#man. this lighting was difficult to attempt LOL

[vepaluiron]

A story of sorrow and smoke and flame...

[talaok]

How it was

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Abby's attempt at Joel's life, he's in the hospital, and while you try to navigate through the difficult feelings having almost lost him bring up, his mind seems to be on a much different, inappropriate, thing.

Warnings: talk of Joel almost dying, mentions of blood. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), attempt at fingering (lol), talk of f receiving oral, and Joel's dirty mouth.

a/n: i haven't watched the new episode yet bc im tired of crying but what i can tell you for sure is that did not happen, my baby is fine and ellie has never been happier.

"Well good mornin' to me"

You were bent over the armchair tidying what had transformed into your bed for the past ten days when you heard him.

His raspy morning voice had you turning around with a smile.

You let go of the blanket in your hand as you walked closer to his bed.

The rising sun was filtering through the windows of the hospital, illuminating his upper body with a golden light.

His face was still bruised and swollen and they hadn't yet taken his stitches out.

A bittersweet feeling filled your heart every time you looked at him, every time he winced as he sat up, every time you watched him struggle to walk for more than ten steps... it hurt, and yet it filled you with joy.

He was alive- he'd come so very close, the closest he'd ever come to the end of it all, and he had survived- he was still here, with you.

"Good morning" you beamed, taking his hand in yours as you sat on his bed "How're you feeling?"

He smirked, but you felt him squeeze your hand tenderly "Would feel a lot better if you turned around and showed me that view again"

You could only roll your eyes, chuckling softly.

"Really baby, you feeling any pain? You need something?"

His lips formed a soft small smile as he brought your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss on it.

"'M great babygirl, dontcha worry"

You very much doubted he was great, but you nodded nonetheless.

He never wanted you to worry, which was silly, because there was nothing else you did these days besides worrying.

"Now c'mon, give me some sugar"

"Joel" you protested immediately "I don't wanna hurt you, let's at least wait to see what the nurse says about the stitches"

You talked as if your protests had ever been anything but futile, as if the moment he gave you those sweet puppy eyes and his honeyed voice called your name you weren't already leaning closer.

"I don't care if it kills me darlin', just give me a kiss"

You stopped dead in your tracks, your mouth an inch from his, your breathing one with his.

"don't joke about that"

You knew it was just a stupid joke. But nothing was really a joke anymore, not since you witnessed him being carried into Jackson unconscious, his bloody face beaten to a pulp, his body so close to being lifeless... you knew that image would haunt you for the rest of your life.

"'m sorry, doll" he apologized, his eyes looking into yours with all the care and love inside him "'m here" he promised, squeezing your hand.

You closed your eyes for a moment, holding back the tears threatening to spill.

"Don't scare me like that ever again"

Your tone was serious, matter of factly, because it all was true. You knew, with terrifying certainty, that if anything like that were to ever happen again, you wouldn't survive it.

"I won't" he murmured, your hand in his the only thing grounding you "I promise you, darlin'"

There were so many more things to say, so many things you had to talk about, so many feelings, fears, and hopes bubbling inside you, and yet all you could do at that very moment was press your lips to his, kissing the man you'd feared losing forever, just to lose yourself in him.

The kiss was sweet, soft, tender even.

You didn't wanna hurt him, his lips were still cut and his cheeks were still bruised.

But despite it all, the feeling of kissing him was exactly the same. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was the way he made everything else disappear, every hurt, scare, and sadness dissipated into thin air when his lips were on yours- when his stubble grazed your face, his hands held you, his scent hugged you tight...

It always became just you and him.

And then Joel groaned in pleasure, and in what you knew from experience to be frustration.

Your mouths were still connected, just as your hands, only his tongue was now sloppily tasting you deeper, as his other hand, his injured, tired hand, found your thigh, slowly traveling up and up until two of his fingers infiltrated between your thighs, rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You couldn't help but huff a laugh.

There he was, bedridden and barely alive, and he was still trying to get in your pants... quite literally.

"Joel" you chuckled.

He didn't answer, instead, he only compelled his head to lean forward to deepen your kiss as his hands started fighting with the button holding your jeans together.

The angle was uncomfortable and he was very clearly struggling, but you just sighed into his mouth, silencing your amusement.

It took about a full minute for him to unbutton your pants, but once he finally did, he slid two of his fingers beneath the fabric as quickly as he could, which wasn't a lot given the position.

You obeyed his silent command to spread your legs, but even as his fingers reached your clothed slit, he couldn't do much more than try to caress your pussy.

"Baby" you murmured with a smile as he desperately tried to pleasure you "do you really think now's the time?"

"yeah," he breathed without missing a beat.

Just then his fingers drew higher and came in contact with your clit, making you stifle a soft moan.

But the jeans were too damn tight, and he really had no space to work with.

"take 'em off"

You couldn't help but grin.

He had not changed. Not one bit.

"Joel I can't exactly take my pants off in here right now"

He groaned, his big brown eyes pleading you.

"why not?"

You laughed as you took his wrist in your hand and started leading his fingers off of you, to which he protested with a frustrated noise deep in his chest.

"Because baby... not only is the door open" you said, glancing at it " but anyone could come in at any moment"

He groaned, his hand on your thigh now.

"That never stopped us before"

He earned himself a pointed glare with that one.

You weren't gonna be caught pantsless as your barely alive husband fingered you. No way in hell.

"Then put a sock on the handle or somethin'"

An amused snort left you at that.

"This is hospital baby, not a frathouse"

Those deep brown, expressive eyes of his were completely shadowed with lust- the man was desperate.

Ten days of no sex and he was already looking like a deprived, starved man... not to mention the fact that he had begun to touch you inappropriately on day two.

He almost died, and instead of wishing to watch the sun rise again or listen to birds chirp in the morning, all the man seemed to think of was pussy... yours specifically.

"please sugar"

Goddamn, those damned puppy eyes.

Those two words were all you needed before you got up and started towards the door.

You heard him groan behind you.

"You're gonna leave your man layin' here blueballed?"

You laughed softly as you closed the door, hoping to god that the nurses would get the hint and not come in.

You didn't answer, you just walked back to him, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement once you took the blanket off of him.

How the man still looked hot in a hospital gown was something that needed to be studied.

His left leg, where he'd been shot, was bandaged completely, while the naked right one showed off his hairy thighs, which made warmth spread low in your belly... yeah maybe you'd missed sex too.

Silently, your hand went to the skin that was covered by the very hem of his gown, slowly trailing up and up and up until you cupped his hardening manhood through his boxers.

"fuck" he breathed, struggling to prop himself further up on the bed to get a better view.

You raised your eyebrow, shooting him a look- the last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself.

"You've got to listen to hear if anyone's coming and warn me if that's the case, ok?"

He nodded mindlessly, his sole focus on your hand stroking his dick.

"yeah- sure" he murmured, urgency and need straining his voice.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Nonetheless, you hiked his gown up and pulled his underwear down- his cock was hard as a rock and you hadn't even done anything more than put your hand on it.

You bent over, looking to the side at him as you slowly, oh so slowly, started kissing his tip.

He twitched in your hand as your tongue darted out to kitty lick him, precum leaking from him just in time for you to taste it.

You were looking at him with those godforsaken sexy eyes you'd get as you finally wrapped your mouth around him, and Joel... Joel was in another universe already.

He groaned, shifting his hips up with a painful grunt as you hummed around him, starting to bob your head as you fit more and more of him inside your mouth.

"Fuck me-" he couldn't help but moan "fuck that feels good darlin'"

He strained his neck as his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes shutting close as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

He was fisting the blanket so hard his knuckles were white as chalk, and his breathing was so erratic that he was half sure the doctors would run in at any moment because the monitor would pick up him having a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ" he groaned.

Your mouth felt better than anything on this earth at the moment. You were sucking him so tight and god but you had him so deep inside you.

"Just like that" he breathed, watching your eyes water as you forced almost all of him down your throat.

It had been four years and you still couldn't get all of him in- at this point you'd given up trying- He was just too damn big.

"so good for me sweetheart" he grunted, observing his cock go in and out of you "Such a good girl-fuck"

Your hand had found his balls, massaging them tenderly- which meant Joel was pretty much done for.

"Goddamnit-- I'm gonna- I-"

He erupted, filling your mouth with his spent before he could even finish the sentence- and you were more than happy to swallow it all up.

He was breathing heavily, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you smiled up at him, before tucking him back in his boxers and putting the blanket back on top of him.

All sounds from outside suddenly filled the room again, reminding you of where you were... and what you'd just done.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, smiling as you reached his side again.

"beats me" you teased, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He groaned from deep in his chest, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

"We still need to take care 'f ya darlin'"

"no, we don't" you immediately shook your head.

A side of his lips twisted into a smirk as he got an idea.

You didn't wanna take off your pants, and it's not like he could much to change position given his state, so that meant only one thing...

"Sit on my face"

And yes that idea made you hornier than you already fucking were, but unlike your husband, you still had some sense of decency left in you.

"I'm scared to hurt you when I kiss you and you think I'm gonna sit on your face?"

He looked at you for a moment, trying to figure out if there was any way he could convince you- unfortunately, the results came back negative.

"A man can dream" he sighed as he guided you down for another kiss.

"Let me get a taste at least"

Your lips parted in stunner- he really was desperate today.

"Jesus baby" you huffed, your mouth betraying you with a smile "H-how am I even supposed to do that, you really shouldn't force your hands to struggle too much, it could be bad for-"

His eyes sparked with mischief as he murmured "There ain't nothing wrong with yours though, ain't that right sugar?"

Heat crept up your face as you understood, but seeing the unadulterated need in his iris, the strain in his voice as he whispered 'Just a taste'... in seconds your own hand was in your panties.

"This is dirty..." you murmured, eyeing the door as your fingers delved between your folds, gathering up your slick.

"we've done worse" he breathed, his eyes only on what was happening beneath your jeans.

The worst part was that you actually had.

You swallowed thickly as you pulled your hand out of your pants, guiding your glistening fingers to Joel's mouth.

He wasted no time opening his lips, sucking greedily on your digits, a groan rumbling from deep in his throat at the taste.

You bit your lip, watching the scene unfold as you pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the burning pressure.

He would have probably gone on for god knows how long if you hadn't pulled your fingers out of his mouth.

His cock was hard again and he was goddamn tired of being in this hospital bed.

He wanted to go back to his old life. To his house, his wife, his daughter.

He wanted to get back to waking you up in the morning with his tongue between your thighs- not... this.

So he brought your head down, guiding you for yet another kiss that overflowed with all the hopes and dreams he had about it all going back to how it was.

"fuck me-" he groaned in between desperate kisses "I miss our life- I miss... shit babygirl, I your pussy"

You laughed softly into his mouth before leaning away, a devious spark in your eyes.

"Tell you what...I'll wear a skirt tomorrow" you murmured, ghosting his lips "and I think the weather might be a bit too hot for panties"

The groan he let out at that caused a nurse to worriedly rush in.

[akuzondotcom]

Obey Me! Brothers Eyes ft; My HCs. More info on My HCs listed below!!

Lucifer:

Lucifer I wanted to look the most Mature and Handsome. I gave him slit eye pupils and ocular scarring on one eye. I imagine he got his cross shaped scar in the war, it being a mark of a curse his Father laid upon him. Because of this curse, which I imagine to be mortality, I made him look slightly sickly, with translucent skin and pallor. I imagine he’s only got a few thousand more years left to live.

Mammon:

Mammon I gave golden freckles and one golden eye. I imagine he got this eye colour from an attempted spell to try and make his eyes turn golden in hue. However because he failed his spell classes, I imagine this failed, giving him heterochromia and 50/50 heterochromia in one eye. Lucifer scolded him for his reckless behaviours. Also I HC him as Aboriginal Australian, has nothing to do with his eyes specifically but I wanted an excuse to say that lol.

Leviathan:

I Imagine Leviathan has the least humanoid Demon form (it being a massive aquatic reptile) as such he struggles to maintain a convincing human form. This shows through with his eyes, them being dark and unblinking. I imagine instead of traditional blinking he has a nicitating membrane that covers his eyes from dirt and debris. He does however require eye drops to moisten his eyes when he’s away from water. I also imagine some of his scale pattern is still visible in his human form, Showing mainly around his eyes, neck, back legs and arms.

Satan:

Satan is the most humanoid of the demon brothers. Having light freckles, regular rounded pupils, and a more youthful appearance then his other brothers. The only sign something is different is the sigil in his eye, a sign of a spell he performed to grant himself more power.

Asmodeus:

(Note I HC Asmo uses any pronouns so I may use she or they when talking about him) Asmo was difficult as I picture her as a shapeshifter, them changing their body suit the trends. However I decided his most common form has rounded feminine features, long spiky lashes, and few demonic features that he deans cute (black sclera, slit pupils, pointed ears and sharp fangs etc). I imagine they wear light makeup, just enough to accentuate her features.

Beelzebub:

Beel has mostly humanoid features, save for his eyes. Instead of having a pupil and iris, he has one large multi compound pupil. Meaning instead of seeing one large image he sees thousands of tiny images, like a fly. Because of this I imagine he’s short sighted, and colour blind. However he is amazing at noticing form movement. Again much like a fly. Also my friend HCs him as a light skin black man so I do as well :).

Belphagor:

Belphie I wanted to make slightly more intimidating. I wanted to make him look gaunt and sickly, experiencing pallor, and with his eyes more deep-set. I also imagine his eyes have a spiral in them, one that if you stare into to long you can’t help but sleep. Also again, same friend HCs him as black so I do as well lol. Shout out to my boy Kris.

The Rest of the Casts eyes are coming soon. But for now we have the brothers!! Lemme know your HCs and who knows maybe I might take them on board lol.

[michaela-o]

please please PLEASE can we have an Autobot version of the how to catch a human post?! Begging on my knees here lol

Im sorry this took a bit longer i had so much fun writing this ! And besides that i got distracted by some of the TF comics that can be found online ! I just read the two whole comics about Drift becoming an autobot and man alive was that cool :3🧡

I'm also currently job-hunting and studying so there was not as much time to be online or make art as much as i'd like :'(🧡

But i hope you'll enjoy this one !! ( ｡ớ ᴗờ)🧡

P.s. - I know this is a bit different from the decepticon one bc i made this one in the more First Contact universe♡

Autobot recommendation for handling/capturing fragile organics: Humans

Foreword on behalf of Autobots

Humans are delicate, skittish creatures who rely on their instincts, emotions, and have a surprising amount of unpredictability. They are small, fragile, and prone to bouts of irrational behavior when startled or cornered. Despite their size and vulnerability, they possess an extraordinary will to survive, making them both a challenge and a responsibility to handle correctly.

This guide was written for Autobots tasked with capturing, securing, or calming a human in scenarios where their cooperation is necessary but unlikely. Treat them as you would a frightened turbomouse: with patience and care.

1: Recognizing the human creature

1.1 PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Humans are organics with relatively uniform structure but remarkable fragility. Standing approximately not even quarter of the height of a minicon, they lack protective exoskeletons or natural armor. Their bodies are composed of soft tissues supported by brittle bones, making them particularly susceptible to external forces.

Their skin is their first line of defense, but it is thin and prone to tearing. Cybertronian scanners often mistake minor abrasions as critical damage—while rarely life-threatening, these injuries cause them significant distress. Be mindful of their soft exteriors.

Humans rely heavily on their sensory organs to navigate their environment. Their eyes are sensitive to bright light, and their ears to loud or unexpected noises. Both can cause disorientation, so avoid shining headlights directly at them or using amplified vocalizers during interactions.

1.2 BEHAVIORAL TRAITS

Humans exhibit a wide range of behaviors, often dictated by their emotional state. Unlike Cybertronians, who generally act with calculated logic, humans are impulsive. When frightened, their actions often defy rationality.

• Flight Response: A common reaction to danger, humans may attempt to flee without assessing their surroundings. This can lead them into greater peril, such as running toward an active battlefield or hazardous terrain. They are pretty fast for their size, but their stamina is limited. A frightened human will often collapse after prolonged exertion.

• Fight Response: Though rare, humans under stress may lash out. Their attacks, though feeble, can include throwing objects, kicking, or attempting to strike a Cybertronians. While their strength is negligible, their determination should not be underestimated.

• Freeze Response: Some humans become motionless when overwhelmed, effectively shutting down all voluntary movement. This reaction can make them difficult to rescue, as they may refuse to cooperate or acknowledge external stimuli.

2: Identifying stress signals

2.1 VOCAL CUES

Humans communicate distress through an array of strange vocalizations, often at high volume. Screaming is the most obvious indicator of fear, but rapid speech, muttering, or even complete silence can also signal distress. Listen carefully to their tone—shaky or uneven sounds often betray underlying anxiety.

2.2 PHYSICAL REACTIONS

Their bodies exhibit telltale signs of stress: trembling limbs, widened organic optics, or clenched fists. Sweating, though imperceptible to Cybertronian optics, is another key indicator. Advanced scanners can detect elevated heart rates and shallow breathing, both of which correlate with heightened fear.

2.3 ERRATIC MOVEMENTS

Humans under duress often behave unpredictably, darting in random directions or making illogical choices. For example, a human might attempt to climb unstable structures or hide in areas that provide no real protection. These behaviors stem from primal survival instincts and should not be interpreted as strategic actions.

3: Non-threatening approaches

3.1 MINIMIZING YOUR PRESENCE

Humans perceive large objects, especially moving ones, as threats. To avoid provoking unnecessary fear, always begin your approach in a non-intimidating manner. Transforming into vehicle mode is highly effective; many humans associate vehicles with utility and safety, not danger.

When in robot mode, avoid towering over them. Lowering yourself to their eye level by kneeling or sitting creates a sense of equality and reduces the perception of dominance.

3.2 VOCAL REASURRANCE

Humans respond well to calm, steady voices. Speak slowly, using simple phrases even though they will not understand Cybertronian language. Avoid Cybertronian technical jargon or complicated explanations, as humand won't even understand and will confuse or frighten them further.

If the human continues to panic, repeat your reassurances while maintaining a soft tone. Over time, they will begin to associate your voice tone with safety.

3.3 BODY LANGUAGE

Body language is as important as spoken words. Humans are highly visual creatures and will interpret your movements as cues for intent. Keep your gestures slow and deliberate. Avoid sudden movements, as these can be perceived as aggression.

Extend a hand palm-up when offering assistance, a universal gesture of peace. Keep your frame neutral—crossed arms, clenched fists, or rigid postures might be misinterpreted as hostility.

4: Techniques for securing a human

4.1 NON-CONTACT METHODS

Whenever possible, prioritize techniques that do not involve physical interaction.

• Guided Pathways: Create barriers using objects or your own body to funnel the human toward safety. This method is particularly effective in open environments where direct contact might cause them to flee in the wrong direction.

• Stasis Bubbles: Deploy low-energy containment fields to immobilize the human. These fields should be calibrated to avoid discomfort and allow full mobility once the immediate danger has passed.

4.2 DIRECT CONTACT METHODS

Important note: When physical interaction is unavoidable, use the utmost care.

• Lifting and Restraint: Cradle the human gently in both hands, supporting their head and limbs. Apply no more force than necessary to prevent them from struggling or falling.

• Transport Compartments: Many Autobots have interior compartments designed for transporting fragile cargo. Ensure these are padded, ventilated, and free of sharp edges before placing a human inside.

4.3 ENVIROMEMTAL ADJUSTMENTS

Humans are profoundly influenced by their surroundings. Dim lighting, soft sounds, and warm temperatures can help calm them during capture. Conversely, loud noises, flashing lights, or sudden temperature changes will heighten their distress.

5: Transporting the human

5.1 SAFE COMPARTMENTS

Select a secure compartment that protects the human from external hazards while allowing them to move comfortably. The space should include basic life-support features such as climate control and breathable air.

5.2 CONTINUOUS MONITORING

Scan the human regularly for signs of injury or stress. If their condition deteriorates, stop immediately and address their needs. Humans are highly vulnerable to dehydration, exhaustion, and emotional fatigue.

6: Release and recovery

6.1 GRADUAL DISENGAGMENT

When the mission is complete, release the human in a controlled manner. Begin by reducing your proximity, allowing them to acclimate to their surroundings. Avoid abrupt departures, which may leave them feeling abandoned or confused.

6.2 PROVIDING REASSURANCE

Humans value closure. Rather than explain, show your actions and reassure them of their safety. If possible, provide additional assistance, such as guiding them back to their community or offering resources for recovery.

Closing thoughts

Humans may be small and fragile, but they are resilient in their own way. By treating them with care and understanding, they will give you theirs in return.

"We honor the principles that make us Autobots." - Autobots

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

thinking about playing with geto’s hair to help him unwind after a stressful week

the air hangs heavy, oppressive with summer's clinging humidity—a fitting backdrop to the surge in curses running rampant through japan. your days blur into an unrelenting cycle: exorcise, write reports, collapse in your dorm. you call it a blessing, a chance to strengthen your technique—but deep down you know that each mission brings you closer to the brink.

the fatigue is nothing short of infectious, spreading through jujutsu high like a virus. but this week, geto's weariness went beyond mere exhaustion—it teetered on the edge of total defeat. you and gojo had noticed it immediately, an unspoken observation of his too-polite words, dull eyes, and the barely-there smile he wore like armor.

although gojo is usually aloof when it comes to these types of social cues, his six eyes truly lives up to its name when it comes to geto. gojo notices his unfinished meals and lack of appetite, resorting to (in very gojo-esque manner) attempt to hand-feed him and offer up his most sacred sweets.

you'd teased gojo for his attentiveness, but he'd fire back that you were no better, always rushing to geto's side the moment he'd returned from a mission, dragging him along to a number of alleviating activities. you'd even made the mistake of inviting him to a smoke sesh with shoko, a decision you were still getting shit for since any invite to geto automatically extends to gojo—the embodiment of shoko's nightmare blunt rotation.

but today geto had been particularly elusive, so you find yourself messaging gojo privately to discuss your concern. unsurprisingly, gojo is a little too eager to engage...

S. Gojo | Today at 9:37 PM nd u saw how quickly he excused himself after giving his report ?? he didn't even scold me after yaga pointed out that my handwriting was completely illegible :0

You | Today at 9:39 PM sooo you knew that it was illegible? mbn to never worry about the consequences of your actions & ofc i noticed!! he seemed restless during that whole meeting

S. Gojo | Today at 9:40 PM just say ur jealous lol nd I noticed that too it was pretty distracting u think hes still on edge from the mission?

You | Today at 9:43 PM in his defense it doesnt take much to distract you i dont even think his mission was particularly difficult though didn’t he exorcise a bunch of grade 3 curses

S. Gojo | Today at 9:43 PM yeeah but remember he still has to absorb them hes trying to increase his collection i could yak rn just thinking ab it

You | Today at 9:45 PM truee idk how he does it honestly it must be rlly wearing him down tho i rarely see him now :(

S. Gojo | Today at 9:46 PM yeahhh he keeps hiding out in his room classic avoidant tendencies

You | Today at 9:48 PM astute observation dr. gojo that would imply he needs some space huh

S. Gojo | Today at 9:48 PM rightttt but

You | Today at 9:50 PM but? (i like where this is going)

S. Gojo | Today at 9:50 PM luckily space isn't in our vocabulary (i knew u would) lets go bother him :3

You | Today at 9:51 PM im alr omw to u :3

stuffing your phone back into your sweats, you begin making your way to your co-conspirator. it's pitch black outside save for the dim light of the flickering lantern hung at the dorm’s main post, but gojo’s room is only a couple doors down. you push open the slightly ajar door and are met with a tart, saccharine scent wafting from gojo’s not-so-secret stash of hard candy.

squinting forward you spot the culprit red-handed, splayed out across his bed, and likely one candy away from a sugar rush. your exasperated exhale breaks him from his sugar trance and he rolls over to prop himself up on his side, crinkling about eight discarded candy wrappers in the process.

"so nice of you to join me tonight~”

you wrinkle your nose at his lopsided grin, “gross satoru, a grown-ass man eating in his bed.”

gojo sneers peering over his glasses which are slowly slipping down the slope of his nose to retort, “and you are a grown-ass woman who still sleeps with stuffed animals so I don’t wanna hear it.”

he sticks out his bright red tongue before tossing the empty wrappers onto the floor to clear up some space. you consider pointing out the digimon plushie that's visible from underneath his bed but decide to let it slide, seating yourself next to him. you are instead much more interested in gawking at the ginormous bag of candy sitting before you.

"there's actually no way you plan on eating this entire bag yourself, right?" you eye his glossy, red-stained lips "your dentist must hate to see you coming."

“and I would happily take on that challenge but—" he pauses to lift a piece of candy wrapped in shiny gold paper, "I actually picked up this bag earlier because I noticed it has these hard candies with honey filling.”

"how considerate and out of character of you," you tease.

he pouts puffing his cheeks out defiantly, "yeah so this stays between us because I can't have you running around ruining my feared, distinguished, and carefully constructed reputation—"

"of being an arrogant asshole?" you finish.

"no silly, I was gonna go with alpha male."

he smugly turns over to lay flat on his stomach, picking out the honey-filled candies and kicking his feet that hung off the edge of the bed. ah yes, the tell-tale sign of an alpha male giggling and kicking his feet while rummaging through sweets.

"right."

you lean back onto your hands making contact with something hard beneath the blanket. upon further inspection, you uncover gojo's beloved nintendo ds littered with sailor moon stickers. you lift it onto your lap tracing a finger over the peeling edge of a bright-eyed feline luna.

gojo glances over at the movement, "I'm just about done, bring that too."

you sit upright pocketing a couple pieces of candy for yourself along with the ds while he shoves as much candy as physically possible into his grey flannel joggers. stretching your legs out you rise to your feet pulling him up by his arm along with you. you’re pleasantly surprised to be met with the soft, warm brush of his skin rather than the cold pressure that is the icy barrier of his infinity.

although you should be accustomed to gojo deactivating his infinity around you, you couldn't help but lightly shudder as the comforting warmth courses through your body. because despite your argumentative banter, you reveled in the fact that the gojo satoru was surrounded by trusted friends who made him feel comfortable enough to let go of the technique temporarily. he hums softly kicking on his slippers and rising off the bed.

now towering over you, he shifts his weight, fully intending to take a long stride toward the door—until your hand presses firmly against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“listen—y'know I love you 'toru but before we go in there I'm gonna need you to promise to dial it down about five notches—" you take a breath and press your palms together in a pleading gesture, "so we don’t overwhelm him."

you’re met with a scoff and quirked snowy-white brow, “tch I'm not stupid I know how to read a room."

you release a shaky "okay" clearly unconvinced.

he rolls his eyes swatting at your hands and looping his arm around yours to pull you forward, “now let’s go visit our sweet sugubear~” you playfully bump shoulders giddy because you’re all too aware of geto’s ability to render you both docile.

lifting a hand to tug down your beige baby tee where it had bunched up from gojo’s arm, you allow yourself to be led to geto's room.

upon arrival, you are greeted with silence and the distant droning buzz of cicadas. the soft glow from gojo's ocean-blue eyes illuminates the door, and you can’t help but admire their determined sparkle.

“suguruuuu are ya in there? we know you are so let us in loser.” he accompanies his request with a sharp, forceful knock.

you snort at this tactless approach, slipping your arm out from his to swat at the back of his head. you take a gentler approach, knocking lightly, your plea sincere.

“hey um suguru, we know it’s late but we were hoping to unwind together since we haven’t really had a chance to hang out recently and we know how tiring the past few weeks have been for you and um...well all of us and well we y'know—” you pause from your rambling momentarily, banking on gojo swooping in.

“we miss you 'ru” he finishes loudly.

you both cock your heads sideways towards the door to listen for movement and jolt back when you hear the shuffling of feet move across the floor.

you lean in towards gojo, your voice a whisper, “he’s alive.”

geto's muffled voice responds, “yes yes I'm alive, sorry to disappoint,” his voice sounds strained yet still cracks into a low chuckle. he pulls the door open revealing himself to be dressed in a baggy black sweatsuit wrapped in a thick grey blanket that's pulled around his shoulders and draped over his arms. his eyes are clouded by dark bags and his hair is strung messily around his head, his lips fixed into a friendly, albeit forced smile.

gojo, slightly amused by the disheveled geto in front of him, opens his mouth to say god knows what, but geto promptly warns, “don’t make me regret opening this door satoru.”

"so scary sugu, don't be so mean," he dramatically shivers and you can hear the pout lacing his voice. you giggle into your palm at geto's stern look and gojo tugs sheepishly at his unruly milky-white hair. he approaches the darker-haired man placing a firm hand on geto’s shoulder before continuing inside. you follow suit and hear geto's lock click back into place behind you.

gojo immediately makes himself comfortable kicking off his slippers at the foot of the bed and falling face first onto geto's pillows with a sigh. he pulls out the candy from his pocket and drops a handful beside him. you remove your slippers and neatly arrange them while geto sulks over to the bed. he sits upright next to the candy and you drop yourself beside him pulling your knees into your chest. you all bask in comfortable silence before geto is the first to break.

"already infesting my bed with your sugar addiction huh, satoru?"

"no sufogu, bwought dese fa you" his words come out jumbled from the press of his mouth to the pillows.

geto lifts a single candy to his lap and carefully unwraps it. you lean into his side and point, "these candies are filled with honey 'ru, thought they could soothe your throat some."

geto gingerly lifts the candy to his lips proceeding to gently coax out the flavor, savoring the sweet taste. he tilts his head back, eyes crinkling into a thin line and shoulders easing.

“s'good, thank you."

while he revels in the soothing effect the candy is having on his throat you shift your attention towards his hair situation.

"did we wake you? it looks like you just had the nap of a lifetime." you reach up to twist a strand of hair that somehow defies the laws of physics sticking out horizontally.

"no, not at all," his eyes soften casting downward, "sleep's been more like a privilege lately."

gojo's dumbass barrels right past any underlying message there, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow, "s'cwazy cuz you haf the soffest bed."

as expected, geto with the patience of a saint, is unbothered by his lack of awareness, reaching out to affectionately ruffle gojo's hair, which earns him a soft, satisfied sigh.

you roll your eyes at how pliant and disgustingly submissive gojo had magically become in a matter of seconds. in turn, you thread your fingers deeper into the stringy black clump that was currently geto's hair.

"ugh there's no way you let your precious hair get this tangled, it physically pains me to look at," you clutch your chest dramatically.

geto reaches up to touch the hair in question, his fingertips lightly brushing against yours. he swallows uneasily, "it's gotten pretty bad huh."

you shoot him a sympathetic look carefully removing the hand in his hair to avoid yanking his scalp. you would never admit it aloud but there isn't much you wouldn't do for him; he's reliable, a comforting presence, and his character is unshakable. no matter how unpleasant or dismissive you and gojo could get at your worst, geto was there. so you didn't hesitate to make him an earnest offer.

"let me untangle it. I just so happen to be extremely skilled at detangling, probably from my years of experience—“ you gesture to your own hair twisting a loose curl around your finger, “—and don’t worry I make adjustments for the tender-headed, just ask utahime."

"wait who said I'm tender-headed?"

you snort and simply gesture to the ground, "just sit down here, okay?"

you try your best to mask your excitement since you love geto’s hair: it’s jet-black, long, and soft to the touch. it always smells fresh, with a hint of vanilla from his shampoo. it’s honestly attractive refreshing to see such well-groomed hair on a man.

geto silently complies, crouching next to your feet to fold up and place down his blanket before retrieving his brush from a nearby drawer. anticipating the whine of an excluded gojo, you reach into your pocket and toss his ds onto his back.

"here satoru, so you don't get bored in the next minute"

he eagerly turns over and powers on the handheld device. he is so easy to placate, if he wasn’t a gojo you would frankly be concerned for his safety.

geto settles between your legs, back against the bed, and expresses his interest, "whatcha playing there 'toru? pokémon?"

you start to nimbly section off his hair using the brush and begin working on the ends.

gojo shuffles closer to the two of you and tilts the screen so geto can get a look.

"nintendogs?" geto asks sounding exasperated and you catch a quick glimpse of a black-and-white spotted puppy pawing at the screen.

you suppress a giggle because gojo truly never disappoints and continue working your way up your section unraveling a particularly large tangle.

"try not to sound so disappointed 'ru its so fun~ its got tons of adorable doggies to play with and its harder than it looks! honestly its a lot of work."

now that absurdity earns him a laugh as you smooth down the top of your section mumbling under your breath, "yeah work."

"well I don't know about all that—but I'm glad you've discovered this month’s hyper-fixation" geto responds with a yawn.

"thank you...i think," gojo replies before quickly being distracted by the incessant yapping of his digital pets.

you take your time working through geto's hair, carefully pulling apart tangles and smoothing out ends, admiring the glossy shine reflected in the low light of his dorm. once thoroughly detangled, you brush through his thick locks while running your fingers through his bangs that don’t quite reach back far enough.

you hear a low hum when your fingers lightly scrape along his scalp so you continue your ministrations to hopefully allow him some semblance of peace. the yapping coming from gojo's direction becomes white noise as you get lost in thought admiring the silky-smooth feel of geto's hair against your fingers.

the satisfying swish of the hairbrush running from root to end sounds strangely cathartic. you note how his hair has grown considerably since the last time you had seen it completely down. it cascades down a little past his shoulders curling up slightly at the bottoms when released from the confines of the brush.

you gather all his hair back intending to indicate that you had finished until you notice a breathy rumbling being released steadily from his mouth. you peer over his head to see his eyes gently resting shut, with a tranquil expression softening his features as his lips part slightly with each slow breath.

somehow he has managed to look perfectly serene, yet impossibly striking. it was a relieving sight to see after this past week made you believe that his face had become permanently fixed into a frown.

"hey—“

you swiftly press a finger to a startled gojo's lips gesturing to the sleeping geto that had slumped into your lap. gojo quickly powers off his game and cranes his neck to get a good look at geto's face.

he stifles a laugh and wraps an arm around your shoulder, "mission accomplished huh?"

you nod contently as a warm gust of his strawberry-scented breath fans your face.

gojo seats himself next to you and begins running his fingers through geto's newly tamed hair. geto releases a long sigh and you can't help but think its awfully cute.

"bet I can do a better hairstyle than you can" gojo challenges, because of course he does. you still take him up on it though; partly because you're competitive, and partly because you want to keep soothing geto through his much-needed slumber.

you smirk at gojo before parting geto's hair down the middle. taking the left side you begin splitting it into four parts to work on a fishtail. you had always wondered how one would look on him if he ever let down his taut bun.

glancing towards gojo whose eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, you notice his glasses had been completely removed as he’s struggling to complete a french braid. the braid is somehow tight, loose, chunky, and thin all at once—effectively securing your victory. his pale fingers weave clumsily through one another to continue down.

gojo scowls looking dissatisfied with his work thus far and begins undoing his current progress. near geto's temple the braid had twisted awkwardly and as gojo pulled the strands apart he was met with resistance accidentally yanking geto's head back suddenly.

the motion jolts you all backward and shakes geto awake releasing a pained wince from the rough pull.

"what the fuck guys”

"gojo you had one job" you moan. gojo's white eyelashes flutter apologetically and he rubs soft circles into the spot he had just pulled.

"didn't mean to sugu"

you roll your eyes at his allergy to explicitly apologizing and shove him away from geto's head. dejected, he slowly inches himself to the edge of the bed until he slides down next to geto. he pops a hard candy between his lips that seemingly appeared out of thin air and leans his head onto geto's shoulder.

you swear you can make out a hushed murmur sounding close to a sorry. geto hums and you go back to playing with his hair. you decide to make an effort to style his hair in a way that he can achieve on his own. you lift gojo's head gently to retrieve the hair that had been trapped underneath so he can snuggle in closer, and you begin working on a half-up, half-down style.

once satisfied you make the executive decision to loop the half-up ponytail into a bun and pull out his bangs to frame his face.

geto’s voice calls wearily out, "having fun back there?" his eyes are half-lidded from dozing off, and at this point he’s completely malleable to your touch.

"I'm actually taking this opportunity very seriously sugu."

you retrieve your phone and open the front-facing camera, handing it to him. he positions it in front of his face to view the finished look.

the corner of his eyes crinkle, but you can still make out the deep violet of his irises scanning over your handiwork.

"I actually like this a lot, it looks great," he praises.

gojo cracks an eye open so he can weigh in.

"I don't hate it."

at that you flick the nape of his neck harshly and geto chuckles at the subsequent wince feeling rightfully avenged for earlier.

“so seriously how do I look?”

“pretty—“ “—handsome” you and gojo both blurt out at once.

an awkward silence follows, and you can't help but giggle at your brazen, synchronized boldness.

searching for a way to ease the tension, your eyes fall back onto the camera in geto's hand and you motion towards it to refocus everyone's attention, "well we've clearly established that you look great so don't let the photo go to waste."

you catch his lips curling slightly before he complies, extending his arm to get a better shot. gojo leans back onto geto's shoulder and lazily holds up a peace sign, his cheeks tinged strawberry-red to match his lips. you scoot forward resting your chin on geto's other shoulder, tilting your head slightly and flashing a playful grin.

“perfect, my new lock screen,” you say, giving geto’s bun one final twist.

geto chuckles, low and warm, and gives your knee a gentle pat. “well, in that case, I’m honored.” he shifts his weight, stretching his legs out, visibly more at ease than when you’d first arrived. beside him, gojo, not missing a beat, looks up, hands folded across his chest.

“but of course, I'm more honored, I'm literally the honored one”

geto looks over the image zooming in slightly, "keep talking and you'll be the one cropped out satoru."

this ignites their usual bickering and you scoff. you watch as geto’s shoulders softly shake with laughter and you swear he seems lighter, the tension of the last few weeks loosening. maybe, just maybe, things could return to normal soon.

at least, for this moment, you all felt a little more like yourselves.

[misc-obeyme]

Sigh. Okay. Here's the Levi demon form smut. I don't think it turned out very good, but I'm tired of messing with it. And I spent time writing it, so I figure I might as well post it. I'm sorry, Levi, I swear I'll do you justice one day~

GN!MC x Leviathan

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: penetration (reader receiving), Levi being silly and blushy and anxious, demon form, tail stuff (I'm struggling with how to label this - the tail wraps around MC, MC sucks on the end of it, and it also stimulates MC but doesn't penetrate... okay that'll have to do I guess), sexy potion (briefly mentioned and Levi drank it lol), cockwarming, biting, man I hope that's it

Leviathan was already bright red. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, but the blush covering his face was so sweet. He was in his bathtub, back against several pillows and you in his lap. Two piles of clothes were on the floor nearby. He'd been nervous from the start, even though you had done this before. You tried to get him to relax, but it was clear that most of the things you did only made it worse.

You ran your hands over his chest as you pushed back against his erection.

You put your hand on his cheek. “Please, Levi?”

“M-MC!” he protested.

You had asked him if he would shift into demon form and the idea of it flustered him so bad he couldn’t look at you.

You kissed his warm cheeks. “I just wanna see you,” you said as you trailed your lips down his neck.

Levi shivered at the light touch, but he still couldn’t open his eyes.

You sighed and sat up a bit, so you could cup his face with both hands. You rubbed your thumbs across his skin. “Look at me, Levi.”

Obediently, Levi opened his eyes, but it was still difficult for him. He turned his face away, like he was trying to only see you in his periphery. You turned him back to face you.

"Whatever you think about yourself doesn't matter," you said. "I want to see all of you. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something seemed to shine in Levi’s eyes. Not tears, but a confidence you knew he often didn't feel. And then he was in demon form, confirming that your words had boosted him enough to feel comfortable granting your request.

You watched as the complex horns emerged and the black and indigo coloring splayed across his neck and shoulder. You could feel the tail wrap around your waist. You shifted slightly so the scales rubbed gently across your skin.

You traced your fingertips across the pattern on his neck and the way he whined in response filled you with satisfaction. You leaned back down to press kisses along where your fingers had touched, enjoying the way he began to squirm beneath you.

You rolled your hips, grinding yourself down on his erection, making him cry out.

“A-ah!” Levi’s fingers were suddenly digging into your arms, a sensation you found you liked. His tail tightened around your waist. “MC! Please!”

You smirked and looked down at him. “Please what?”

But Levi couldn’t say it. You knew he would be too embarrassed to. He squeezed his eyes shut again, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.

You laughed a little because his reaction was so cute. You ran your hands through his hair, letting them slide gently up his horns, enjoying the way he shuddered in response. Then you kissed him, running your tongue along those tightly clamped lips in an attempt to get him to relax. It worked. He opened his mouth for you, letting out a little gasp as your tongue slipped inside.

Your kiss became sloppy fast, your hips occasionally rolling languidly downward. Every time you did this, the tail around your waist twitched and tightened just a little.

You pulled away to look down at him again and while his expression was a little more open, the anxiety was still clearly written there.

You pressed kisses across his face, pausing by his ear to whisper, “You’re safe with me. It’s okay to let go a little.”

It was like you had unlocked a secret level. Levi’s hands moved from your arms to your hips and he bucked up into you, letting out a whine that was so needy you couldn’t help but smile.

You rearranged yourself a bit, then sat snugly on his cock. You went slowly, inching down bit by bit so you could hear his noises.

As you went, Levi’s tail wrapped even more circles around you until the tip was brushing against your cheek. You smiled as it edged along your lips then opened your mouth to let it inside.

As soon as the tip of Levi’s tail was inside your mouth, you clamped your lips closed and sucked. You were rewarded by the sight of Levi’s eyes rolling back into his head as he moaned and bucked beneath you.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest as you moved your hips, setting a decent pace. Every time his cock was fully inside you, it sent spikes of pleasure through your gut. You moaned around his tail, but didn’t let it out of your mouth. Your tongue was too busy exploring the unusual feeling of his scales.

Levi was a mess beneath you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there’d be marks later. He couldn’t stop himself from meeting your movements and the lower part of his tail that was wrapped around you seemed to be moving you, too. You found you barely had to do any of the work yourself. You still maintained the pace and position, though, and Levi seemed to be content to let you.

Your heavy breathing filled the room along with the sound of skin smacking against skin and Levi’s soft whines. You decided you wanted to hear a little more, reaching out to pinch one of his nipples.

Levi cried out and you laughed softly around the tail in your mouth. Levi pulled his tail out as it squeezed around you even more. It was almost painful but not quite. You knew he didn’t even realize what he was doing and that made it all the more enjoyable.

“Sorry,” you said between heaving panting now that your mouth was free. “Did that hurt?”

Levi whined. “D-do it again-“

He didn’t have to ask twice. But you decided this time it would be more satisfactory to use your teeth. The tail around you slackened just a bit as you moved your body forward and bit down on the sensitive skin.

Levi was squirming hard beneath you now and you knew it was only a matter of time before he came. You increased your pace, letting your arms rest on his shoulders, pulling him into your body as you focused on your movement.

Everything around you tightened - Levi’s tail, his hands, even his eyes squeezing shut - as he came inside of you.

Levi cried out your name so beautifully as his tail went limp, falling into a heap around you.

Levi kept his eyes closed tight as your pace slackened. You were about to stop when you felt the tip of his tail, still wet from your mouth, finding its way between your legs, just barely touching your most sensitive spot.

It was so unexpected, you gasped.

Levi peeked at you, opening one eye just enough to register the look of surprise on your face. “D-don’t stop,” he said. And his hands gripped your hips hard again, keeping you moving.

“But-!” you protested. “How are you still-?”

The blush that alighted on Levi’s face made you smile. You were about to ask him how he was still hard after he came only seconds ago. There was something going on there, but you felt too good in that moment to pursue it further.

The tail between your legs seemed to have a mind of its own. It was only moments before you weren’t able to form full sentences anyway. You barely registered the look of adorable determination on Levi’s face before you felt that tightening in your gut.

You ended up leaving light scratch marks across his chest as you came, his tail continuing its ministrations as you rode out your orgasm.

You drew in some heavy breaths as you collapsed against Levi, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck. His arms moved to wrap around you, hugging you close to him, and his tail did the same, but not too tightly.

“You’re still hard,” you said, pressing light kisses to his neck.

Levi groaned. “Asmo gave me this potion…”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Oh, was it more potent than you thought it’d be?”

“D-don’t laugh, MC!” he said even as his grip on you tightened.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Do you want me to help you out?”

Levi was quiet for a long time before he finally said. “A-actually, if you could just… stay like this…”

You were more than content to stay in Levi’s arms and cockwarm him all night if that’s what he wanted. You both fell asleep soon enough, though it would take some time for the potion to fade.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[torawro]

LIKE SPECKS OF SUNLIGHT IN THE EARLY MORN. ( p. a.)

portgas d. ace & marine!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such! everyone is welcome to read <3 reader wears glasses, and is a marine stationed on an unnamed island at a base along the grand line. ‘lazy morning’ / ‘morning after’ kind of vibes so, a bit of pillow talk (?) . references to smut & making love (it already happened). contains some angst & angsty themes throughout (i.e., ace dealing with his self esteem issues, low self worth, etc..) otherwise it’s supposed to be fluffy ( the quiet, somber kind i think ) ! descriptions of kissing & borderline making out. ace is kind of lovesick and clingy but it’s subtle-ish. lots of introspection and reflection on both him and the reader’s part. kind of based on mitski's "my love, mine all mine", definitely had that song on repeat as i wrote this. romantic and deeply poetic rhetoric but y’all already know that’s just how i write lol. told from omniscient point of view (third person). proofread this as i was feeling sleepy, so please excuse any mistakes or things that don’t make sense!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! guess who's baaaaack.....! i know it's been a while since i have published any original work and i want to apologize for that. lately it's been difficult finding the energy to write something for more than five minutes and honestly, i think i just need to rediscover what drives me so i can tap into the zone more often. i missed it though, and hope i get to write more this year <3 anyway, first fic of 2025 and it feels right to make it about second commander of the whitebeard pirates, portgas d. ace. this fic is my late birthday 'gift' to him and something of a love letter because ohhhhh i miss my pookie bear so much :(( this entire idea started as just me thinking about kissing each of his freckles because i have the personal hc that he doesn't really like them, the reason for it is inherently tied to his distaste for his father and by extension himself :/ and then it just turned into this lmao. i hope ace doesn't behave too out of character here, as this is also my first time writing for him in any context, so pls be gentle with me. REBLOBS + COMMENTARY ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

IT WAS NOT THE LIGHT chirping of small birds that awoke you, nor was it the ringing of your biological clock telling you that the dawn was near. Instead it was a familiar tugging sensation within the pit of your stomach— the need to relieve yourself— that caused your eyes to peel themselves back slowly and with struggle, slumber from the previous night hasn’t been completely washed away yet.

It took your brain several more moments to dust off enough of its sleepy exhaustion before you attempted to sit up from your comfortable position in bed, but were immediately met with some light resistance.

The resistance in question was a long, muscled arm thrown around your soft torso, blackened ink of a tattoo staining the skin on its bicep. It was still too dark and you were still too tired to make out the sharp angles of the marking, but you knew what they were; your eyes have gazed upon it more times than you could count, and it has made a home in your memory.

That’s when your ears registered the rhythmic and almost nasal snores that flowed from the mouth of the man who held you so securely against his chest, and you almost smiled at how completely at ease and relaxed he seemed. 

At times like this, when things were still or you had a moment to yourself, you still could not wrap your head around the fact that you had gotten yourself involved with Portgas D. Ace— willingly at that. 

The first time was a fluke at best. That’s the excuse you were going to go with. You didn’t realize he was a pirate— an infamous pirate with hundreds of millions of Beri to his name— until your clothes were already halfway off and you were feverishly grinding down onto his lap like some touch-starved whore who’s been aching to feel something. That ‘fluke’ was one spurred on by alcohol, a particularly rough week at sea, and a sizable lapse in judgment, but you hadn’t felt that…… alive in a long time. But now, two years have passed since you have been seeing Ace in secret like this, and you have long since given up blaming it on a fragile emotional constitution further weakened by alcohol. You knew good and well what you were doing, and you could no longer deny the way your heart was constantly set aflutter whenever you spent any amount of time with him.

You did try your hardest to not let yourself enjoy how … domestic it all seemed: waking up next to him in the morning and falling asleep entangled with each other at night, having him hide out at your cozy apartment for days at a time, cooking him meals when you were relieved of your duties for the day. You wouldn’t— shouldn’t let yourself enjoy such content thoughts too much, because you also knew it could all be over in the blink of an eye. The world could be cruel that way if it wanted to.

But still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be grateful for these moments. From what you could tell, Ace seemed to enjoy this arrangement as much as you did. And for now, that was enough.

Lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you carefully lifted his arm from around you, moving slow so you wouldn’t wake him up. Once you’ve successfully loosened his hold, you sat upright, a muted ache shooting through your lower body as you shifted around to stand. The ache mostly resided in between your legs, and a flood of memories from just hours ago rushed over you at once, causing a tingling warmth to bloom underneath your skin. Ace had poured so much into you, it never failed to leave you equal parts stunned and breathless when you witnessed his passion overflow from the brim of his being. His hands, calloused palms that always ran hot, had been everywhere— your body could still feel the heat of where they had laid, caressed, groped, smacked, and squeezed. And you involuntarily jolted as you recalled where his fingers and lips had been, how it felt to be pressed so closely against him as he simultaneously took you apart. 

After another moment of being lost in your own reverie, you pulled yourself out of it and filed those memories away in a separate corner of your mind, so that you may more fully indulge in them later. As you carefully removed the blankets and climbed over the sleeping pirate, one bare foot had hardly hit the cool wooden floor before a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. 

A quiet grumbling noise vibrated from behind Ace’s lips, his eyes remained closed as he spoke, indicative that he was barely awake. “Wh…where y’goin’....?” His words were slurred and thick with sleep, his deep voice reaching the depths of your being to spark something to life in the pit of your belly. But you promptly ignored it for now. 

“To the bathroom, I gotta pee.”

He replied with another mumbling sort of noise, presumably one of acknowledgment or begrudging acquiescence— you couldn’t be sure. “M’kay, just . . . hurry back t’bed, will ya? M’cold.” 

You found amusement in the inherent irony of his claim that he was ‘cold’  when he always ran a little warmer than most— not to mention his devil fruit powers— but also in the fact that despite his urging you to take care of your business swiftly, he hasn't released his hold on your wrist yet. In fact, he tugged you a little closer to him, as if he was trying to pull you back into bed. 

A small smile began to curl at the corners of your lips as you moved to manually pry his fingers from your arm so you can make your way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

For the next several minutes, Ace was left alone. 

He stirred in his partially-awake state as he made himself comfortable again in bed, but one eye managed to pry itself open by a few millimeters. It was unfortunate he was roused from his deep  sleep, but he was sure he’d doze off again soon enough. 

From what he could see, the room was still dark for the most part, his surroundings washed in a rich, navy blue color, a telltale sign that the sun would rise within the next hour or so. Aside from the faint rustling coming from the bathroom, the air was occupied by a serene silence, meaning his innermost thoughts became that much more perceptible to his mind’s ear. 

Sometimes, a part of Ace felt like fate had shined upon him— just a little, just this once— when his mind mulled over his…unique relationship with you, and all the events that led up to this exact moment. He too understood the implications of seeing you like this, but he couldn’t find it within himself to let go and move on. There was just…something about you, something special. 

Even now, he still couldn’t quite understand why you were taking such a big risk and basically throwing your life away by getting comfortable with a pirate like him. The both of you came from two different worlds, the morals embedded within those worlds constantly pitted you against each other. 

But you willingly ignored them, and so did he. 

Perhaps that was the ‘special’ quality about you and this relationship that he still struggled to articulate, how pure and genuine it all felt— how you were. Either way, he was grateful that he wasn’t the only one being a little selfish. And every now and again, Ace might silently thank the universe for allowing him this one thing, even though he hasn’t, and probably never will do anything, to deserve it. 

The increasing volume of footsteps pulled Ace from his thoughts, and soon enough you reappeared in the doorway, making your way back to bed– back home in Ace’s arms.

Your lips parted in a yawn, putting your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, before carefully climbing over the taller man to reclaim your spot next to him. Ace wasted no time encasing you against him once more, one arm laid lazily across your stomach and the other resting under your neck, acting somewhat as a pillow of sorts.

“...took too long,” the pirate muttered under his breath, the low, vibrating sound of his voice so close to your ear did nothing for your fiercely pulsating heart. It was the only organ in your entire body that seemed to be fully awake right now.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long, ya big baby. Prob’ly less than five minutes.” A soft sigh punctuated your reply, snuggling more into the toned front of Ace’s chest and abdomen as he adjusted the thick blankets over both of your bodies. The covers, as well as the gentle warmth radiating from his exposed skin, provided a steady stream of heat that battled against the crisp morning air, both sensations nearly enough to lull you back to sleep. You enthusiastically pushed aside the fact that you had to get up again in two and a half hours for your shift to patrol around the city.

“Shuddup, let’s go to sleep.” Ace grumbled, pulling you even closer to him so that very little space existed between both of you, and nearly nuzzling his face in the bonnet you wore on your head. A soundless chuckle rumbled within your chest, finding his sleepy and almost pouty tone both amusing and adorable.

However, despite his own request, and the fact that his own eyes were barely open, Ace was finding it difficult to once more quiet his thoughts enough to drift back to sleep. They were still a bit too loud and knocked against his skull too much. 

Such thoughts only seemed to intensify when both of his eyes managed to peel themselves open this time in order to observe your form next to him. From what he could see based on where he laid, Ace silently took note of how tranquil your expression was as your breathing began to even out, how long your eyelashes actually were without your glasses obscuring them, and the small birthmark on your cheek that he developed a habit of kissing. His dark eyes roamed across every inch of your face, and he relished in the soft flesh of your stomach underneath his fingertips, giving it a feather-light squeeze every now and again.

You were here with him— in this bed, hardly wearing anything at all, and practically clinging to the arm wrapped around your abdomen— bound together with a kiss on that fateful night two years ago. You wanted to be here, he knew that. So why was it he still had to wrestle with the phantoms of doubt in the darker sectors of his mind? Why did they haunt him so, and prevent him from just plainly accepting this for what it is? Accept that it was okay to indulge, okay to claim this one thing as his and his alone? He didn’t even claim his own father, but this— you? Oh, how he wanted to be greedy, he yearned for it. But something in him, some dark, caustic, unforgiving thing, made him feel like he shouldn’t.

But didn’t he deserve something nice too? Something that wasn’t, or could no longer be tainted by the wicked and unloving world they were born into?

Ace knew that you cared for him— quite a lot, more than you should. There was a four letter word he might have used to label the way in which you cared about him, and he about you, but he dare not say it. He dared not say it in fear that the universe would snatch it away the moment it left his lips, and reveal that it was only playing a heartless joke on him.

“Hey. Are you… okay? Okay with this, I mean.” The words left his lips without putting a real thought behind them, for his mind was preoccupied with trying to keep itself afloat above the sea of negative ones that tried to carry him off to a place he did not want to visit.

Your left eye opened, then your right, as if opening them would help you better process his sudden question. Your brows furrowed next, digging deeper into your forehead in order to figure out the hidden meaning behind his words— or if there was one to begin with. “I…this position is fine, and I’m comfortable. Unless you want to be closer to the window?” You replied with your own question, uncertainty of what he was asking about thick in your tone. And judging by the way his arm tightened around you by a fraction and the nearly inaudible sigh that left his lips, it became clear that’s not what he was truly asking.

“No, I meant…are you okay with us?” Ace’s already husky voice quieted even more, nearly tapering off into a whisper. But he was pressed close enough to you that you were still able to hear him loud and clear. Something about the way he phrased his question rang a silent alarm in your head, indicating that the forthcoming conversation was going to take a more solemn turn.

With that in mind you shifted in his arms, turning around so that you were now facing Ace directly, still so close that the tips of your noses nearly touched each other. His hold on you readjusted as a result, the tattooed arm once more staking its claim on your waist and effectively trapping you against his front. His sable tresses fell unceremoniously across his face, a few strands nearly covering one of his eyes. Your fingers didn’t miss the opportunity to brush them away. 

“Yes.” Your reply was simple, and you thought it important to make that clear first because something, an emotion you were unable to categorize, flickered in his still-hooded eyes. And something about it worried you. “I am more than okay with us. There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now.” The fingers lingering on his skin suddenly became your entire palm, as you were now cupping the side of his face.

Ace burned even warmer here compared to the rest of his body, and you found physical comfort in the sensation. His skin seemed to ignite under your touch despite his sleepiness, and the dark-haired pirate was internally grateful that it was still quite dark in your room, so you were unable to see the light flush that was beginning to form underneath his freckled cheeks. 

“Why are you asking?” Your inquiry was as tender as your touch, and it made his chest ache. 

It took Ace several seconds to search for his next words and arrange them in a sentence, for your straightforward reply admittedly caught him off-guard. Now he was unsure if there was a need to continue at all.

But the specters of doubt were ever persistent.

“I just…” The words faded away on his tongue before he could say them and instead, your response rang loud in his head. 

‘There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now’.

Did you mean that? Have you always felt that way? Did you just happen to say that because he asked a question, because somehow you knew that’s what something in his soul wanted to hear?

And then, Ace found his words again. “You can do better, you know.” His voice turned more gruff, rough around the edges, as if he had to forcefully tug those words from the back of his throat. As if it hurt to say that. “You could, if you wanted. You’re gorgeous. Intelligent, resourceful. You have a respectable career, and you can cook damn good.”

You released a soft chuckle at that last part, finding it comical how he always found a way to talk about how good your food was. But whatever uptick on your lips faded as soon as it came once Ace parted his lips to speak again.

“You don’t have to spend your time, money, or energy on someone like me. You didn’t have to spread those pretty legs of yours for me, either. Didn’t have to let me stay here whenever I come to town. You didn’t even have to let me sleep in this bed so close to you.”

He paused, the muscles laying against and wrapped around you tensed briefly, his eyelashes met the apples of his cheeks when he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. When he opened them again, he found it harder to look at you— if he did, he might crumble away. “You could do better than a pirate like me, who has nothing going for himself except for instability, anger and…and hate. So, why?”

The next words reverberated in the air without Ace even having to say them. Why choose me? Why risk all of that for me?

Similarly, something throbbed uncomfortably within your chest as you listened to him speak, even after he finished and silence descended upon the both of you. 

You could only wonder where this line of questioning originated from. It was uncharacteristic of Ace to voice thoughts of this nature, even more so when there was no prior word or action to lure them forward. You continued to observe him in the quiet, not even realizing that you had been softly caressing his cheek all this while until your hand came to a halt.

Why? Why were you with Ace, entangled in every sense of the word and jeopardizing the life you’ve built for yourself for his sake? The answer seemed so simple, but not as much now that you had to consciously think about it; you somehow struggled to put it into words. 

Ace was like the rays of sunlight that peeked through heavy drapes in the early morning— much like they would soon be in a few hours— or like the flickering flames of a small fire that offered you solace on an unkind wintery night. He was warm and intense, but mellow and tender at the same time, in his own way. He offered you comfort when you needed it, stirred up something in you when you wanted it, brightened your life when you didn’t even realize how dull and monochrome it was. Ace was…

“Allow me to offer a question of my own. Why are you taking an equally significant, if not greater risk, just to curl up in my bed with me? Why come back so often to this town, risking capture, if only to hold me close, eat the food I make, and to make love to me?”

Your inquiries seemed to tug you forward, motivating you to scoot a little closer to Ace so that there was hardly even an iota of space existing in between your faces. His breath hitched quietly in his chest at that, more so when you leaned forward and simply placed your lips on his cheek, right on top of the dozens of prominent and faded freckles that resided there. Something about the gesture felt intentional— like you did not kiss his face, but the light specks on top of it. And thinking about it like that made his taut chest twinge again in a manner he could not describe right now.

Your breaths against his flesh were soft and leveled, and successfully fanned the flames of an even pinker flush to blossom across his visage.

He struggled to give you a coherent answer to your questions because his inner thoughts seemed to reset every time your plush lips came in contact with his face— all gentle like he would break if you applied too much pressure. He never associated that word with himself before, nor had anyone else in his entire life.

So why did he do it? Why did he do any of it? Why was he so attached to you, to your existence, your presence, and everything that reminded him of you? 

Ace knew the answer. 

He fears he’s known it for some time now.

But would it be right— would it be okay to label it with the word that was sitting on his tongue? Did he truly have the capacity to bear the weight of it? Would this blissful reality he found himself nestled in start to unravel the moment he said it? Would the universe truly let him have this one thing to himself, forever?

A feathery, open-mouthed kiss from you onto his nose cut off his thoughts, but confirmed his answer. 

A bleary sort of smile, edges softened by his affection for you, tugged the corners of Ace’s mouth upwards. The hand that encased your waist traveled further downwards to take the meat of your thigh in its grasp, and toss it over his own hips. He had slung your leg over himself in an attempt to hold your bodies inexplicably closer, the feeling of his fingers gliding lazily across your exposed skin caused your pulse to quicken.

“I understand. Thank you.” 

Within another second or two, his mouth eventually met with yours. His lips and yours seamlessly molded together, like they were two carved parts of the same whole. It was a slow, saccharine thing, ultimately leading your fingertips to slide back and thread themselves through his dark locks, and the calloused, hot palm on your thigh to grip the area ever tighter— as if you’d evaporate if he didn’t do so.

Ace loved you— was in love with you. His heart thrummed against his chest when he tossed that fact around in his head, gradually accepting it to be true as he steadily deepened the kiss.

He murmured those three words into your mouth after languidly coaxing it open with his tongue so the wet muscle could slither inside and make a home there. It was barely intelligible, but somehow you knew what he’d said. Such a declaration was only reserved for you, so of course you recognized it. Ace didn’t even want the words to linger in the air, lest the universe heard what he had said. He still thanked it though, grateful to whatever deities thrusted you into his path that night so that he could have this moment with you, and build similar ones like this hereafter.

You reciprocated it, quietly sighing the words back into him and he eagerly swallowed them up, giving your thigh an affectionate squeeze in response.

Briefly, you pulled back, but only by a millimeter— not wanting the cold air of the early morning to catch you yet— and your palm ended up on Ace’s jaw. The pad of your thumb brushed over the sheet of freckles with no particular pattern or rhythm, and you absently thought about how they might be your favorite feature on his entire body. As if to emphasize this point, you pressed a lingering kiss onto its surface again, and for a moment, Ace thought he might shut down. He simply could not comprehend the loving nature behind such a simple act, or why it affected him so; all he could do was offer a small, fond grin.

Time still marched forward, but it graciously allowed the pair of lovers to bask in each other for a little while longer. The sky’s hue would slowly shift from a deep navy blue to a slightly brighter one, causing the dimness of the room to inch back into its corners for the day. The sunlight would soon come.

( # ) @icy-spicy @triangularz @pookieace @ichore @valentineluvu

[orchidsarchives]

I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting. 

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more. 

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it. 

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself. 

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey. 

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped. 

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

-

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

-

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

-

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

-

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

[myysaints]

Hi there! I have this silly idea where yuki is y/n (established - actress,singer etc) biggest fan and when lando and y/n officially confirmed their relationship, yuki on his quest to make sure that max will treat y/n right. Lando (borderline amused and annoyed) still try to prove himself to yuki bcs y/n is very fond of him (and provide great entertainment for her). I know this quite ridiculous and would understand if you declined it :)

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ TREAT HER RIGHT─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!singer!reader

genre — fluff

notes — thank you so much for the request! it was not at all ridiculous, i absolutely love this dynamic between lando and yuki !!! ik your request mentioned max, not sure if that was a typo? hopefully i got it right by going with lando :> hope u enjoy this one !!! xx (edit: LOL just realised i called u anon when your user is there TT so sorry bout that!!!)

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, danielricciardo, and 7,118,249 others

🏷  yourusername

landonorris   the sweetest melody i've ever known ❤️

view all 3,741,822 comments

danielricciardo   congrats lovebirds 🎉🕊

yourusername   miss you already :(

yourusername   don't mind me, just appreciating the sweetest boy ever... ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername   can't wait to see you soon !!!

yourusername   gonna write a whole album about how much i love u

landonorris   I'd love that

mclaren   Can't wait to see you in the paddock, yourusername ;)

Liked by yourusername, landonorris

If Lando had known this would happen, he’d have never made that Instagram post.

“YOU’RE DATING WHO?!”

The Japanese driver in front of him whirls around in his seat, eyes wide and mouth hung open in askance.

It’s rare that Yuki speaks to Lando; after all, their language and cultural barrier makes conversation difficult. But this is an entirely different situation altogether.

Lando grins sheepishly, casting a look towards Charles, who stands beside him. The Monegasque merely chuckles, leaning forward in his seat to peer at Yuki.

“So, do you know Y/N?” Charles asks with a cheeky smile.

“Do I know Y/N?!” Yuki is practically leaping out of his seat, his excitement causing the other drivers in the area to glance back at the commotion. “Of course I do! She’s the best singer of all time! I always listen to her songs!”

“Oh, are we talking about Y/N L/N?” Pierre, passing by, cuts in, “Yuki loves her. Has a huge crush on her and everything.”

Lando spreads his palms out, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to keep Yuki away from her when she comes to the paddock, hmm?”

The way Yuki’s eyes light up in glee doesn’t go unnoticed, the Alpha Tauri driver’s face breaking out into an uncontrollable grin.

“You’re bringing her! When? Where?!”

“Calm down, mate,” Lando laughs, leaning back in his seat. His heart flutters at the thought of you in McLaren colours, proudly representing him and his team in the paddock, for the world to see. He clears his throat, trying to stop the furious reddening of his cheeks. “You’ll see her at Suzuka. No rush.. I know my girlfriend's quite the catch - but so am I, right?”

At this, Yuki seemingly goes quiet.

Lando raises an eyebrow. “Yuki…? You okay there?”

A moment of silence passes before Yuki gets up, motioning for Lando to follow him. With a wary look towards an equally-confused Charles and Pierre, who both only shrug in response, Lando follows Yuki towards a quieter corner.

Once they reach a secluded spot, Yuki’s eyes darken, his smile dropping instantly. The shift in atmosphere is undeniable. Lando's never seen Yuki this serious, not even after the Spanish Grand Prix. In all honesty: It scares him.

“Lando,” Yuki says, his voice steeled and brows furrowed. “I like you. I think you’re funny, and you’re a good driver-”

“Hey, thanks man,” he jokes. The attempt at keeping the mood light, however, doesn’t work in the slightest.

“-But, look, listen, if you ever think of hurting her-”

“Sorry, are we talking about Y/N?” Lando’s head tilts in confusion.

“Yes, Y/N. If you ever hurt her,” Yuki continues, ignoring the shocked look on Lando’s face. “If you ever try to hurt her, just know that I will never forgive you. Ever. Do you understand?”

“I-” Lando shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. How do you even respond to that? “-Well, yeah, mate, of course. I only want the best for her. Really, I do.”

“Okay, good. 'Cause I’ll be watching you.” Yuki straightens up, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, I’ll see you around, then! I will look forward to Suzuka.”

And, with a playful punch to the arm, Yuki is off, leaving Lando stunned at what just happened.

So, when Suzuka rolls around, true to his word, Lando shows up to the paddock with you on his arm.

The sight has Yuki running over instantly, a large bashful smile on his face as he greets you enthusiastically.

“Hi! You must be Yuki,” you smile softly, quietly amused at his enthusiasm. “Lando’s told me all about you.”

That was true - Immediately after Lando’s little… altercation, as one might call it, with Yuki, he’d texted you in a frantic hurry. It was, in all honesty, endearing, and incredibly funny. You’d teased Lando about it relentlessly in the days after. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t used the Alpha Tauri driver’s words as leverage; referencing Yuki’s threat to get Lando to pick up some cupcakes, to let you pick the movie for date nights, and so on.

Lando hums in response, watching with an amused smile as Yuki almost trips over his feet trying to shake your hand. “Y/N, this is Yuki. And Yuki, this is… Well, you already know who she is.”

Yuki’s eyes are blown wide in amazement as he shakes your hand, his grip firm and his smile bright. “Wow, it’s so cool that you’re here! I love your new song, it’s already one of my favourites!”

You share a smile with Lando, who squeezes your side in a playful ‘I-told-you-so’ motion.

“Thank you so much, Yuki, that’s so sweet of you! Tell you what - If you let Lando past in the race, I’ll send you a signed copy of my new album, free of charge, before it even drops. How 'bout that?”

Yuki lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No way! Maybe if Lando lets me through in quali today."

You exchange a grin with your boyfriend, who shakes his head in amusement.

"Alright, it was great seeing you, Yuki. Good luck out there," Lando fist bumps the smaller driver, who waves at you before departing with a pep in his step.

Lando's hand finds yours as you walk back to the McLaren motorhome.

"So, that was Yuki..."

"Yep," he nods in response, popping the 'p'. "What'd you think of him?"

You smile cheekily. "You sure it was him who threatened you that time? He seems so sweet!"

Lando scoffs, shaking his head despite the amused smirk that sneaks up on his face. "You haven't seen him when he's angry. He's a menace on the track, I'll tell you that."

The bright laugh that leaves your lips makes Lando's heart skip a beat, heat rising to his face at the look of joy you send his way. You never cease to make his heart flutter.

"Well, finish in the points, and maybe I'll put in a good word to Yuki then, hmm?"

"Alright, muppet. You can count on that."

"Well..."

You're lying on the bed in Lando's hotel room, his trophy sitting tall and proud on the dresser in front of you.

It's been a crazy past 24 hours. In just this one day, you've witnessed perhaps one of the greatest drives of Lando's career, and at your first ever race, on top of that.

Lando wraps you in his arms, flipping the both of you around so that you lie atop his chest.

You smile he gazes up at you, his chest rising and falling to the steady beating of his heart. You feel so at home in these moments, the in-between spaces of time where you have him all to yourself; no races to win, no cameras to look out for. Just you and him, and the spaces in between your fingers.

You laugh softly as he nudges his face into your neck. "Well, what?"

"Well, you still gotta thank Yuki," he replies, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "He let me by on the second last lap. Probably would've lost out on P3 if not for that."

You chuckle, instinctively reaching a hand up to play with his curls. Lando hums lowly, leaning into your touch.

"Thought you were scared of him?" you tease, a playful smile toying on your lips.

"Well, yeah," he mutters out, his tone of voice cheeky, a smile pressed against your skin. "Gotta stay on his good side."

That elicits a giggle from you, and he pulls away from your touch to look up at your smiling face. He cups a hand around your face and pulls you down into a kiss, the two of you breathless when you resurface for air.

"I'll send him a signed CD later," you mumble, leaning back down for another searing kiss. "But I don't wanna think 'bout him right now."

An appreciative hum leaves Lando's lips. "Why not?" he teases, pulling away with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Your reply has his breath caught in his throat.

"'Cause all I wanna think about is you."

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[milksuu]

❝ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞ ─── ☾⏺☽

pairing: yandere!aphelios x solari!priestess!reader (LoL)

warning: non/con, fem!reader, possessive/obsessive behavior, mentions of blood/violence, religious/fanatical behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, minor drug use, implied kidnapping, implied forced relationship, semi-public sex, unbalanced power dynamic, runeterra au

notes: sorry besties, he's a 10 but he's bat shit insane. (so an 11) also any mention of 'her' is the moon goddess, not alune. (we're leaving that sweet summer child out of this.) and for those who aren't aware, phel can speak when not under the influence of noctum, but unable to communicate with alune, which is uh...great in this case. (also not me wanting to write a second part like how why help?)

You never thought you’d stare into the pale visage of the Lunari man the village whispered about.

The one with a vacant face but deadly occupation. Your naïve belief in your own safe keeping was nothing more than an illusion. The sun always faded below the misted cliffs, only for the moon to take its place above the mountain’s highest peak. An endless cycle of hierarchical dominance that rinsed itself in blood and repeated in constant turmoil. Tonight would be no different.

“Don’t come any closer.”

A failed attempt to embolden your voice beyond a meek plea. You stiffened at the thunderous closing of the temple door. A clambering echo vibrated through the marble floor and pillars, past the rows of worship, up to where you stood at the crest of the ceremonial altar. The remaining resonance rattled and sang up your spine, shaking the candle light pinched between your fingertips. 

The figure sauntered forward, stepping into the drapes of moonshine filtering from the glass atrium above. Before you stood a deadly beauty; a handsome face rapt with enticing secrets. With a painted crescent that mocked your own solar marking of gold. His lips were a perfect horizontal line, and it was difficult to imagine the ability they possessed beyond lethal silence. His hallowed expression screamed danger—but there was no running away—not when the black abyss of his eyes invited you to stay.

 Not as a guest, but as his permanent resident.

“I’m warning you. Take one more step, and I’ll scream. The guards will come and they won’t hesitate to kill you—”

Your voice went taut inside your throat. Your breath sewn shut against your lungs. The weapon he carried listless at his side drenched itself in various hues of red. Fresh enough to steam in wisps around the sharpest point of the blade.

He stalked forward. The clack of his predetermined steps quickening the pace of your heart. When he stood at arms length, you felt the coldest touch of night. The veins layered beneath your skin pounded, flooding every inch of you with mortal dread. It was sickening to think the flush of your flesh would only make the spill of it all the better. The ‘Weapon of The Faithful’—titled by his own blasphemous people—spoke true. His name…you wished you could cleanse it from existence.

“Aphelios.” You damned the name like a plague upon all of Mount Targon. “Murderer. Blight. Heretic!” 

You jabbed and swung your candlelight in a pitiful attempt to create distance. His free hand quipped against it, sending it clambering to the ground, banishing the flame to the surrounding night. Creating a hazier veil of darkness where there was only one true light—his moon.

Out of sheer disdain, you attempted to slap his face in recoil. His unarmed hand caught you by the wrist, remaining still as you struggled to free yourself from his trained grasp. With force, he pried your hand open, palm exposed. He brought the skin of it to his stiff lips. Unmoving, he lingered there. His lashes fluttered closed; taking a moment of peace, a moment of prayer. 

A moment for sanctum. 

His eyes then winged opened, boring into you, through you. Body, bone and soul. And all you could do was tremble within them. Sinking without escape into those black depths of…nothing. 

In one swift motion, he brought the blade upwards, slicing through the thin linen of your garments. In a precise vertical line, your gown split into two equal halves. The insignificant barrier between you and him slipped to the ground, splaying like rags at your feet. Your head pounded for you to scream, but your own voice felt lost to you. Knowing it was all meaningless. 

No one would hear you. 

No one would save you.

Weakened by the surmounting despair of it all, if he hadn’t already had a hold on you, your legs would have given to the earth.

“No—“ you choked out, eyes brimming with tears. It must’ve looked pathetic; the way you placed your only free arm across your exposed breasts. As if any decorum of modesty would spare you. “Please—just kill me. Do nothing else but that. I beg of you.”

Your final sob for mercy reached ears that may as well have been carved of stone. He stalked closer, forcing your lower back to meet the mantled altar behind you. He’d sheathed his weapon, and took both of your hands within one tight grasp, in case you had half a mind to oppose him. You dipped your chin, heaving through a prayer with mournful hics and sniffled utterances. His advancing weight forced your trembling legs to part, and slotting himself between, created a space where your faith could never exist. 

You didn’t want to look at him, or rather, you couldn’t. Tears scorched your vision and seared down the round of your cheeks. You flinched when he took your chin, raising your blurry gaze to meet his. In those darkest of pools, something gave. An insignificant speck of light gleaming into a faint existence. His lips moved, but there was no sound. Instead, you traced the words from the bow of his mouth.

‘Forgive me.’

Your heart clenched. Diluted blood spiked with fear drowned your consciousness. It left no room for thoughts to linger; whether or not you imagined even an ounce of sympathy reflected in those sedated eyes. Whether or not you imagined he said anything at all. 

The entire world scattered away when he brought your face closer, and kissed away the tears staining the corners of your eyes. You fought to pull away, but he held firm, both your chin and hands locked in the cage of his fingers. From your cheeks, he skimmed his ghostly lips to your mouth. He muffled your protestive moans by filling up your mouth with all of his tongue. 

He gave you the salt taste of your own tears. That, and the taste of something else. A saccharine flavor with notes of floral and bitter earth. 

A reaction flourished; a slight tingle of your lips at first. It made his tongue feel hotter against yours, as parts of your upper mouth went numb. A stream of lukewarm paralysis seeped past your soft palate, filling every nook and cranny of your mindscape. Yet, the secondary symptoms didn’t stop there. An opposite wave traversed down your throat to your stomach, spilling fire throughout every layer of nerves. You clenched your lashes tight, shuddering a gasp into his open mouth.

When the pain settled into a dull simmer, you wondered briefly, had he felt it too? Had he consumed such a substance by choice? If that was a taste, what pain did he endure if he drank it like an offering of wine?

You didn’t want to imagine the terrible effects it might’ve had on his person. Not if it gave you even a single drop of sympathy. It was revolting enough his saliva was poisoning your pure sense of self. The fog of it sullying your inhibitions, stripping away your layers of moral preservation. To the absolute vitriolic parts of yourself, it made you consider…

What would it be like to be touched?

It was too sick and cruel of a thing to do to you. Since birth, you’d devoted your body and soul to your divine Goddess; The Golden Sister. You wanted to be disgusted by allowing the gift of yourself to become tainted by some awful man. No—he was worse than that. Or any word you could craft and cut the corners of your mouth with. He was, by biblical history, a Lunari man born from the cataclysmic eclipse of two moons. A day that marked the day of reckoning of the Solari faith and your people.

Your clouded senses and busied mouth made you unaware that his hand left your face to trail the mounds and curves of your body. A light touch drifting to your inner thighs. You jolted when a finger graced the sensitive hood of your exposed clit. Your thighs squirmed at his side as you attempted to jerk your knees. It did nothing and stirred nothing from him. Except bolster his conviction, tempting a finger lower, teasing your folds already glistening.

Although light-headed, you ripped your mouth away and nipped at his lip. It sprang forth droplets of blood, enough to taste his iron on your tongue. A trivial satisfaction. 

“May you burn at dawn,” you condemned and spat at his lips.

Unflinching, he withdrew his hand and brushed over the blood mark you left. Sweeping it across his bottom lip, along with your saliva, he rolled the consistency between his fingers in private contemplation. Before he looked you dead in the eyes and stuck his fingers inside his mouth. Sucking and licking till his fingers dripped. Watching sent a lightning strike coiling down your spine.

He loomed his weight forward until your back met the altar mantle. With your palms pinned above your head, and legs coaxed wider. His coated hand repositioned down to your entrance, and you writhed with any strength your body could lend. His hold wrapped around your wrists squeezed, gentle in its reprimand. He leaned down to brush his face at the side of your cheek.

“Please…for your own sake.” 

Your eyes widened at his frayed whispers stringing together. Breathing life into what seemed like an empty shell of a person. The frigid space between his mouth and your ear kindling with the slightest bit of warmth. It was what you feared the most. Forced to accept he was every bit human, with a horrid courtesy to use polite words and a pleasant, sickening tone. More insult to your injury. You wished he hadn’t spoken at all. Letting you believe in your mind that he was more aberration or phantom. Or anything else that carried not a single hint of a beating heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you…not anyone, really.” Again, comforting yet noxious. And it made whatever was inside you throb so terribly. As if he could sense it, he reached for it. His salivated finger split through your folds, sliding into the heat of your cunt. It elicited a drawn out whimper as you felt the sensual brush of it against a bed of tingling nerves. Gradually revealing a hidden desire you hadn’t wanted to gratify him with.

“But you…and your people…need to accept what can’t be denied any longer.” He punctuated his words with each thrust of his finger as it curved into that crescent shape you despised so much. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way it made your most feminine parts unravel at the seams. ”No matter how high your sun rises, my heavenly moon will always eclipse it. And fill the sun with Her beauty for all to see.“

A hitched whine fluttered past your lips as he easily slipped a second finger. While the heel of his palm pressed in circles, spreading your arousal and stimulating your plumping clit. Your cunt unashamedly sucked on his long fingers, encouraging him to mold and form you into what he needed you to be—a conduit for the undying affections of his faith.

“You might not see it, but the divine path has been shown to me. The one that’s led me to you. You can feel it at least, can’t you?” He flexed his digits and plunged a third finger. Deeper than the last, fuller than before. Your hips rolled forward on their own accord, craving every bit of attention from his touch.

With deliverance, you answered the question with a wail and arch of your back. Your whole body washed its nerves in a blinding heat. His fingers curled and flexed at your hungry walls clenching around him. It pushed a gush of sticky fluid from your twitching hole into his circling palm. Coming down from the spasms, you sobbed at the humiliating response of your body. 

“So you do feel it.” There was a hidden sentiment of relief in his otherwise placid delivery. As if he’d purged the last blot of doubt that restrained him. You swallowed a mouthful of whines as his probing fingers continued undulating inside you. “Your body…it’s begging to devour me in all its warmth. And mine, yearning to take all your bright stars and bathe you by moon glow alone. Wanting us—and only us—to become one.” 

Without warning, he emptied you of his fingers, a filthy squelch following with it. You sucked in a gasp at the crippling cold he left you with. But he wouldn’t abandon you for long. Shifting in the dark haze above you, he unsheathed his length from his garments and pressed himself against your sopping cunt. He dragged his fullness against your swollen and slicked folds. He wasn’t even inside you, yet you felt an agonizing cramp fisting in your stomach. 

“By Her orders, by Her design…” he spoke through tight whispers, strained by his own anticipation. Pressing his full weight down, he hovered mere inches above you, panting bouts of aroused breaths against your lips. “Let us Converge.”

You squirmed and bucked underneath him. “Nn…not with you…anyone but—!”

You broke off into a high-pitched cry as he stretched you open, filling you up till he bottomed out, and pressed up to the hilt of his hips. He silenced both of your newly coupled hymns with his mouth, and each lap of his tongue matched the tempo of his generous thrusts. The sharp, intrusive pinch died as quickly as it came—the insignificant remnants of toxin dulling bits and pieces of certain pain receptive nerves. A gift, perhaps, in this instance. He had also prepped you well enough to accept all of his adoration, as intended. Another gift, as someone of his ‘giving’ nature may phrase it.

Pulling away slowly, the tip of his head rubbed graciously against every ridge of your swelling walls, before languidly pushing back, going past where you seemed to end. Beyond your farthest points you hadn’t thought existed. Pressing and rubbing all your soft spots and cervix with careful deliberation.

Then again, and again, and again.

“Can you feel it…my devotion…” he groaned into your open-mouthed kisses, continuing to work himself inside you. You weren’t even sure if he was speaking to you, or through you to his false Goddess. 

His free hand found the round flesh of your breast, rolling your budded nipple delicately between the pad of his thumb and index. The other hand, squeezing at your captured wrists, but never tight enough to bruise. He had you lulling in a spellbinding rhythm underneath him, your hands fastened above your head, and hair spilling over the opposite side of the altar. When his mouth left your full lips, he possessed the nape of your neck, sucking the delicate skin above your life line. Your mewls, laced with the chasteless sounds of his base squelching at your entrance, leapt your pulse to an unreturnable pace.

“So warm,” he moaned low, staving off a growing need to revel in his own whines of ecstasy. “This pure sunlight of yours…I’m blessed to be the one who takes it. And you should be too. What an honor it is to be of service to my moon.”

You wanted to hate everything about it. The way he kissed you, the way he moved inside you—but you couldn’t. Every stiff and engorged part of him pressed almost lovingly against your most vulnerable parts; but that wasn’t the proper word for it. His affectionate caresses were zealous in origin. Not even for you. And boderlined a hedonistic doctrine you couldn’t describe. It would’ve been better if he were a man of barbaric qualities; rough and brutal. Not purposeful and diligent and—dared you admit it—tender. If he were the former, then your disgust could be justified, and your body would refuse him in its own rightful way. But it defied you, the lecherous thing. Insisting you melted beneath him and reduce to nothing but a drenched mess. Completely at the mercy of this Lunari man’s act of worship.

“Are you finally realizing it now? How generous my Goddess is compared to yours.” He abandoned the curve of your throat. Within the flush of his face, his eyes were suppled in absolute vindication at your shameless image. “How willing you are to accept me—to accept Her.”   

“N-No…I’m…not…I won’t,” you pried your tongue for words.

He drawled out a quivering whine from your mouth. His body picking up to an impassioned pace, rutting into your sweltering heat. Tethering on his own abandoned pleasure. Your legs pushed themselves wider, opening yourself up more for him, drawing him deeper to pound against the tender knot growing in your belly. 

Choked moans tightened in his throat. Your radiance gripped him with conviction, burning him so divinely from tip to base. Dragging him closer to your complete consummation. His fingers caught the contour of your face, tilting your head back. Your already swimming eyes rolled to follow, and watered at the sight of your Solari Goddess. Carved out from the temple wall, her sacred marbled gaze met your disgraceful expressions. 

“That’s…hn…alright. You can lie to me. I’ll—we’ll always forgive you. But can you say the same for your deity? As she watches her little sunlight being pleasured by the moon’s devoted weapon. I—ha…doubt it very much.” An airy laugh cut through his thick moans intertwined with yours. He continued, inhaling and exhaling his words, raspy and down right broken. “It’s—almost our time…as reverence…your insides…with all of my…”

You couldn’t refuse the vile implication of his words. Not when his thickened, throbbing cock lapped achingly against your muddled core. Your blood boiled, draining out from your collapsing bodily veins to well up inside your stomach. Applying a pressure that made you want to burst into unmendable fractals of yourself. And you did—that tight knot broke in an instant, dilating your insides in a blaze of heat. Flooding you so wholly, you almost forgot to breathe through your delirious sobs of release. 

When the smooth ridges of your walls clamped down, you heard it first as a moan of afflicted surrender on his part. Then, the cock buried inside you pulsed. A stream of white-hot fluid poured into you, shooting well past your cervix, bathing your womb with his warmth. But he didn’t stop there, continuing to indulge. He pumped and pushed the concoction of unified fluids till it poured past his base, and dripped in milky heaps from your hole. His pelvic and abdominal muscles shuddered as his hips rolled slowly but needingly, nursing himself through his over-stimulating climax.

From your tearful, half-lidded gaze, you witnessed a wet glisten in his own eyes. Whether induced by overwhelming pleasure or pained remorse, you would never know. You didn’t want to know.

It didn't matter.

They evaporated the moment he blinked again.

When the heaves and pants subsided, only the echoes of your whimpers remained. Unfastening his grasp from your wrists, his icy hands cupped your sulking face, idly running his thumbs across your soaked cheeks.

“I understand your pain. Believe me, I do. But no amount of tears will keep the celestial cycle from shifting in the moon’s favor. Like any phase, there will be a moment when you won’t hate me as you do now. You might even come to...love me.”

The way he paused made it seem he had no sense for the word. Or what the difference was between what was love and obsession. The look he possessed didn’t instill solace, either; his eyes mere slits of black against his porcelain face. Promising the moment you dared turn away from him, the back of your neck would bleed.

”I swear to you. From this night on, you’ll burn brightest by my reflection. And only my reflection. So long as there's breath and blood in this body, I’ll protect your sunlight from ever fading in the hands of anyone less deserving than mine. By cosmic fate, you’re my entire purpose, my entire existence...” he bent and kissed the solar marking painted on your forehead. “My orbit.” 

[tonyspank]

LOST IN THE FIRE

black!singer!reader x jenna ortega (they/them pronouns, but there’s mentions of them having a pp, lol)

warnings: fluff and a tiny bit of angst i guess, my poor attempts at humor again, social media w a bit of irl

a/n: i’ve always wanted to do a social media book. so this is just something fun i came up with, i hope you enjoy :) it’s also a way i can put u guys onto my fav songs 🤭

faceclaim: khalil beth

Is Percy Hynes White Dating Jenna Ortega?

Jenna and Percy have yet to confirm or deny dating rumors, but they have posted many cute cast photos of one another on Instagram. On top of that, Jenna took Percy as her plus one date for the 2023 Golden Globes — and they're set to star in a movie together!

━━━━ iMESSAGE

3 talented artists + jack lani - kehlani jackie - jack tae - matteo

lani Y/N sweetie..

jackie 🙁

tae what'd i miss??

jackie Y/N's fav ex is dating an ugly man 🥺

tae JENNA? NAHH

tae let's hope she leave him too 🤞

tae she'll miss the bbc 🥲

lani omg wdf 😭😭

you ...

jackie now the dots was a lil dramatic

lani JACK 😭😭

you jack stfu before i shave ur beard

tae got his ass

lani LMFAOO

jackie 🤐

tae ok ok but Y/N how are u rn?

lani frr like talk to us

you wdym?

you we broke up why would i be bothered

jackie

🤨

tae 💀💀

lani i've never met anyone who still likes their exes posts

you it's called being mature

you i am able to support her regardless of what happened

tae it's called being delusional

jackie laughed at "it's called being delusional"

jackie i have an idea

jackie

tae fam what is ur camera roll? 💀

lani what's ur idea jack

jackie i'm gonna ask demi for an invite to the scream 6 premiere

jackie then me and Y/N gon jump percy in front of jenna right

lani

side-eye…

jackie and then jenna gon be like

jackie oh my god not my mans getting his ass beat by my ex & their bsf tf

you please stfu 🙏

jackie bro

jackie i'm tryna help you save ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert

tae laughed at "i'm tryna help you safe ur gf from a guy who looks like the definition of pervert"

lani 😭😭😭😭

lani i can't breathe

you it's literally just a rumor that they're dating tho

you & i'm not going to the premiere

jackie mhm

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jackharlow, devyn_nekoda, and 7,891,103 others

y/nhart what's your favorite scary movie? 🔪 #ScreamVI @screammovies

View all 12,793 comments

screammovies You, of course. 🔪🩸 > y/nhart can we kiss?

jackharlow what did you say in the group chat? > y/nhart that jack harlow is a flop 🤫

user15 bro doing everything but dropping an album 💀 > user1 ong. right my wrongs ep was amazing but it's been 8 months 😭

mrmatteo where was my invite? > y/nhart drop a song then let's talk > user3 what a hypocrite 💀

user8 bite me

kehlani you could never be ghostface > screammovies Its always someone you know. 👻🔪🩸

user11 GO TO THE STUDIO

user992 i have $1,000 frank will drop before this mf

user90 MORE JENNA AND Y/N CONTENT??? > user78 i missed them :')

━━━━

            Your eyes were starting to water due to the number of flashes from the cameras that were going off around you. The bright lights made it difficult to keep your eyes open, but you knew that this was just part of being in the spotlight.

  Jack places a hand on your arm, slightly shoving you towards the exit. You ignore the yells of your name and continue to make your way off the carpet.

Your bodyguard, who had been standing nearby, steps in to create a path through the crowd, shielding you and Jack from the relentless paparazzi.

  "Did you talk to Jenna?" Jack asks, leaning close enough for his voice to be heard.

You send the bearded man a glare, shaking your head. "No. I don't even think she's walked the carpet yet."

Jack raises an eyebrow before turning his head to the carpet, which is still filled with celebrities and flashing cameras.

He scans the area, searching for any sign of Jenna among the chaos. He then turns back to you with a smirk on his lips. "I think you're just ducking her."

You roll your eyes at Jack's teasing remark.

"Please, like I have time to play hide and seek with Jenna. I'm just trying to avoid the relentless paparazzi."

You gesture towards the swarm of photographers jostling for the perfect shot.

Jack hums, his smile widening. A thought clicks into his head, causing his smile to drop.

"Oh, yeah! I talked to Melissa, and she is fine as fuck."

You thin out your lips. Jack probably didn't know she was married.

"I'll tell her husband you said that."

"You know what they say. Don't let your husband distract you from finding the love of your life."

You chuckle at his joke.

━━━━

"May I say you look amazing tonight?" The interviewer states, smiling as they admire your appearance.

You smile, bringing your hands together to calm yourself before responding.

"Thank you so much."

"Are you a big fan of the Scream franchise?" The interviewer asks, moving their microphone closer.

You nod, your eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Absolutely! Ghostface is such an iconic character, and I love the twists that they put in the movie. It just always keeps you on your toes."

The interviewer chuckles, sharing your enthusiasm. "I completely agree! The Scream franchise has definitely left a lasting impact on the horror genre with its clever storytelling and memorable characters. Speaking of memorable characters, whose is your favorite?"

You pause for a moment, looking up at the sky as you bite down on your lip.

"Uhh... It's hard to choose just one, but if I had to pick, I would say Roman Bridger. I didn't suspect him at all, and his reveal as the mastermind behind everything in Scream 3 was a total shock. Plus, Scott Foley's performance was absolutely chilling."

The interviewer nods, appreciating your choice. "I couldn't agree more. He's surely one to remember."

You nod again, smiling. "For sure. I've always wanted to play Ghostface. Taking off the mask and revealing your plan must be so fun."

The interviewer laughs and says, "I'm sure you'd do great."

Before you could respond with a thank you, the interviewer speaks up.

"Jenna! It's so nice to see you." You turn to see Jenna, your heart dropping at the sight of her.

You force a tight-lipped smile at the brunette. "Hey Jenna, long time no see," you say, trying to sound casual.

Deep down, you can't help but wonder if she still thinks about you.

Jenna returns the smile. "Yeah, it's been a while," she replies softly.

Memories of your past together flood your mind, and you can't help but wonder if there's still a chance for reconciliation.

"You guys are so stunning, I can't even!" The interviewer gushes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Jenna chuckles, her eyes meeting yours briefly before she turns her attention back to the interviewer.

"Jenna, I've gotta ask. Are you a fan of Y/N's music?" Jenna nods her head, glancing at you again before answering.

"I am. They're very talented musically, and I'm waiting for another album."

You try to fight back a smile, but it fails miserably. The interviewer notices your failed attempt to hide your smile and chuckles.

"Seems like there's mutual admiration here," they remark, noticing the subtle connection between you and Jenna.

You tilt your head, shrugging a bit. "I guess you could say that. Jenna's very talented herself, both musically and in acting."

Jenna feels the butterflies in her stomach erupt as you compliment her.

She's missed you, and she wants nothing more than to reconnect with you. She blushes slightly and responds, "Thank you."

━━━━

You walk over to Jenna, interrupting her conversation with Percy. "Jenna."

Jenna turns towards you, a surprised expression on her face as she pauses mid-sentence.

"Come home with me?"

Jenna's eyes widen as she processes your unexpected request, leaving her momentarily speechless.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she nods slowly, her curiosity piqued. "Sure, why not? Let's go."

Percy furrows his eyebrows, watching you and Jenna walk off together.

When you arrive home, you take off your jacket and help Jenna with hers.

Jenna mumbles a thank you before making herself comfortable on the couch.

She looks around the unfamiliar surroundings, seeing as you've changed a few things since the last time she was there.

Jenna's eyes linger on a Polaroid of you and her, capturing a happy memory from months ago. Of course, Jenna still loved you, but was she ready to take the risk of getting hurt again?

She couldn't bear the fact that things might not work out between you two, causing more heartbreak.

Fame had always been a double-edged sword for Jenna. While it had brought her success and recognition, it also came with constant scrutiny and pressure.

It's what ruined you two. Jenna being constantly busy due to acting and you constantly being busy due to singing made it difficult for you both to find quality time together.

Despite the love that still existed between you, the demands of your respective careers created a growing distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

You walk into the living room, two glasses of wine in your hand. "Actually," Jenna speaks up, and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

She continues, "Could we sit on your balcony?"

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Of course," you say, leading the way to the balcony.

As you settle into the comfortable chairs, the city lights twinkling below, Jenna takes a deep breath and says, "I miss moments like this, just being together without any distractions."

You take a sip of your wine, pausing to savor the flavor before responding. "Me too," you say, gazing out at the night sky.

"I missed you."

Jenna's eyes soften, and she reaches over to gently touch your lap. "I missed you too," she whispers.

"I hope you know that I'm not dating Percy."

"I know," you reply, a small smile forming on your lips. "I knew you wouldn't downgrade like that."

Jenna chuckles softly, her dimples beginning to show. "That's hilarious."

A silence falls over the two of you.

"I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than you," you snap your head towards her, your heart swelling with love at words.

She always knew the right thing to say.

"You're the only one who truly understands me, Y/N." Jenna's eyes meet yours, her brown pupils glistening in the moonlight.

"I can't find myself being vulnerable or trusting with anyone else." She finishes off, breaking away from your gaze.

You don't say anything, you just place your hand over top of hers, which was resting on your lap.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, kehlani, bnyx, and 13,829,100 others

y/nhart 12...??...23...lost in the fire...earned it...all mine...confident...all mine...oui...greece...get me...kiss land...for free

➕➕➕.

meltdown...i'd do anything to make you smile...boyfriend,girlfriend...rambo...let em'know

@chancetherapper @djkhaled @kehlani @travisscott @jackharlow @feliciathegoat @theweeknd @bnyx

View all 46,829 comments

user12 OMFG BRUH

user99 AOTY

jackharlow deluxe 🔜

bnyx 👨‍🍳🔥🎶

theweeknd 🫡

user77 couldve had better feats tbh > user880 STFU

djkhaled 🔥🔥🔥 WE'LL NEVER STOP 🛑!!! 

>user14 TELL EM BRING OUT THE ALBUM ALREADY

user67 i'm about to cry.

━━━━

y/nsrealwife posted on Instagram.

18,782 likes

y/nsrealwife i stand by what i said

View all 138 comments

user11 unknown? it's jenna😭 > y/nrealwife me when i'm delusional

user45 there's no misses on the album + they ate down in the deluxe > user89 came in my pants when they came on the track w that "t-time, t-time, t-time.."

user66 can we talk abt for free? bro had like 10 viagra pills before pulling up to the studio > user77 💀💀💀

jackharlowsbeard kehlani & jack on the album made me so happy.

━━━━

y/nhart posted on Instagram.

Liked by jennaortega, jackharlow, mrmatteo, kehlani, arianagrande, and 17,839,138 others

y/nhart mega christmas dump 🎄@jennaortega @jackharlow @mrmatteo @kehlani

Comments have been limited.

tonyspank had to put it in a collage due to the 10 photo limit 🙁

—

jennaortega has posted a story.

[sleepyhutcherson]

nine in the morning

mike is a difficult morning person… and an even more difficult person to to wake up in the morning. he’s not in the best mood when you finally wake him so you try to cheer him up with pancakes.

REQUESTED! | MASTERLIST ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

PAIRING : mike schmidt x gn!reader

WORD COUNT : 1.1k

CONTAINS : established relationship, fluff, affectionate mike, also whiny mike, he literally just wants to stay in bed lol, no use of y/n, slight grumpy mike.

A/N : i feel like i rarely write mike being grumpy,, but i definitely need to like that man definitely would be in a bad mood in the morning. also i feel like this rlly messy… sorry in advance. OH! and thank you anon for the request, sorry for taking so long w it but i hope you love it ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

Mike was snoring so loudly you woke up to the sounds. He was snoring especially loud today, he was probably comfortable. His face is buried in your neck, his arm draped over your waist, there’s barely any space left between the two of you, your legs entwined. You peek over at the clock on the nightstand and your eyes widen when you realise it’s nine in the morning! For a moment you panic—Abby had to be at school by now! Before you can sprint out of bed you remember it’s Saturday and Abby was at a sleepover. Anyway, it was way too late to be in bed so you press a gentle kiss on Mike’s temple, running your hand through his hair—in an attempt to wake him up. He moans softly at your touch, his stubble tickling as he moves around slightly causing you to giggle.

“Mike,” you call out in a whisper but Mike just buries himself deeper into your neck, wanting to stay in bed. He was comfortable like this, tucked into you. You continued to play with his hair despite knowing this put him to sleep but you loved playing with his hair as much as he loved having his hair played with.

When you attempt to unwrap yourself from him he tightens his grip around you. “Mike,�� you giggle, trying to move but he was holding you down.

“Mmm.” He responds, his eyes still shut. You continued with his hair and Mike couldn’t help but moan softly in pleasure, he really just wanted to stay in bed with you a little longer. Okay, lie—he wanted to stay like this, in your embrace, forever.

“We have to get up,” you say, no longer whispering—if you wanted him to rise you had to just as well stop playing with his soft hair. He whines the moment you remove your hands from his hair. “Come on, love.” You put more force and manage to get out of his grip, sitting up in bed.

“Baby, please just a little longer.” Mike mumbles, burying his face into the white feather pillow now—it wasn’t as comfortable as your neck. He feels you get up from the bed and this gives him his answer; you wouldn’t be staying in bed a little longer. He groans, furthering his face into the pillow and you giggle at his reaction—clearly he wasn’t having the best morning anymore.

“Don’t be fussy, love. We can’t stay in bed all day.” You say through a smile as you watch him get out of bed, a scowl on his face. He looks at you with such annoyed yet sleepy eyes it makes you laugh a little, his hair dishevelled from sleep and your hands probably. “Come on, Mikey, don’t be a baby.” You tease.

He sends you a death glare, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching up into a smile he refuses to show. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, Mike!” You laugh, but you really don’t want to have to deal with his grumpy and sassy attitude the rest of the morning. “How do pancakes sound? My way of making it up to you.”

He doesn’t say anything but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the suggestion like a puppy hearing the word “treat”, but he wants to stay mad at you for waking him and forcing him away from your touch so he leaves to wash up with a huff, it doesn’t matter, you know you’ve won him over.

—

You’re startled by arms wrapping around your waist, you giggle when Mike kisses the back of your neck. “You’re not angry anymore?” Mike’s chest is pressed up against your back, small kisses being left behind on your neck and shoulders.

“I am,” he says after a kiss. You roll your eyes with a small smile he can’t see. You flip the last pancake ready to add it to the stack you’ve already made. “Just wanted to stay in bed with you a little longer.” He murmurs against your skin, you can feel his lips against your skin.

You turn off the stove, sliding the last dark chocolate chip pancake with the rest. You turn around to face your boyfriend, he has this dreamy look on his face, his hands on your sides now, pulling you closer against him with a tired smile on his lips. “I thought you wanted pancakes. I even added dark chocolate to them.” You meet his eyes adoring the way he stares into yours. He smiles when you mention the last bit, it made his heart flutter that you remembered such a mere detail about him, how much he favoured dark chocolate over any other kind of chocolate.

“I wanted to stay in bed with you.” He sounds so whiny, almost like a petulant child. You laugh a little, a frown appearing on his face when you do.

“Sorry, you’re just so adorable when you're grumpy,” your hands are behind his neck, playing with his soft curls, a smile curling onto his lips when your fingers tangled up in his hair.

Mike melts at your touch—literally because next thing you know he’s burying his face into your neck once again, his arms tight around you, consuming you whole with his embrace. “Forget about the pancakes…I want you.”

Your touch. Your hands in his hair. The softness of your body pressed up against his. His arms around you, pulling you closer and closer. Your legs entwined. He wants to be consumed by your touch. He wants to hide away in the crook of your neck.

In simpler words: he wants you.

He kisses your neck then, his hands still wrapped around you. They move down to your hips, up to your waist. “Let’s go back to bed,” he kisses your neck, you throw your head back a little, giving him more access to your neck. You knew this was his way of trying to manipulate you back to bed.

“Mm,” you moan, your hands still in his hair. You almost agree…you almost consider abandoning your meal and letting Mike get his way. Yet you come to your senses, pulling him back, your hands on either side of his face now. You gaze into his eyes, he wasn’t tired—he wanted to stay in bed with you. He just wanted to have you by his side with no space between the two. You see the sadness in his puppy eyes when you pull him away, damn this man knew how to get whatever he wanted.

You smile despite your loss, you couldn’t help it, his eyes were just so pretty even if he used them to get his way. “Breakfast first. We can do whatever you want after.”

This makes him smile—nope, grin! The cheeky motherfucker; whatever he had in mind was definitely not sleep.

[btescape]

Unbound II - (BTS x reader)

↳ index

Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic

T/W: Classism, discrimination

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),

A/N: I merged chapter 1 and 2, so now this is is chapter 2. Also tried to speed up the pacing, but I'm not really good with that since I always end up adding too many details lol. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive

Word count: 3091

Previous ∘•···•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•···• Next

Chapter II - About Necromancers

The Astrelian Academy was not hard to miss. It stands proud atop hills that overlook the city below, its ivory spires reaching high, surrounded by grand courtyards and stone archways. Stained-glass windows reflect light across the pathways students moved upon.

It is unlike anything you have seen before, so grand you are certain you will spent much time roaming the hallways.

The building and the road leading up to the entrance are merely seperated by a large gate made of enchanted materials and inlaid with protective spells; the pulse of magic within not difficult to sense.

Slowing your steps as you approach, you glance around you.

At the students descending their carriages accompanied by — what you assumed to be — their servants carrying a ridiculous amount of suitcases. Way too many for a few months.

One such a servant seemed to topple under the weight of an entire wardrobe, whilst another holds up a small mirror so their student can check their reflection as they walked.

It is then that you realize you are the only one arriving by yourself.

Without a single suitcase in sight.

So much for staying under the radar.

With a soft exhale, you continue your walk toward the gate. Ahead, you see a tall and imposing mage clad in ceremonial robes. Beside him stands an obsidian pedestal and students are excitedly lining up behind it.

One by one they step up, placing their hands on the surface, followed by a pulsing rune shifting in various colors before projecting the symbol of their magical affinities into the air.

“Hirai Momo. Conjuration and Illusion. Impressive.” A tall girl with shoulder length black hair smirks, throwing her hair back over her shoulder as she moves forward, past the gates.

“Kim Mingyu, Enchantment, of course—expected from House Kim.”

You watch and listen intently as one student comes after another. And before you can even process it, it is your turn.

It doesn't take long before the whispers start, the first stares flickering in your direction. They are full of disdain, passing between students who do not even attempt to hide it.

“Gods, look at her clothes. Did she just walk here?”

“There's no insignia.. She isn't from a noble house.”

“Clearly.”

Trying to ignore it, you step forward. The older man at the gate spares you no glance. “Please place your hand on the rune and it will reveal your magic affinities.”

You hesitate slightly as your fingers hover over the stone, bracing yourself for the symbol you know will appear and the reactions you have had countless times before. Even without touching it, the rune already responds to your presence, twisting and turning in different directions.

Screw it.

When you finally press your hand against the surface, the reaction is immediate; first, a burning red symbol comes to life. Evocation.

Second, a blue and white symbol flickers next to the first. Abjuration.

The murmurs filled with contempt have now dissipated, students seemingly acknowleding that you may actually have been from a noble house— How else were you able to have two affinities?

The person behind you is eager to go next, expecting your turn to be over. But you know better. And thus you have still not moved your hand.

Expectedly, the rune shudders once more. The symbols twist, darkening in color. It changes from dark green, to purple, to an inky black that seems to pull the very life from the air. The moment the symbol appears, the silence that follows is immediate.

Necromancy.

Rare.

Your thoughts are interrupted when hushed whispers break the silence. You could feel their eyes lingering on you, judging and filled with unease rather than disdain.

“Do you not see that symbol? It is Necromancy.”

“That's impossible, no one has been born with Necromancy in centuries..”

“Not only that, she has three affinities? That can't be right..”

Slowly, you pull your hand away, but the tingling sensation in your fingers remained as if the pedestal had marked you in some way. Before you could even make sense of the feeling, a voice cuts through the whispers.

The gatekeeper's voice sounds uncertain as he mumbles, “This… This is highly unusual. I shall get the Headmaster.”

“There is no need, Jinyoung. I am here,” The students fall silent once more, their heads, along with yours, turning to the direction her voice comes from. “Welcome students. I regret not being able to hold a speech today, instead Mr. Park will do so in my stead.”

There, at the entrance, stands a woman. She is tall, dark, flowing robes in midnight red draped around her shoulders. Her face is ageless, young even if wisdom lined near her eyes. Long and straight silver hair cascades down her back, streaked faintly with traces of her original black hair. Her eyes were focused solely on you.

“I see you have made it,” She says, warm tone in her voice as she turns around and looks at you over her shoulder. “Come with me.”

Giving you no room to refuse her offer, she moves forward and you follow her through the towering gates in silence.

When strong traces of magic catches your attention, you look up to find the source of it. There, above the courtyard on a grand balcony, a group of students stand. They seem unfazed by your little display from earlier.

Your gaze sweeps over them in curiosity and, before you can stop yourself, three figures catch your eye.

The first looks at you with a cold expression on his face, his hands resting in the pockets of his coat. His dark eyes are narrowed in disapproval. There is something unsettling about his stare, as if he can see right through you and already deems you unworthy.

Even from a distance you can sense the raw intensity of his magic, waiting to be unleashed. There was no mistaking the potential he harbored.

Then, your gaze flickers to the second one.

Unlike the first, this one does not look at you like he wanted you dead. Instead, his eyes are filled with curiosity and a hint of amusement as his lips curl into a smirk. He leans against the edge of the balcony and you can feel the weight of his magic just as intensely as the others.

His gaze makes you uncomfortable in a different way; as if he wants to know more, explore more.

You quickly look away.

The third student you recognize in an instant, wearing the same cloak as in The Capital City. There is no clear emotion in his gaze, but when he sees your eyes darting to him in recognition, he quickly averts his eyes.

Strange.

Or perhaps it does make sense that he wouldn't know you. Who knows what else he does in the Capital City, besides helping damsels in distress?

Quickening your steps, you follow the Headmaster deeper into the Academy's halls, the whispers of the students fading behind you yet their eyes never fully leaving.

The Academy is even bigger within. Enchanted torches light up the hallway with color-changing flames, statues of long dead sorcerers are lined in the halls, seemingly turning their heads as you pass, and every step echoes against the marble walls.

When you finally enter the Headmaster's office, she closes the door behind you with a simple wave of her hand.

The room is a circular chamber, lined with bookshelves filled with old books, ancient scripts and spell scrolls. A grand desk is placed at the center and behind it, high arched windows, framed by deep purple velvet curtains, offer a breathtaking view of the Grand Courtyard.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Please sit.”

Her voice is the first to break the silence and you lower yourself into one of the velvet chairs slowly.

“I trust your journey was uneventful?” she continues, folding her hands atop the polished desk. “I am aware the Capital can be… unkind to those from the outskirts.”

Your mind drifts back to the alleyway, to the sneering nobles and the sharp gleam of a knife, to the moment you nearly lost control. Had the man not intervened, you weren't certain if you would have made it here at all.

“It was... harsh,” You respond truthfully. “But I am here now.”

A warm smile graces her lips as she nods her head, satisfied with the answer. “I am glad you are,” A pause. “You know, I have known of you since the day your magic first awakened.”

You arch your brow questioningly. “How?”

“Necromancy is rare. Extremely so. It can be studied, though it is highly illegal and requires years of dedication and sacrifices. But to be born with it?” She pauses, tilting her head slightly. “That has not happened in centuries. So naturally, both The Academy and The Grand Magic Council took notice.” Headmaster Choi doesn't give you a chance to respond. “Do you know what happens to Necromancers?”

You did. “There have been tales of Necromancers being consumed by their own powers, swallowed by the shadows they were meant to control. And when they are deemed a threat, they are silenced. Forgotten. Eliminated.”

She nods, then sighs deeply. “I do not wish to silence you,” Suddenly she rises to her feet. “I believe we can hone the power you wield. Refine it. Perfect it. It is what your parents would have wanted.”

The mention of them makes you stiffen. “You.. knew my parents?”

Headmaster Choi simply nods. “Yes, but I will tell you about them another time. For now I merely wish to offer guidance,” The advice barely registers, all that is on your mind is how she casually mentioned your late parents. “Out there, some people will fear you. Others will seek to control you. Be careful of who you trust. Go now. I look forward to seeing your display during the Trials.”

Just as you processed her words, about to tell her that she cannot just mention your parents and not elaborate, you find yourself suddenly standing outside of her office again, the doors closing in front of you.

Seriously?

As you step away from the Headmaster's office, her warning lingers and for the first time since you arrived, you let yourself think.

First off, she mentioned knowing your mother and father. She didn't want to tell you more yet, but you were determined to find out what it was she knew. No matter how many times she would shut the door on you.

And then...

Necromancy.

Sure— the word has never been insignificant. Even in the slums, fear would grip those who caught a glimpse of your magic even if your aim was to aid them. Still, none ever spoke of it out loud and it never defined you.

Yet here, at one of the most powerful institutions, it did. And it made you a threat. You let out a soft exhale, pressing a hand against your forehead.

It's fine. This is fine.

You have two more days before the semester starts, so you will deal with it when the time comes.

First, you need to find the Administration Office.

At first, you attempt to follow the other students, carefully moving through the corridors. But the more you walk and watch them turn ways or disappear into rooms, you realize you have no idea where you are.

The Academy is a maze of endless hallways and grand staircases shifting without warning. You take one turn, only to find yourself in a corridor that looks identical to the last.

This should seriously be illegal. Why couldn't they just hand out maps at the entrance?

When you take another turn, the temperature suddenly drops and a cold breeze whispers against your skin. You slow your steps, noticing how the torches along the walls flicker as you pass. Something feels strange. It is too quiet.

You tell yourself it’s just the nerves. A new place and an absolute lack of navigation skills —it’s perfectly reasonable to feel unsettled.

Perfectly. Reasonable.

Still, you hesitate before taking the next step.

Another set of torches flicker once more and for a moment, you swear you could see it.. Your shadow stretching longer than it should, pulling away from you if only slightly.

Yeah. That’s not ominous at all.

You stop breathing, your pulse hammering with each passing second.

Time to dip.

Focusing on the sound of your own steps, you push forward, quickening your pace and refusing to let your mind play tricks on you until a sharp voice stops you in your tracks.

“Well, well. Look what we have here, a lost little lamb?” The female voice is laced with amusement. When you turn, two girls stand behind you. They are beautiful, their plump lips curled into a smirk.

The one who spoke first steps forward, moving with the kind of attitude that shows she has been making people feel inferior since birth. Every step forward is a tad bit too perfect, from the way she walks toward you to the way she tilts her head and examines you.

The girl standing beside her has a softer look. She seems friendly, but you have no doubt she is about to be an accomplice in whatever is about to happen. Strands of strawberry-blonde hair shifts as she looks at her friends, then back at you.

“You're the new scholarship girl, aren't you?” The first girl muses whilst lightly tapping her chin. “The one with three affinities? Including Necromancy? Impressive.”

You know by the tone of her voice that she does not mean that and you don’t answer, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her.

“It's strange,” She continues as she steps closer. Her voice sounds sweet, but has an edge of disdain to it. “They have let commoners in before, but I don't think we've ever had a stray from the slums before.”

You refuse to let her words get under your skin, having dealth with people like this back in the slums before. Arrogant. Entitled. The type of people who believe power is something they own, not something that can be taken from their grasp.

“She looks confused, Jennie.” The second girl says lightly. “Maybe she's lost.”

The girl named Jennie smirks. “Oh is that it? Where were you trying to go, little slum rat?”

That nickname lands harder than you expect, but you don't let it show.

Still, you do need to find the administrations office and these two seem like they would know where it is, even if they are being cruel about it. At least you can get what you need from them.

“The Administration Office.” you say keeping your voice even.

Rosé smiles, too sweet to be sincere. “Of course. It’s down the main hall, left at the third corridor, and then straight past the library tower.”

Jennie leans in slightly. “Try not to get lost again, hm?”

And with that, they turn and walk away, their laughter trailing behind them.

After finding the administration's office and being handed a class schedule and a map (a little too late, they could have done that earlier) you finally managed to find the dorm assigned to you.

It is bigger than anything you have ever lived in; bigger than the shoebox you shared with your grandmother.

The common area is spacious and cozy, an unlit grand fireplace sits against one wall. Velvet armchairs in deep forest green are arranged in a semicircle and a low wooden table has been placed between them.

To the left, the kitchen is finer than anything you have ever had access to before. Marble countertops and cabinets of finely carved wood, an enchanted stove and two doors leading to seperate bedrooms.

You step further inside, the faint scent of something floral lingers in the air and for once, you can feel the difference between this life and the one you left behind.

The slums had always been crowded and damp, always filled with the scent of smoke or metal, the sounds of street vendors shouting over one another. There had never been any privacy, no warmth. This place is different.

But you could get used to this difference.

Your boots make no sound against the floor as you move toward the door on the right—your room. The moment you step inside you realize that the bedrooms are no less extravagant.

There is a large bed with soft silky sheets. A grand wooden desk stands against the far wall, lined with parchment, quills and neatly stacked books you would need for the upcoming classes. A wardrobe reveals a collection of hangers, three of them holding The Academy uniform; a pleated skirt, a button-up blouse and a long robe. The other with pants as an alternative to the skirt.

You exhale slowly as as you step back into the common room. When you do, the door on the opposite side of the room swings open and a girl steps out.

Her dark hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders and her brown eyes light up the moment she sees you. The girl is dressed in an oversized sweater and her presence is.. warm. “Oh!” she exclaims, stepping closer without hesitation. “You must be my new dorm mate!”

The words flow so kindly from her lips, that you blink in surprise.

You nod slowly.

“Well, that’s great!” she says brightly, grinning softly. “I was worried they would room me with some stuck-up noble who never speaks to me.” The girl doesn’t seem to notice your moment of hesitation. Instead she extends a hand, “I’m Song Yuqi. And you?”

You take her hand and introduce yourself.

“Nice to meet you!” she says easily before glancing around. “So? What do you think of our dorm?”

“It's.. a bit more than I expected it to be.”

Yuqi laughs. “Right? It’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” She studies you for a moment before tilting her head. “You know, I was going to wait until tomorrow, but—do you want me to show you around later? I know the Academy can be a bit overwhelming.”

For a moment, you consider declining. But then you remember getting lost before and even more than that, for the first time since you arrived, someone is offering something without any cruelty.

So you accept her offer. “I would like that.”

Yuqi’s smile is warm. “Great. Then it’s a plan.”

You should have said no.

If you did, you wouldn't have ended up meeting them right before the first official trials began.

[atlabeth]

i'm with you | nikolai lantsov

summary: everything is falling apart around you, but the world is quiet for a moment as you and nikolai share a sunrise together.

a/n: this is a lil sequel to bad luck! it takes place 3 years after at the beginning of siege and storm, after rusalye is killed and the darkling is mutinied off the volkvolny lol. idk where this came from but i really wanted to write something for nikolai because im done with finals and kept my 4.0 and he makes me happy! so i hope you enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 1.5k

warning(s): fem!reader, slight bit of angst, mentions of death and fighting, but this is very light hurt/comfort so nothing really bad goes on

“I should have known this is where I’d find you.” 

Nikolai’s voice rang out from behind you, clear and strong in the silence of an early morning. Nothing but you, him, and the sea, the way it had been for nearly three years now. 

You weren’t ready to lose it.

“I needed some time,” you said, gaze remaining on the horizon, sunrise on the brink. “A lot has been going on.” 

“An understatement,” Nikolai said wryly. His footsteps could hardly be heard against the wood as he walked over to you, choosing to lean his back against the railing in opposition to you supporting yourself with your forearms. He didn’t look at you, but his presence was more than enough. “How have you been holding up?” 

“Better than most can say,” you said. “Certainly better than our guests.” 

He chuckled. “I believe the Sun Summoner has wished death on me more than once.” 

“Have you seen the way her tracker looks at you?” you asked. “That man wants you dead.” 

You could see his grin out of the corner of your eye. “A spirited pair, to be sure. I’m lucky they haven’t actually made an attempt.” 

“As if I would let them get close,” you said wryly. “I take my duties as your second-in-command very seriously.” 

This time, you felt his eyes on you. “A misfortune you’ve been only my second for these past few weeks.” 

You sighed. The vast expanse of the sea, just beginning to glow with the light of the sunrise, seemed much lonelier. 

The past month had been… difficult, to say the least. And certainly lonely. 

The Darkling—General of the Second Army, Grisha of the greatest renown, and one side of the Ravkan civil war—had hired Nikolai’s crew to take him and his Grisha through the Bone Road in search of the mythical sea whip Rusalye. Nikolai decided to go along with it, but the plan he’d cooked up with you and the crew was something truly idiotic. If you all could pull it off, though, it would be the start of Ravka’s saving grace. 

The general was not a generous man beyond the coin he put up. He practically took over the ship, ruminating with an imposing power everywhere he went. You supposed it wasn’t difficult to lead an army when you could intimidate your way through everything in your path. 

And he recognized you. Looked you over in a way that made your skin crawl, greeted you by name, asked if your parents knew where you were. You resisted the urge to spit in his face—years of etiquette lessons worn into your bones were the only thing that kept a practiced smile on your lips. 

He just wanted to get under your skin, try to unsettle you, maybe hoped he could reveal your truth to anyone who still might not have known to sow division in the crew. You lied to his face and all he did was chuckle and move on. 

The Darkling left you alone from then on, but Nikolai refused to take any chances. He made the decision to hide your relationship, to hide any form of closeness beyond your being his second—”the last thing I need is you being targeted for any mistakes I make,” he’d said, and you had no objections. 

The Darkling had unnerved you since the first time you’d met him as a teenager. The insanity that flickered in his eyes any time his hunt for the Sun Summoner was brought up—the insanity fully displayed when he finally had her in his grasp—was enough to make you keep your head down wherever and whenever possible. 

That was not to say it wasn’t difficult, though. The first night you spent alone rather than in his cabin was difficult, and you’d wondered if the ship had truly always been this cold. Your finger felt bare without its ring, and you always worried the necklace would somehow slip into view. Your hands itched for your dagger each time the Darkling threatened Nikolai, and you were sure his calming words afterwards were the only thing keeping you from doing something truly foolish. 

And now he was fully your enemy, Rusalye had been turned to fetters, and the Sun Summoner and her mystical tracker were below deck in a very shaky alliance. 

Things were certainly never boring with Nikolai, at least. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when he said your name, and you finally looked over at him. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, milaya?” he asked softly. “Tolya did patch up all your wounds, didn’t he?” 

“Perfectly,” you confirmed with a nod. “It’s just…” 

“Talk to me, my love.” Nikolai reached out and took your hand, the callouses from years spent as a privateer a comfort by now. “You know I’m here for you, more now than ever.” 

Your gaze dropped down to your joined hands, and you let out a loose sigh. “We’re going back to Ravka,” you finally managed to say. “Back to the noble world.” 

“It does feel strange,” he murmured. “After years on the sea, free from any expectations. Free from being a Lantsov.” 

“Years away from my parents,” you said quietly. “They probably think I’m dead.” Your gaze flitted back up to meet his eyes, and you were struck by the warmth in them. “And I would have been, had it not been for you. Dead or much, much worse.”

“You can’t think like that,” he urged, pulling you closer. “You made your choice—we both have. And they brought us back together. That means they couldn’t have been wrong.”

“I left them, Nikolai.” Your chest tightened and you looked back out to the boundless waters. “Without a single word.” 

“I did the same,” he said wryly. “You somehow managed to forgive me.” 

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “I’m just not the same girl I was when I left. I don’t want to be that girl—that duke’s daughter that smiles and curtsies her way through everything. I’m worried that they’ll try and push me right back into that box.” 

Nikolai scoffed. “As if they could even try.” 

In your silence, he gently tipped your chin so you could meet his eyes. 

“You’re my second in command,” he said. “You’ve taken quicker to all of this than any member of any crew I’ve seen. And when you’re focused on something, you’re a sure sight to see. You’re not the girl that they raised—you’ve forged yourself into your own woman. If they have any sense at all, they’ll be the proudest parents in all of Ravka.” 

“I hope so,” you admitted, “more than anything. All of this— learning to sail and command and fighting by your side— it’s made me feel more alive in a few years than a whole childhood in Ravka’s court.” 

“And I consider myself immensely lucky that you somehow find enjoyment in all of this the same as I do,” Nikolai said with a slight laugh, taking his hand away from your chin. “Truly, I don’t know how I was fortunate enough to find you again after messing everything up once.” 

Your lips quirked in a slight smile. “And I consider myself immensely lucky that you stayed in love with me after all that time.” 

“The only thing easier than falling in love with you is staying in love with you,” Nikolai mused, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I could sail the Bone Road for a thousand years and that would never change.” 

“That’s another reason I don’t want to go back to court,” you said, heat blooming in your cheeks. “You’ll charm every person you come across with those honeyed words.” 

Nikolai smiled. “And yet I could only ever mean them for you.” 

“I just don’t get how you’re still so confident,” you said. “We’re going back to Ravka in the midst of a civil war. The Darkling’s on our tail, and he won’t stop until he’s gotten his very bloody revenge.” 

“But we’re going back together,” Nikolai clarified. “As far as I’m concerned, anything is possible so long as we’re together.”

“How are you always so sure of yourself?” you marveled. 

He shrugged. “It’s very difficult not to believe in myself when I’ve got you by my side.”

“Saints,” you murmured, your smile growing, “I’ve missed you more than you know.” 

Nikolai pulled you into a kiss and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met yours, your hands falling into familiar places on his body as you all but fell into him. It had only been a few days since your successful mutiny against the Darkling, and open affection still felt slightly strange. Any remaining qualms were fully kissed out of you, though, and when you pulled away, out of breath but glowing from the inside out, you could hardly contain your smile. 

“Trust me,” Nikolai breathed, “I know.” 

You grinned as you leaned against his side, and he pulled you in close with an arm around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, and for a moment, the countless voices of doubt inside of you fell silent as you watched the sunrise together. 

“We’ll figure it all out. I promise.” His voice was little more than a whisper in your ear, and yet it warmed your body just as much as his touch. “I’m with you until the end, milaya. No matter what.” 

And you believed him.

[nothingbutnowhere]

Part 2 soft!Simon x hypervigilant!reader

Part 1

You don't absolutely need to read the last part to understand this, but it's in the same universe.

Edit for explanation in notes I forgot not everyone knows what a CPAP device is lol, someone tell my why I have sleep headcanons for all my blorbos

Notes: domestic as fuck, Simon snores & uses a CPAP (a device that helps with sleep apnea, looks like this, he definitely has to use a full mask there's no way that man's nose isn't broken to hell and back and has difficulty breathing, why do you think he wears a mask (so he can breathe warm, humid air which is much better for your lungs)) reader is referred to as 'girl' by Simon, referenced off screen sex, teasing and banter

...

The after-sex-cuddles-but-before-bed ritual is set in stone. You both get up, Simon folds up the sex blanket (second best purchase of your life) and cleans your vibrator (the best purchase of your life), while you prep a warm washcloth. He helps you wipe down, he calls you 'messy girl' each time like he didn't contribute half of it. You still blush.

Brushing your teeth together, it often hits you how domestic this all is. Some nights it's painful and Simon holds you until you stop shaking, other nights you're smiling so hard it's difficult to brush. Tonight is somewhere in the middle. Melancholic. Quiet. He shoos you into the bedroom after you're done, turning off the light and closing the door on the way out.

Simon grabs you as soon as you sit on the bed and pulls you down into him, strong arms surrounding you, face nuzzling into your neck like a cat. But you see through the trick.

"Put your CPAP on before you fall asleep."

"Don' wanna," he says sleepily, "Can't do this w'the bloody thing on."

It's true, spooning with the CPAP sucks (unless he's the little spoon) but that's not what the current objective is.

"Simon," you warn.

You try to wriggle out of his arms to no avail.

"Simon Riley put it on right now or so help me god you'll be sleeping on the couch for the next week," your mock 'upset' tone is always only half serious, made even less so by the punctuating yawn.

For both your sake's you need the 'bloody thing'. For one, you'll sleep like shit if he's snoring in your ear and for two he's always in a much better state when sleeping with the CPAP. He's told you he sleeps like shit when he's gone and you tut that it's because he doesn't have access to it. He said it was 'cause he didn't have access to something else and that was the end of that conversation (he went to bend you over the kitchen counter but you slipped away giggling, only to end up tossed over his shoulder on the way to the bedroom).

"Simon."

When he doesn't move you jam your elbow back into him.

He doesn't so much as grunt at the attack, only grumbles and flips over, sitting up to flick on the lamp and mess with the machine.

You watch him as he does, muscular back on display and you resist the urge to run your hand over, lest you disrupt the process. 

He may tease you gently about your 'princess alarm clock' that wakes you up with light and birdsong, but you get him right back with references to his 'CPAP deluxe'. It's got the warm air humidifier for his 'delicate nose', all the bells and whistles.

He finishes and turns the lamp off, leaving the faint light of the street lamp to illuminate the room and him as he turns back around.

"There's my scuba diver," you giggle, tapping the mask softly.

He sighs, knowing he can't make a convincing comeback with the mask on- you'll only laugh at his attempts- and lays down on his back. You immediately snuggle up against his side, hugging his arm, leg thrown over his. His hand cradles your face for a moment, thumb sliding over your lips as a good night kiss before laying his hand over yours on his chest. 

It's peaceful like this. Before you needed silence to sleep but you've gotten used to the CPAP. Mostly because it means Simon's home. And now when he's gone you have to put on white noise to sleep. Nothing your princess alarm clock can't handle. There's been lots of big and small changes since Simon wedged in to your life with his puns and banter and menacing figure but it's been more than worth it.

"Love you," Simon mumbles through the mask.

"Love you too."

...

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

Part 1

A/N: I made this account to write smut and here I am with the softest slice of life blurb. Oh well. Maybe I'll write the bit after the 'access' comment, there's lots of fun places that could go.

[montammil]

Forever Be Mine

Wrote this like a month ago and never posted it, but I've been hyperfixated on romantic/intimate whumpers, and decided to post lol.

Please send asks about them if interested, I've been trying to get motivated into writing again!

CW: Yandere whumper, kidnapping, drugging, alcohol, overall creepy behavior

...

Rowan never got out often, save for groceries and occasionally visiting the bar every other weekend. The most adventure he had in the past five years was going on a hiking trail every now and then, appreciating nature. It was a temporary relief to his chronic loneliness. He had only two friends, and even then they were just coworkers at the insurance firm.

He thought about getting a pet, but was too worried about having to leave an animal home alone all day. They were far too much commitment for him.

He wasn't exactly a fan of animals anyways, so maybe it was better that he didn't get one.

One night, he decided to drink his sorrows away at a new bar. It was downtown, a club more on the expensive side, but one of his coworkers suggested he check it out. He'd never been there before, but tonight felt like as good a night as any to go.

He dressed in a black dress shirt, slacks, and loafers. Sure, he may have not been the wealthiest man alive by far, but he did love an excuse to dress up.

If he were lucky, maybe he could leave with someone.

He didn't often hook up with people. In fact, he'd only had a few hookups in his life. But he was tired of going to bed alone.

Rowan parked his car on the street nearby and walked into the bar. It was fairly crowded, bustling with the noises of conversations. He ordered a glass of whiskey at the bar.

As he sat there, his eyes began to wander around the club. The interior was nice and classy, a good attempt at making it feel like an upscale place. A few tables were occupied with people, either eating or chatting.

Suddenly, everyone's voices died down and Rowan glanced to the stage to see the performance. The musicians were tuning their instruments, a few patrons of the bar clapped lightly in anticipation. And then the singer came onto the stage, dressed in a khaki suit and a silver tie.

The moment Rowan saw him, he felt his heart jump into his throat.

He had a history of growing obsessed at first sight with certain people, but each time he told himself that this one was the last. This was the person that would finally fill the emptiness. And every time it fell through.

Rowan's eyes were locked on the man. The lights reflected off of his hair and sparkled in his eyes, catching every subtle movement of his body. When he opened his mouth to sing, it felt like the whole world had stopped. Rowan wasn't sure if he'd ever heard someone with a voice so lovely.

His eyes followed the man as he strolled around the stage, watching the way he moved so gracefully.

His heart pounded in his chest, so loud that he almost felt deafened by it. Rowan found it difficult to breathe, completely entranced. It was as though everything else in the room had disappeared, and the man on the stage was all he could see.

God, he was perfect. His voice was deep and sultry, yet sweet and gentle. Rowan couldn't help but be completely taken away by him.

"Big thanks to Indigo for having us," the raven-haired man spoke. "We'll be back next week."

Rowan swallowed the last sip of whiskey in his glass as he watched him step off the stage and begin to walk towards the bar. The alcohol was starting to cloud his mind a bit. He forced himself to put down the glass before he made a fool of himself, if he wasn't already doing that by staring. He watched the singer order a drink from the bartender, who seemed to know him fairly well.

"The usual, Sawyer?" the bartender asked.

He smiled charmingly, "You know me so well."

Sawyer, his name is Sawyer. Rowan repeated the name in his head until it was etched into his mind.

He looked over the singer again, from his shining eyes to his smile, the dimples on his cheeks, the shape of his body. And his voice. Oh god, that voice. Rowan felt his heart flutter a bit as he imagined Sawyer murmuring his name in such a sweet tone.

Rowan remained silent, observing Sawyer as he sipped his drink. The singer didn't seem to notice Rowan was staring at him, or if he did, he didn't say anything. He felt a pang of sadness. Sawyer wasn't looking at him, wasn't speaking to him.

Just as he tried to speak, Sawyer stood up and went towards the back door of the bar. Rowan felt like a fool, watching him walk away like that. But something took over him and he followed after him.

It was snowing outside, the cold nipping at his skin. Rowan wished he'd brought a coat. He spotted Sawyer out on the sidewalk, his back turned to him.

The singer's breath came out in soft clouds, visible in the air. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Rowan thought that maybe it'd be best if he didn't interrupt him, but his mouth betrayed him.

"Nice night," Rowan said.

Sawyer startled a bit at the sound of his voice and looked back at him. Rowan quickly panicked, but did his best to keep his composure.

"You were great in there," he added, smiling politely.

The singer's eyes went wide for a moment before relaxing into a smile. Rowan wondered if Sawyer even recognized him from inside, or if he'd already forgotten about him.

"Thank you," Sawyer replied, turning back around and lighting a cigarette.

He was so beautiful under the moonlight. The snow was falling, and it looked so peaceful. Rowan couldn't take his eyes off of him. Sawyer inhaled deeply from the cigarette and then breathed out the smoke into the air. Rowan watched the grey cloud leave his lips and disappear into the cold sky. Sawyer flicked the ashes onto the ground and then took another drag.

"Do you always smoke outside after a show?" Rowan asked, hoping to start a conversation.

Sawyer gave a lighthearted laugh, "No, I don't smoke often at all, actually. Been trying to quit."

"That's good, it's not very healthy for your lungs," Rowan pointed out.

"Yeah, it's a bad habit." Sawyer sighed. "But I've had a rough night."

He paused, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out more smoke. Rowan just stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next.

Sawyer looked back at him again, and Rowan noticed how tired his eyes looked. He wanted nothing more than to give Sawyer a hug. He wondered if he could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I'm Rowan," he introduced.

"Sawyer," the singer replied, then tossed the cigarette butt in a nearby trash can. "Thank you again for coming to listen, Rowan. I'm gonna head out now, maybe I'll see you around again?"

Sawyer started to walk away and Rowan felt like the words were dying on his tongue. He was so close to being able to talk to him more.

...

It was easy to learn the nights Sawyer performed at Indigo. He worked there every Friday from 8:30 to 9:30 PM.

Rowan became a regular at the bar every Friday night, the same spot at the bar each time, where he had the perfect view of the stage. Sawyer's presence was like a drug to him. It wasn't enough to watch him from afar anymore, no matter how long he stared at him. He couldn't shake the obsession.

After the fourth week, Rowan followed him home. It was a little difficult to, given Sawyer took the bus, but he managed to look like he was casually going the same direction.

When Sawyer got off, Rowan followed, a baseball cap hiding half of his face. He tried to act casual as he watched Sawyer unlock the door, conveniently living on the first floor of his apartment complex.

Sawyer then slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Rowan lingered around the area a little longer, feeling a sense of emptiness and disappointment. He was so close to him, yet still so far away. His chest ached. He just wanted to be with him.

Rowan practiced writing love letters to him on days he wasn't at work. He filled pages upon pages of loose-leaf paper with words full of adoration, spilling his heart out onto the paper.

Each letter was just as lengthy as the last, his longing for Sawyer only growing with each passing day. He didn't realize how many pages he'd written until he started running out of space. Sawyer was his new addiction, one that consumed his entire being.

Watching Sawyer constantly, he learnt quite a few things about him.

Despite Sawyer's confident and suave exterior, he was incredibly timid on the inside. When he wasn't performing on stage, Sawyer didn't seem to socialize much with others. He preferred to stay in his apartment, sometimes leaving only to go grocery shopping or run some errands.

He was glad he didn't have many friends. It already enraged him enough that people would flock to Sawyer just to talk to him after his performances at Indigo. The idea of anyone else touching him made him see red.

Another thing Rowan noted was that Sawyer really was committed to the whole 1920's aesthetic. From the photos he'd managed to take from a distance, Sawyer's apartment was full of vintage antiques and other authentic decor pieces.

He particularly appreciated the floral wallpaper in his kitchen. His walls were thin enough that Rowan could hear a gramophone playing in the evenings when Sawyer would cook dinner.

Most importantly, Rowan noticed Sawyer's soft spot for romance movies. In the early evenings, he would see some old black-and-white film playing on Sawyer's TV screen through his window.

If Sawyer wanted an old-fashioned romantic, Rowan would happily be that for him.

He decorated both his house and the lakehouse he inherited to fit Sawyer's style. It wasn't the most difficult task in the world, seeing as Rowan's own style was already pretty antique in nature.

It was a struggle to find an affordable gramophone, but it was worth it to imagine slow-dancing with Sawyer in the living room to old jazz tunes.

Cleaning out the basement was exhausting, but if everything went smoothly, he wouldn't have to even use it. Or at least, he really hoped he wouldn't have to. Rowan didn't want to frighten Sawyer, or hurt him at all, but if it was necessary, he was prepared.

Rowan's preparations were ready to be put into action, the ideal day carefully planned.

...

Sawyer plopped down on the stool, taking a swig of bourbon. Tonight was not going well. He was already upset from getting into a heated argument with his landlord about rent, and then his mother had called to tell him that his grandmother had passed away. And now, he was here, drinking his sorrows away alone at the bar.

He didn't usually drink, but god was he upset right now. And of course, his anxiety had been going through the roof lately. He hated it, how his body reacted to even the slightest of stressors.

His mind began to wander as he sipped at the bitter liquid, trying to ignore how the alcohol burned his throat.

Sawyer loved singing on stage, he really did. It was the highlight of his week, in fact. But when he was done and out of the spotlight, everyone seemed to forget about him.

People would compliment him on his voice after a show, sure, but as soon as he stepped off the stage, their attention was pulled away from him. They didn't seem to care about him otherwise. He didn't want their praise. He just wanted to feel like he was worth something.

"Is this seat taken?"

The crisp voice broke Sawyer from his thoughts and he looked up to see a man sitting next to him. He recognized him as the redhead he had spoken to a few times, and happened to be at every performance at Indigo for the past several weeks. Sawyer forgot his name, but he recognized him regardless.

"No, go ahead," Sawyer said.

"Can I buy you another drink?" he asked.

Sawyer laughed humorlessly, "Sure, why not."

Rowan ordered the both of them a few drinks and they sat together in silence for a bit.

The awkward tension in the air was thick, but Sawyer didn't mind it. He didn't feel like talking.

He stared at the other patrons at the bar, watching the way they moved about, their lighthearted laughter and conversations. He felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, wishing he could experience that level of joy in his life.

"Thanks for the drinks," Sawyer spoke after a while.

"No problem," Rowan replied. "It looks like you've had a rough night."

Sawyer couldn't help but chuckle again at his words. Was it that obvious? "Yeah, I guess so." After his third glass, his thoughts felt a bit hazy.

Normally it took more than that to get him drunk, but today seemed like an exception. His senses felt dulled, like they weren't even there in the first place.

He stood up. "I'mma head home. Thanks for the drinks."

As Sawyer left the bar, he didn't notice Rowan follow after him.

He wobbled as he walked down the street, feeling the effects of the alcohol already. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see the man from earlier following him. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or his anxiety, but he felt uneasy by his presence.

"Hey," Sawyer said. "Listen, thanks for the drinks and everything, but I'm not looking to hook up with anyone tonight."

Rowan stopped walking and just smiled at him. "That's not what I had in mind."

Something about his words sent a chill down Sawyer's spine. Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was because the stranger's eyes seemed to darken. But Sawyer's gut told him that something wasn't right, so he just walked away without another word. His body felt heavy, sluggish. He began to regret having so much to drink tonight.

He continued walking down the street, keeping his pace brisk in case Rowan was following him. He thought he could hear the sounds of footsteps trailing behind him, but he wasn't sure if that was his paranoia getting to him or not.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit Sawyer and he stopped for a moment. He leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath.

No amount of alcohol ever made him feel this disoriented before. He looked down at the street beneath him, the pavement seemingly spinning. He groaned and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of where he was, how far he still had left to go.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw a shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. He whirled around, nearly losing his balance and falling over, if not for the lamp post he was still leaning against.

"You're not looking too good," the man said. He sounded anything but earnest.

"Fuck off," Sawyer retorted. "Seriously, just leave me alone."

He tried to walk away, but he stumbled and almost fell to the ground. The man grabbed him before he could and held him by the waist. Sawyer yelped and tried to push him away, but the world around him spun violently and his legs gave out beneath him. Sawyer could feel himself being dragged as the man supported him. He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth.

"Just relax," the man whispered in his ear. "I've got you."

Sawyer couldn't see where they were going, the world blurry in his vision and everything looking so distorted and nauseating. His body felt so heavy, like it was weighing him down into the earth's core.

The man continued to drag him along, until finally they stopped in front of a car. Sawyer's vision was blacking out at the edges. He heard the trunk pop open, and was gently tucked inside.

The last thing he remembered was lips pressing against his cheek before he blacked out.

Rowan was elated, absolutely ecstatic that tonight had gone so perfectly. He'd been careful not to drink too much at the bar, knowing that tonight would be an important one. He could hardly believe that he had Sawyer all to himself now.

The drive was nerve wracking. Every mile he drove, Rowan was worried that Sawyer would wake up and start screaming for help, or try to escape the trunk. But luckily, that never happened. Instead, the singer remained unconscious, still knocked out from the drugs Rowan had slipped into his drinks at the bar.

Just for this occasion, he decided to put the old lakehouse he inherited from his parents to use again.

It was a small, cozy little cottage, fully furnished and with its own bathroom. The property was a few hours outside of town and right next to a lake, so nobody would be able to hear Sawyer if he started screaming. It'd be nice to have a little getaway from the busy city.

Once he was sure Sawyer loved him and wouldn't run away, he'd move him back to his actual house. But for now, it'd be enough. He had been saving up vacation days, and most of the work he did was remote anyway.

Rowan unlocked the front door and carried Sawyer inside bridal style. He laid Sawyer down on the bed, then removed his clothes piece by piece and folded them neatly on the dresser.

He smoothed his fingers across Sawyer's bare skin, tracing the curve of his body. He was perfect in every way imaginable. He brushed a few strands of hair out of Sawyer's face.

He dressed him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. When Sawyer wasn't wearing his nice suit and tie, he was in extremely casual clothing. Rowan had gotten to know this part of him pretty well from the photos he'd managed to take from a distance over the months.

The shirt he put on him was a little oversized and hung loosely on Sawyer's body. It made him look adorable.

Rowan couldn't help himself and took a photo on his phone before returning to the living room, making sure to tie him up before doing so. He hated the thought of his beloved getting rope burn, but reminded himself this was only temporary.

No longer would he be lonely. And neither would Sawyer.