#i love that fic more than i want to admit

[monstersholygrail]

i love tiger bf and deer reader 🫶😩

AWE OMG thank youuuu, I’m so glad!!!

Literally am so happy about all the love they’ve gotten. I’ve been wanting to write more for them for weeeeks. But I haven’t gotten any good ideas for fics :((. They’re such a fun and cute pair and deserve more!

Tiger Hybrid bf is just such a grumpy cat. He’s mean to everyone except for you, his sweet Deer Hybrid. His lil doe. He can’t find it in himself to ever be mean to your sweet face. Just melting for you like a cat in the sun.

Of course, you like it when he’s a little mean in the bedroom. But there it’s like his instincts take over and he can’t help himself, pouncing on you like the prey you are. Relishing in the way you submit for him. It brings you both a special kind of release that sends tingles down your spine.

But the minute he’s finished working you both through your orgasms, his prey instincts get replaced with his protective instincts. He curls around your plush body, arms drawing you into him. There’s nowhere safer than in his arms and he doesn’t plan to let you out of ‘em.

He’ll worship you day and night without stop. Of course he’d rather perish in a fight to the death than admit it to you. It isn’t hard to tell though as when he’s not worshipping your body and giving you one explosive orgasm after the next, he’s kneading at your soft belly, purring lowly into your neck. He can’t get enough of your soft squishy body and you’ve never felt more cherished and desired in your life.

You and your Tiger Hybrid bf are just the absolute cutest, I cannot!!

[gf2bellamy]

So I am obsessed with fics where the bau find out that early seasons!Spencer has a girlfriend so if you could please write any form of that I would literally lose my mind ♡

Maybe Morgan and Garcia (because those two are everything to me) run into Spencer and his girlfriend on a date or something??

ice cream — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: eating ice cream, reader throws away an ice cream cone bc she doesn't like it a/n: hiii thank youu for your request !! also morgan and garcia might just b the best duo ever

The ice cream shop was a cozy little place, with pastel-colored walls and a chalkboard menu filled with swirling, handwritten flavors. The air was sweet with the scent of waffle cones and sugary toppings, and the soft hum of the freezer behind the counter added to the cheerful ambiance.  

You stood in front of the glass case, your eyes scanning the colorful assortment of flavors, each one more tempting than the last. But as much as you wanted to try something new, the sheer number of options was overwhelming. 

“I don’t know what to get,” you mumbled, leaning closer to Spencer, who was standing beside you.

Spencer tilted his head, studying the menu with that thoughtful expression you loved so much. “You like chocolate, don’t you?” he asked, pointing to the rich, dark chocolate ice cream that looked as smooth as silk. 

You nodded but hesitated. “I do, but… I kind of want to try something new. What if I don’t like it, though?” You bit your lip, glancing at the line infront of you. There was only one customer ahead of you, and you knew you had to decide soon. 

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “How about we buy three ice creams?” he suggested, his tone gentle. “One chocolate, so you have something you know you’ll like, something new for you to try, and one for me. That way, if you don’t like the new flavor, you won’t be stuck with it.” 

You blinked at him, surprised by his solution. “Three ice creams? Isn’t that a little excessive?” 

He shrugged, his smile turning playful. “It’s not every day we get ice cream. Might as well make it an adventure.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his logic, and the tension in your shoulders melted away. “Okay,” you agreed, a happy smile spreading across your face. “Let’s do it.” 

When it was your turn to order, you decided to go with the chocolate mint for your “adventure” flavor, while Spencer chose a classic vanilla. The chocolate ice cream, your reliable favorite, was the third choice.

Once you stepped outside, the warm afternoon sun greeted you, casting a golden glow over the street.

You stood in front of the store, holding your two cones—one chocolate and one chocolate mint—while Spencer happily started on his vanilla.

You took a tentative lick of the chocolate mint.

Almost immediately, your face scrunched up in disgust. “Oh god, no. What is that?” you exclaimed, the strong mint flavor overwhelming your taste buds. It was like eating toothpaste mixed with chocolate, and you quickly reached for the chocolate ice cream to wash away the taste. 

Spencer burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he watched you struggle. “That bad, huh?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“It’s awful!” you said, glaring at the cone. “I don’t know how anyone could like this. I’m throwing it away.” 

“Wait, wait,” Spencer said, still chuckling as he held out a hand to stop you. “Let me try it.” 

You hesitated but handed him the cone, watching as he took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, that’s… not great,” he admitted, handing it back to you with a grin. “But at least now you know.” 

“Yeah, now I know to never trust chocolate mint again,” you said, tossing the cone into a nearby trash can with a dramatic flourish. “Chocolate is the only flavor for me.” 

Spencer laughed again, the sound infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile despite your ice cream disaster. “Well, at least you tried,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently.

You leaned into him, savoring the sweetness of your chocolate ice cream and the even sweeter moment with him. 

The sun was warm on your skin as you and Spencer strolled down the bustling street, hand in hand. The ice cream in your free hand was slowly melting.

Spencer’s thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, comforting gesture that made your heart flutter.

You pointed out different stands as you walked, smiling at the quirky items on display and debating whether you should buy a ridiculously oversized hat or a silly toy.

“Look at that!” you said, tugging on Spencer’s hand as you gestured to a stand selling handmade jewelry. “Those earrings are so pretty. Do you think they’d suit me?” 

Spencer glanced at the stand, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered your question. “I think they’d look great on you,” he said after a moment, his tone sincere. “But you’d look good in anything.” 

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Smooth, Dr. Reid. Very smooth.” 

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink, and you were about to tease him further when a loud, familiar voice cut through the air. 

“Reid?!” 

Both of you froze, turning toward the sound. Your eyes landed on a stand a few feet away, where a blonde woman in colorful, eccentric clothing was waving enthusiastically. Next to her stood a tall, muscular man with a smirk on his face.

You recognized them immediately—Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan. 

Before you could react, Garcia was rushing toward you, her arms outstretched like she was about to tackle Spencer in a hug. Morgan followed at a more slower pace, his smirk growing wider as he approached. 

“Oh my gosh, Reid!” Garcia exclaimed, stopping just short of throwing herself at him. “What are you doing here? And who is this?” Her eyes landed on you, sparkling with curiosity.

You felt Spencer’s hand tighten around yours, and you glanced at him, confused. His mouth had fallen open slightly, and a blush was creeping up his neck, spreading to his cheeks.

“Uh, hi, Garcia. Morgan,” Spencer said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “This is, um… this is—” 

“His girlfriend,” you finished for him, offering a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you both. Spencer’s told me so much about you.” 

Garcia’s eyes widened, and she let out a delighted squeal. “His girlfriend?!” she repeated, looking between you and Spencer. “Oh my gosh, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us! How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell us?!” 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but Morgan beat him to it. “Yeah, pretty boy,” Morgan said, crossing his arms and giving Spencer a teasing look. “Since when do you keep secrets from your team? Especially one this big.” 

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. “It’s… not a secret,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “I just… haven’t mentioned it yet.” 

“Haven’t mentioned it?” Garcia repeated, placing her hands on her hips. “Reid, this is huge! You’re dating someone! And she’s adorable!” She turned to you, her expression softening. “You are adorable, by the way. I love your outfit.” 

You laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed but charmed by Garcia’s enthusiasm. “Thank you,” you said. “I’ve heard a lot about you too. Spencer says you’re the heart of the team.” 

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, he’s not wrong,” she said, winking at Spencer.

“So,” she said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in her eye, “what’s it like dating our boy genius? Does he recite random facts at you all the time? Oh, does he—” 

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupted, his voice pleading. “Please don’t.” 

You laughed, enjoying the way Spencer squirmed under their teasing. “He does all of those things,” you said, grinning at him. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Garcia sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet. I think I might cry.” 

Morgan rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Alright, lovebirds,” he said, “we’ll let you get back to your date. But Reid, you’re officially on notice. No more secrets, got it?” 

“Got it,” Spencer said, though he looked like he was already regretting the promise. 

As Garcia and Morgan walked away, Garcia turned back to wave enthusiastically. “It was so nice meeting you!” she called. “We’ll have to do lunch soon!” 

You waved back, still smiling, before turning to Spencer. “Well, that was… unexpected.” 

Spencer let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.” 

“They’re great,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And they clearly care about you a lot. I’m glad I finally got to meet them.” 

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening. “I’m glad too,” he said.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s nice to know your team has your back.”  you said softly.

Spencer smiled, as he tightened his hold on your hand. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.” 

[maeintree]

almost doesn't count | s. reid

Summary: Spencer Reid has been crushing on you ever since you joined the BAU, and Valentine’s Day feels like the perfect time to finally ask you out Pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x agent!fem!Reader Word Count: -900 Author's Note: just some fillers to put something on my masterlist! and some lil lovey dovey valentine's day fics!! this is really short but i missed spencer so here ya go!

Spencer Reid had been working up the courage for weeks.

It wasn’t as if asking someone out was an impossible feat—he had recited entire passages of obscure literature from memory, broken down complex behavioral patterns in serial killers, and once even explained the mechanics of quantum entanglement to Morgan (who had promptly told him to shut up).

But somehow, walking up to you and asking you out on Valentine’s Day seemed more daunting than anything he’d ever faced before.

His crush on you had been a quiet thing at first, sneaking up on him the moment you joined the team. It started with stolen glances across the bullpen, the way your laugh made his heart stutter, and how you always listened—really listened—when he rambled. And then, before he knew it, you were in his thoughts more often than he cared to admit.

So, on Valentine’s Day, he made a decision: he was going to ask you out.

It started with a simple Valentine’s Day card. Well, simple in theory. In reality, it was an intricately folded piece of card-stock, filled with Spencer’s neat (?) but small handwriting, detailing an absurdly specific statistic about the origins of Valentine’s Day traditions.

You knew it was meant to be sweet, in his own Spencer way, but it also made your heart race in ways you weren’t prepared to admit.

Spencer, naturally, was oblivious.

“So, historically, Valentine’s Day wasn’t actually a romantic holiday,” he had begun, sitting across from you in the BAU’s break room, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. “It originated from the Roman festival Lupercalia, which was a—uh—fertility ritual involving the sacrifice of goats and, um, the slapping of women with strips of their hides.

Which is—obviously—not romantic at all, but somewhere around the 14th century, Geoffrey Chaucer wrote ‘Parlement of Foules,’ and that’s where the association with love really started. Although there’s also speculation that St. Valentine himself was a priest who performed marriages in secret, which is why—”

You leaned forward, watching him with amusement as he continued rambling, the words spilling out at an almost frantic pace.

It was endearing, the way he talked so much when he was nervous, and you weren’t sure if he was even aware of how much he was saying at this point.

“Spencer,” you interrupted gently, resting a hand over his. “Breathe.”

He blinked rapidly, as if suddenly realizing he hadn’t taken a proper breath in minutes. “Right. Breathing. That’s—uh—important.”

His cheeks turned a shade of pink that rivaled the candy hearts Garcia had placed around the office. “What I—I mean, what I was trying to say is that I know Valentine’s Day is usually about, um, flowers and chocolates and not historical analysis, but I—uh—I wanted to give you something that—”

“That’s uniquely you?” you offered, smiling.

He exhaled, relieved. “Yes. Exactly.”

You took the card, running your fingers over the embossed edges. It was thoughtful, sweet, and—most importantly—Spencer. “I love it.”

Spencer’s face lit up in a way that made your heart stutter. But before either of you could say anything more, a loud whistle from the doorway made you both turn.

“Reid,” Morgan drawled, grinning as he sauntered in. “Did I just hear you giving a TED Talk on Valentine’s Day?”

Behind him, JJ and Emily exchanged knowing smirks, while Hotch simply raised an eyebrow in quiet amusement.

“Oh, he didn’t just give a TED Talk,” Garcia chimed in, appearing suddenly with her arms full of pink-wrapped candies. “Our resident genius just made the most adorably awkward Valentine’s confession in BAU history.”

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Spencer.”

And despite his embarrassment, despite the teasing, despite the overwhelming urge to disappear into the floor, Spencer smiled. Because, for once, he didn’t entirely mind being the center of attention.

It was supposed to be simple. Once everyone clocked out, he’d find you outside, ask if you wanted to get dinner—something casual, no pressure. But as he stepped outside, he saw you before he could call your name.

And he saw the man standing next to you.

Saw the way you smiled at him. Saw the way he cupped your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

Spencer stopped in his tracks, feeling his heart plummet to his stomach. The words he had rehearsed in his head over and over evaporated into nothing.

The man pulled away, and you hugged him before stepping into a car, leaving Spencer frozen where he stood.

“Well, that sucks,” Garcia’s voice cut in, startling him. He hadn’t even noticed her walking up beside him, arms crossed as she watched the same scene unfold.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who is he?”

Garcia tilted her head, looking at him like she was about to break bad news. “That’s her boyfriend. Aren’t they cute?”

Spencer felt something in his chest tighten, but he forced a small smile. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They are.”

Garcia’s face softened. “Spence…”

But he was already turning back toward the parking lot, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Garcia.”

She sighed, watching him walk away, before muttering under her breath, “Okay..”

help this feels so ooc for him, i'm so used to writing cocky people.. i'm so sorry! but anyhow, likes, comments, & reposts are greatly appreciated!

[mrspiastri]

I would like to request a desi girl x lewis fic

desi munda 🪅

pairing: lewis hamilton x desi!reader

cw: fluff, lewis being a bit negative etc etc

wc: 2k words

an: thanks anon, hope u like my first lewis fic!

.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡𖦹˚ 𓇼 ｡𖦹° ｡. .° ｡

“The last time I felt like this before a race was probably in 2008. It’s madness,” Lewis lamented in his driver’s room as he put on his fireproofs, getting ready to review the final data before hopping into the car.

“Well, it probably has to do with the fact that you’re racing in India after more than a decade. Unfamiliar track and all that jazz,” Y/N responded from where she was seated on the couch, filing her nails and adding the final touches to her makeup.

“I think it might be more because my gorgeous girlfriend won’t even look at my face,” he commented with a slight grin as he shimmied into his race suit.

She playfully rolled her eyes, snapping her compact mirror shut and stuffing it into her purse before looking at him. “There, now I’m all yours.” She smiled up at him as he walked across the room, towering over her.

“I think you’ve got a lot of pressure on you today, and not just from Fred and the team,” Y/N stated, making Lewis groan before plopping down next to her on the couch in a less-than-graceful manner.

“If you’re talking about your family, then yes, it’s probably that. I think I saw all your cousins and your aunts in the first three rows of the grandstands,” he muttered pitifully, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. She took pity on him, wrapping her arms around him as he continued ranting.

“I know they’re excited to see their future son-in-law doing what he does best—” Y/N let out an incredulous grunt at this—“but this is INSANE! I might die of stress, honestly.”

She laughed at him before holding his chin and making him look up at her. “You’re going to do wonderful, Lew. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. They all know you’re the best damn driver on the grid; they’re just excited to see you in your element.”

“But if I don’t win, they’re going to think I’m useless. A washed-up, no-good idiot who can’t even win a stupid race,” he sighed, slumping further down, letting his negative thoughts take over.

Y/N sat up straighter at this. “I know you’re not talking about yourself like that. Lewis, you are an amazing driver, and you know that very well,” she said firmly, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Besides, my whole family loves you! You could come dead fucking last, and they’d still cheer. Heck, you could DNF, and they’d cheer as you brought your car into the pits to retire from the race.”

Lewis let out a dry laugh at that. He couldn’t exactly deny it.

“I just... I don’t want them to think I’m a loser. I want them to see me as a part of their family—as your future husband. If they see me lose, they’ll think I’m not good enough for you,” he finally admitted, revealing what had been weighing on him ever since Y/N told him her family would be attending the race.

Y/N was silent, emotions warring inside her. On one hand, she was shocked he thought so lowly of himself and his reputation in front of her family. But on the other hand, the fact that he had thought so far ahead about their future made her want to grab his face and kiss him until he forgot every single doubt in his head.

“Lew, I promise you—whatever happens today won’t change their perception of you. To them, you are the coolest, most enigmatic person ever. And you’re *definitely* the best catch out of all the other partners my family members have brought home. I mean, come on, who can beat a seven-time Formula One World Champion?”

A knock at the door interrupted them, a staff member reminding Lewis that he had to check the final corrections made to the car after qualifying before the formation lap started in 15 minutes.

“I’ll meet my parents in the garage; you go on ahead,” she said, standing up and adjusting the red dress she wore, showing her full support for the Ferrari driver.

Lewis got into the car, checking if the throttle and steering were working fine. “Seems good. Wanna start the lap?” he asked his engineers, receiving an affirmative response.

Y/N leaned down and kissed his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on his skin. “A kiss for good luck—and to remove the stupid thoughts in your head.”

“I was hoping for a proper one,” Lewis playfully pouted up at her.

“That’s for after the race. You gotta have something to look forward to, na?”

He simply laughed before putting on his helmet. The sound of his car revving up echoed in the garage as he exited. Y/N, meanwhile, made her way to the back where her parents waited for her, smiling at the conversation she had just had with Lewis.

“He seems stressed. Hope it doesn’t affect his performance,” her dad pointed out, making her sigh in worry.

“He is. Honestly, he’s more worried about disappointing the family than he is about losing,” she confided.

“I hope you told him he’s crazy for even thinkingthat,” her mother gasped.

Y/N winked while putting her headphones on. “You know it.”

🪺🪺🪺

It was the final lap of the race. Lewis had overtaken Max at the start of lap 37, after tailing him for more than half of the race. In the Ferrari garage, tensions were high, with both drivers in podium positions.

As the checkered flag waved, Lewis soared past it, clinching victory in front of his girlfriend’s home crowd and further cementing Ferrari’s Constructors’ Championship title contention.

The announcers’ voices boomed throughout the grandstands, the crowd erupting into cheers. Everyone at the Ferrari garage ran out to celebrate with Lewis and Charles in parc fermé, the latter having placed third. Y/N and her parents were escorted to where the podium finishers had gathered their cars.

Lewis stood on his car, bowing to the roaring fans with his palms pressed together in a namaste pose—just like she had taught him.

The team cheered him and Charles on, with pats on the back and massive hugs. Lewis was all smiles, scanning the crowd until his eyes found Y/N, waving at him from behind the barriers.

He ran up to her, lifting her off the ground in the biggest hug he could manage without hoisting her over the barrier. She hugged him tighter, his helmet getting in the way.

He pulled it off, handing it to a team member before pulling her in again. “Now, about that kiss you mentioned earlier...” he grinned.

“You are impossible!” Y/N laughed, playfully pushing his chest.

“Good thing you love it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let him suffer for long. She leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his in a kiss that was slow and lingering, as if they wanted to memorize the feel of each other. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She melted into him, gripping the front of his race suit, anchoring herself in his warmth.

The crowds, the cheers, the cameras—it all faded into the background.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads rested together, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I forgot we were in public for a second.”

He chuckled, fingers tracing her back. “Me too. Hope your dad doesn’t beat the shit out of me.”

Her parents decided to turn a blind eye to the couple, instead focusing on congratulating Lewis on his win. However, he couldn’t help but notice her father slapping his back just a little harder than necessary, a certain look in his eye that made Lewis straighten up.

🪺🪺🪺

Later, in the Ferrari hospitality, Y/N groaned as Lewis reached for her.

“Please shower! The champagne and sweat combined make me want to puke.”

Lewis, of course, ignored this, chasing her around until he finally caught her in his grasp—sweat, champagne, and all.

“You’re so disgusting. I just washed my hair, yaar.”

Her smirk, however, gave her away.

“Well, Lewis,” her cousin quipped, “you’ve definitely earned your spot in the family now.”

Lewis grinned. “Well, I’d hope so. It was very nice of you all to come out today—really motivated me. And scared the living shit out of me.”

The whole room burst into laughter. Her father cleared his throat, eyeing the two of them. “You’ve done well today, beta. You’ve got speed, skill, and determination—but most importantly, you make my daughter happy.

Lewis straightened slightly, sensing the weight of the moment. “That means the world to me, sir.”

Her father studied him for a beat before nodding approvingly. “Good. Now go shower before you suffocate us with that champagne stench.”

The room erupted into laughter, and Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “I told you.” Lewis laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s temple before heading off. “I’ll be back—don’t have too much fun without me.”

🪺🪺🪺

The afterparty was in full swing by the time Lewis and Y/N arrived. The upscale venue was buzzing with energy—team members, rival drivers, and VIP guests mingled over glasses of champagne, the hum of conversations blending seamlessly with the music playing overhead.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, celebratory drinks, and the undeniable electricity of victory.

When the doors opened, all heads instinctively turned toward the couple making their entrance.

Lewis Hamilton, still glowing from his win, walked in with Y/N by his side, her right arm slotted in the crook oh his left one. They were well dressed as always — Lewis in a well-fitted, deep blue kurta, a nod to Y/N’s heritage, and Y/N in a breathtaking red saree that shimmered under the golden lights. The rich fabric draped over her in a way that left little to the imagination, her bangles softly jingling as she adjusted her hold on his arm.

“Well, don’t we look like a power couple?" Charles teased, raising his glass as they approached.

Y/N smirked. "You’re just jealous, Charlie."

“Of the matching outfits or the fact that you two have already stolen all the attention?" Carlos chimed in with a grin.

Lewis chuckled, placing a protective hand on the small of Y/N’s back. "Can’t blame them. My girl does clean up pretty damn well."

Y/N turned to him, eyes dancing with amusement. "Only fair, considering I dressed you."

Lewis leaned in slightly, voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor by looking this good." She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she tugged him toward the bar.

"Come on, Mr. Race Winner, let’s get you a drink before you get too cocky." The bartender barely had a chance to ask before Charles called out, "A whiskey for the champion and—Y/N, what are you drinking?"

"White wine," she replied.

Lewis took the glass from the bartender and handed it to her before raising his own in a silent toast. "To surviving your family’s initiation," he joked.

She laughed softly, clinking her glass against his. "Oh, you’re not done yet. This is just the beginning. But let’s talk about that later, because the only thing I’m focusing on is how good you look in this kurta.”

He laughed, “Well you’re the one who said I should wear this instead of the red one I wanted to go with.”

“It’s called contrast, and we’re pulling it off well. Besides, you look much more handsome in this, like a proper desi munda.

Lewis narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "That sounds both adorable and terrifying. Should I be worried?"

Y/N smirked, "Don’t worry about it.”

Before he could question her, the music shifted to something slower, more sultry, and Lewis took that as his cue. Handing his glass to Carlos, he turned to Y/N with a familiar glint in his eye.

"May I have this dance?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You? Dancing at a public event?"

Lewis smirked, pulling her toward him without waiting for an answer. "For you? Always."

And just like that, in the middle of the celebration, the world shrank down to just the two of them—spinning, laughing, and getting lost in each other, a champion on the track and in love.

never written for lewis before so hope this is nice anon. honestly not very proud of this one but like fuck it we ball <4

[nonranghaes]

heads up! vague mentions of food/alcohol consumption (neither depicted in fic itself).

this morning has been nice. the two of you are going to a little get-together tonight with his friends to celebrate his birthday, so this is part of your time together. and instead of watching the sunrise, chan is watching you. you're taking a few pictures, smiling to yourself, as a little trophy for getting through this morning hike with him. after this, the two of you will get brunch together (your treat, you already insisted). he snaps a few pictures of you now, just to have, and settles in to admire you a bit longer.

all chan can do is think about how lucky he is to have you. you've always been warm and playful with him, yet he loves the way you dote on him when you're particularly affectionate. you're always so warm. it reminds him of how loving some of his friends are toward him. there's something so warm about the way you play with the hair at the back of his neck sometimes, or the way you link pinkies with him. even when he's a drunken mess, face resting in your lap as you let him babble about anything and everything that comes to mind.

"channie!" you wave him over, turning your camera back to the front-facing one so that the two of you can squeeze into frame together. "let's do something cute."

the things he does for you when he's still a little winded. he wraps his arms around you, leaning in so that you can capture a few pictures with him. he presses a kiss against your cheek, listening for the sound of the camera shutter.

"channie?" you say after a moment. "vernon told me the truth about the ramen, by the way."

he immediately pulls away, staring at you wide-eyed. no. that traitor. vernon promised he would cover for him if you noticed, since he would buy you more anyway. "i was going to replace your ramen when--"

"wait, you did eat it!?" you whirl back to face him with a playful gasp. "i didn't think you'd admit to it this easily!"

oh. oh. he stares at you. sometimes... sometimes you remind him of a certain someone in more ways than one. but all it takes is you laughing, apologizing for lying to catch him in his own lie, for him to melt in an instant. he almost wants to tease you: really? on his birthday? but he knows you'll see through him all too easily.

you just steal a kiss from him, giggling into it. "happy birthday, channie. i'll be nice from now on."

you won't. you'll tease him just as lovingly later as you do now. but he doesn't mind: not when he gets to hear your laughter.

[ezrasxfics]

abstragedy fic where caine figures out zooble likes gangle and keeps pestering them about it? (like a parent would react to their child getting their first crush lmao) /nf :3

i’ve never been prouder…

-

abstragedy (ft caine)

-

zooble pov

it’s just another day in the circus, and by that i mean, another day of being surrounded by total DIPSH*TS. jax.. bubble.. and probably the biggest of them all, caine. hell, he’s harassing me right now. absolutely f*cking relentlessly.

“oh, zooooblee~!” he calls out, floating down the hallways in an attempt to find me. by now, everyone else had left for an adventure. i stay completely silent, praying that he doesn’t fine me. until—

he’s right in front of me.

“what do you want!?” i snap, maybe a little more aggressively than i meant to. it was just.. something about him. something that aggravated me to no end. that loud voice, that ‘can-do’ attitude.. it reminded me of someone, and i couldn’t put my finger on who.

“oh, zooble, i just wanted to talk to you!! have a little chat.. because i’ve noticed that you and gangle have been quite friendly recently - almost like.. what do humans call it.. you’re ‘down bad’ for each other!”

“….WHAT!? where the hell did you get that idea-!?” i stammer, unable to deny that he was absolutely right. but his wording..? “and don’t say ‘down bad’ again. my god…”

caine stares at me blankly for a few seconds, as if he’s buffering, before cocking his head to the side. “isn’t that what you are? when two humans love each other—“

“okay- okay, shut up- no- don’t finish that f**king sentence. we’re just friends, okay?? that’s it.” raising both my hands defensively, i take a small step back. “we’re just close friends, okay??”

“i hate to accuse you of lying, zooble, but that can’t be true! the way you look at each other, the way your voice deepens a little and hers gets higher when you talk to each other, the way your pupils dilate, it’s all key symptoms of human love!”

“…symptoms? love, or whatever, isn’t a disease—“

“moving onnnnn- i’ve developed a foolproof 5 step plan on how you two can finally admit your feelings to each other!!” he says, a wide smile on his face. or.. his teeth. how can teeth even—? whatever.

“no.” i say simply, folding my arms as if to display my disapproval. “no f**king way.”

“so, firstly, i’ll set you two up on a special adventu-“ he cuts himself off, before continuing. “what do you mean, no? you haven’t even heard my plan, zooble!”

“i don’t need to. caine, you’re an ai. you don’t understand.. feelings. they’re more complicated than just statistics and predictions and plans, you just.. nevermind. forget i said anything.”

“okay!!” he replies, but his energy faltered slightly. i almost felt.. bad for him.

“..fine. tell me the damn plan. no promises, though.” i mutter, after a small hesitation. he may be an ai, but i know that even caine has.. basic feelings. i wouldn't want to be an a** and hurt him.

almost immediately, that spark of joy in him returned as he began to relay the plan. “so, zooble, firstly, you’re going to go on a special adventure for just the two of you. then, she’s going to end up in some sort of.. sticky situation. and you’re going to save her!! once you’ve saved her, you’ll say a little speech you prepared.. and happily ever after!!!!”

“……that’s only four steps.” i say, entirely dumbfounded. he couldnt seriously expect me to go through with THAT, right?? then again, it’s caine we’re talking about…

“happily ever after is step 5!! so, what d’you say, zooble? i worked very hard on it, it would be a shame for my plan to go to waste-“

“FINE— fine, i’ll f**king do it. if you leave me the hell alone.”

“done deal!!!” he sighs, clasping his hands and bringing them to the side of his face. “i’ve never been so proud..”

-

thanks for the request!! i had a lot of fun writing this!!!

reblogs appreciated!!

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Look at me finally finishing something!

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 5: Mundane chores

Operation Supermarket (AO3)

Food shop/grocery shopping

(it's mostly from Tommy's pov so Buck is referred to as Evan)

I have a lot of partially written fics/ficlets for almost all of the days, and I do plan on finishing all of them - though they probably won't be posted on the 'right' days.

----

"Do you have the list?"

"Yup. Right here." Tommy handed over the item as he pushed their shopping cart into the supermarket with his free hand.

He'd given Evan free rein of the kitchen and planning their second six month anniversary, and the other man approached it with an almost military precision.

He'd spent weeks scrolling through cooking websites, looking through cookbooks, and even a Rolodex of recipes he'd gotten from somewhere until he'd put together the perfect anniversary dinner.

Even though Tommy had told him more than once he'd be happy to go out to dinner or even just order a pizza.

"Babe you forgot the garlic." Evan pulled him out of his thoughts, studying the shopping list and apparently making notes.

Tommy had no idea where he'd even gotten a pen from.

"No, I didn't forget it, I didn't put it on the list because we still have some."

"No we don't, I used the last of it last night."

Tommy frowned.

"We ordered in last night."

"Yeah but I started prepping for dinner tonight while you were at the game with Eddie." Evan explained. "The sauce takes a long time... and it needs garlic. Which you forgot to put on the list, even though I wrote it on the note board on the fridge."

The small white board and marker on his fridge had been one of Evan's changes to his kitchen when he'd started spending more time at Tommy's place and essentially made the kitchen his own.

He had to admit it was useful to keep track of what he'd ran out of and what he needed to buy for specific meals, or even just what was on offer, but Tommy had always been a quick look in the fridge before leaving for the store kind of guy, and usually decided on the spot if he liked any of the special offers.

Evan's methods were very different.

"The note board doesn't work if you don't look at it, Tom." Evan sighed.

"I'm trying to make myself remember, I promise."

"You can just get rid of it if you don't like it... but I just... I thought it was a good way to keep track of things."

"It is. I'm just not really used to it yet." Tommy explained. "You have a certain way of doing things and I have mine, we just need to find a way to make them fit with mine. And we will."

Evan gave him a small smile and turned back to the list.

"Alright if we go aisle to aisle, it'll be more efficient, and we'll have time to stop by Miceli's."

"Miceli's? I thought you didn't want to go back there because the place is cursed?"

"It is cursed." Evan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you love their spumoni and the tiramisu is great... and we can still treat ourselves to the food if we take it to go."

"So the curse is just the building then? Not the food?" Tommy teased. "Are we really going to risk it?"

"Yes because I'm not letting you walk away again." Evan vowed. "Been there, done that, didn't enjoy it, won't be doing it again."

"Same here." Tommy smiled. "Ok, so, garlic. What else is on the list?"

Evan scanned the list and looked around the store.

"We need bread and those crackers you like that taste of nothing."

"They're a healthy and easy snack." Tommy protested

"It's like eating cardboard." Evan replied without missing a beat. "Right, I need to pick up some snacks for Jee because I have her on Thursday... and you start a 48 on Friday that overlaps with my 72 starting Saturday, so we'll be back at yours... Tuesday or Wednesday. Unless you want to come over to mine right after my shift? Or you could stop by the firehouse after yours, I'm sure everyone would love to see you. And you know Bobby is fine with it as long as everything still gets done. And - " he looked up to find Tommy staring at him. "What? What's that look?"

"What look? I don't have a look."

"Yes you do. You -"

"He loves you honey." an old lady patted Evan on the arm. "My husband used to look at me like that. We were together 44 years. You hold onto to that one honey. He's a good one. I can see it in his eyes." she smiled at them both and then continued with her shopping.

Tommy walked over to him, slid his arms around Evan's waist and kissed him.

"Yeah. What she said."

[silentstyx]

one year later, still yours

sum: sure, I used to be a regular here but I haven't been here in over a year and you still remember my order.

tw: unrequited feelings - both ends. percy's a sarcastic ass.

ive been pumping out fics heheh, also i love using logan lerman as percy bc hes jus so percy n hes so scrumptious and i wanna eat his face and his biceps and every bulging muscle on his ripped body ugh.

it was a slow day in general. you've been working at a local coffee shop near your house for two years now and your favorite regular that you've grown romantic feelings for is gone and been gone. you know that he only came in to buy drinks for his mom, but you also knew that he loved eating blue food dye, and if there was a blue drink he'd make starbucks even more rich. yet, you haven't seen him or his mother. you figure he'd started buying from a local coffee shop that's closer to his house and plus its still a small business that helps.

it sucks though because you had grown feelings for this boy. his name was Percy Jackson. you would always spell it wrong just to tick him off. 'persy jakeson' 'pansy jackson' 'perry the platypus'. a few that you have put over the year he was here. he would come in every saturday at the same time with the same order for him and his mom.

"medium caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, a blue sugar cookie, and a small hot chocolate to go! puh-lease!" is exactly how percy would say it. his mom got the caramel macchiato and he got the blue sugar cookies and hot chocolate. you remembered the order and the cute face though after two months of him ordering at your shift. you made sure that if you guys were open that saturday at 8:35 that you were there for that shift.

you hear someone coming in, even though it was slow you were still working. "hi, welcome in! how are you?" you attempt to sound nice. don't know how well it's working yet. you haven't looked up. you were wiping the counters down. you look at the time.

saturday, 8:35 AM.

you look up immediately. it's him. you smile, "been a while, hm? thought you found somewhere else to get.... a medium caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, blue sugar cookie, and a small hot chocolate all to go?"

he scoffs, "psh, never. you're the only one. my mom just stopped drinking coffee so i didn't have a good enough reason to go to the local coffee shop with the cute barista without telling my mom about the cute barista. 'we have blue sugar cookies and hot chocolate for free at home Perseus' blah blah blah. i have to admit though, the pillsbury dough boy with blue frosting and blue sprinkles is a lot better than your guys' cookies. might run you for your money."

you laugh, "so she tried to keep us apart? what is this, Romeo and Juliet?"

he laughs with you, "i'm surprised you remembered the order."

"you're a regular, of course i remember," you say incredulously, "you want the cookie and small hot chocolate but no macchiato?"

"yeah thats fine.. but [insert reader's name], sure, i used to be a regular here but i haven't been here in over a year and you still remember my order. thinking about me?" he says with a smug smile plastered on his stupid pretty face.

his stupid pretty face with some black hair falling into his long dark eyelashes and his gorgeous sea green eyes and his pretty pink full lips that you just wanna kiss and nibble on 'til there red and peeling.

"so am i right or completely far off?" he questions with a shit eating grin.

"think you have completely lost it, perry the platypus." you sigh, with your own stupid smile on your face.

he rolled his eyes and laughed, "oh we're bringing that name back? okay, okay. just know I'll get my revenge."

"ooh menacing," you say sarcastically as you hand him his hot chocolate and bag of his treat, "i left a little note under the coffee sleeve for you."

"oh i'll be sure to throw it away before i get to read it." he says sassily with a big goofy smile as he walked out.

you smiled and laughed at his shenanigans.

he got outside and got in his car. he immediately moved the sleeve, which he doesn't even know why you still put it if you make it directly for him to drink immediately - not too hot but not cold.

he lifts up the sleeve and sees you did write something. at first all he sees is a smiley face, he then turns the cup and sees what you've written in full. your number.

(123) 456-7890

©️ silentstyx please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out my permission. thank you!

[sukunasun]

Do you ever plan to write a fic with a grumpy reader? Maybe with Getou or any chara of your choice?

screaming from the top of a building: grumpy readers are so relatable and deserve more nuance than being labelled as ice queens and stone-cold bitches! there is much more to unfold beyond the harsh exterior. how cantankerous and irritable you are but nonetheless meant to be understood and loved.

quietly, you lay there stowing away as a recluse. you love your books and your crochet hooks. working away and making the most of me-time. people don't draw near. instead, they try prodding with sticks and hurtling stones for a reaction hoping it's a smile or a nice conversation between two, but there is no gambling and taking chances. no risking it 'depending on your mood' because the weather report calls for sunny skies and yet, the storming grey cloud above your head stays looming. permanently brewing.

you claim it's just your face, your attitude, and overall unapproachable aura that inhibits you from making contacts and connections. an RBF that can't be cracked. "she's so intimidating," is a grating sound. you have long since given up on explaining yourself or waiting for the chance to when the backstory and lore is too revealing. not exactly dinner party talk. you wish it could be as easy as saying "im hurt and heartbroken beyond repair. mothering fear and angst without needing comfort." it feels nice, well-deserved even to wallow in dread.

there's bound to be disappointment from unmet expectations thus, you've stopped having them altogether. it feels better than accepting affection with open arms. so wrong, so weird to be wanted, to be chosen. where's the catch? when will the other shoe drop? the cycle of starting over becomes tiring, tedious—a mechanical performance. a complex creature who requires better coping mechanisms and a man who won't stab you in the back. friends who'd stop poking holes in the reasons when you say no, yet again, to meeting someone new in this state: when bricks are laid and piled high up in uniformed rows surrounding, it warrants avoiding all forms of showing and receiving love after the years spent shaping the architecture of your defences.

then there's geto. with his charm and wit and the way he pries the person from underneath facades and fabricated masks. your fragile, rocking foundations built on sand he topples down with a mere smile, hardened fortitudes he crushes to dust, weaving within hairline cracks and exploring the caverns of your heart like no one has before. all without much effort, or rather, he doesn't need to exert himself when you fall so willingly.

"why don't we do something else tonight, dinner and a movie?" he questions when you call again. right after work when the stress is at an all-time high and he's...well, you don't know what he does, but he makes himself available for you. he'll admit it's made him feel special being the only person let in, when everyone else has to scavenge for scraps, he's a privileged selected one. seen the glimpses of the warmth you possess when laid bare and sated.

such a skill he has to wring out the truth. still, you go on with the "i like being alone," answer. a mantra, a repetitive hymn to soothe the sting and sharp clawing against the chest til it no longer feels so. numb and sore aches it leaves behind. 'you'll regret it when you realize i'm too much for you,' stays clogged in your throat. he'd only admonish you for such thoughts. 'that's not true' he'd say, but you know better than to believe that.

"i get it," geto replies, feigning casualness when he's not a stranger to isolation and avoidant habits. sometimes he wished he wasn't exposed to a mirror of his own makeup. a paragon of performative indifference and detachment. "i'll leave when you want me to," he reassures you, but was that a wavering you hear in his voice? you don't dare assume because he makes things easy. not the kind to complicate, nor commit. say the word and he'd give you all the solitude you need. dodging the serious questions and serious labels. friend, boyfriend, guy-im-sleeping-with. he doesn't care for them because you don't.

maybe he's just referring to the task at hand, used to forgoing aftercare and post-orgasm cuddles for a late-night drive home. excluding that one time you allowed him a night on your couch. he won't stay if your hand comes up to his sweaty chest, pushing him away before he's had the chance to pull out and slide the worn condom off. it keeps him at a distance and he takes it as a sign that this is as far as intimacy goes—no kissing on the lips, no secrets and sweet nothings, your moans don't escape and neither do his plethora of dirty speeches, stifled and gritting in a tight-lipped prison—there is no room for it at all.

the last thing you need is to dispose whatever is left of an already flimsy resolve. becoming vulnerable and exposed to his rejection or the knee-jerk reaction when he touches you—when the strap of your dress falls at an angle, he instinctively chases after the smooth slope of shoulder with his lips, pressing soft kisses there and everywhere else simmering with anxiety, humming pleased and contented to taste the nerves slipping away, sinking his teeth in and feeling the flesh give to his possession—a longing that courses through and wrenches around your heart tight. you're so selfish to follow after his hands, to feel them feel you. they should be upon another but he grabs and gropes greedily like he can't wait any longer.

"or you could let me stay," he offers.

"the couch makes your back hurt," you reply.

"your bed is big enough for two," he counterclaims. doing what he does best. it's not the first time he's tried to hint at more, waiting for the opportune moment when you're putty in his hands, relenting to him.

"we can't," you gasp when he slips two fingers past your dripping folds. the smirk he wears hidden in the crook of your neck. "why–" you claw at his forearm tucked between your thighs, clenching around his limb for leverage while he makes you squirm and jolt with every nudge against your gspot. "–why me?" why an unpleasant, unfriendly, unwanted woman like you, haven't you suffered enough? why does he choose to torment you with his favour while seeking for yours. you remind yourself there's no place, no space for him here. you like the way things are no matter how painfully lonely it gets, you like the cool touch of your sheets and the emptiness your fingers trail over in the mornings. it's what you know, what you settled for. since when do two people meet and see each other for themselves, choosing to stay for long after the thinly veiled ugliness is stripped away. how do you tell him you're starting to grow accustomed. almost adoring. you've flown too close to the sun before, how do you deal with the fallout when you're inevitably lurched into the suffocating and slow descent towards earth?

in the last few seconds cresting upon your climax, suguru feels it building around the edges of your jittering limbs. head lolling back as you choke, fighting back your moans. your hips thrust in time, chasing after his fingers. he settles them as deep as he can, pumping fast and pressing down against your clit til it hurts, til the hard pressure causes your juices to drip down his fingers, squelching and making a mess.

fuck it, he knows it's the only time you'll have him this close so his arms brace you, supported by his strong chest, crushed by his biceps, suguru coaxes you, "i don't care how far you push me, or how much you pretend, i want you and i know you want me too—"

you shake your head, resisting, stop it, stop uncovering me. he talks of your lust as if some incontrovertible proof, you won't give in. with indefatigable, unwavering effort you set the record straight. "i don't like you like that," lying right as you're about to explode from pleasure, not the kind that feels like a firework, shooting silent and bursting forth, but you seize every muscle in his hold. choking on your breaths and feeling it tighten and coil in your stomach, in your toes, compact and revving, it releases like an engine. rolling and roiling so unyieldingly it makes your ears ring, suffocating you til your vision goes black, and a scream forces it way past your lips.

neither high-pitched nor guttural, it reverberates so soothingly, "im sorry!" you cry. for being this way, for using and tossing him aside, for wanting more. you sob with your head thrown back while suguru hums right against your ear. sounding pleased and pleasured with your admission.

slowing his fingers in time with your panting breaths, he questions "do you really think i wouldn't like you?" it's not the right time to do this but he can hardly bear it, he longs for truth, "do you not believe me?"

looking upon his face through half-lidded eyes, you see that interrogative spark in his expression, his arms never letting go. a tense anticipation takes shape. the air is thick with the scent of damp skin and something else—his shampoo, his cologne, you chase after it for more, pressed into his chest, it only takes one whiff to get a fill, the same way you cling to the corners of pillowcases and duvet covers for that little bit.

what has changed? he makes you act a fool, forlorn and fumbling around in the most fatuous ways. i want you he said so clearly. and it warms your being like never before. there is an urge to make excuses, accuse him for being in lust, he only said it in the heat of the moment, ensnared by a need for possession.

but there is no point in looking back.

"i believe you," you say, noses bumping and slotting close when your lips betray your better judgement, or rather, your unfavourable one. "i'll try." is the best you can offer.

[soulidarity]

Heyy can I pls request another hurt comfort rafayel x reader fic where you go out with him and he tries to play it cool but he’s having a really hard time with his condition and he’s dizzy/nauseous and struggling to see clearly so he needs you to help him. I love that you’re willing to explore this more it’s so :’)

hiding

out on a date at an amusement park, rafayel has a hard time keeping up

rafayel was a smart man, he thought. by presenting this persona of the whiny, princessy artist, his pain got disguised as a simple tantrum, causing the hunter to just roll her eyes the few times hed make a comment.

he wasn't sure if he wanted her to take him seriously or not. he didnt want pity, he didnt want to stip the date, he didn't want to dissapoint her. he did want to rest.

the artist was proud of himself, they had been in the amusement park for a couple of hours now and he had managed to only jokingly complain three times, playing it off. but now he was facing his mortal enemy.

the teacup ride.

resting against the railing that signaled the queue to the ride, rafayel held his head. apart from his usual leg pain, he was really dizzy. he'd manage to survive the few rollercoasters they'd had gone on, she knew he was afraid of heights so they hadn't gone on any extreme ones.

"you're quiet today, all good?" she asked, mid chewing a churro

he faked a smile, his usual one. "puh-lease cutie, how could i be not good when im with you" he gave her a peck on the cheek "just a bit embarrassed that most people in line are, like, children"

"there are some other young couples in line, dont be shy!" she offered him a bite of the treat, he waved his hand in refusal "i havent gone on this ride since I was a kid with my grandma, I'm so excited"

oh that was just great. the ride had sentimental value. now he HAD to get on.

"you look so adorable when you're excited, cutie"

it took another ten minutes before they got on. he gripped the steering wheel, noticing his shaking hands. shit. maybe he should've eaten the churro, but now it was to late, hed definitely puke it out and mc had already finished it before getting on.

with a loud countdown that hurt his head more than he'd like to admit, the ride started spinning. mc smiling at him as she spun the cup with all her might, a few seconds later she must have noticed rafayels dreadful gaze, slowing the cup down a bit. he could feel her staring as he gripped the side handles. was his façade borken? he couldn't have resisted the one minute the ride lasted? was he that pathetic?

his vision started getting blurry, the familiar white spot aura filling his vision. the tingling sensasion on his legs warning him of the pain that was coming.

the ride ended, she got off before him, offering her hand. maybe out of worry, maybe out od affection or maybe both. he appreciated that it looked just like a normal situation between boyfriend and girlfriend.

he took her hand and went to stand.

pop.

there went his left knee.

a frown was shown on his face, he couldn't fake it anymore. he struggled to straighten his leg to get up. he started panicking. why couldn't he do it? he needed to hurry or she'd start questioning. were they the last people on the ride? he needed to hurry before the ride operator started to pester them. sweat started forming. he could feel mc's grip tighten but, where was she? his vision spotty, not able of making out exactly where everything was.

he felt a familiar arm on his back, then another on the back of his knees. did mc just... pick him up in front of all these people? can fishes die from sunlight? because thats what hed hope would happen as he felt it when they left the shadowed area of the attraction.

he closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her neck.

"i got you rafayel, hold on just a bit more."

he felt himself being laid down on a bench, the sounds of the park being drowned out. was his hearing also betraying him or had she ran extremely fast to an unoccupied area?

"im gonna lift your pants up to your knees to check if its inflamed, okay?"

her voice sounded as sweet and clear as ever, so no, his hearing wasn't bad. a win he'd happily take.

"rafayel, your knee is definitely injured. why didnt you tell me anything?"

he just grunted, maybe if he ignored everything he could play it off better.

"yel... please... look at me"

he opened his eyes, blinking aggressively to try to get the white spots to leave, but even in between them, he could make out the worried expression on her face

"you were so excited..."

"and you were in pain! when did you start feeling bad"

"well, my knee always hurts, but it started hurting more by the second ride we got on. standing for so long in the queues messes me up a bit. then i started getting dizzy and by the time the teacups were done i had lost a bit of my vision, pretty sure i have a migraine too because god did that annoying music hurt my brain."

"have you ever gone to the doctor? has this happened before?"

he scoffed, "go for what? im fine. and i have gone before, its genetic, has no cure. i can fix my legs a bit with exercise but it hurts to do it, and i spend so much time painting that i honestly forget about it. ive had an mri, the spots and dizziness aren't cause by a tumor, they cant figure our a main cause apart from me staying up in the darkness painting and stress." he sighed "i didnt want to ruin our date with this because im just learning to live with it, today is just a bad day, i can usually handle this."

she looked serious, looking him up and down before turning around and squatting in front of the bench

"get on my back?"

"wh- wha- mc! I'm fine! I can walk"

"I know, but cant i carry my lovely boyfriend?"

rafayel reluctantly got on, he felt a bit embarrassed but at this point, whats he got to lose. he hid his face on her shoulder.

after a few minutes they sat down at a cafe, it was nicely decorated but not a lot of people were there.

"ill get you something to eat, then we're gonna discuss this."

as soon as she left, he slumped into the chair. this was not how he wanted the day to go.

soon after, she came back with a pastry and a milkshake, dropping them off infront of him before sitting down "alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"excuse me?"

"how do you want me to react, how do I help you and when do you rather i leave you alone"

rafayel thought for a bit "i guess, i dont want you to leave, first of all. but dont treat me like im weak, dont pity me... ill try to be more honest about how im feeling so we can take it slow, but i dont want this to change how we hang out, i like what we do. its just... my body being stupid"

she held his hand "its not stupid, things happen. i have my fair amount of medical issues and you know that. do you think im weak because of my heart disease?" rafayel shook his head "see! its not weakness, its just a hurdle, but it shows we can deal with a lot more stuff and it'll take a lot more to bri g us down"

rafayel chuckled "thats corny..."

"yeah well i learnt it from my grandma so be respectful young man!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

as soon as i got this request, my brain started giving me a hundred ideas. i landed on this one, but maybe another time if youd like i could explore more of rafayel letting mc help him with his vision and nausea stuff since shed now know about his condition.

once again, this is heavily projecting because i have similar medical issues so i write from my experience, these types of medical conditions can vary a lot from person to person. im not saying the diagnosis on purpose, so that more people can feel represented. most of the symptoms are related to things he has in canon

[broidobe]

𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔢

requested by 💋!! this is very possibly the most amazing older izzy fic i've ever conceived. when i read your request my eyes went so fucking wide. dude. best. request. ever.

☾izzy stradlin gets dragged into a pink-filled shopping spree by his younger, ultra-girly girlfriend, only to end up completely whipped as she models her new outfits for him at home☽

☾warnings: light teasing, humor, sugar daddy jokes, and an absolutely smitten izzy☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

izzy stradlin had been through a lot in his life. he’d seen the wildest parties, toured the world, and lived the kind of rockstar life most people only dreamed of. but nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared him for a full-blown, all-pink, glitter-covered shopping spree with you.

yet, here he was.

“you owe me for this,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose as he followed you into yet another store filled with ruffles, lace, and more shades of pink than he even knew existed.

you giggled, looping your arm through his and dragging him toward a display of pastel dresses. “oh, come on, old man. you love spending money on me.”

izzy sighed, shaking his head, but there was no real annoyance behind it. you knew he loved spoiling you—though he’d never outright admit it.

“yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. “just don’t expect me to carry all this shit.”

you gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “you’d make your poor, sweet, adorable girlfriend carry all her own bags?”

izzy rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging at his lips. “fine. but don’t push it.”

you grinned and kissed his cheek before shoving a pile of clothes into his arms. “that’s why you’re my favorite.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

by the time you were done raiding every girly boutique in the area, izzy had become your personal shopping cart, standing at the register with a stack of bags as you gushed over yet another cute pink dress.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, pulling out his wallet without hesitation when you batted your lashes at him.

“i know.” you pecked his lips, taking a few bags from his hands. “now, let’s go home. i have a fashion show to put on for my sugar daddy.”

izzy choked on air. “sugar daddy? jesus christ.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

back at home, you immediately disappeared into your room, leaving izzy collapsed on the couch, arms stretched across the backrest, completely drained.

five minutes later, you reappeared in the doorway, striking a dramatic pose in a frilly pink dress. “ta-da!”

izzy lifted a brow, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much. “not bad.”

you huffed. “not bad? that’s all i get?”

he smirked, leaning forward slightly. “spin for me.”

you did, twirling around so the skirt flared out before stopping in front of him, hands on your hips. “well?”

izzy pretended to scrutinize you before finally giving in and tugging you onto his lap. “fine. you look cute as hell.” his voice was lower now, warm and teasing against your ear. “happy?”

you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “very.”

“good.” he kissed your temple, voice softer now. “but you didn’t have to drag me through all those damn stores. i would’ve bought you whatever you wanted anyway.”

your heart melted a little at that. yeah, he was totally whipped.

you grinned, kissing him softly. “i know. but watching you suffer was part of the fun.”

izzy groaned. “evil.”

“you love me.”

“…yeah, yeah.” his lips curled into a smirk, pulling you closer. “that i do.”

[mikaelsrose]

AT LAST IM HERE AND IM SO SO SO SORRY IT TOOK ME 3 BUSINESS DAYS, I AM A VERY FORGETFUL YOUNG WOMAN 😭😭

David took a sip of his drink, masking a smile. He swirled the liquid, pointing it first at Mikael, then at their evaluator. Sure, her smile is dazzling. He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Oh, you are so jealous.” The archangel turned his head to face him, swift and sharp. An unamused sigh escaped him, his posture stiff. “David, don’t.”

jdvjfkkbjdf i love when david teases mikael. and when he tries to make mikael lose his shit (which im 10000% convinced will eventually happen in canon. i so cant wait)

Home. Audrey’s lips twitched a little. It feels right, now. Home. The guys, Felonia, and me. Especially…her gaze travelled towards their boss, Mikael. Home feels complete with him in it. She quickly averted her gaze, not wanting him to catch her staring at him. A smirk, it’s not like he doesn’t know how much I look at him, though.

AWWW 🥺🥺 i love the found family trope, it always eats 🥺

“David, just drive. Be quiet.” The archangel’s voice was more stern than usual.

ooooh be careful mikey boy, someone could think youre jealous babes

fr though cassiel is killing me in this fic haha i can just see him rolling his eyes and sighing every time david opens his mouth

AND THE PART IN MIKAEL'S OFFICE AAAAAAAAA

mikael loosening his tie (*sexily*) and admitting he's jealous and cuddling and aaaa dfnjskfds *screams internally*

i had a huge smile on my face while reading your fic, its so so amazingg!! you captured everyone so perfectly and the homey atmosphere between them too!! and i totally dont feel even more insecure about my own fic now hahaha

— ✦ Quiet jealousy ✦ —

✦ Pairing: Mikael x Audrey (MC) ✦ Book: Astrea's Broken Heart ✦ Rating: T ✦ Warning: Slight mention of possessive behaviour ✦ Tagging: @rc-catalog ✦ Special tags: @bubblexly @mikaelsrose @liykaii @adilqalbi <3 ✦ Note: A Mikael fic! I hope everyone enjoys it. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated :)

Mikael followed her with his gaze, wine glass in hand, posture relaxed…but that was not quite true. His brows were slightly furrowed, mouth set in a straight line, and if you looked closely—

David took a sip of his drink, masking a smile. He swirled the liquid, pointing it first at Mikael, then at their evaluator. Sure, her smile is dazzling. He chuckled, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, you are so jealous.”

The archangel turned his head to face him, swift and sharp. An unamused sigh escaped him, his posture stiff. “David, don’t.”

Raphael looked at his brother with quiet curiosity but said nothing. Of course, the man’s so-called ‘hidden’ affections for Audrey weren’t well-hidden at all. Everyone could see the way his stern eyes softened every time she looked at him, or spoke during their meetings. Her laughter—scratch that, even the woman’s smile made him tongue-tied.

The melancholic man also tried to mask his suddenly bright expression. He noticed Mikael holding back a sigh as he turned his gaze away from her, clenching the glass in his hand a little too tightly than required.

David laughed as he nudged Cassiel. “Here he’s frowning and on the verge of tears, but as soon as our dear Audrey comes back, he’s going to be back to his normal self.”

The boss didn’t hear him, looking absorbed in his thoughts. Cassiel rolled his eyes, looking uncomfortable in such a place. The party venues had never been his thing. The stoic man raised an eyebrow at the lawyer.

“Don’t you have better things to say, David?” Cassiel murmured, voice low.

David shrugged, downing his glass of wine. “I mean, I can tell in detail how the old woman tried to run and beat up her husband with a designer bag during today’s case.” 

Cassiel grimaced. “Keep your mouth shut, David.”

But Mikael’s words interrupted their banter, they turned to look at the approaching figure.

“You are back.” Mikael said, nodding his head. “Good. We should leave.”

David nodded his head, whisper of the earlier smile still present. “Our boss missed you.” Mikael simply raised an eyebrow, daring him to go further, and Audrey looked at the man in question, a gentle look appearing on her face upon hearing David’s words.

Raphael shook his head, seeming tired. “Let’s just leave.” The evaluator agreed with him, and the small group began to walk outside when Audrey looked at the appraiser.

“You aren’t coming with us, right?” She asked, remembering Raphael mentioning that he had to go somewhere after attending the event. He nodded his head, a tired yet warm smile on his face.

“Yes.” Raphael replied, “Go ahead. I will be home later.”

Home. Audrey’s lips twitched a little. It feels right, now. Home. The guys, Felonia, and me. Especially…her gaze travelled towards their boss, Mikael. Home feels complete with him in it.

She quickly averted her gaze, not wanting him to catch her staring at him. A smirk, it’s not like he doesn’t know how much I look at him, though.

—

The sky had darkened considerably. Night brought stars with it, and Audrey looked up at them from the car’s window. She was lost in her thoughts. It was David’s sudden question that had her looking ahead.

“So, who was that? A friend from college?” The woman could almost hear the amused smile in her friend’s voice.

“Yeah, you could say that.” A quick glance at the man she loved. “One of the only decent guys there.”

David chuckled, catching her eye in the rear-view mirror. “With the way he was making heart eyes at you…”

Cassiel sighed from the passenger seat, already knowing what the lawyer was up to. He almost let out a scoff again. Getting a rise out of their boss—

“David, just drive. Be quiet.” The archangel’s voice was more stern than usual.

—Is not easy? Cassiel’s eyes widened. Well…okay.

—

“Mikael,” Audrey said as she entered his office behind him. It was late. They should go sleep—well, she should go to bed because it’s not as if the immortals require rest as much as she does. “Is everything okay?”

He paused in the middle of loosening his tie, the archangel’s back turned to her. The evaluator heard him take a small breath before he took off the suffocating material, and turned around to face her. Audrey’s breath hitched.

The moon’s light enveloped him. It kissed the top of his hair, the loose strands placed neatly on his shoulders, the sharp contours of his face, and—Mikael’s voice brought her out of her thoughts that were pulling the woman deeper and deeper. Audrey hoped he didn’t catch the sight of her cheeks warming.

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Audrey?” There was a sense of finality in his tone, as if telling her to not look too deeply into it. Everything was fine. He wasn’t…irritated. But she didn’t like the hint of steel in his beautiful eyes.

Especially not when he looked at her like that.

Her brows pinched together a little. She crossed her arms over her chest, and regarded him, “You are…different tonight.” With a sigh, “Did I do or say something?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to look at her. 

The black-haired woman’s earlier expression slowly morphed into a surprised one, “I know you aren’t the type to really get jealous, so did I accidentally say something wrong...?”

Despite his annoyance—but he shouldn’t be annoyed. He wasn’t a young mortal—his lips quirked up in a gesture of fondness. Something he did often in the company of the woman he…well, it was just her. Her presence made him feel things of varying degrees.

��It wasn’t a pleasant sight to see his arm wrapped around your waist.” Mikael admitted, taking a step closer towards her, and relishing in the sight of her adorable flustered expression.

“Oh…” She said, not knowing what else to respond with. “Well…”

“I apologize for my straightforwardness,” the man softly spoke, gaze trained on her beautiful face as he caressed her cheek. He didn’t sound apologetic at all. “Seeing you smile at another man so warmly was…”

“Not a pleasant sight?” She smirked.

He chuckled. “I see. Your sense of humour is back.” Mikael’s eyes softened, “I have never felt like this before. At times, it's troubling...”

Audrey waited for him to continue, her heart hammering against her ribcage, wanting to be set free. “...Feeling so possessive over someone.”

The urge to protect her and make her feel loved. To hold her.

“I do wonder if you ate something wrong at the event…” she murmured, cheeks flushing. “But it’s not like I have feelings for him, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

Audrey stepped closer to him, slipping her arms around his waist. Mikael caressed her back, not breaking eye contact with her. Steely grey eyes softened even further upon connecting with warm brown ones.

“Then why?”

This time, his reply was swift. He whispered, “You are a master at making me lose my composure.” Mikael paused near her lips, asking for permission, she nodded.

Yes, she’s certainly good at it…

[beatrice1979a]

Llegaste tú

Juan Luis Guerra, Luis Fonsi - You came to me

[Verso 1: Luis Fonsi,Juan Luis Guerra] Desde que llegaste vida Me susurran los silencios Y las flores renacen Apenas sube el sol Se ríen del invierno Desde que llegaste vida Le hemos hecho trampa al tiempo Mi cura es tu abrazo Tu suspiro una canción Que me arrulla como el viento

[Pre-Coro: Luis Fonsi] Yo soy el hombre más afortunado Me ha tocado ser Él que conoce cada línea de tu mano Él que te cuida y camina a tu lado

[Coro: Ambos, Luis Fonsi] Todo cambió por ti Todo ese amor por ti Mi corazón te abrí Desde entonces llevó el cielo dentro de mí Nunca jamás sentí Una alegría así Que bendición hallar cada instante En que se fue la luz Llegaste tú

[arsenicflame]

steddyhands modern au inspired by this post:

(1828 words, themes of kink but nothing explicit, established blackhands & gentlebeard-centric. Happy Pride!)

Stede picks up leatherworking in the wake of his divorce. He's not exactly sure how it ended up being such an important hobby for him, only that he had always admired the intricate designs on his horse's best bridles, and with little else to do with his time, he decides to give it a go.

It's rocky going at first, but he's having fun working with his hands for the first time in his life, and there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing the design come to life as he works. With practice, his skills improve, and he learns how to make things that are truly one of a kind.

He starts off posting his pieces online, as a way to reach fellow enthusiasts, but quickly finds himself with a rather large audience. Stede’s style is unique, and, after many requests from his followers, Lucius encourages him to make some more basic pieces he can sell. It's not about making money for Stede, but another way to meet new people who share his interests- as Lucius keeps telling him, it's sad that his personal assistant is the main person he talks to these days. 

So Stede sets out on a new adventure, and has quite the time designing a new range of patterns for the market. He makes purses, belts, bracelets, and, most importantly, dog collars- all still with his unique designs embossed into them, of course. He rents a booth at his towns monthly craft fair, and very quickly finds himself with a new group of friends in the other regulars- Pete, his usual neighbour, who sells an array of wooden figures he carves, Roach, who runs a stand for his bakery, and Frenchie, who isn't actually a stallholder, but is almost always busking near his friend Wee John’s stand of knitted goods, bringing life to the market even in the pouring rain. There's also Buttons, another regular at the market. Nobody is exactly sure what he does there- he doesn't sell things, or seem to buy anything either, but rain or shine, he's there with the birds.

Stede’s been doing this a few months by the time June rolls around. As he's setting up his stand, he notices that the area is much busier than it’d normally be at this time of morning. Lucius, who got roped into helping run Stede’s stall somewhere down the line (despite his protests that this is not what personal assistant means… But hey, he got a boyfriend out of it, at least), reminds him that there's the parade today, too- not realising that Stede had no clue there was a parade today, and especially not that it was pride. Stede immediately jumps to fretting about the amount of stock he’s brought, and Lucius takes the cue to escape, saying he’ll go and grab them coffee (but really, he's off to flirt with Pete)

Lucius is still missing when Ed stumbles across the little leather stall. Stede’s just ran back to his car to fetch his last boxes of inventory, and by the time he returns, Ed’s already begun to narrow down his choices. Stede greets him, starting to tell him that they're not actually open yet, but before he gets more than a couple of words out, Ed’s exclaiming “You're a Kiwi!!!”

The two of them smile at the shared recognition, and Stede says he’ll make an exception, just for Ed, and asks him what exactly he was interested in. Ed tells him that he's looking for a collar “for his boy”, and points out the particular design he was looking at. It happens to be one of Stede’s favourites from this latest run of work, a fact he mentions to Ed. It leads them into a discussion about Stede’s craft, and Ed’s Izzy, and then everything in between. Ed’s listening intently to the things Stede’s telling him, completely drawn in by the process, and by Stede himself. He watches as Stede stamps Izzy's name into the collar, and Stede even lets him have a go at one of the stamps. 

Lucius reappears sometime in the middle of this- only to immediately retreat again, seeing Stede engrossed with Ed. He sets up camp at Pete's booth opposite, watching this man flirt intensely with his boss- and Stede flirt back just as hard. Does Stede even realise he’s doing it? Lucius had known Stede was gay since before Stede even admitted it to himself, but this is on a whole other level.

The pair stand there so long that Izzy comes to look for Ed- the two of them are manning a float on the parade with their crew, and it's past time for them to get geared up. He's already worked up, frustrated to have been left to set up everything alone, when Ed had just gone to see if he could get them both coffee. So maybe he's a bit of a prick, approaching with a brash “where the fuck have you been, Edward”, to which Stede brings the same energy, giving a bitchy “Ed! Do you know this guy?” Izzy tenses, ready to snap, but then Ed cuts in, excitedly telling Stede that this is “his Izzy!” Which confuses the hell out of Stede. 

Forgetting his earlier attitude, he asks Ed if he “really named his dog after his friend”, only to be met with confusion right back from Ed at where the hell Stede got the idea he had a dog from. Stede gestures at the bag with the collar in it, to which Ed has to tell him, “oh, no, that's for him.” Ed tells Stede that they're here to run a float for their local leather society, and while Stede is certainly shocked by what Ed’s saying, he's not finding himself… uninterested. It's simply that he’s never even considered any of this before, especially not that people would use the things that he made for this, but Ed sounds so enthusiastic about it all. He tells him about how his friends would love to see Stede’s work, about how classic leather gear is always so fucking boring- but not Stede’s stuff, no, Stede’s stuff is “fresh” and “fascinating” and unlike anything Ed’s ever seen before. 

Ed's enthusiasm is incredibly infectious, so when he invites Stede to come back to see their float, he readily agrees. It’s a concept Izzy’s less than enthusiastic about. He doesn’t really want to bring this man who’s dressed like he just walked out of a HOA board meeting to their kinky little corner of the world, but he is having a lot of fun watching Stede squirm, so decides not to raise a protest. He does demand he gets his long-overdue coffee first, though (Stede pays for it- as “compensation for him distracting Ed from his job”, he says, not giving Izzy a second to process before he's tapping his card)

By the time they return to the float, Fang, Ivan & Jim are waiting for them, all already geared up. Stede is stunned silent at the sight for about 5 seconds, before he starts actually looking at the quality of Jim’s harness, and proceeds to go off about the poor quality of the craftsmanship, about how the hardware is tacky and completely the wrong choice with this leather, how his “ten year old daughter could do a better job!!!” 

There's complete silence from the group, until Izzy, of all people, bursts into laughter at Stede’s audacity (and, the fact he was staring at Jim's tits completely unabashedly, like he hadn't even noticed them in the first place). Izzy's laughter sets Ed off as he tells the group about Stede’s misunderstanding- “you didn't say he was a person!” “I mean, he's my dog”- and soon everyone's having a friendly giggle at Stede’s mistake.

It's somewhere in the middle of the retelling that Ed remembers that this whole thing happened because he was buying Izzy a gift. After a moments fumbling, he presents Izzy with the collar-  It's a rich, deep black, embossed with a rolling pattern that resembles waves. It’s made from a firm enough leather to take the tooling, and to remind Izzy that he’s owned while he’s wearing it, yet still soft enough for long term comfort. Izzy's eyes immediately lock on to it, an unreadable expression coming over his face, and Ed turns it; first so he can really see the design and Izzy’s name embossed into it, and then so he can see the small “Ed ♥” on the inside of the collar, right over his swallow tattoo. 

“I did the heart,” Ed says to him softly, intended only for Izzy’s ears. Izzy's eyes flick up to Ed’s, and he raises his chin to give Ed the room to put it on. Ed buckles the collar around his neck almost reverently, a test of the tightness turning into a caress of Izzy's neck. It's a perfect fit.

It's as though something comes over Izzy; so twitchy and abrasive earlier, now silent, staring at Ed with a look akin to worship in his eyes. He obediently tilts his head for a kiss as Ed's fingers move to his chin- It's a sight to behold, and one that has Stede intrigued. He wants to know more about this lifestyle, and these men in particular. He wants to be the one to put that expression on Izzy's face.

The moment breaks as Ed and Izzy pull apart, and Ed calls for the crew to finish the last bits of set up. Izzy shakes himself a little before running off to bark orders again, but even still, there remains a softness to him that wasn't there before. 

Ed turns back to Stede with an apologetic smile, already obvious that he has to get going. Before he can speak, however, Stede jumps in -“My business numbers on the card in the box… I'll be around all day”- Ed’s smile turns more genuine at that, promising to stop by if he gets a moment, and that he’ll send his friend's Stede’s way- “if he wants that kind of business.” Stede says that he does, actually- that he's seen a whole new world already today, and, while he was a little taken aback at first, he can feel the passion Ed and his friends have for this life. If there's one thing that's ever mattered to Stede, it's other people's enthusiasm. Maybe he doesn't completely understand yet, but he would like to try.

One year later, Stede’s back at the market on pride weekend again, far better stocked for the crowds this time around. Lucius is finally free to spend the day flirting with Fang & Pete to his heart's content, now that Stede’s roped his own boyfriends into helping him run the stall- and into modelling the merchandise. Ed loves that part, while Izzy needs a lot more convincing, but the puppy eyes Stede & Ed weaponise against him make a very good argument.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

sometimes i wonder about the people ted left behind in the us. i mean, the way he is, the little we do see of his coaching from then, i have no doubt he had a great impact on his players and staff there, too; that they loved him, too. but like, we never see ted still connected to any of them. i understand why like, on a doylist level--narratively it would just clutter things to have this whole other cast, and beard is already there showing his previous important connections, but like. i dunno. i just wonder.

[corpsentry]

have you played the newest loz game?? your fics for the series are my favourite ever

so here's the deal. i bought totk the day it released. i got it. i started playing it but then we went on our long awaited planned it for 3 years 1 week vacation and less then 48 hours after i'd returned from that BAM, i was in australia. and what was there to do now? we played taiko, dog, so much taiko, we lived together, 3 college kids in an apartment with a balcony with a view of the city skyline. it was the craziest thing i'd ever done. i loved and cried and fought and learned and grew and got so mf good at taiko and learned that there was still more to do and cooked and cut onions and ate obscene amounts of yogurt and then when it was over it was already august and we were standing at the airport sobbing into each other's shirts not wanting to let go but eventually we did we got on our planes home and then, only then, did i find the space in my heart and schedule and hands to play totk. three weeks later, i was in america

photo intermission

photo intermission end

the real problem at the heart of this affair is that i still haven't found my motherfucking glider. where the fuck is it. i've combed the map north to south east to west i've found every goddamn character in the game but purah. purah you selfish selfish lady. where are you? where are you??????

photo intermission

photo intermission end

and so it was that they would not finish totk not for another several months not for possibly years. which is not to say that i don't want to, i miss writing fanfiction, i missed the drama and the scope of our ambitions and the burning need to write write write but i was also madly depressed and anxious and not doing well and that's where the writing came from, yknow dog? it existed because there was nothing else i could do. it saved my life. and now i am no longer in need of saving, now i've saved myself, i've been searching for years and years for the place where i can have my friends and lovers and stories and also have this. i still haven't found it. but i'll let you know when i do