” quinn spoke.

“oh my quinny, it’s been years and you’re still the biggest crush i’ve ever had.” you spoke, knowing it was true, knowing how lucky you were to have found your person so young in life and to still feel like your heart might explode. so full of love even years later.

you’ve loved each other for almost all the seasons of your lives.

another a/n: i really hope you guys enjoyed this one :) i really loved writing this one and i think i might want to do more on them later on so let me know if that’s something anyone’s interested in :) love you guys ♡ have a great day/night!!

[lith-myathar]

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[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso × Unconventional Drinking Implements