#it was fun to write and a lovely prompt so thank you

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[grandline-fics]

For your Valentine's Event: Single Red Rose with Benn Beckman. ❤️

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  mutual pining but it all works out.

CHARACTERS: Benn Beckman

WORDS: 923

A/N: Thank you @thecrimsonacademic for this request for the Valentine's Event! I hope you like what I came up with for Beck. This is my second time writing for him so I'm still trying to get the hang of getting his personality down

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

————————

When you’d returned to the Red Force, Benn immediately noticed the extra bounce in your step and unshakable smile. His eyes always seemed to find you regardless of what was going on around him but when your mood was this good, it was impossible for him to not notice. You must have encountered something very fun to do on the island they’d stopped at. Still it didn't explain why you were back so soon. He was one of the few on watch duty. You were part of the group out exploring the island. Curious he stepped up beside you as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. “What’s got you so upbeat? Yasopp get drunk and fall asleep in a flowerbed again?”

“No! It's too early for that, even for him.” You grinned, leaning against the counter while Beck grabbed a drink of his own. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

Not a lot surprised Benn much anymore but that declaration did make him pause and the once delicious mouthful of ale in his mouth seemed to become heavier and harder to swallow. While nothing ever explicit had happened between you both, Benn was very aware of his feelings that had been growing for you to be beyond just crewmates and friends.

You’d both flirted more times than he could count and been affectionate but nothing ever romantic or sexual since Benn believed letting things take the natural course to be the best plan of action. Seemed while he was on the ship and you were out on your own, someone caught your eye. He was a realist to know this wasn’t love for you and this random person. The ship would be setting sail in a couple days, this was just something to pass the time. Regardless of the meaning, the word ‘date’ twisted something unpleasant in him. 

“A date huh?” Beck asked, keeping an air of calm and lightheartedness in his words because the last thing he would ever do was sour your happiness. “Hope they’re able to show you a good time. You deserve it.”

“I hope so too.” You smiled warmly as you finished your drink and sighed with a light shrug. “But if turns into a bad time, I’ll not cry over it. They’re cute, but not that cute. I’m going to get ready.” You stepped away and walked towards the door only to stop and quickly turn to look at Benn warningly but still with a touch of playfulness in your stare. “And if Shanks asks-”

“I know, I know. ” Beckman chuckled, knowing the last thing you'd want on a date was for Shanks to lurk nearby or tease you and disrupt things. “I won’t say a word until we set sail.”

“You’re the best, Beck.” You beamed before disappearing down the hallway to get ready for your night.

It wasn't long after you’d left to go meet your date when Lucky and Hongo returned to allow Benn and the others remaining on board to go out and see the island and have some fun. Beck knew he wouldn’t need to search far to find at least someone in the crew, knowing their lively presences would make themselves known without any effort. He was right because someone in the crew did appear, he was just surprised to see it was you and even stranger still you were on your own and the bounce you had in your step earlier was gone. “Hey you.” Beck greeted, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “What happened?”

“Guy never showed.” You explained with a small shrug. “Left a message that had he known I was a pirate he wouldn’t have asked me out.”

“You’re kidding.” Benn asked with eyebrows raised and a disbelieving shake of his head, some people were so gutless. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, Beck. Like I said he was cute, but not cute enough to cry over. I just wish I hadn’t wasted my time getting ready for it to go to waste.” You shrugged, smiling softly at Beck’s sympathy. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on the ship.”

As you moved to head in the direction of the ship you were swiftly caught by Benn’s hand and stopped. You looked up at your crewmate and let out a sigh to see him looking at you with a serious look. Truthfully you weren’t in any way hurt by what had happened. You’d mostly agreed to a date with someone else because you thought it would take your mind off of your feelings for the man in front of you. Now you hated that he looked upset on your behalf.“Beck, honestly I’m fine.”

“Fine or not you look too good to let it go to waste. C’mon you wanted a date, you’re getting a date.” Benn instructed, leading you back towards the town. When you opened your mouth to protest he grinned at you. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure you have fun.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You huffed out with a smile, finally letting him lead you wherever he wanted. “Fine, I’m curious now to see how Benn Beckman operates on a date. Show me what you got Beck.”

“Oh that’s a tall order.” Benn laughed, adjusting his hand to lace his fingers with yours. “Y’see to really get the full experience it’ll take a lot more than a single date. Could take a long while.”

“That so?” You grinned walking side by side with him. “I’ve got the time.”

——————————————-

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[lis-likes-fics]

Pretty Girl

Pairings: Derek Morgan x Reader Word Count: 3.4k words Prompt: Praise Kink Warnings: NSFW, smut, praise kink, fingering, teasing, banter, creampie, aftercare... A/N: This was actually really fun to write so...here's some Derek Morgan fanfic (there's not much of him out there). Thank you and enjoy!

“Oh, baby,” Derek smiles. His eyes scan the length of your body, a floral sundress flowing down to your shoes. He takes you in with a kind of adoration that still makes you fluster sometimes.

Derek places a hand to his chest, like he's been shot by Cupid’s arrow and he's struggling to keep his heart pumping.

“Ain't you the prettiest woman on Earth?” He steps into your apartment, hands on your waist to pull you in. He dips his head down, his voice gentle and coaxing as your hands fall to his arms. “I hope you're savin’ some of that honey for your honey.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning up on your toes to meet him in a kiss. He hums into your mouth. “I always do,” you smile, enjoying the way he strokes your sides with his thumbs.

You're supposed to go to the park, to stroll around for a bit and have lunch at your spot. With the way he's looking at you now, you don't think you'll be making that appointment.

“I don't know how you expect us to leave now when there's a perfectly good bed in here for us to spend some quality time in.” His lips dip down to your neck, pressing feather light kisses to your skin and occasionally nipping to hear your breath hitch.

“Derek, if you keep kissing me like that, we'll never leave.”

You can feel his smirk against your skin, his hands on your waist pulling you closer so your body is flush against his. “What makes you think that isn't my plan, mama?”

You giggle, his affection seeping into your skin and making it hard to stick to the original plan. “Derek, c’mon.”

He laughs back, his wandering hands only becoming more adventurous. His nose nudges yours. “Don't you ‘Derek, c’mon’ me, pretty girl. How do you expect me to see such a pretty thing like you and do nothin’ about it?”

You wrap your lips up in his again, letting him lean you back as his hand ventures down to the curve of your ass. You let him lift your leg until your knee is pointed out by his side. You chuckle giddily into his mouth, pulling him in even more as you let yourself be lost in him.

As you feel his other hand easing down your other side, you let him lift it as you wrap your legs securely around his waist. He steps into your apartment, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. Derek effortlessly carries you through the small living room, into your bedroom like you weigh nothing.

Derek lays you on your back, standing between your legs and bending over you with a smile still intact. “God, you're beautiful, mama.” He kisses your collarbone with gentle lips. His hands roam your body, legs still wrapped around him, as he feels every dip and every curve of it with an appreciative touch.

His hands dip below your dress, feeling along the soft skin of your thighs. He squeezes them gently and smiles every time you sigh. “That feel good?” You nod, letting him gather your wrists together in one hand and bring them over your head.

His hand continues to caress your skin, teasing you with feathery touches. “Use your words, pretty girl? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

His hand presses flat against your ribcage, cupping your side as his thumb tucks beneath your breast, feeling the heat of it with a smile. He brushes your skin gently, causing your breath to hitch at the slightest sensation.

“Yeah, Dee,” you whisper. “Feels good—I love it.”

“Good, mama. That's good.”

His nose grazes the underside of your jaw, and his hand continues to roam. His fingertips brush lightly against the circle around your nipple, and your shallow breaths turn to cut off little whimpers. Your lashes flutter, and you struggle to keep still.

“Don't tease, Derek.” You peek at him with your brows furrowed in concentration.

His smile shines, embracing you with a loving kiss. “I'm not teasin’, mama. I'm just takin’ my time with you.”

You huff half-heartedly, enduring his “time” a little longer before his touch finally brushes your nipples. The more he touches them, the more they peak beneath the fabric of your dress.

“Can I take this off you?” he asks between gentle kisses to your neck. You nod, giving a little hum of approval as you feel his hands take hold of your dress. He slips the straps off your shoulders, splays his hand along your back to lift you gently, enough to find your zipper and drag it down with a torturous speed.

He takes his time in undressing you, revealing more and more skin to his loving gaze. He hums at the sight of your breasts, a hand cupping one to let his thumb graze over your hard nipple.

“Look at you,” he emphasizes each word. “What did I do to be so lucky, huh?” Your skin floods with heat at his words, and you think you'll get dizzy if he keeps talking to you like this.

You do become dizzy when the heat of his mouth wraps around one of your nipples, licking teasingly and sucking on it to listen to the way your breath hitches, the way you squirm as you try to stifle tiny murmurs. You hum his name with no real intent to say anything, holding the back of his neck in one hand while the other tries to decide what to do.

He grabs it by your wrist, smoothing his hand up the length of it until he's clasping them together. You melt under his touch, under his hand and mouth and the warmth of his body pressed against your now bare one.

“I don't think it's fair that I'm naked, and you're fully dressed,” you murmur between little breaths.

He chuckles deep in his throat. “You wanna undress me, pretty girl?”

You grin down at him, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I wanna undress you.”

He pulls away from you reluctantly, standing to his full height in front of the bed. “C'mon, mama. Undress me,” he says, one hand held out to help you stand.

You take it gratefully, sitting up so you're standing in front of him. He's taller than you, so you have to look up to see him as you flatten your hands against his chest.

You decide to go slow, as he'd done with you. You start at the top button, very slowly pulling it undone before moving onto the next. When they're finished, you slide the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor without a second thought.

“Now who's teasing?” he smirks. He eases forward to kiss you, but you lean back with a grin curling your lips, glancing between his lips and his eyes. “Oh, it's like that?”

“It's like that,” you nod. You can't stifle your smile as you look at him, amused by his banter. You smooth your hands down his chest, stroking his warm skin, the curves of his abs.

“Okay, okay. We'll see how funny it is when it's me.”

You furrow your brow humorously, unbuckling his jeans with deft fingers. “Uh-uh, this is pay back.”

“Is it?”

You shove your hand into his pants, cupping his bulge with a light squeeze. He groans, his jaw clenching and his eyes squeezing shut.

“It is,” you beam. You press your body against his and kiss his chin. You can feel him hardening under your palm as his hands squeeze your waist.

“You're an evil woman,” he teases.

You retract your hand to push his jeans down his waist. You glance down every now and then to see the prominent V line disappearing into his boxers. “You gonna arrest me, agent?”

He steps out of his jeans just as you're wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his boxers. “I might have to.”

“What's the charge?”

He lifts a crooked finger beneath your chin, tilting your head. “On account of you bein’ too fuckin’ fine–”

His words break off into a moan when you grab his cock, lightly squeezing with a cocky grin on your face. He pulls you close by your hips, turning his head into the crook of your neck.

“What was that? I didn't catch that last bit.”

“Don't be a smart ass,” he says, though he laughs when he does. You stroke him up and down, slowly and with a tight fist. He curses under his breath, the only sound other than both your sighs into each other's ears.

Derek plants his hands at your sides and picks you up once more, placing you back on the bed to lay you on your back. His lips reattach themselves at your collarbone, exploring your chest as you sigh and moan.

Your hips lightly jerk when you feel his middle finger at the seam of your pussy, dragging up and down to capture the arousal he finds there. “You're good, mama?”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, don't stop.”

“I won't. You're too good for that.” He kisses the valley of your breasts, teasing you before thrusting his finger into your pussy. You clench around him immediately, lifting your hips in search of his hand.

“Fuck, Dee, need you inside me,” you whine, holding him tight with your arms locked around his shoulders. “Please? I need you, baby.”

He chuckles, adding a second finger and listening to your tiny gasp. “I know, mama, but I gotta make sure you're nice and ready for me. I'm a gentleman, aren't I?”

You want to roll your eyes, but he kisses any sarcasm away as his fingers pump and curl and test the waters of your desire. You mewl, letting him touch you as you struggle to get your thoughts straight. He feels really good, warm and thick and ever teasing.

He starts thrusting them a little faster, more and more until your breaths are uneven and pitchy. “You like that? S’that feel good, gorgeous girl?”

“Y-yeah. God, yeah.” Your hips keen into his hand, searching for more pleasure.

“Good. Just feel it. I'm gonna take care of you, mama. Just let me take care of you.”

You nod, closing your eyes and listening to his little murmurs of praise and encouragement. They make you feel warm, tingling in your belly like a dull fire.

After a while longer of his lips on your chest and his fingers inside you and his velvet words in your ear, he pulls his fingers out of you. A sound gets caught in your throat, worse when he soothes you over with a gliding finger against your folds.

“How're you doin’, beautiful?” He kisses your neck and you hum.

“I'll be better when you stop teasing me.”

He laughs again, repositioning himself on the bed to kneel between your legs, taking them into his lap. “What do you think I'm doin’ right now?” He smiles at you with an overwhelming amount of love, stroking his cock in his hand. “C’mon, greedy girl, open up for me. You ready?”

You smile back at him, your chest rising and falling with anticipating breaths as you bring your knees up and apart. “Yeah, Dee. Stop makin’ me wait, jerk.”

He tuts, shaking his head humorously. “Look at me bein’ a gentleman, calling you all these nice names, only to have you call me a jerk? You know what I say to that?”

You sit up on your elbows, lifting a brow but unable to erase your smirk. “What?”

“I say,” he presses his tip against you, “that you are,” the head of his cock eases inside of you, “still the most beautiful woman,” you both hold your breath as he keeps pushing inside you, “I have ever seen.”

You both let out long, breathy moans when he seats fully inside of you. Derek leans over your body, one arm braced at the side of your head to keep himself up. He grunts, pausing for a moment as he feels the way you constrict around him.

You wrap your arms desperately around his body for support, your legs coming up to do the same as you cling to him. He's so big. He stretches you out and fills you up until you can't breathe, and you relish in every sensation as he allows you some time to get used to it.

“Fuck, mama, always feel so good f’me,” he grunts, holding your side tightly. “You're so perfect, baby.”

You sigh, nodding into the crook of his neck. “You can move. I got it, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, need you,” you whisper. You kiss a spot on his neck for good measure.

He nods back, holding you steady as he slowly pulls out of you. When he thrusts back in, it's still slow, but it's much deeper with a lot more fervor. You clench around him, feeling the pleasure beginning to tingle within you with each thrust, building and building until you're a mess of moans and simple words of enjoyment.

“You're doin’ so good. Look at you, beautiful girl.

Derek holds you securely, not letting you go for one moment and ensuring he's always holding you in some way. He keeps you steady by your waist and strokes circles in your side. He kisses your face to ease any crease made in concentration. He tells you how perfect you are, how beautiful, how lovely.

“Make me feel so good, mama.” He glances down between your bodies, watching where he disappears inside of you. “Look at that. You're so fuckin’ perfect, baby. You see how well we fit?”

He kisses your forehead where your brows are pinched up in pleasure. You look down to find where he's gazing, watching as his cock splits you open with each thrust. If you look close enough, you can see the bulge of him in your belly, and it makes you dizzy.

You press your foreheads together, holding onto him as you continue to watch the way he fucks you. He's loving and kind, but he's not overly gentle like he's scared he'll bruise you like a peach. His thrusts are measured, quick and strong and filling without an ounce of unkindness. He listens to the way you moan and, once he finds the angle that has you trying to stifle your sounds, he keeps hitting it over and over until you're gasping.

“There ya go, mama. Right there? Is that where it is?” You nod quickly, looking up at him with watery eyes and lips slightly swollen from all the kissing.

“Yeah—Yes, baby. Don't s-stop.” The pleasure ebbs and flows, fills every crevice and every little nook inside you that it can find until Derek is all you can think about.

“Won't stop. You just keep moanin’ for me, just keep squirmin’.” Derek takes one of your hands, lifting it to clasp them together and hold beside your head as he keeps thrusting into you. Your breaths and moans fill the air, heating in each other's space as you share in the pleasure, the love.

“Oh, baby, look at you, listen to you. You're so gorgeous, so—fuck—so tight. My pretty girl, yeah? You're my pretty girl who likes it when I make love to her? Hm?”

He's going to kill you. His praise is dizzying in the best way. It fills your brain and elevates your pleasure until you feel like there's nothing left but him. “I love it, Dee,” you whisper, holding him with your free hand. “So good, so fuckin’ good.”

He nods. You can feel the subtle change in his thrusts, the slightest shift from long thrusts to shorter pumps of his cock inside you. You know for certain that he's beginning to lose any remaining control when one of his hands drops between your bodies and plays with your clit. He rubs at it in tight, stroking circles.

You moan his name, almost like you're shocked by the action as it immediately makes all the senselessness worse. You clench around his cock, the delicious drag of each thrust makes you moan more.

“See what you do to me?” he asks breathlessly. “How long did I last? Used to do so much better—you make it impossible, mama.”

Derek is a womanizer. Always has been, always will be. He's been with so many women that you had to come to peace with the fact that you fell in love with a player—essentially, a respectful version of a fuckboy—as soon as it happened.

So hearing that you're ruining his stamina one thrust at a time is a very, very ardent thought. It goes straight to your head until you're smiling through the pleasure, even with the slightest giggle on your tongue.

“Now you're laughing,” he says, chuckling himself. “My sweet girl is so mean to me. Calls me a jerk, laughs at me. My pretty, pretty girl.”

You whine, his pace on your clit maddening between all the winding bliss. “Baby, i-if you keep talking l-like that…I'm not gonna last very long.” Your word ends in a muffled cry.

He chuckles, though it's a lot less nuanced between his own struggle to hold on. “Maybe that's my plan… It's embarrassing if I finish first.”

You can't even respond. There's too much to focus on, and it's only getting worse and worse the tighter his circles get.

A knot tightens and tightens in your belly, his thrusts deep inside you only adding to the coil. “I'm gonna cum, Derek,” you gasp quietly, your voice rising by a few pitches. “Please, you're gonna make me cum.”

He grunts, channeling his thrusts and working faster at your clit. Tension invades every muscle in your body until it all snaps with a deep gasp.

You cry out as you lay your head back on the bed. Derek's head rests beneath your chin as his tongue laves lazily at your chest between kisses. You hold onto whatever you can, gasping and moaning as your brain goes fuzzy and your body stays suspended in air.

“Oh, fuck—’m cumming, baby. Please don’t stop,” you mumble, tightening your legs around his waist and your arm around his neck.

His hand tightens in your own, pushing it farther into the bed as his thrusts become short and deep. “Oh, mama,” he moans into your ear. He ruts into you in a few tempered thrusts, seeking that impossible closeness in the throes of pleasure.

You both stay like that, breathing and moaning and holding onto each other for dear life. He sits deep inside of you, flooding you with a warmth that has you sighing.

When he can think straight again, both of your combined bliss reduced to a buzzing in your homes, he lets out a deep breath.

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs. “You're so perfect. Most perfect girl in the world.” He turns his head to kiss your temple. He stays close enough so that you're still sharing in the other's warmth, pulling out of you slowly and kissing away any discomfort he finds in your face. “You know how amazing you are, sweetheart?”

You still hold onto him, not letting him go for even a moment as his hands stroke your sides slowly, lovingly. “You're amazing,” you whisper.

He cups your cheek, stroking his thumb over it with a smile and kissing your lips so softly, you think your heart might burst. “Was that okay? You feel good?”

You nod, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and sighing when his voice reverberates in his chest with his laugh. “Yeah. Really good. Perfect.”

“Good, mama.” He kisses your temple again before unwrapping your arms reluctantly from him.

“No,” you whine, tightening your hold with no real fight.

He laughs, the sound almost loud as he breathes in your scent. “I'm just gonna clean you up, baby. We made a bit of a mess.”

You huff but relent, loosening your grip. He leans back and takes a nice long look at you, still so, so pretty as you stare at him with full eyes and kiss-swollen lips. “Can we…take a nap? And then lunch after? I'm so tired now.”

He leans down to kiss you. “I think that's a great idea, pretty girl.”

You hum against his lips, nuzzling once more before letting him go to clean you both up. Once he's done, he's scooping you into his arms and cuddling you under the covers like a lover boy, rather than a “playa”. You don't mind it one bit.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you @liza-beth03 @carolina-angel Tag yourself here...

[bunny-jpeg]

hiii first I would like to say that I LOVE your writing and I was wondering if you could do smth with Lando. This is quite a long order so you can pick and chose what you would like.

dark hot chocolate

milkshake

a vodka shot

spicy upside down cake

crème caramel

hot cross buns

bakery menu

thank you so much for the order! i've been really getting back into doing these bakery orders, so it's been fun working through the requests i've gotten! i always love doing a good lando fic, the fans i get in my inbox always have some of the most creative prompts i've ever seen so thank you! i hope you love this!

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught." + crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" + hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." + dark hot chocolate: sub!reader + milkshake: size kink + a vodka shot: rough sex served by lando norris (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, rough sex, size kink, sub!reader, semi-public sex, brattiness, dirty talk & degrading language, filthy (!!)

lando norris loved a good brat. he loved when a girl thought she could snap at him. it was cute, and it got him hard. cute things with pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes, crossed arms that framed perfect, fat tits. drew him in and made his jeans tight.

nothing like fucking a brat back into submission.

so after being put through the ringer in silverstone, lando couldn't help himself. especially when you said his favourite word in a venomous tone, "no."

you ended up in his driver's room with his hands up the back of your t-shirt and he near slammed the door with his foot. he was moving you like a puppet. you weren't going anywhere too far, too fast. he kissed the nape of your neck and loved the feeling of his hands on your soft skin.

"oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" he teased as he rubbed the front of his jeans up against your behind, "tell me no and then expect to skitter off. you wouldn't get far and you know that. should've chased you through the garage and fucked that pretty pussy of yours over my car. rub those tits of your raw up against it." he was panting already, turned on by how deep his want was for you.

"lando." you whined and you ended up over the couch. your cheek almost pressed against the wall behind it. your knees on the cushion and your round behind on display for him. you crumbled so easily, it was cute.

lando licked his lips and admired you. the shape of you, the feel of you, how hot your skin got when you were turned on. made his cock throb in his jeans. he didn't take him the victory this weekend, but he was going to take your pussy. which was almost as good as a trophy.

"get undressed or else you'll be leaving for the car in a lot less clothes." he remarked, "but i'd be you love that, huh? bare tits out across the paddock, covered in my bite marks. because you're just a little slut aren't you?"he noticed you covering your face with your hands, "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." he then grabbed your roughly and got your ass on the cushion your legs spread open as you forced yourself to hold onto the couch.

you looked beautiful.

"strip or it becomes shreds." lando said as he grasped his cock through his jeans, "and don't hide your face, got it?" he was dominating, putting you in your place. and it made you heavily aroused. and he knew it. he knew that you were a sick puppy that way.

you quickly got out of all of your clothes, you were left naked. lando preferred when you were naked, even in cases where you could be easily caught. he was certain that if someone caught sight of your bare tits while you rode him, you'd cum on the spot. dirty girl.

lando kept most of his clothes on, didn't need his round ass to be on the cover of most major sports papers tomorrow. he crowded in your space and braced his hands over the top of the couch, on either side of your head. he watched you swallow and he grinned like a wolf. "pretty little thing." he said, "see, things are much easier when you drop the bratty-act."

"i thought you loved a challenge." you remarked as you looked at him with a cute little wink. it only pulled lando in and he stroked his cock at the sight of your cute figure. you really were something else. naked on the couch, your breasts and cunt on full display for him. and yet, you remain defiant.

"i do, but i also love girls who know when to shut up and take it." he sank his cock into you. you let out a sweet moan and he chuckled lowly, "let's play a game: don't get caught. think you can do that? keep that whore mouth quiet while i fuck you?" he pushed to the base and shakily exhaled. he felt a stir in his gut while he admired you.

you felt hot all over a she started to move against you. your body didn't feel like your own, you were under lando's spell as he fucked you. you tensed up around him as you kept your legs open for him. there was something that ran hot through you. it wasn't fair, he made you a panting dog for him.

"a real bitch in heat, huh?" he chuckled lowly as he continued to move against you. he pressed into you harder, "pretty eye though, gotta keep them interested somehow. or else they'll hit and leave." he continued to move against you. his thrusts made you see stars. who allowed for him to be this hot. this painfully good at making you moan.

you let out a whine and he gave you a firm pat on the cheek, he'd never harm you. he'd just make his presence known, after all he was your boyfriend, your love, your dominant in your life. he was rough, but not abusive. he made you squirm and enjoyed the feeling of you under him. on the stupid couch they gave him, fucking tomorrow out of you.

there was something about him. the way he carried himself, the way he moved through your space. he wasn't like others, he was like no man you had been with before. he made you pant. whine and more of all, cum at the feeling of his cock inside of you. he could work with what he had and it often made you moaning with heated pleasure.

he looked at you, he kept his eyes on you as he fucked up into you. he held onto the couch while he thrusted up into you. he kept his expressions under control while your face displayed all the feelings of pleasure he was giving you. he loved how you looked, he made you feel heaven, why not enjoy it too?

"please, lando. fuck, i love you."

"and i love you, baby. look at you, you take my cock like a champ. can you believe it? i guess you put your money where your mouth is, silly little slut." he licked his lips as he continued to move against you. his thrusts were heavy and they left a certain cloudiness in his brain as he fucked the daylights out of you. you were a slut for him and he loved that, he loved that he could bend, twist and fuck you however he saw fit. it was a good feeling in his soul as he rutted against you.

he knew that you loved him, you loved him as deep as veins ran deep in the body. he knew you were needy for him, you yearned for his heavy cock inside of you. his breathing was heavy in your ear as eh moved against you, the feel was overwhelming and you tried so hard to keep quiet. you didn't want to be the front page tomorrow because your boyfriend decided to fuck you until you saw stars.

"that's it, baby." he said as he thrusted up into you, "you feel amazing. all mine, who let you feel this good. you got a pussy most would die for." his pace continued, "i need you beautiful, always in my heart as i ruin your fucking pussy." his words were heated as he fucked you. there was little time for tenderness as he ravaged you.

you kept your tone quiet as you held onto him, letting him fuck your sweet cunt. it was hard to keep quiet with the pace so quick and so erotic that it left your core quivering for him. you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

"gonna behave for me now, be a good girl for me?" he asked as he held your throat. he didn't choke you, he held you so you'd keep your eyes on him. as he continued to rut against you, the feeling was hot, the weight of his hand against you as he made your core flutter around him.

you nodded dumbly, not much else to say as he fucked you with a heated want. you reached out for him and clung to his t-shirt while you climaxed around his cock. you squeezed around him, eyes shut and held onto him tightly. he continued to fuck you, he fucked you through you orgasm and only grinned at the blissed out expression you had. you looked like a total dream, even in the heat of climax. he kissed your neck and fucked you roughly.

he was in total control and he felt the fire in his core as he moved against you. your wetness stained the front of his jeans, which only spurred him on to make you a panting, whiny mess. he eventually shut you up with a heated kiss and kept you pinned to the couch by your shoulders.

he was going to fuck the brattiness out of you, and with a few more heavy strokes of his hips he finished inside of you. he watched your eyes flutter close for a moment before you loosely held onto him. it was erotic to see you in a state of total bliss as he came. you two fit together beautifully and lando couldn't help but kiss your neck as he moved against you slower and let himself feel your entire body.

hands trailed across your sides before he held you hips tightly and pulled out of your cunt. he looked at you and exhaled deeply against your neck, "beautiful." he said with much more tenderness.

he looked at his soft cock and then to you. he then asked as he admired your messy expression. you were all blissed out from him. he patted your thigh and said, "now be a good girl and get dressed. you can louder in the hotel." <3

[alaia777]

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!! <333 IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THIS EVENT 🙏😈

id appreciate if you could do one with Rin and the prompt being:

⊹ i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.

Please make it fluff🙏🙏😭 (you can ignore this if you want but I'd appreciate it if you could add a little scene where Rin kisses the reader to shut them up 🤭)

thank you so so much. this was so fun to write, i hope you like it !!!! 🩷🩷🩷

it was the first time in months that you woke up before rin, and for some reason, today felt different. maybe it was the rare burst of energy that had you up at 6 a.m., already done with your routine, stretching like one of those influencers who post their “productive morning” videos. maybe it was the quiet stillness of the morning, the kind that made you want to savor it.

by the time the city started to wake, you’d already been out—grabbing coffee and pastries from the shop that opened early, spending some time at the park near your apartment, even feeding the pigeons like an old soul with too much free time. and yet, when you stepped back inside, your boyfriend was still exactly where you left him—fast asleep, completely undisturbed.

not that you blamed him. waking up too early, coming home too late—rin had been running on empty for weeks. you figured it had finally caught up to him.

so by 7:30, with nothing else to do, you settled onto the couch, coffee in hand, scrolling through your phone, catching up on the latest influencer drama like it was the morning news.

when you heard the duvet rustling in your shared bedroom, you were already on your feet, making your way over before rin could even sit up. he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when you jumped onto the bed, grinning.

“good morning, baby cakes.” even with his hand over his face, you could tell he was rolling his eyes.

“why are you up so early?” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep.

“because the early bird catches the worm, and i caught us some warm, delicious pastries.” you paused, then sighed. “well, they were warm.”

“but that doesn’t matter. you know that drama about that woman on the internet i told you about? yeah, there’s more.”

without waiting for a response, you launched into the latest updates, detailing every twist and turn—what she did, the backlash, the people involved, and why the internet was in chaos over it. rin, still half-asleep, stared at you with a blank expression, his eyes barely open as he listened in silence.

“but wait—there’s more,” you added dramatically, climbing into his lap and cupping his face between your hands, determined to make sure he was paying attention.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly questioning all of his life choices. “i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.” his hand came up, covering your face as if that would be enough to stop you.

you audibly gasped, prying his hand away. “first of all, rude. second of all—” you sat up straighter, regaining your composure. “as i was saying, she was bragging about her designer bags while her kids don’t even have beds—”

you didn’t even get to finish, because rin’s hands were on your cheeks, pulling you in, cutting you off with a kiss—not to be sweet, not to be romantic, but purely to get you to stop talking.

your brain stalled for a second, words failing you as you processed what just happened, and when you finally snapped out of it, you caught the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. that little shit.

“rin, you need to brush your teeth.”

his smirk instantly dropped as he rolled his eyes, shoving you off him with zero hesitation before dragging himself out of bed and heading for the bathroom. you barely had time to laugh before the sound of the door closing echoed through the room, leaving you alone, victorious.

[blue-jisungs]

hi!!!!! congrats on 8k!!! u deserve it so much ur writing is so amazing<3 for the little ask game, although it's not a word in your list, i thought about cats + piwon's jongseob!! i love cats, he loves cats and i love him so it's a Great combination in my opinion eheh if u dont wanna write w that word it's okay! and i choose glasses from ur list instead :3 thank u so much and i hope ur exams go well!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ THIS CAT LIKES HEAD SCRATCHES ! 🧸ྀི — you discover that your boyfriend resembles a cat … wbk though :3 ( wc 957 )

[ extras ] coffee mention + i decided to mention the glasses prompt and i had those ones in mind hehe 🙏 he just looked so cute wtf:(

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! AHHHH TYSM I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!!! thank u for the req bc it was really fun to write and i believe it’s my first seobi work too 🥹 i hope you enjoy it hehe <3 and my exams went well!!! tysm hehe <3 i still have one more to take but !! its gonna be okay i believe 🙏

@kstrucknet = ^-^ =

the wind is gentle against your face when you leave the coffee shop, and you wrap your scarf a little tighter around your neck. jongseob pulls you aside, not to block the entrance, and dives into his bag to look for headphones. you hold his drink and take a small sip. 

the vanilla flavor explodes on your tongue and you just grin, taking another sip of the sweet beverage. maybe he won’t notice–

“it’s a bit too sweet, to be honest. do you want to finish it?” he asks and you realize he’s been watching you, gaze amused from behind his glasses. the red oval frames cutely frame his face, almost distracting from the fact that you just got caught. 

“no, you can have it” you sigh and trade. he hands you one earphone, you give him the drink back. (it wasn’t too sweet, really. jongseob just said that so you could finish it without feeling guilty). you accept the earphone and put it in your left ear, grabbing his hand. 

“do you want to watch something once we get back?” he asks softly before putting on one of his rap playlists. you pucker your lips in thought and miss the way he smiles fondly at the sight.

“maybe… i still have to finish that one kdrama my friend recommended but i don’t really feel like it’ you say and start your journey back to the dorm. 

the music isn’t playing too loud - despite the energetic tune and some… unusual lyrics, it serves as a background to your conversation. jongseob intertwines fingers with yours, seeking a little more warmth on the chilly day. 

“maybe we can rewatch the maze runner…?” he offers and you just scoff. your boyfriend takes another sip of his vanilla cappuccino and hides a smile behind the cup. 

“again?” you laugh at the ridiculosity. “i’d rather watch… oh, i know! i know!” 

jongseob halts, the impact almost making you trip. 

“let’s watch old harmony adventure eps! please, please, please…! they are so funny… well, you are but…” you stop and trace where his gaze is. 

a cat. 

“wait, i want to take a picture” he hums and looks for his phone. the moment it’s in his hand, it almost gets yanked from the impact of you kneeling down. and the plugged earphone– 

jongseob manages to catch it and lets out a sigh of relief, your earphone dangling in the air. he started taking pictures of the brown colored feline hiding in the bushes. 

“how did you even notice it?” you ask, gently tapping your nails against the concrete to lure the cat.

“i just have a cat radar” he smirks and squats next to you, joining in your scheme. 

the cat’s big green eyes track your movements. jongseob looks around and notices a bin. 

“i’m just gonna finish it and throw it out” he says and drinks the coffee, doing as he said. 

meanwhile you successfully lure the cat, the feline approaching you carefully. it sniffs your hand, soft nose poking your skin. jongseob observes with a proud smile. 

the cat plops on its back, showing its white belly to you. 

with a loud whine, you start to pat its belly.

“seob, oh my god!” you mumble, pout forming on your lips. the fur is soft beneath your palm and your boyfriend joins you again, his hand petting the cat’s head. 

“do you think we can steal it?” he asks, hopeful sparkle in his eye. 

you bite your lip, looking at him. 

“i’m really gullible, you should stop making offers like that” you laugh and he just snickers, hand moving to pat its belly too. your fingers occasionally bump into each other, the cat’s loud purring making you chuckle. 

“no, really, what’s stopping us…?” your boyfriend mumbles to himself, adoring the pet’s happy face. 

“jongseob!” you whine, moving to scratch the cat’s chin. it stretches a bit, throwing its head back to give you better access to its chin and neck. “just like you…”

“i don’t purr” he grunts “and i am not a cat”

“mhm…” you decide to ignore his meows of protest “also, i think this cat isn’t a stray. it’s a little too friendly. and it’s cute underbelly tells me its being fed good at home”

“eh, you’re right” jongseob grunts and pats the white belly for the last time “let’s keep going then. before it’s too late”

“too late for what?” you ask, tilting your head. he just opens his bag widely, pretending as if he’s going to swoop the cat in. 

the street fills with your laughters and the cat stands up, startled. jongseob helps you stand up and dusts off your knees while you wave at the cat. 

“bye, kitty” you hum and grab your boyfriend’s hand again. and as you try to persuade him into watching harmony adventure, he keeps wondering when did you manage to change the playlist. 

once back at home, happily watching the content you wanted, jongseob is laying on your lap. his red glasses messily thrown on the nightstand, face buried in the warmth of the duvet covering your legs. 

you sneak your hand into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. one second he’s laughing at a joke he made, the other he’s groaning softly. 

“that feels nice…” he mewls, nuzzling his head. 

“yeah?” you ask with a grin. his limbs stretch a little and jongseob lets out a sigh of relief.

“m’yeah. keep doing that, please… oh, oh, here” he purrs in delight.

“not a cat, you say” you whisper quietly, not wanting him to hear. he doesn’t, luckily - and you decide to tease him about it later. something along the lines of ‘who needs a cat when i have you’.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee ,, @l3visbby

[unhinged-simp]

hi hehe 👉🏻👈🏻 16 with haku and rui ? 🥺

Yessss!!! This is so cuteee. I love thiss. This was very fun to write. In Rui’s, it mentions you get a drink, but it’s not specified whether it’s alcoholic or not. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy.

Prompt 16: “Wait, you actually like me back?”

Valentine’s prompt list

Today was the day you were going to confess to Haku. It was valentines day, so you prepared some chocolates to give to him when you did. You were nervous, you didn’t even know if he liked you back for one, and two he had so many other people who liked him too.

“Something on your mind?” Haku asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You jumped. Where the heck did he come from?

“Haku, you scared me,” you exclaimed. Haku chuckled.

“Sorry about that. You just looked so cute thinking that I was wondering what you were thinking about.” You looked down, the little bag of chocolates you made for him were in your hands. It was now or never.

“Haku, I have to tell you something,” you started.

“Would you like to go on a date, Darling?” Haku interrupted. You stared for a minute.

“A date? You’re asking me?” You were flabbergasted. “Wait, you actually like me back?”

“Yeah, I do,” Haku confirmed. “So? Would you like to go on a date?”

“Yes I would.”

You were hanging out at Rui’s bar. You were his only customer at the moment, so you two were just talking. It was nice just having some alone time with him.

“Rui, this is delicious,” you said, and sipped a new drink special he made.

“Glad you like it, I don’t know why I didn’t think of making it before.” Rui smiled, it was a gorgeous one. Though all of Rui’s smiles were gorgeous in your opinion.

“Rui,” you started, you can’t believe you were actually doing this. “Would you like to go out on a date on Valentine's day?” You had actually managed to get it out.

Rui was stunned. He even paused in wiping the glass he was cleaning. He just stared wide eyed at your smiling face.

“A date?” The word slipped out of his mouth. “Ughh, that was what I wanted to ask.”

“Guess I beat you to it,” you said with a laugh. Rui suddenly paused.

“Wait, does that mean you actually like me back?” He yelled, his eyes wide again, hands on the bar counter.

“Of course I do.” Rui straightened. His mind processing. He stood still for just a second, before finally he continued to wipe the glass with a beautiful smile.

“I would love to go on a date you.”

[erwinsvow]

i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?

the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.

top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.

you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.

topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.

you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.

"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"

"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.

"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.

"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.

"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.

in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.

"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.

"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."

"m'not apologizin', i-"

"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"

"once or twice?"

"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"

"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.

"what? it was new years."

"where the hell was i?"

"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[luxaofhesperides]

(yourlocalcorviddad)

Wait wait wait, can there be more written about the one with Duke going on college tours with Danny??? If it's not too late?!??

(part one)

Danny’s been in love with Duke for years now. It’s always been kept a closely guarded secret, buried under as many wraps as he could get it. He tried to chase after other fleeting crushes in the hopes of moving on from his feelings for Duke, sure that they were never going to go anywhere.

How could they, when they lived states apart? 

The Danny back then would have never believed that he would one day be waking up in Duke’s arms in a hotel far away from home, traveling around the country to figure out a future together. 

Or rather, planning their own futures by each other’s sides, rather than planning to be together throughout college. Danny knows they’ll be spending even more years apart, chasing after their dreams, but it’s a gift just to a a summer together again. So what if it leads them to living on opposite sides of the country? They’ve managed to survive a long distance friendship for this long, they can keep it up for another few years.

And if it comes to it, Danny can just fly to wherever Duke is. He’s only gotten faster over the years, settling into his powers and practicing them so often. 

The future is daunting, but all his nerves are chased away by Duke’s smiles. 

“Can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says as they get settled at a restaurant in Massachusetts. They’re both tired, but the giddiness of getting together, of knowing their feelings are requited, keeps them energized and happy despite the long drive across state lines. 

“One state left, yeah?”

“Yeah, and I got Harvard first on the list so we can visit Jazz.”

“You’re the best,” Danny grins, stretching his legs out under the table to lightly knock his foot against Duke’s. 

This entire trip has felt like a daydream to him. It’s one thing being able to travel around the country with Duke, but to be able to kiss him wherever they go? Even now, two weeks later, Danny can’t believe how happy he is.

It makes the uncertainty of his future less scary. It helps distract him from how much he wants to escape his parents, despite how much he loves them.

Their conversation comes to a brief pause as a waiter comes by to take their order, writing everything down before hurrying away to keep up with the rush of activity in the semi-busy restaurant. 

“Oh,” Danny says, suddenly remembering the third person in their group, “Is Peter going to be joining us?” 

Peter, Duke’s chaperones, is odd but funny. He disappears and reappears like a magician, always carries a gun on him, and treats Duke like a little brother the rare moments he’s around. He’s mostly only been with them to act as transport, driving them around from university to university. 

Duke’s face does something strange when he hears Peter’s name, but it’s gone before Danny can figure out what that’s all about.

“Nah,” he answers, “He’s off doing his own thing. You’ve seen how he likes to follow his own plans.”

“So I guess we’re stopping here for the day?”

“Yeah. I’m sure we can find somewhere nice to spend the night, and until then we can explore—” Duke takes a quick moment to check the name of the town they’re in, helpfully stated on the restaurant’s wall of five star reviews “—Baldwinville. I’m sure there’s something for us to do around here.”

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything special, you know. I’d be happy to just to spend the day with you.”

Duke smiles softly, reaching over the table to take hold of Danny’s hand. “I’d like that too. Maybe we should just take some time and explore the place together. Have a relaxing day before we head to Cambridge.”

“That’ll be nice. I feel like it’s been forever since I had a quiet day.”

“Same!” Duke laughs. “Gotham’s wild, man. Did I ever tell you the story of having a barbeque with Killer Croc?”

“No! I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

Duke launches into the story as if it’s any other day, just the two of them hanging out. Danny’s enraptured as he always is when Duke shares his Gotham Stories. He doesn’t falter even when their food is brought out, and Danny tries not to blush too hard when Duke feeds Danny some of his meal, just so he can try it. 

There’s a reason Danny sometimes daydreams about what his wedding with Duke will look like, and it’s because of this.

But that’s getting way ahead of himself! He shoves the thoughts away and focuses on the story, enjoying their lunch together. 

Duke pays when they’re done, as has become routine; Danny had fought him about the first few times before Duke told him that it was all ‘Bruce fucking Wayne’s money so they don’t need to worry about costs.’ It’s a gift from the man himself to Duke, and rejecting it would be rude. 

That hit Danny right in his midwestern politeness and he could do nothing but let it happen, already planning thank you gifts for Bruce Wayne. 

They walk out into the quiet streets of Baldwinville, hand in hand. Summer has the air humid and full of buzzing insects, and the sweet scent of flowers surrounds them as they head down the sidewalk, idly looking into the display windows of each store they pass. The buildings are old, mostly made of brick, and carry a charm that’s lacking in the urban sprawl of Amity Park.

He likes it here. 

Honestly, he’s been liking a lot of what he’s seen in Massachusetts. 

He wouldn’t mind spending a few years here as he gets his Bachelor’s degree. Of course, it all depends on if he gets into the colleges of his choice, but he’s feeling hopeful about his future. He’s worked hard to bring his GPA up after his freshman year, and his ability to juggle and extreme workload has made him a master at getting things done before deadlines and adapting to things at the last minute. 

Danny idly swings their clasped hands between them as they walk, savoring the time they have together. 

The end of their summer trip is creeping up on them and Danny can feel the distance between them start to pull tight. 

They don’t speak until they wander into a park, just a large grassy field filled with wildflowers and bees. There are a few benches placed beneath large trees and Duke leads them over to it to take advantage of the offered shade.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says, sitting down with a sigh. He tugs Danny down after him, and Danny goes willingly. He swings his legs up to drop them across Duke’s lap, leaning against him, his heart fluttering when Duke gets a hand around his thigh to keep him in place. 

“I don’t want this summer to end,” Danny admits. “I’m not ready to leave you again.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to be away from you any longer than I have to.”

Danny can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him, so he doesn’t. Duke meets him with a smile, keeping the kiss slow and sweet, though the way his hand skates up Danny’s thigh sends molten heat through his veins.

He pulls back before they can escalate any further (one time in public was enough; he’s still embarrassed by it and can’t look Peter in the eyes) and leans his head against Duke’s shoulder. “It would be nice if we could live together.”

“Planning out our future already? Well, in that case, I want a dog and a pet snake.”

“Why a pet snake?”

“Just feel like it.”

“A dog would be nice,” Danny says, “As long as it gets along with Cujo. Not sure about the snake, but if you can take care of it, I’d be fine with having it around.”

“Think you’d ever live in Gotham?”

Danny considers, then shrugs. “Maybe. I dunno, it sounds like a lot and I already dealt with so much just with the ghosts in Amity Park. But I don’t think I’d mind if I was with you.”

The smile that crosses Duke’s face is soft and Danny wants to see it all the time. He loves when Duke gets flustered; Danny just turns red and shy, but Duke becomes soft and adoring in a way that makes Danny feel like he’s holding sunlight, all warm and happy.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Duke says, not yet able to bite back his smile. “Now that we’ve visited most of the places on our list, do you know which ones you’re going to apply to?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Danny answers. He’s been thinking about where he wants to go since summer started and he left school with Mr. Lancer reminder everyone to think about college and preparing their applications. 

It’s been a topic that’s never left his mind since for the past couple months, wondering about what the future holds for him. He honestly never thought he’s get this far, having died at 14 and struggled to adapt to how his life changed after. But he’s gotten back on track with school, has a handle on the ghosts, and the support of his parents to go anywhere he wants. 

For so long he’s been stuck in the routine of school, fight, struggle. There was never any time for anything else, much less planning for the future, and now it’s hanging heavy over his head. 

At least he gets to be with Duke as he figures things out. It’s like going back to their childhood, spending summers together, but they’re both grown up now, walking ever closer to the next stages of their lives. 

He’d love to get into MIT, but he knows the chances of being accepted are insanely low. He’ll apply anyways, just in case, but Danny’s prepared to go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere else in Massachusets. Or maybe go to New York. 

“I really liked the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. If I get in, I think I’m gonna go there,” Danny says, putting his hopes for the future into words.  

“Yeah? I think I might try to get into a college up here too,” Duke replies. “If things work out, we won’t be so far from each other.”

“And even if we do end up far away again, we can make long distance work. Right?”

There’s a worry in the back of his mind that Duke won’t like a long distance relationship, that he’ll be off in college falling in love with someone else, but there’s barely a second before Duke says, “Of course,” as though it’s obvious. Like he hadn’t considered any other option. 

Danny’s heart settles and he shoves away the rest of his general anxieties. There’s no time for that now! 

He intends to enjoy the rest of his summer trip with Duke to the fullest extent possible, which means all of that is a problem for Future Danny.

“Should we go find Peter? We’ll need to figure out where we’re staying tonight.”

“I think we can go a few more hours to a bigger town,” Duke says, “Not that this place isn’t nice, it’s just too quiet. It’s weird.”

“Alright, city boy,” Danny says, standing up from the bench. He pulls Duke up after him, leaning over to kiss the exaggerated offended expression off his face. It’s not like he’s wrong, anyways; Gotham is a big city, and Duke is an urban boy through and through, especially compared to Danny, who comes from a large town and has family living in reclusive rural Appalachia.

“Small towner,” Duke returns, nipping lightly at Danny’s bottom lip and laughing when he squeaks in surprise.

He pulls away before Danny can retaliate, and Danny lets him go, saving his revenge for after they get to their next hotel. 

Their time together is coming to an end soon, and as much as the future terrifies and excites him in equal measure, knowing Duke will be with him, one way or another, gives him the courage to keep going.

He hopes Jazz will be happy that Duke’s dating him now. He’s already hoping to ask her to be a bridesmaid for him.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Kinda random but one of my FAVORITE tropes is when the hero and villain were friends but then an accident occurred and hero was under the assumption that their friend died right in front of them. (Whether they actually died or not may vary)

And then, years later, villain shows up and they’re angry or apathetic or maybe even they don’t remember (but they ARE a villain), but the hero just feels relieved, almost selfishly. They want to save their friend, but it’s more like they want to reconcile with their own survivor’s guilt. They want to save the memory of their friend.

YESYYESYYES YES YOU GET IT

ESPECIALLY THE RETURNING

I have some ideas for how this would go

Hero sneaking into Superhero's complex, finding Villain completely by accident. Villain looks fine. Just sitting in a dimly lit room, staring off into nothing, an empty glass in their hand.

"Good god."

Villain bolts out of the chair. "Get out! Get out of here right now."

Or.

"You're...alive?" The rush of relief is tainted with horror. Villain doesn't look the same. Their face is scarred, white lines slicing down their chin and around their eyes.

Hero and Villain staring at each other. Neither move, but every moment is laced with tension.

Hero turns, without a word, and leaves. Their head throbs and a wave of sudden nausea shakes them to their core. They can't look at Villain like...this. They look too fragile, too different. They can't take it. They convince themselves they'll come back at another time.

There's a sinking feeling of guilt they can't shake, though they try to vomit it out, bent over a toilet at their apartment. They grip the rim with shaking hands until their knuckles whiten. It's not my fault. It's...not.

Or.

They rush forward and yank Villain into a tight hug. "Let's get you out of here," they whisper.

Villain is unresponsive.

They take Villain back to their apartment and care for them, but constantly push them into their old self.

"Remember the time we fought outside the gas station?"

"What are you still doing in bed? Get up already."

"I thought you liked this movie. Watch it with me. Villain, you're watching it. I'm not taking no for an answer."

The friendly banter turns to something more demanding the more Villain remains apathetic. They do as Hero says with a heavy silence, the light in their eyes completely gone.

"You used to be so fun, Villain. You were never like this...before."

At some point, Villain snaps. "Before what, Hero? Before you left me for dead? Before Superhero did this to me?"

"Fuck you, Hero. Fuck you and everything you stand for." Villain rakes their hands through their hair, exasperated and tired and embarrassed to be seen like this until it boils over. "You weren't fucking there. I'm not some dumbass lapdog who-- who licks Superhero's boots like you apparently are. I'm glad you're okay, I really am, but I never want to see you again." Villain slams the door behind them as they leave, leaving Hero wracked with a guilt they can't quite place.

[hailsatanacab]

"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"

Ok then.

Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.

His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.

Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.

Chaos.

love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!

(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)

——

"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."

"Superman can—"

"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"

"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."

"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.

Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.

Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.

"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."

It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.

Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"

"Nightwing, please."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."

For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.

"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."

Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.

"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."

"Nightwing—"

"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.

The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.

It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.

John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.

The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.

Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.

The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.

Too late to back out now, though.

Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.

When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.

Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.

Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.

Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.

The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.

What?

There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.

As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.

"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"

It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.

What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?

As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.

The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."

"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."

"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"

"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"

"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"

"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"

"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"

"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.

As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.

"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.

Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.

Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.

"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."

What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.

"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?

After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"

They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"

"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"

"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."

"Thank you for that, Hood."

"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.

Constantine feels like doing the same thing.

Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.

Yeah, he'll do that one.

But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.

"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"

There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."

"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.

At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.

"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"

"It's a deal."

No hesitation at all, incredible.

Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.

An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.

"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.

But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.

"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"

"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...

But.

It all suddenly clicks for John.

The Ghost King Phantom.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.

Jazz.

"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"

The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.

[mappingthesky]

planymphia wives honeymoon cutesy fluffy and overwhelmingly emotional drabble pleaseee

take my hand (take my whole life, too)

or: it’s their first week of being married - jane can’t stop referring to nymphia as ‘my wife’, nymphia can’t stop crying, and no one has ever been more in love in all of time.

Jane wakes up when Nymphia rolls over and flings a heavy arm across her torso in sleep.

Jane’s eyes flutter. Sunlight threatens to spill in from the other side of the heavy hotel room curtains all too soon. She’s only half conscious, and her eyes are still a little blurry with last night’s wine, and she’s content to drift back off to sleep, lulled by the gentle brush of Nymphia’s fingertips down her sternum, but then-

A little gasp, a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my god.”

“Mmwhat?” Nymphia mumbles, her eyes still closed as Jane grabs for her hand. Again, when her wrist is nearly pulled from the rest of her arm. “What?”

“Nymphia,” Jane whispers, but it’s thin, because she’s smiling. Nymphia can barely make it out through the dim light of the room and the sleep that clouds her vision, but she knows it just the same. She would recognize that smile by the sound of Jane’s words spoken through it, by the feeling of her soft gaze upon her. She would know it anywhere - even in the dark.

“We got married.”

Nymphia’s eyes blink open and look over at Jane. She’s on her back, holding Nymphia’s hand up to the light. She turns it over carefully, fingertips against her open palm, thumb tracing over the silver band on Nymphia’s ring finger. A diamond glitters in the dark.

“I know,” Nymphia grumbles, still half-asleep, still unwilling to be awoken for anything at all. “Spent eight months planning it, ’member?”

It was longer than that. It was the culmination of years of dreaming and months of planning, of Nymphia ironing out every last detail, Jane somehow even more stressed than she was, because she’d wanted it all to be perfect. For her.

(“You have a say, too,” Nymphia had reminded her on more than one occasion. “This day is about the both of us.”

“I know, baby,” Jane said, that spot between her brows that creases when she thinks too hard momentarily relaxing as she kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “But it’s really about you. Everything is about you.”)

Jane pulls Nymphia’s hand closer, studies it for a long while. Nymphia’s eyes are just closing again when Jane presses a kiss to her ring finger, then to her palm, more kisses up the inside of her wrist, the length of her arm, up her shoulder. Nymphia whines.

It comes back to her slowly as Jane coaxes her from her sleep, the only one she’d ever allow. Their night. It was everything they ever could have asked for, more than that. Their friends lining the aisle, swearing that they knew this day would come, arguing over who had really called it first. Jane, who had sworn she wouldn’t cry, who had warned Nymphia not to be worried if she didn’t, dissolving into tears the moment Nymphia emerged in all white. Nymphia, unsurprisingly to everyone, openly sobbing for half of the night, dabbing a tissue underneath her damp eyes at the dinner table. They’d had two glasses of champagne each, and nothing else.  They’d promised, because they wanted to remember this: the toasts, the dancing, each other, every moment.

Nymphia is beaming by the time Jane kisses her shoulder blade, eliciting a hum.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Jane murmurs, brushing a dark strand of hair back to kiss Nymphia’s ear.

A smile splits through Nymphia’s sleep, eyes still closed as she nuzzles deeper into the pillow, deeper into Jane. “It was perfect.”

Jane kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “What was your favorite part?”

“Mmm,” Nymphia hums, because how could she ever pick just one shining moment to stand out among the rest? How could she even begin to split the single most incandescent day of her life into segments? 

“The part where we went home,” Nymphia says, and Jane is pulling her closer. “The part where we went to bed and you let me sleep in.”

“Can’t let you sleep in,” Jane says, chin coming to rest on the crown of Nymphia’s head where it comes to press against her chest. “Too in love with you.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, basking in the warmth of last night as it rolls over to this morning.

“Wanna know my favorite part?” Jane asks, and Nymphia can feel the soft reverberation of her voice through her skin. “The part where we wake up and I get to say that you’re my wife.”

Nymphia can’t help but laugh at the sentiment. “This part?” she says, finally tilting her head up to look at Jane. She’s never gotten used to this - Jane looking at her every day like she’s still shiny and new. She doesn’t think she ever will. 

“Yeah. This part,” Jane beams, one hand coming to cradle Nymphia’s cheek as she smiles. “You’re my wife.”

“This part’s pretty good,” Nymphia stares into Jane, belly burning with butterflies, a love bigger and brighter than she ever thought was possible. “Say it again.”

Jane grins and brings her lips to Nymphia’s, kisses her with a lifetime of devotion. She pulls away, and there’s forever in her eyes. 

“You’re my wife,” Jane smiles. “And I’m yours.”

-

Jane doesn’t travel well.

She puts her packing off until the last possible minute and grumbles all the way to the airport. Nymphia can’t be upset though, because Jane ‘my wife’s’ Nymphia at every possible opportunity - she does it to the disgruntled employee who checks their bags, and the TSA agent who checks their passports, and the barista who makes their coffees while they’re killing time at their terminal. Nymphia rolls her eyes every time, but she’s smiling too, and can’t stop examining the sparkle on her left hand ring finger. 

Jane goes so anxious on the plane that Nymphia has to hold her hand through the takeoff. She doesn’t let go until thirty minutes into the flight, when Jane is finally distracted enough to drop her shoulders and stop thinking about the miniscule possibility that they go plummeting to the ground.

Eventually, they settle in. It’s a long flight, nearly twenty hours, and they shelled out on first class for the occasion. Nymphia’s got the window seat (partly because Jane knows she likes to look out the window, and partly because she can’t stomach seeing the ocean several thousand feet beneath them), and Jane wastes no time getting comfortable. 

(“It’s for my wife,” Jane tells the stewardess when she requests an extra blanket. “She runs cold.” 

Nymphia stares up from her book just long enough to swat Jane’s arm, muttering “that’s not even true.”

“I know,” Jane shrugs. “Just wanted to see what playing the wife card could get me.”

“Careful,” Nymphia warns. “You’re gonna wear it out.”

“What, calling you my wife?” Jane grins. “Baby, that’s never gonna get old.”)

They’re curled up together, alternating between books and movies and laughing at odd little happenings around them. Jane scoffs at shitty jokes on the screen, and Nymphia leans over to read her passages from her book, and Jane hums like she’s listening, but really she’s just admiring Nymphia in her comfy clothes, dark hair pulled back, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She likes her the best like this.

At the end of her movie, Jane glances over at Nymphia. “Are you excited?”

She thinks she knows what the answer will be, but she’s asking anyway, because she wants it to be perfect - their honeymoon, their first trip together as a married couple, their first foray into the rest of their lives together. They’d debated on a destination for weeks on end. They’d considered a roadtrip across America (too pedestrian - they’ll save that one for another summer), or a week in Vegas where they’d get married again in some cheap chapel (too cliche - they’ll save it for their vow renewals). They’d debated on whether or not to book a room in the most luxurious resort they could find in Thailand, but had settled on a cozy beachside bungalow instead. Jane thought Nymphia would like that the best, knew she would too, because she’d be happy if Nymphia was.

It’s funny how someone can change you so completely and entirely, how they can bring out the best part of you that was waiting to be discovered. Before Nymphia, Jane had always put herself first, even at the expense of others. She was content like that, and then she met Nymphia, and the center of her universe shifted outside of herself. For the first time it wasn’t a chore to care for someone else, and Jane was better because of it. 

“For the honeymoon?” Nymphia asks, folding her book in her lap. She looks down at Jane all nestled in her blankets, hoodie pulled over her blonde hair, and can’t help but smile. 

Nymphia had always been a hopeless romantic, all too eager to hand her heart over to the wrong person. She was a tender thing then, bruising easily in careless hands, burning through her own wells of hope faster than she could replenish them, and after the almost-great-loves of her young adulthood, she felt like she’d been cored. Having her heart handed back to her so unrequitedly time after time, she’d thought she’d been selfish to want a love as big as her own, to expect anyone to be able to return what she gave to them. She’d stopped dreaming of it altogether, and then she’d met Jane. Jane, who reveres her like the Earth reveres the Sun, who worships the ground that she walks on, who straightened out every desire Nymphia had crumpled up inside of herself and gave her more than she could ever dare ask for. 

Now, Nymphia knows she can be selfish. She looks over at Jane and thinks that she wants this for all time - all of Jane, all to herself. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m so excited.” Nymphia reaches over to take Jane’s hand. “Jus’ wanna spend time with you.”

“Good,” Jane smiles, “me too.” She tilts her head up, puckers her lips in a silent request for a kiss, and Nymphia obliges.

-

The plane starts its descent several long hours after they’ve woken up, and Nymphia is grabbing Jane’s hand before she even has to ask, because she knows she hates this part the most. Jane sucks air through her teeth as the last bit of turbulence rocks the plane, and Nymphia rubs her thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand. As soon as they hit the tarmac, Jane snaps back into place, blocking the whole aisle just to get Nymphia’s carry-on out of the overhead compartment.

“Sorry,” Jane says over her shoulder to a disgruntled passenger. “My wife. She’s pregnant.”

“Jane,” Nymphia hisses through her teeth. “You of all people should know I’m not pregnant.”

“Not yet,” Jane kisses her shoulder before they maneuver down the aisle. “But when I’m through with you…”

Nymphia scoffs, smiling into the air, because she knows it’s impossible, but if anyone’s love could defy the laws of science, it would be theirs.

-

Despite their sleep on the plane, Jane and Nymphia are so impossibly jetlagged, and the car ride to the bungalow is a delirious haze. Determined to push through the rest of the day, they tumble out of their room and onto the tree-lined streets, perusing the local offerings and getting dinner while they speak to each other in exhausted, two-word sentences that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. It’s all they need.

And then they’re out under the sky, wandering in this beautiful place with blue-green water that laps in whispering waves over the sandy beach, and Nymphia has never looked so beautiful to Jane as she does under the moonlight. 

She’s running up the beach, shrieking as the water splashes at her feet, or when Jane chases her up the shore and catches her, spinning her around and pressing crazed kisses against her hairline. Nymphia is laughing, and then her cheeks are wet with tears, and Jane is wiping underneath her eyes.

“Hey,” Jane says, pushing Nymphia’s hair behind her ears, a careful concern crossing her face. “Why tears?”

“I’m just so happy,” Nymphia blubbers, smiling through the silver-wet stars in her eyes, because it’s all been such a beautiful blur, and it hasn’t hit her until right now that this is the rest of her life. “I can’t believe we get to do this forever.”

“God, you’re unbelievable, you know that?” Jane smiles. “Here I was thinking you stepped on a sea urchin. Or you got stung by a jellyfish. And I’d have to pee on your leg or something. Wouldn’t that be a great start to our honeymoon?”

“Shut up,” Nymphia sobs. “You’re ruining the moment!”

“M’sorry, my love,” Jane coos, wiping another tear from Nymphia’s face. “You’re the most sentimental girl alive, you know I can’t keep up with that.”

Nymphia just laughs, because yes, she’s endlessly sentimental, but, secretly, so is Jane. She still remembers the first time she’d opened a card from Jane and was met with pages filled almost entirely with ink, letters squished together to make room for as many as possible, words winding around whatever tacky quote was stamped in the middle. Jane had a way with words, despite whatever she’d tell you otherwise, and never ceased to amaze Nymphia with the sincerity she seemed to save just for her. 

(It crosses Nymphia’s mind then what her favorite part of the wedding really was - when Jane had recited her vows from memory in front of all their family and friends, had taken those impossibly beautiful things that were usually relinquished to their most intimate moments and had loved Nymphia enough to profess it in front of everyone. Not that they didn’t know already. You can’t hide a love as enormous as this one.)

“You keep up just fine,” Nymphia says softly, resting her cheek against Jane’s hand. She swears Jane’s eyes go misty just before she kisses her right there on the sand, beneath the stars, beneath the universe that brought them together.

-

Nymphia smiles when Jane crawls into bed. She’s in a gray crewneck that’s cut across her shoulders, and she’s propped up against fluffy pillows, and Jane is pushing the book out of her hands.

“Dinner was perfect,” Jane kisses her cheek before slipping into bed beside Nymphia. “But is it bad that I just wanted to get back to the room?”

“It’s terrible,” Nymphia turns over, slotting her back against Jane’s chest. “Is this the part where we get old and boring?”

“Yes,” Jane envelops Nymphia in her hold, fits against her in the way they’re going to for the rest of their lives, slides a hand down the length of her torso and up the inside of her thigh. 

“Not even gonna call you a whore or anything,” Jane kisses her ear. One hand cups Nymphia’s breast, the other dips between her legs. “Just gonna fuck you good and tell you how much I love you.”

“So boring,” Nymphia sighs, already melting away.

“So boring.”

(It’s not boring at all.)

-

Now that it’s hit Nymphia, she can’t stop crying every time the sheer enormity of it washes over her.

She’s always been emotional, but sometimes there’s a delay. Her life moves so fast, always swept up in the current of whatever dream she’s chasing, and sometimes it isn’t until she has a second to slow down that she realizes just how special every fleeting moment has been.

It’s been a whole week of being married, of wandering through villages and long hikes up mountain sides and afternoons spent sunning on the shore, of dawns and dinners and keeping a distance from the rest of the world as they know it. Now, Nymphia is sitting in a hammock at the edge of the beach, and she’s looking out over the water, and she’s basking in the overwhelming perfection of this moment. It’s something out of a dream, the sort of thing she’d long thought would be impossible for her to experience, and she can’t help but want to slow it all down, to draw out every precious moment long enough to memorize them, to make them last forever.

She’s sniffling just a bit when Jane finally finds her. She slides into place beside her, knees tucked into her chest, and stares quietly at the last of the sun as it sets over the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Jane murmurs, and it’s about the sunset, but it’s about Nymphia too. She presses a soft kiss to Nymphia’s shoulder.

“I don’t want it to end,” Nymphia sighs, unwilling to look away from the heaven that’s in front of her. They still have another day of this, one more perfect day at the edge of reality, and then they’ll be packing their things, leaving the quiet paradise of their bungalow and flying home. Back to work, back to their crazy, stupid friends, back to the never-ending rush and whirr of the city.

It’s not just that Nymphia doesn’t want the honeymoon to end. She doesn’t want this to end: her and Jane, so head-spinningly in love that nothing else matters, so finely attuned to one another, so freshly devoted to making it last. Nymphia wants so desperately to do it right, for their love to outlive that of either of their parents, for them to see all of their promises through for years to come. The possibility that they can’t pull it off is mind-numbingly terrifying, but the possibility that they can…

It’s an impossible promise to make to one another, and yet they’ve already done it. 

Nymphia sighs, mind swirling, and Jane somehow knows exactly what she means when she says, “what do we do now?”

Jane goes quiet for a moment, staring out over everything she’s ever wanted, and does her best to be brave for Nymphia.

“We sit out here until we’re too tired to keep our eyes open, and then I’ll take you to bed,” Jane says softly. “And then we have one more beautiful day, okay?”

“Okay,” Nymphia says, chewing on her cheek, still unable to look away from the landscape should it all disappear on her. “And then what?”

“And then we go home,” Jane looks over at Nymphia. “We go back to our house. And I’ll take you to work every morning, and then I’ll come home and be pissed about something, probably, and you’ll roll your eyes and tell me to shut up and I will, because I love you and, y’know, I generally think you’re right about everything. And we’ll have our stupid friends over and show them a billion pictures from our trip and kick them out so we can watch Project Runway and fuck. How does that sound?”

Nymphia giggles, and when she finally tears her gaze away from the beach, she realizes there’s another heaven right beside her, one that she gets to take home. And home, their home, the one with the fat cat and the mismatched furniture and their pictures all over the wall, that's another heaven too. Suddenly, the trip being over doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Nymphia is almost looking forward to it.

“Are you scared?” Jane ventures softly, searching Nymphia’s face carefully. “It’s okay if you are.”

“Only a little,” Nymphia mumbles, voice wavering, eyes watering. 

“I’m a little scared too. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?” Jane continues, looking a little smaller all of a sudden, pushing through every worry that threatens to override her strong front. “I know we’ll have bad days too, Nymph. I know I’m gonna fuck up and not listen enough and piss you off sometimes, but I love you to fucking pieces. I’m gonna give you the best I’ve got, I promise you.”

Nymphia takes Jane’s hand, and there are silent tears streaming down her face, because it’s only been a week and she already loves Jane more than she did on the day that she married her. It’s enough love to override everything that threatens to pierce through their perfect bubble, enough to fuel the years to come, enough to roll over into the next life and the one after that.

“And if you get sick of me,” Jane teases, squeezing Nymphia’s hand. “Y’know. Just say the word.”

“Shut up. I’ll never get sick of you,” Nymphia cries, throwing her arms around Jane’s shoulders. Jane laughs into her neck, pulls her closer into a bone-crushing embrace. This is the best part - Nymphia married her best friend. It’s enough just to hold her, just to be beside her. All those other parts, the sex and the sweet nothings and the swearing each other to forever, they’re just the luxuries of being in love with her. 

“You promise?” Jane says into Nymphia’s hair. She knows what the answer will be. She just wants to hear it anyway.

“I promise,” Nymphia whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jane says. “With all my heart.”

(They go home two mornings later, back to the city and their couch and their cat, and they aren’t scared anymore, because the warm glow of one another lasts much longer than fleeting sunsets over foreign shores. They wake up together, kiss goodbye on the way to work, hang their wedding photos on the wall and muse over the best day of their lives for years to come. They have lots of good days, and a few bad ones, too. They fight, and then they talk, and they never go to bed angry, just put each other back together in the way that only they can. And then they wake up and love each other more in spite of it.

The honeymoon was great, but here’s the best part: they make it last.)

[commsroom]

hi! I want to make a patch for my jacket with the names of all the crew members of the first hephaestus station, and I kinda want to sort of mimic their handwriting, so do you have any headcanons for what their handwriting is like? (not only them but any of the other characters if you want— I love character's handwriting headcanons haha)

oh, that's a fun project!! i'd love to see it when you're done. and an interesting question; i cannot say i've ever thought about lovelace's crew's handwriting before, haha. you probably know more about handwriting styles than i do, but here are my ideas:

lovelace: generally legible, but not concerned about aesthetics. maybe a little slanted. mix of printing + cursive with no particular logic, just depends on her mood. has a semi-consistent signature, maybe with a bit of a flourish on the L that she thinks is fun.

lambert: even printing with frightening consistency; might as well be typed out. the only real variance in his writing is that you can tell how frustrated he is by the intensity of the lettering; he starts really gripping the pen when he gets mad. signs his initials and then writes his full name out underneath it.

selberg / hilbert: unreadable. barely even words. his written notes are indecipherable to anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't think anyone else should be reading them anyway. has one of those quick scrawl Doctor Signatures that doesn't look like his name at all. ... any of his names.

rhea: i hate to just assign her Digital Typeface, but all we really know about her is that she's professional and takes her job seriously. she gives me the sense that she'd prefer to type than write by hand, even if it was a viable option, but her handwriting would be very neat.

fisher: doesn't write much if he can help it, mostly fills out forms in big block all caps with whatever abbreviations he can get away with. definitely readable, but not exactly neat or even.

fourier: ... well. her diaries are proof she spent a lot of time writing by hand, and i would guess that's a lifelong thing for her. maybe it's just her appreciation for jane austen and similar writers, but she strikes me as the kind of person who would've gotten very, very into writing cursive. there's kind of a romantic, old-fashioned flair to even her casual note taking. definitely practiced a signature.

hui: complete opposite. he was supposed to practice, but was much more interested in other things, and his handwriting is notoriously kind of a mess. thinks much faster than he writes, and so will skip over words sometimes, etc. he also practiced a signature, but he wanted it to be abstract. hui and fourier definitely teased each other over their respective note-taking styles, especially given how often they were reading each other's notes.

i like to think maybe hui dictated his letters to his family to fourier, and she was the one who actually wrote them down - as a way to keep her close, and to give her some way that she could help him, near the end.

this is already long, but, briefly: the other three characters i have to talk about...

minkowski: incredibly neat handwriting, as a result of lots and lots of practice "standardizing" her penmanship as a child. keeps white-out on hand just in case. signs her full name in cursive.

hera: fairly neat, if sometimes shaky, and it bothers her if it looks too uniform; intentionally incorporates writing quirks that catch her eye; also a mix of printing + cursive in whatever way she thinks flows best.

eiffel: usually not unreadable, but definitely not neat. if he makes a mistake, he'll write over it to fix it and make it worse to the point it's illegible and then just leave it like that. has difficulty with writing in straight lines or even-sized lettering; it's all over the place. you know he's a doodler.

we do, in fact, have writing samples for him, courtesy of the dssppm:

... and he crosses his z's. i think that's cute.

[wexhappyxfew]

Kennedy and John with “feeling their pulse” from the prompt list? I love them already

HI ANON!!!! can i just say when i got this prompt request, i was so so excited because o m g i am so glad!!! despite the fact i don't have writing with them out yet (and their only interaction so far was a snippet from a while ago) i am BEYOND EXCITED to put this out!!! :D definitely a fun duo to write and something i'd be happy to go deeper with writing on as well! there is a LOT to unpack haha! please enjoy and thank you so much!

run along lover boy

(a/n): safe to say i could've kept writing these two in every possible way, but i held myself because alas, i have every opportunity to write more for them. so please enjoy my chaotic duo - kennedy farley and bucky egan in stalag talking about the one thing no one seems to want to talk about. enjoy!!! :D

"She's still out there." Lieutenant Bradshaw said quietly from where she stood on the opposite side of the table, her arms crossed over her chest, face both sternly held and downcast, the look in her eyes dismissive and cold, "I saw her when we dropped. She couldn't have been far from me."

Kennedy watched as Annie glanced towards Brady who stood next to her - it was unmistakable not to notice the level of protectiveness Brady had seemingly taken on when Annie showed up to the Stalag, limping and bloodied. And now, it was nearly every time they weren't forced to be apart, they were beside one another. And the look in Brady's eyes said enough these days it seemed.

"How far you thinking, Bradshaw?" Bucky said from behind Kennedy, "You jump outta those things and you're playing with fate."

"A bit more to my right. Bes was to my left, Kennedy closest. Margie was somewhere behind the three of us," Annie said softly, her voice trying to hold. Kennedy watched as Annie glanced around the group, "I tried looking for her, I really did." Kennedy watched as Annie met Kennedy's gaze before looking down again and letting her shoulders fall.

"You did what you could, Annie," Kennedy heard Brady whisper quietly, before squeezing a hand on Annie's shoulder, "that's what matters." Kennedy caught the look Annie and Brady shared, those few extra seconds they held one another's gazes.

"It's Margie Harlowe," Buck said from the other end of the table, "she's still out there. We know that."

"No body ain't a dead body," Hambone said from his own spot opposite Buck, "how far from here you think you dropped?" Annie looked to him and pulled a thinking face across her lips and then sighed.

"Had to be somewhere upwards of 50 miles. We weren't deep into Germany on the mission. Outskirts." Annie offered.

"Yeah, suicide run, if anything," Kennedy offered and sat back in her chair, "gotta hand it to Lieutenant Bradshaw though, she probably was the calmest outta all of us." The group looked to Annie who wearily smiled at the group and nodded.

"Guilty is charged." Annie said and the group seemed to share smiles amongst one another.

"Probably closer to 60," Bessie said from where she laid on one of the higher bunks, flipping through a book, "whatever it was, those Krauts are damn sins. One nearly took out my eye."

"Did he miss the goddamn Lieutenant bar on your neck?" Bucky asked her. Kennedy glanced back and sent Bucky a look who shook it off.

"Buck-" Buck started, but Bucky cut in and stepped forward.

"Any of those sick fuckos try anything with any one of you ladies, you tell anyone of us, alright?" Bucky said, meeting each of their eyes, ending on Kennedy, "You don't know how fucking brain-washed they might be. They even lay a finger on ya, I'll-"

"Hear ya loud and clear, sir," Bessie said, pulling her legs over and hanging off the bunk edge, "Kennedy popped a guy in the balls. Pretty sure we can all do what we can. In a pinch."

"Really." Buck said glancing at her.

"I'm impressed," Bucky said looking down at her from where he leaned back against the bunk, "how hard ya hit him?"

"Did he bleed?" murmured Benny from his own bunk - he wasn't tending well to the Margie news, but he was coping it seemed.

"Oh he bled," Kennedy said, leaning against the table and sending a look to Bucky, "he was on the ground. Beggin' for Ma at some point. Last time one of those Nazi-fucks tries to touch the hair on my head. You do whatever you damn please, but you don't touch the hair."

"I knew I always liked you, Farley." Bucky said with a smirk, Kennedy catching a glance of that grin in her peripheral. He held her gaze a second longer, which she quite enjoyed; the way his eyes lingered a little on her eyes and then the scar on her cheek that was finally healing.

"She's right on that, "Annie said, as Kennedy pulled her gaze from Bucky's face, "they think they can keep doing whatever they want. Don't think it's gotten through their minds yet that we don't put up with that sorta shit."

"Guess that they haven't met a member of Silver Bullets yet and they're finally learning they can't just do whatever they want," Hambone said with a chuckle as he flipped through a mangled deck of cards, "c'mon, Bradshaw, tell me what the one said again?" Annie chuckled.

"The guy said that he was overjoyed to learn that America had things like baseball and cold beer," Annie said, "what a lunatic."

"Hey, don't be knocking it now. They're the gifts that keep on giving." Bucky said, looking at Annie with a smirk, "Ain't that right, Farley." Kennedy rolled her eyes and glanced back at Bucky with a raised brow.

"For some people," Kennedy said, with a knowing look, "if you're team is actually winning, that is." Bucky smirked before looking at the group.

"That's because she's a Red Sox fan." Bucky said, lowering his voice with a chuckle, "Traded Babe Ruth and it was game over for 20 years. Still kinda is." Kennedy leaned back and took a shove at his arm with a roll of her eyes, a few of the guys chuckling around them.

"She'll show up, she has to," Annie said with a firm nod, "I'm gonna go take a walk along the perimeter. Find the Colonel," Annie shrugged her shoulders and sniffled, that damn cold doing its number, "get an eye on some of the higher ups."

"I'm coming with you." Brady said quickly from beside her and Kennedy briefly heard Bucky let out a chuckle.

"Try and figure out who the one guy was who wouldn't stop staring, alright? He got that crazy look in his eye," Kennedy told Annie and Brady watching as they pulled their scarves around their necks and their beanie's on, Annie looking much smaller than Kennedy remembered in her coat now, "taller, teetering son-of-a-bitch."

"Will do," Brady said as he followed Annie out of the room, a few of the others taking that as their note to disperse, settle onto cots or start up games of cards or chess. Kennedy let out a sigh and then turned towards Bucky behind her and raised a brow.

"Really?" she said, her voice unamused, and slightly monotone.

"What?" admonished Bucky, shoving his hands in his pockets, a big, winning grin showing on his face, "Brady's walking around like a love-sick fool, I gotta have a little fun." Kennedy raised her brow further.

"C'mon, tell me you don't hear it at night, 'It's just you and I….here….now.', and all this other lovey-dovey shit, too, Farley," he said, nodding at her, "swear if you heard it yourself, you'd lose your mind to."

"He's been crazy about her since she got here, let them live a bit." Kennedy said, standing to her feet and coming to his side before lowering her voice, "Especially here."

She looked back up at Bucky and noticed how soft his face had grown so close-up. His eyes gently resting on her own, lingering gaze, his presence something back at Thorpe Abbotts she would've scorn about, but something here she was latching onto more often these days.

Even with Bucky's roughhousing and good-natured fun, Kennedy found herself gravitating towards him more often than not these days - she remembered when she'd first come in, barely alive, hoping to get her eyes on even just one of the guys from the 100th who was familiar to her. And Bucky had been the first, pulling her from the arms of the Germans who had been dragging her, forcing her to walk as she was fighting a fever, who immediately had taken her to where the others guys had been, and gotten her soup, water, and watched over her as she rested.

Back at Thorpe Abbotts, he'd been someone she could throw a bit of flirty words and teasing nature around, just for fun.

Now, he was the one who had pulled her from those few days of being lost, sick and far from home and in the hands of the Germans.

"You have to remember the first time you were in love, John," Kennedy said as she leaned on the bunk beside Bucky and surveyed the small bunk room, "all those butterflies, that lusting feeling, c'mon, with a face like that, you oughta know." She looked to him with a grin, but instead was met with a sour-looking frown. Her smile fell.

"Seems I forgot to do that." Bucky said, reaching up to rub a finger along his upper lip and then sighed, sending her a glance, "And the butterflies, or whatever the fuck you're supposed to feel." Kennedy stared at him and waited until he met her gaze fully.

"Let me guess, you got a cushy guy back home, your Ma set up for you from the country club, and just broke a guys heart before you came out here," Bucky said, his tone falling into a somewhat jealous and distant mantra, "you don't even gotta tell me. Look at you, any guy woulda been lucky to know you." Kennedy stared at him, her heart beginning to race the longer she stared at him and his stupid pretty face.

"No actually." Kennedy said, about just as firmly and slightly cold right back, "Guys at the country club were stuck-up twits anyway. Only heartbreaking that was going on was mine." Bucky looked her way and opened his mouth, before closing it again.

"Yep," Kennedy said with a nod, "strung me on like fish to a hook with bait. Showered me in love or whatever the fuck he called it. He stole a whole lot from me that I'll never get back. Youth, whatever else." Bucky was rather intently staring at her and refusing to look away.

"What the hell was his name?" Bucky said, his jaw clenched a bit tighter, his shoulders broader as he had turned to look at her now, watching her with a look that was enough to make her insides twist.

"Stephen." Kennedy said and then shrugged, "It's stupid anyway. First love is a load of bullshit half the time." Bucky was still staring at her and she was sure anymore of looking into his eyes and she wouldn't hold back. Whatever she was feeling.

"Anyway," Kennedy said looking away and grabbing some of the canteens from the table, seemingly catching Bucky off guard with her sudden dismissal of the conversation, "I'll go refill some of the water. I'll be back." With that she turned, heart pounding.

"Wait, Farley-" Bucky said, reaching out to grab her free hand, his large fingers clasping around her wrist, his hand hot, sending goosebumps all over her form. She turned to him and watched as his wheels turned, trying to figure out whatever he was thinking of saying.

"I shouldn't have said that about you - the country club bullshit, and he sounds like a complete asshole. Steve - whatever the fuck his name was." Bucky said and then righted himself, his grip loosening, but not free, "I'll come with you. To get the water." She stared at him, mildly surprised, but almost not. He'd been giving her that quiet look for days now. Whatever it meant. Enough it made her pulse race. And she knew he could feel it. Kennedy smirked at him and then reached forward, pulling her hand from his loose grasp and grabbed a few more canteens and placed it into his arms.

"How chivalrous." she said, before giving him a smile and heading out the door. Bucky stood there silent for a moment, and was left with a snort from Bessie on the top bunk.

"What?" grumbled Bucky, glancing over towards the woman - whom he hadn't realized was still here nor paying attention. Bessie chuckled and flipped a page in her book and smiled.

"Nothing." she said with a chuckle, before glancing over at him, "Run along, lover boy."

[hergrandplan]

for the drabble challenge: “Remember back when we were kids?” 💕

Hi! Thank you so much for sending this in! 100 words sounds fun until you try to write it lol, but I hope you'll enjoy this little thing 💜

For @youngroyals-events ; send in a prompt, get a drabble

"Remember back when we were kids?” Sara asks. “Remember how I used to bring you to my room, and we'd imagine where we would go if we could run anywhere?”

“Hm-hm.” Simon can still see the outlines of the glow-in-the-dark stars Sara used to have on her ceiling, the ones they would stare up at when hiding from their father.

“Where would you go now?"

“Actually…” Simon thinks of Wille, currently preparing dinner with their mom. How they’ll drive home tomorrow, badly singing along to the radio, Wille's hand on his thigh. “I don't think I need to go anywhere."