#okay yes that sounds perfectly reasonable

[pomefioredove]

@hxney-lemcn said more cater fics and I am here 2 deliver ✌️✌️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends kiss, too

type of post: short fic characters: cater additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, friends 2 lovers ON TOP! a little making out

Every time Cater drags you through one of these things, you ask yourself why you let him, and every time, the answer is the same: he's your best friend, and you love him.

It's the very same reason you let him spam you with texts and annoy you with surprise selfies. It's the reason you rarely hang out with anyone else, because you know it makes him jealous, though he'd never admit that.

It's the reason you're here, now, awake in your room well past curfew.

Despite the threat of a Housewarden who would flay you alive if he caught you and Cater sneaking around in the dead hours of the night, your bestie was absolutely insistent on this all-nighter.

It's a trend on Magicam, he said, and he had, of course, pouted and whined like a sad puppy until you agreed to "support him" by keeping him awake.

By two in the morning, you were more bored than tired.

"Pass. Pass," Cater says, swiping through dating profiles on his phone. "Hm... no, pass."

You sigh and slump against the headboard of your bed. "You've said that word so many times, it doesn't sound real anymore,"

"Ughhhh. Is Sage's Island where hotties go to die? I just want a cute holiday romance!" he exclaims. "Think of the pics!"

You roll your eyes. You'd heard that exact string of words probably ten times in the past few days.

"You can't date someone just for couple photo ops,"

Cater pouts. "Oh, yes I can. I specify "nothing serious" on my profile! It's not like I'm lying!"

Another eye-roll. He's technically right, as always, which just makes you even more annoyed.

But you don't want to get into an argument about the morality of flings right now.

"And it's cold out. Who am I gonna hold when it gets even colder? It's cuffing season, hon,"

Something about the way he says that bothers you. You try not to think about it so much.

"Well, you'll always have me," you tease.

Cater giggles, and sets his phone down on the bed, a subtle way of showing you that you have his full attention now. "Oh? What's this? Sounds like you're offering,"

"Not what I meant," you counter. "I'm your bestie, not your bae."

"Boooo. What are you, a nun? Friends cuddle all the time,"

Again, he's right. He likes being right, and you can see that on him now, too. He has that competitive glow on his face.

You smile. "Sure, sure, but we all know that cuddling isn't what you're looking for,"

Cater gasps, feigning offense with a hand placed delicately over his heart. "I am not that easy! I'm starting to think you really do want me all to yourself,"

If anything, it's the other way around. Since befriending him at the start of the school year, you'd always had the feeling that he took up all your time on purpose. But you don't say that.

"Besides," he goes on. "There are a lot of things that besties can do that are perfectly friend-like. The segregation of romantic and platonic is a totally oppressive amatonormative structure, anyway."

You roll your eyes. "You have got to stop reading those infographics. Do you even know what any of those words mean?"

"Not the point! I'm saying that there's lots of cute stuff we can do while remaining besties,"

He's very enthusiastic about this. You can't tell if it's his penchant for being right, or something more.

"Pfft. Okay. So, what, friends can kiss?"

"Obviously," Cater crosses his arms over his chest, giving you that smug look of his. "Friends kiss, too."

"Then prove it,"

The words that had you had been holding in the back of your mouth for the past few minutes escape before your brain can stop them.

Even Cater, who's never surprised, pales a little.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens, again without your thoughts offering any support.

"I didn't mean-"

"Okay,"

You blink. Something hot and cold at the same time runs through your body- adrenaline, anxiety, maybe it's just your own blood heating up at the way Cater leans closer, cupping your face in his hand, his fingers curled under your jaw and thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His hands are kinda sweaty. You don't really mind, and even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered, because his lips are now sweetly pressing against yours.

You fit together quite nicely. As if he was just meant to kiss you.

It's hard not to think about everything all at once; his warm hand moving to cup your chin and hold you close to him, his hair brushing against your face, the way his lips still linger with spice from whatever he'd eaten earlier...

It's not perfect. But it's him, which is close enough.

Cater pulls away, his breath dancing across your lips, but he gives you no time to recover before he's closer, kissing you again with a sort of heat that matched the taste of his mouth.

He holds your face in both hands, shamelessly pinning you against the headboard and sitting in your lap as if he belonged there, always.

Minutes go by. Maybe hours. You wouldn't have noticed, or cared, either way. When you finally part from one another, it's felt like years.

You feel like an entirely different person. As if the world had ended and begun again in the six minutes you had been kissing him.

Cater sits atop your thighs, panting, his face redder than his Housewarden's hair, that of which would have flayed you both if he were to catch you like this.

Luckily, it's just the two of you.

"See?" Cater finally mumbles, dismounting you and scooting back to where he left his phone. "Platonic."

You're too breathless to argue.

You suppose you'll let him be right again.

[ssentimentals]

Hi can I reuqest number 27 for mingyu and can you please make it like he's late to some date in his rs thank you!!

hi, hun! i assume it's from hurt prompts, because it's the only one that fits the 'late to date' part. hopefully i'm correct! 💜

hurt prompt: 'you're late.'

you wish you could be a bigger person about this. you wish you could be calm and understanding in this situation, but shame runs high along with humilation in your veins and by the time mingyu stumbles into the restaurant with hurried footsteps and dejected look on his face, you can't find it within yourself not to snap: 'you're late.'

mingyu takes a deep breath, looking a bit dishieveled after the run. he grabs the back of the chair and nods, looking apologetic. 'i'm sorry, baby, really sorry. got caught up at work and then at stupid traffic.'

it's a perfectly reasonable excuse. and you know that mingyu is not lying, so maybe being mad over it is not the best choice, but you waited here for thirty minutes all alone and pitying looks from waiters made your skin crawl and- 'it's our anniversary.' you point out, watching as mingyu settles comfortably in front of you, grabbing the menu. 'i waited for thirty minutes here.'

mingyu looks up and pouts. he reaches out for your hand across the table, taking it in his and squeezing. 'i didn't mean to. sorry, babe. it won't happen again, okay?' he sends you million dollar smile next, looking back at the menu. 'but let's celebrate now. have you ordered anything? i heard this place is the best for meat.'

lump in the throat is making it hard for you to swallow or to speak. you stare at your boyfriend, thinking when have you let this become normal. when did you slip? when did he get too comfortable? 'no flowers?' you ask, trying not to cry. 'no present?' your present for him is under your chair, but all you want to do with it right now is throw it into the bin.

'oh, about that,' mingyu looks up, smiling. 'i thought what could i get you and then realized that i can just take you shopping, babe. you can choose whatever you want. sounds good, yeah?' mingyu notices stiffness in your posture and sighs. 'i already apologized babe. i said it won't happen again.'

'yes.' you nod and stand up, feeling how hysterics are about to start any moment now. 'it won't happen again, mingyu. have a good dinner.' you grab your bag and his present under your chair. 'alone.'

mingyu is too stunned to even move as you turn and walk away. you catch one of the waiters nodding at you in approval and this makes few tears run down your face. you move on autopilot, still in disbelief how he doesn't run to come and get you.

'it's for better,' another woman - short blonde waiter - opening the door for you.

right now it feels like your heart is being torn apart by the hands of the person you loved the most. but maybe - you take a deep breath - maybe it really is for better.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[haljathefangirlcat]

Doch die Geisel der Frömmigkeit Gottesfurcht und Moral Das Gebot der Enthaltsamkeit Macht das Leben zur Qual

Meister der Minne — Feuerschwanz

[skitskatdacat63]

If anyone(read: nobody) was curious about Ustinya's scale :D

[poguehearted77]

Winter's Chance

Summary: It's Rafe's turn to have your son for the weekend, but it seems the weather wants you to spend the holidays together.

--Finally some Baby Daddy Rafe

With delicate rubs to your son's tummy, you desperately tried to get him to calm down with soft pleads and overeager soothing. He'd been fussing all day, so much that you'd called the doctor to make sure everything was okay.

They simply reassured you that it may just be a prolonged stage of fussiness. Most babies grow out of it around 4 months which is exactly where Max had just reached a few weeks ago.

Just when he was finally beginning to calm for a moment your ears are filled with the chime of your doorbell. Max picks up his crying as if he had never stopped. Your eyes roll, already knowing who is on the other side of the door.

You gently scooped him up to rest over your shoulder on top of the little binkie you tend to have thrown over your shoulder at all times for moments like this. He was cute, but the spit-up was never pretty and you were always prepared.

Opening the door from a distance you weren't expecting to see Rafe step in partially covered in snow. It distracted you momentarily before Max's cries cut through the shock.

"I know, I know." You whine, gently rocking him, backing away from the cold air that swept against your feet. "Hurry up, and close the door." His eyes roll, "Hello to you too." He closes the door and stomps off the snow from his boots before stepping out of them and hanging up his jacket.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing? This is just a pick-up, then you can have fun trying to calm him down at your place." Rafe stands still, his thumb gesturing to the door behind him, "You haven't seen the news, have you? They're closing the roads, so we're snowed in. The only reason I made it here is because of the suspension on my truck."

Your face turns sour and Max continues to cry.

"So why did you come in the first place if you knew you wouldn't be able to make it back?" He ignores your question for the most part, "Relax, baby. As excited as you are to see me, I didn't come for you. I came for my son. There he is," Rafe's expression lights up as he reaches for Max and takes him out of your hold.

"Rafe you can't just take him and expect him to calm-"

For the first time in seven hours, silence consumes the room. No more screams and tearful cries. "You've got to be fucking with me," You don't say it loudly, but Rafe still hears.

"Guess he was just missin' his daddy, huh? Isn't that right, Max?" Rafe's tone is playful as he pokes at Max's tummy which elicits tiny giggles and the brightest smile you'd seen all day.

You walk away, headed towards the kitchen. Not sure why you were moving so fast, Rafe was hot on your heels. "It's not your fault, it's probably just been a long day-" He finally shuts the fuck up with his smug remarks when he hears a soft cry, "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue, tender and sweet. "Baby, what's wrong?" Effortlessly, he supports Max with one hand while he reaches to turn you so you're facing him.

Your eyes are filled with tears, lips quivering ever so slightly and he knows what's coming. He's seen you like this more times than he can count. He takes you under his arm, your cheek pressed to his chest and you break down, muttering into the fabric of his hoodie.

He comforts you with a big hand rubbing your back, soothing you the way he learned from those parenting books that he swear he never read. "It's so hard, Rafe." Is all you manage to say through broken cries for the first five minutes before you're pushing off him, expression more angry than upset? "He was crying all day, and the second you walk in, he's perfectly fine."

Rafe's lips frown, puzzled. "And that's a bad thing?--"

"Yes! Why do you get to be Superman?!" Earlier, the sound of a pin drop would disturb Max from calming, but now even your exclamations left him unfazed, as long as he was in Rafe's arms he was unbothered.

As a matter of fact, with a second glance, you notice he'd actually fallen asleep. Just Perfect. Another win for Superman.

He chuckles, leading you both to have a seat on the couch. Your son sleeping soundly in his father's hold. "Well, I think I've got the abs for it." His shit-eating grin spreads across his lips.

"You try carrying a baby in your stomach for nine months, and you tell me if you still have abs after." Subtly, his tongue wets his lips at the memory, "All I remember is how good you looked pregnant. Shit, wanna do it again?" You'd never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

"You're lucky you're holding my son." He scoffs, leaning in slightly as if to speak away from the baby. "I seem to remember the two of us going half on the conception, and a few times after that." You air-swat him and stand, making your way for the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap."

The hours flew by as you finally had your first uninterrupted nap in what felt like years. By the time you woke up, the sun was long gone, and there was a thick layer of fresh snow sitting on your window pane. You headed downstairs and stopped at the bottom of the steps to appreciate the view.

Nothing melted you quite like the sight of Rafe taking care of Max. You hated to admit it, but he was a good dad. A really good one. Hot, too. Rafe held the bottle to Max's lips, murmuring some undistinguishable babbles with a soft smile. Surely speaking a language only the two of them can understand.

"I hope you warmed the bottle before you gave it to him." You say, and he finally notices you standing by the stairs, stalking your way over and sitting beside him.He ignores you, knowing that you're just trying to get under his skin. "You look well rested." He remarks and you sigh with a soft nod. "Yeah, I am actually." He grins to himself, "Must be a miracle to sleep well on that cheap-ass mattress you got up there."

"Sorry, we can't all have premium mattresses." Rafe pulls the bottle back once he realizes Max has had his fill. "Y'know my money is your money right? I give you ten thousand a month but everything I have is yours, too." Standing him up on his lap first, Rafe holds the baby over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

"Well, I don't need to live in a fifteen thousand sq ft house to be happy unlike you." He shakes his head slowly, his gaze falls on you, somber. "I seem happy to you? I don't give a shit how big my place is. It's always going to be empty without you two in it... " He trails off, alluding there's more to come.

"Rafe.. What are you saying?"

"Move in with me, again." Your head shakes before you sputter profuse denials, "No, Rafe, we can't we tried that before remember? We don't get along. Technically, we're not even together." The conversation is briefly interrupted by a small gurgled burp on Max's behalf.

Rafe leans down to place a drowsy Max in his rocker in front of the couch before sitting back up. "Things were different then, we were eighteen. I can't do the back-and-forth anymore. Don't you wanna wake up in the morning, see that Max is taken care of and I'm making you breakfast, then we go back to bed and I take care of you? Huh?" He hums, his voice igniting sparks along the length of your neck as he nosed along it.

"Rafe.." your voice is shaky, feeling the heat from the discussion.

"Whadd'ya say, hm?" You reflect, having Rafe stay with you today, in just a few short hours you'd been able to take a break, he held you when you cried like he always did. You'd hardly even fought. Though that was no surprise, the two of you fought considerably less ever since Max came into the picture.

"Okay, yes." You can feel the lines from his smile stretch against your jaw just before he begins to pepper kisses on your cheek. "Y'know, we made the world's cutest baby ever right?" You smile, both your gazes focused on the little one before you.

"He's got your eyes, for sure." Rafe states and you giggle, "You're just saying that because they're brown." He sits up straight, heartfully disagreeing. "I'm not. They're the same eyes that I fell in love with when I first laid my eyes on you, and the same ones that humbled me when they looked up at me for the first time in the NICU."

His words were touching. You're seeing a whole new side of him. Not the usually hot-headed and impulsive man you were used to. This one was sweeter, softer, and more sincere.

You reeled him in for the first kiss, his lips soft as they pressed against yours, his hands confidently holding you at your waist. "Ah, I see you're taking me up on my previous offer. Let's go for a girl this time, yeah?" He grins, and you pinch him.

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[chaosandmarigolds]

Simon Riley! Who technically had the ring picked out as soon as he started babysitting Oliver

Simon Riley! Who nearly jumped out of his skin when you came in from getting the mail with the box from his grandmother, that contained said ring

Simon Riley! Who spent the last two and half years of dating perfectly planning the moment, even had plans B and C on backburner

Simon Riley! who told johnny about the plan and his buddy happily volunteered to take photos (he tried to talk him out of it he swears it)

Simon Riley! Who even asked your son if it would be okay to marry you (the answer was yes duh)

Simon Riley! Who knew knew it would all go perfectly, after all with all that planning-

"Olly said you want to be his dad."

The sound of your voice that would normally send peace and a sense of warmth through him caused his blood to run cold and he slowly turns from where he was currently working on building a dog house (a puppy is what you and he chose to get Olly for his fourth birthday), he looks up at you as you stood on the porch, a confused look upon your face and arms crossed. He had to play this cool, he could do this- "Whaaat?" Shit. "Now why would the lad-"

"Simon."

"Yes, mam."

You walk over to him where he stood in the backyard and you hum, "You get four seconds to tell me why my little boy is getting his hopes up about having a dad again, when you know full well-"

"I'm going to marry you."

To be honest, you were a little taken back, Simon had never seemed like the marrying type and you had spent the last two years trying to convince yourself you were alright with that. So you gulp down and look up at him, "You...what?"

"I have-Fuck- a plan, I have a plan and it was goin to be like tho' movies you make me watch tha' I hate- was gonna make it nice but-I'm goin to marry you an' I wan'a make sure Olly is alright with it."

There came the silence and you bite back the largest smile you swore you would ever have, "Y...you wanna marry me?"

"More than I want to breathe."

"Oh, then I guess I better say yes so you don't die, huh?" Your words were to distract yourself from crying and you pull him down for a brief kiss, "I still want the pretty proposal and the getting down on one knee."

Simon, who reasonably was a bit confused, blinked and then meets your gaze, his hands going to yours, "Are you sayin' Yes?" When he saw your nod he happily moved his hand to your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "You'll get your pretty proposal, the flowers, and the photos, and I'll make it perfect, love, I'll make it perfect."

Here's what Johnny's photos looked like BTW (he tried)

[moosesarecute]

YOU’RE MATES???

“Two weeks?” Your brother asked.

“I know it’s a lot, but I need a break. And I want to make sure I actually feel better by the end of it. I might get back earlier, but I want two weeks in case I need it,” you answered.

“You should have told me that you felt overwhelmed, Y/N. I could have helped you. I still can help you.”

“I know, but I want to fix this on my own.”

Rhys hesitated.

“Okey, you have two weeks. But make sure you give me some signs that you are alive every few days, okay?”

You nodded and hugged him.

“My two best spies needing a break at the same time,” Rhys continued. “What will I do?”

You froze, but tried your best not to show it. There’s no way he’s realized it now.

“Azriel is also on break?” you asked, doing your best to sound surprised.

“Yeah, he also said he needed two weeks, maybe more,” you fought a blush, “he didn’t give any reason for why, but I would never say no to that.”

“Weird,” was all you replied before you made a bad excuse to leave his office.

You closed the door and immediately winnowed to the cabin furthest away from Velaris. It was the cabin that was used the least by your family, but it was your favorite. You also knew that when the two weeks were over, the smell would linger for a long time, so you didn’t want it to bother your family with it.

You felt excitement spreading through your body as you made your way to the kitchen. With your hair set up and your mother’s old apron on, you started making an apple pie.

It didn’t take very long to make the pie, so you soon sat at the kitchen table, tapping your foot on the floor as you waited.

And waited.

And then you finally heard the door open and in walked your beautiful, sweet, majestic, mysterious and wonderful mate, your Azriel, ready for you to accept the bond.

********************************

It took exactly 48 hours before your brother reached out and asked if you were alive.

“I’m fine, Rhysie, just enjoying the peace and quiet. I’ve read two books so far and started a new crochet project.”

“And you’re remembering to eat?”

“Yes, I’m well fed,” you answered.

“Then I’m happy,” Rhys finished with and left your mind.

Most of it was a lie of course. You were well fed, both you and Azriel had brought lots of leftovers so that you quickly could heat up something when you became hungry enough to take a break from eating each other.

But you had not even opened the books or picked up the yarn you always kept at the cabin.

“He’s worried?” Azriel asked.

“Yup, but he’ll be alright,” you said as you moved to kiss your mate once more. “And I’m extremely alright.”

Your mate met your kisses. You were straddling him on the couch with minimal clothing, doing your best to take a break from ravishing each other…the break didn’t last very long.

********************************

Two more days went by and your brother took contact once more.

“You know I told you to give me signs you are alive, right? I don’t like that I have to reach out to you.”

“You worry too much,” you answered pretending to sound annoyed. “I’m doing good. Just relaxing.”

“You’re not going crazy being alone?”

You had to hold back a little laugh. He obviously didn’t know that you were far from alone, being embraced in a cocoon of your mates large wings as you took a nap.

Luckily for you, you didn’t mind spending time away from people. You didn’t leave often, but it had happened multiple times before and Rhys knew that.

“I enjoy being alone sometimes, you know that.”

“Yes, but-“

“I’ll come home early if I need to,” you cut him off by saying.

“Okay, okay,” your brother said and left your mind.

“He hasn’t reached out to me yet,” Azriel told you. His voice was heavy with sleep and you spent some time admiring how cute he looks when he’s tired.

“He wants to give you space, I’m sure he’ll reach out to you soon.”

“I don’t mind, really,” he said. “I’m perfectly happy talking with you and you only.”

You grinned and nap time was over.

********************************

“I have to tell Rhys I’m alive,” you told your mate in between kisses.

“Right now?” He sighed.

“He has taken contact at 8 o’clock the other times and he’ll probably do that today too,” you explained and left his lap, but stayed beside him, playing with his hair.

You brushed your brother’s mental shields and he immediately let you in.

“I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m aliveeee,” you sang in a little song.

“Good, thank you,” Rhys replied, not joining your joking mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he told you. You were about to call him a liar when he continued. “I just miss you.”

You started to feel bad for lying to and leaving your brother. Azriel picked up on your emotions and started hugging you.

“I miss you too Rhysie, but I really need this,” you told him.

“I know, little one. Thanks for taking contact.”

Rhys closed his mental shields and you were forced out of his mind.

You were about to start talking to Azriel, when he let go of you and silenced you with a finger in front of your lips. He stayed like that for a few seconds and you realized your brother must have taken contact with him.

“He just asked if I’m alive and alright,” Azriel explained.

“Good,” you replied. “Then we can continue our activities.”

You leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his eyes, his nose and lastly his lips. After each kiss, both of your smiles grew larger.

********************************

You were making dinner the next time you felt your brother’s claws on your shields. You carefully moved away from Azriel’s embrace and kisses and took a sip from your glass of water as you opened your mental shields.

“I know why you’re gone,” Rhys said before you could greet him.

You spit out your water and Azriel looked at you with shocked eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied trying not to sound nervous.

Your brother spent a long time before he continued.

“I needed the book on Illyrian history for a up coming meeting.” Your heart sunk. “I saw on the library card that you borrowed it last, so I thought I should look in your room. I know I should have asked, but I figured you didn’t want for me to bother you, so I just went inside.”

“I’m sorry, Rhys. We just-“

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me. If you two are dating and you’re happy, I’m happy. You could have just told me if you wanted a couple’s vacation.”

“I’ll explain everything when we get home, I promise.”

“Just enjoy each other’s company. I won’t tell the others.”

“Are you mad?”

He again waited a little before he answered. “No, I’m not mad. But I’m definitely fighting Azriel when you get home.”

Both of you laughed.

“I’m looking forward to seeing that,” you answered. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Azriel looked at you with wary eyes.

“He knows about the relationship, but not the bond.” When you felt and saw the anxiety spread through his body, you added “he’s not mad, but he will fight you when you get home.”

You closed the gap between you two and caressed his cheeks. “He’s happy as long as I’m happy and if I haven’t already made that clear, I’m the happiest I have ever been.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him. He kissed you back, lifted you up and sat you on the counter.

He picked up a plate and filled it with food and gave it to you.

“From this day I’ll give you food. It doesn’t matter if you made it or I or someone else, I’m giving you the food.”

You looked confused at him. “why?”

“We are mates, equals in every way. You had to feed me to accept the bond, to show that we’re equals I’ll feed you from now.” He kissed you as soon as he finished talking.

“I love that, mate,” you kissed him back. “It’ll be our thing.”

********************************

“Not going to ask if I’m alive?” You asked your brother two days later. “It’s 5 minutes past 8! I started to worry!”

“I now know that you aren’t alone, I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

You failed to mention that he had interrupted you and Azriel having sex more than once during the 12 days you had been at the cabin.

“When are you coming home?” Rhys asked. “I’m starting to go crazy with Cassian and Mor bickering around me all the time.”

“Two days time I think,” you replied. “So you’ll have to survive without us a little longer.”

“It’s so weird that you two are dating.”

“We might be a little more than just dating,” you told him and immediately left his mind.

You felt him claw on your mental shields multiple times, but you didn’t let him in.

********************************

“Wow,” you said in awe as you looked at your mate’s shadows.

“What?” Azriel asked. He was seated on the couch.

“Have they always looked like that?”

“Looked like what?”

You walked closer to your mate, straddled him as you tried to get a closer look of his shadows.

“It’s like they’re a little violet.”

Azriel commanded his shadows to stand before him. His eyes widened and were soon at the same size as yours.

His shadows did indeed have a little violet tint to them. Not a lot, but if you looked very closely, you could see it.

“I didn’t know they could do that,” you said. Still looking at the shadows. “They’re beautiful.”

“I love it,” Azriel said. His eyes met yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied.

********************************

The two of you walked hand in hand into the townhouse. After having been sneaking around for two years, showing your relationship felt a little weird.

However, being mated mates felt as though everything was as it was supposed to be. It was 40 years since the mating bond had snapped, so it was about time that you accepted it.

Your brother had previously told you that the rest of your family would be at the townhouse that evening, so you decided to just show up as mates.

Together you opened the doors to the living room.

“Finally! You’ve been gone too-“ Mor stopped talking. Her eyes looked from you to Azriel to your hands. “Holy shit.”

You just laughed and held Azriel’s hand a little tighter.

“YOU’RE MATES???????” Cassian yelled at you.

“How didn’t we know that?”

Your eyes found your brother’s. He wore an amused grin and just shook his head.

“It’s almost like both of them are spies,” Rhys said.

“Or that you three just never spent enough time with both of them together,” Amren spoke. “They were quite obvious at times.”

You didn’t know for sure that Amren knew about the two of you, but you weren’t surprised to know that she did.

“You have to tell me everything!” Mor said as she started to move over to you.

You started to back out of the room. “I think I’m going to take a bath first,” you said, met Azriel’s eyes and started to leave for your bedroom.

Azriel luckily understood what you meant and followed you in a way Mor later would describe as “a love sick (but also very horny) puppy��.

********************************

“Please don’t,” Azriel begged you.

“I told you I would do it if you continued to act too possessive,” you just told him.

“I’m not possessive.”

“You hissed at Rhys…,” you said a little annoyed. “My brother.”

He knew that he had lost the discussion and you didn’t waist anytime spraying him with your new spray bottle filled with ice cold water.

A few meters away from you, Cassian and Rhys stood laughing at the two of you. They would never let him forget it and even after 500 years, they still sometimes threatens him with “getting Y/N’s spray bottle”.

[marvelobsessed134]

Life imitates art

A/n: whewww this is one of my favorite things I ever written

Pairings: Beefy!Art Professor!Natasha x Fem!Student!Reader

Warnings: age gap (not specified), Nat has a dick, smut, blowjob, degradation, painting a nude person, reader being that nude person, pervy Nat (?), student/teacher dynamics

Okay so you’ve been failing your art class in college. But it’s really not your fault you’ve just been so caught up with your other classes that you’ve been slacking off.

And of course your professor noticed. Natasha knew she had to talk to you after class because you were one of her top students and now you’ve fallen off the deep end.

So after the lecture and after everyone leaves, leaving their canvases up to dry, the redhead calls you to stay after class.

You walked towards her desk with a nervous feeling in your stomach. You know you’re gonna get some kind of lecture of your own.

“Yes Professor Romanoff?” You asked in a sweet tone hoping you won’t be getting into any trouble with her. Not that she’s a mean professor per se but when a student fails she makes them do an extra project to get their grades up. It’s almost like she loves to torture people!

“Miss Y/n you’ve been failing very miserably in my class. Any particular reason why?” She asked.

You gulped, “Well…you see professor I’ve just been so caught up in my other classes that I’ve kind of been slacking on this one but-“

“So is my class not important to you?”

“No! It’s very important to me I love art and I love painting but I have these two big tests coming up so I haven’t had the time to finish my projects and you know I don’t do half assed work when it comes to my art.”

The redhead smiled a little bit at that, “Yes, which I do admire and appreciate but I’d like you to put more effort into my class.”

You looked down at your feet shamefully, “Yes Professor Romanoff.” You sounded like a scolded child.

“Well,” she stood up and walked over to her empty easel and put a large blank canvas on it. She also put a chair right behind it.

Then she walked back over to you. “You know how to get your grade up in my class. But instead of you painting I want you to be my model. Can you do that?”

The thought of you being her model made your flush, “I guess.”

“Great. Now strip off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I’ve personally always wanted to have a live nude model in my presence to paint so nows my chance.”

“Professor Romanoff…this is highly inappropriate im your student plus you’re like a decade older than-“

“Do you want those grades or not detka?” The nickname gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Yes I do but-“

“Then do as I say and take your clothes off.” You quickly complied, shakily pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Your shoes, socks, jeans, and panties came off next.

“Go sit on that chair over there.” She pointed to the chair that sat in front of the easel. You took a deep breath and walked over to sit down. Your arms resting on the armrests and your legs clenched together.

As Natasha got set up behind the easel she said, “Don’t hide your pretty pussy from me baby.” Your eyes widened at her words but you complied. Desperate for the grades, you slowly spread your legs. Unfortunately you were embarrassingly wet.

It’s no surprise you have a crush on your professor. She’s beefy with a pretty face and exudes dominance. Her shirt sleeves are always rolled up to her elbows and her slacks fit her perfectly. Along with the occasional blazer she wears.

Unbeknownst to you she noticed how wet your little cunt was and smirked.

She began to paint you, taking in every breathtaking detail of you.

You felt so vulnerable in this position. Sitting naked in front of your fully clothed professor as she painted your naked form.

She didn’t even bother to try to hide the erection in her pants, because she knew you felt the same way about her. It was only a matter of time before she could finally taste you and have her way with you.

Once she had gotten most of the painting down-she can finish it later she will remember every inch of your body-she walked over to you.

You sat up straighter, not daring to close your legs. Natasha towered over you and looked down at your pretty perky nipples and your wet pussy.

“I think my model needs a reward for being such a good girl don’t you think?” She asked and you sucked in a breath.

She tilted your chin up with her index finger, “Yes or no babygirl.”

Oh you knew it was wrong so, so wrong. But you found yourself saying, “Yes.” It came out as a whisper you were surprised she even heard it.

The redhead smirked, “That’s what I thought.” She got down on her knees, her hands sliding up your bare legs before she licked a bold strip against your pussy. You moaned, throwing your head back at the little piece of friction you just got.

“If my student didn’t want to get naked for me then…why is she so soaking wet?” As she said this she ran her finger up your folds. You hissed in response.

“I know you’ve wanted me since the first day of class. Don’t worry, I want you too.” She kissed the inside of your thigh before licking your folds again, eating you out with such passion that you forgot where you were.

Her mouth attached itself to your clit and you gripped her hair tightly as she sent you closer and closer to the edge before you drenched her face with your release.

“Oh god!” You moaned breathlessly.

“You taste so good detka. Care to return the favor?” She asked with a cocky smile. You immediately got on your knees in front of her and unbuckled her pants, pulling them and her boxers down to free her large cock.

Your eyes widened at the size and you wrapped your hand around her shaft and began to jerk her off.

“I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock baby.” She commanded dryly.

You gulped before wrapping your lips around the tip and sinking down onto it, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Natasha gripped your hair as you sucked her off. “Such a slut for me huh. Who knew you’d be so eager to taste my dick.” Your pussy was dripping onto the floor both from your previous orgasm and your arousal at the mere action of sucking her cock.

“Shit baby I’m gonna cum.” Your professor moaned before shooting her load down your throat. “Ah fuck that’s it swallow it.”

You swallowed it all and pulled of her cock, opening your mouth to show her you did in fact take it.

She caressed your chin, “Such a good girl. Come over here.” She made her way to the chair you were once sitting on and sat down. Her cock still sticking up in the air. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off revealing her abs. Your mouth watered at the sight and you quickly made your way over to her.

The older woman smirked, “Ride my cock baby.” It was a simple command that you were more than happy to obey.

You straddled her waist and sunk down on her thick cock, moaning at the stretch.

“God you’re so tight.” She hissed as she gripped your hips and started moving you up and down her length, treating you like her own personal toy.

You were a moaning mess, rolling your eyes at the back of your head as she continuously hit your g spot. “Oh fuck professor! Feels so good!”

“Yeah? Oh god who knew my student wanted to be slutted out so bad.” She also thrusted her hips up as she moved you. Your hands gripped her muscular shoulders.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin slapping, moans, and grunts.

“I’m gonna cum again fuuuuck.” You cried.

“Cum again for me sweetie.” You reached down to rub your clit as you were sent to a land of ecstasy.

You clenched around her cock and your vision went white for a second. You absolutely drenched her cock.

“Oh yeah drench my fucking cock. I’m gonna cum again.” She quickly pulled out of you and forced you on your knees. You watched as she jerked herself off till she came on your tits.

“Holy fuck. You’re unbelievable.” Natasha breathed and you giggled.

“Did I get the grade?”

“Oh yeah you got the grade. And if you keep this up then you’ll be passing every exam too.”

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[lizpottersworld]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . JUST NOT HOME. even though you and remus aren’t together anymore, your heart aches for him and to feel his love and care again. even your friends are worried, and even they’re acting off. (remus lupin x reader)

ask/request anything here

play my tears ricochet for the effect if your feeling special and like crying

it was a shock. the breakup. you didn’t even think separating with remus could be so brutal, well truthly you hadn’t imagined it at all. he was it for you, and you thought he thought the same. honestly, he probably did. yet, the way it ended left your heart broken beyond repair. three years thrown away.

not even your guys closet friends saw it coming, they had always looked up to your guys relationship. the high school sweethearts who loved each other like their was nothing else to savour in the world but the being of each other.

even though you hadn’t heard from remus recently, by your friends worry and anxiety for your being you could tell he was probably doing way better than you. to put it nicely, you looked like hell. all the healthy habits you had built over time thrown away, because he helped you get to that point. and now he was gone, what was the point of carrying on?

he was your home. your belonging. your soulmate. the reason you had carried on all these years. where was the loving and tender boyfriend you had loved those years back? where was he when he called it off with no explanation, leaving you crying in your shared apartment?

there was so many questions you wanted to ask, but nothing could soothe the pain you were feeling.

“y/n/n, please just if you need help just call us, any of us.” marlene pleaded on the phone, doing her daily check in with you. it was unusual hearing marlene so panicked and worried, she was all sunshine and parties really.

“i promise, i’ll be fine.” you sighed, the roughness to your voice not supporting your answer. of course you weren’t, you had cried about it non stop.

“okay well, i have to—“ she started, being cut off by the abrupt sound of pure laughter in the background. your breathing naturally startled, it was his laughter. not just anyones. his.

“marlene, is that—“ your voice croaked involuntarily, you knew all your friends had been hanging out with remus recently you just weren’t aware it was a happy kind of hangout. you always assumed it meant they were individually checking up on him. how was he so happy? it had only been a week?

“yes, i’m sorry y/n/n, we’re all just hanging at james tonight, it was only to make him feel better i didn’t—“ she rushed to explain again, surely the others had picked up on the words and all paused and hushed.

“he seems perfectly fine, marlene! meanwhile I haven’t seen any of you, calls are fine but how does he get the normal invitations to hang out? am i just not apart of the group anymore?” you scoffed, tears streaming down your face in anger and the ache of your heart.

“of course you are, its just— he was our friend first and—“ she pleaded with you, only making it worse for herself. your heart pained at her words, a pathetic whine sounded through the phone from you.

“thats always how its going to be it seems. no matter what I’ve done and do for you guys, because your my best-friends. but you know its all good because you met him a year before me so it makes perfect sense.” you managed to say through the sobs you let out. “i think i’m done with being the second choice in this friendship. you shouldn’t have to choose. i’m done mourning my— the relationship i had with remus just as i’m done with all your bullshit. i hope they all can hear me.” you seethed through your teeth, incredibly hurt, and then you hung up.

that same day you booked a flight, away from london, away from the place you only felt sad in. a week later, you moved out your flat and used the money to go to the uni you always wished you could go to. ‘that was always too far for long distance’

and that year, you started your new life, made new friends and had become close with your roommates. hours away from london, now living in Edinburgh. occasionally, your old friends tried to reach out to you but you ignored them. all until you received a message from him.

lover💓 hey. been a while, no ones heard from you, just wondering if your okay and well. i miss you. we all do.

and just like that. your heart ached again, and you found yourself immediately sending a reply. no matter when, no matter where in the world. you would always have that weak spot for him.

[huhmiya]

CHEF KISS | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: he cooks a meal as a small gesture of gratitude for all that you do for him. this way, both of you can enjoy a meal together tonight, even though that won’t be the only thing he’s eating night.

warnings: smut, oral female receiving, swearing, use of y/n, ass grabbing, pet names (baby, darling, love).

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I didn’t know what to name the title..

WORDS: 1.5k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

You have been doing everything for Chris ever since you started dating, and even before that, it seemed like you had put your own life on hold to help him with his, and you were perfectly content with that.

He was grateful for all you did for him, as he didn't believe he deserved it, but the main reason was that he always felt he wasn't doing enough for you.

Although he wasn't the best cook, he had an idea to prepare a meal and made an effort to learn by reading instructions to make it perfect for you.

He was wearing headphones as he was home alone since his brothers had gone out and offered him to join them, but he preferred to stay in and focus on cooking without any distractions.

He took longer than expected to prepare the meal because he wanted it to be flawless, even though he wasn't used to cooking or doing such tasks.

While you were out all day with your friends, you decided to stay a bit longer, which would make you arrive at your boyfriend's house late.

He was aware that you would be coming around 10pm, as you had mentioned staying with your friends earlier. The loud music blared through his headphones again as he prepared your favorite food, hoping that his subpar cooking wouldn't spoil it for you.

"Shit," he muttered upon noticing a call coming in. He hesitated for a moment, uncertain of the caller as he accepted it through his headphones. However, upon hearing your voice, his face lit up with joy.

"Are you okay, baby?" he inquired, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he continued cooking. You reassured him, "Yes, I'm just ten minutes away, then I'll be at yours."

He responded with a sweet remark, acknowledging your imminent arrival. With ten minutes to spare, he focused on completing the cooking.

As you ended the call after a minute, the music resumed playing on his headphones. He didn't mind, instead smiling as he savored the sound of your voice, which warmed his heart, knowing you were the perfect girl for him.

He had just finished the meal when you arrived, creating a pleasant atmosphere after setting the dinner table. As you entered through the front door with your key, you called out loudly, “It's only me!”

However, the house's unique layout made it seem quiet to him, as he was upstairs.

You made your way upstairs to find Chris with a wide grin on his face. He greeted you with a hug, which you reciprocated, prompting him to plant a kiss on your head.

Stepping back, he proudly showed you his handiwork. Your eyes widened as you observed his efforts, then you glanced at him. Without a word, he understood your unspoken thoughts.

“I did everything, even cooked the meal. I hope my cooking skills aren't too shabby,” Chris said with a smile, brushing your hair away from your face.

“This is so thoughtful, Chris,” you murmured, to which he simply chuckled, pleased that you appreciated it. After a moment of silence, he embraced you once more, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. To him, you were light as a feather, and it was no exaggeration.

He quickly place you down and pulled out a chair for you to sit on while taking a seat himself. His gaze alternated between you and the food in front of him.

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it y/n,” he said, observing both the dish he had prepared and your reaction. He didn’t want to force you to eat something you didn’t enjoy.

As you began to eat, you found it delicious. It was possibly the best version of your favorite dish you had ever tasted.

He held back from eating first, wanting to gauge your response. When he saw that you liked it, a smile spread across his face.

“It’s amazing,” you exclaimed, prompting his eyes to light up as he nodded in appreciation. He then began to enjoy his own meal, pleasantly surprised by his culinary skills.

While you both ate and conversed, he listened attentively as you recounted your day. Occasionally, he interjected with questions about your activities, eager to hear more.

Throughout the encounter, his gaze remained fixed on you. Your hair was tousled by the wind outside, adding a carefree charm to your outfit that caught his attention. He couldn't help but notice the fresh love shirt you wore underneath, a detail he had glimpsed earlier while you were changing in his room.

"Checking me out, huh?" you teased, prompting him to roll his eyes and chuckle softly as he continued eating.

"Shut your pretty mouth, will you darling?" he retorted, meeting your gaze and playfully silencing you with a finger on your lips, causing your cheeks to flush.

After ensuring you were quiet, he bit his lip and glanced at you one more time before leaning back in his seat.

Soon, he rose from his seat to clear his plate, prompting you to watch him as you finished your last few bites and followed suit.

With a grin, he reached out to tousle your hair as you rinsed the white plate. "Are you sure it was okay? You weren't just saying that because I made it, were you?"

"I assure you, everything was fine. Why didn't you enjoy it?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. He just laughs and stops stroking your hair.

"I did like it, but you know what I would like even more?" he whispers, his voice deepening as he moves your hair to the side, exposing your neck.

"What would that be?" you inquire. He simply looks at you before gently kissing your neck and then speaks.

"Well, I'm still hungry, but this time I'm hungry for you," he says before giggling. "I didn't expect it to sound so cringy," he whispers.

He then kisses your lips and pins you against the kitchen counter, grabbing your wrists and making you wrap your arms around him. You respond by kissing him back.

His hands soon move to your backside, squeezing it before lifting you up onto the clean kitchen counter.

He maintains eye contact as he slowly removes your jeans, admiring your naked thighs before placing your jeans on the floor.

Your eyes widen, but he hadn't noticed. He traces patterns on your thigh before moving his hands up to your waist and then glancing at your shirt.

"Can I keep your shirt on? I find it so fucking hot when you wear my merchandise," he says, his voice filled with desire.

You nod, indicating that you are okay with it. He lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach, removing your bra in the process so you are left only in your shirt and thong.

"I'll be fair and make it a bit more comfortable for you to keep your shirt on," he says, aware that you may find it uncomfortable wearing a bra as he has heard you complain about it before.

You push his hair back as he raises an eyebrow in confusion, but doesn't say anything. He removes your underwear and notices how aroused you are.

“You are so beautiful, love," he whispered, gently holding your legs before leaning in to kiss you. His stubbled beard grazed between your legs, eliciting a soft moan from you as your eyes closed in pleasure.

He then kissed your intimate area and flicked his tongue over your folds, teasing you with each sensual touch. His nose brushed against your clitoris as his tongue circled around your entrance, causing you to bite your lip and whimper with delight.

His whispered words, “you like that, huh?” preceded the moment he sensually explored you with his tongue, causing your eyes to widen and your back to arch as he held you in place by sitting on the kitchen counter.

He savored the taste of you, wishing he could always have you. Your moans grew louder, and he didn't attempt to silence you since it was just the two of you in his house.

He intensified his movements, expertly pleasuring you with his tongue, causing your legs to tremble. His thumb deftly teased your clitoral hood, eliciting moans as your orgasm approached.

"I'm close, Chris," you warned, to which he simply nodded. He spread your legs wider, continuing to pleasure you until you released all over his tongue.

Your orgasm dripped onto his chin and the kitchen counter, but he paid it no mind, proceeding to clean you up and lick you thoroughly.

"You taste so delicious, darling," he murmured as he pulled away, licking his lips and gazing at you. As you moved to wipe your essence from his lips, he stopped you, using his thumb to clean them before sensually licking it off.

Your eyes widen as he chuckles before lifting you up gently and taking you to the bathroom to freshen up.

MIYAS MASTERLIST & INFO

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[walpu]

hii, first of all, sorry for my bad english

this may sound weird, but lately i've been thinking of aventurine turning in a cat. like, for some strange reason (maybe during a mission), he turned in a cute little cat. and since reader doesn't know he's a cat, he feels free to enjoy all reader's affection, and maybe to let his emotions win and cry while being caressed. and then he turns human and he's crying enough to fill a swimming pool. idk if i explained well :(

tysm, i love love love your works!! ❤︎

AWWW THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and don't worry your English is perfectly fine! It's not my native language as well so I get the struggle tho

I love making my faves cry so there's a possibility that I've got a bit carried away lol

taking care of cat!Aventurine

edits by @keisieudeptry on twitter

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of cuddles, n̷̳͙͊͛õ̵̩͓ ̸̧͉̓b̶̳́̎e̵̖͋͊ṭ̴̩̔ȧ̵̪͚̕

Aventurine

Listen, he's always on alert okay. This man rarely allows himself to relax, especially when he's on another one of his business trips.

And he knows what to expect. Lies, attempts on his life, threats etc. He has seen it all.

But this. This. This is something new. Of course anything can happen when you're dealing with The Masked fools but this? Being turned into a cat? In what place this is even funny? It is kinda funny tho just not for Aven

He knows better than to panic. Yes, being turned into a tiny orange cat was not a part of his plans. Yes, this is probably the most defenseless and vulnerable state he's been in since his childhood. Yes, this sucks. But hey not like panicking will change anything.

Instead he just sits in the corner, feeling incredibly anxious and dreadful. His only hope is that this shapeshifting trick won't last for long.

A huge wave of relief washes over him when he sees a familiar person. And not just any person but you. The only person who can put his restless mind at ease, at least for a short time. He wouldn't mind seeing Topaz or Ratio too but it's much better when it's you.

He quickly realizes, however, that his joy was premature. He can't communicate with you! And you don't know that this is him! So the only thing poor Aven can do is follow you around and... meow. It's almost humiliating. Too bad he doesn't have time to care.

Soon enough you give up at finally pick up the oddly familiar cat. Every time you try to put the cat down it starts meowing and running after you so the only thing you can do is pick it up and carry around like a potato.

And you know how it is with cats, once you put your hands on one you can't stop petting it. You run your fingers through the cat's fur absently, while checking you phone for any messages from Aventurine. Hugging the cat, pressing your face to it's soft fur. Something about it surely reminds you of Aven. The thought, no matter how childish it is, brings a small smile on your face.

And poor, poor Aven. For so long he's been longing for your touch while laying awake at night, his poor heart flattered every time your fingers brushed against his. He wants wants wants to melt into your embrace yet this is not allowed for him.

How can he ask for it without exposing the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. How can he open his heart to you without reveling all the ugly, fragile parts.

He wants to be open with you, he really does. Yet it's so unreasonably hard. Would you kiss his head like you do now if you would know how empty he is inside? Would he be able to press his forehead into you palm, asking for more more more without feeling exposed?

In a way, it's good that right now he's in this form. He doesn't really have to think about anything, doesn't have to feel anxious about revealing too much. He can just enjoy in.

You two fall asleep just like that and he doesn't have to overthink, he can just crawl to you side, nuzzling up to you.

You can't help but notice that the kitten in your arms is trembling slightly. And when you pull it closer in order to provide some warmth and comfort it just purrs and meows pitifully. Almost like it's… crying.

Now listen. I'm 100% sure Aven is a light sleeper. So there's no way he won't wake up from a loud gasp and a lot of movements near him.

Well. Seems like the shapeshifting trick the masked fool pulled on him lasted only for 12 hours. And now he lays on the couch in his human form while you look at him with the wide eyes.

Awkward.

His initial reaction is to laugh it off. "Surprised, dear? It's a shame you can't see your own face right now ha ha". Would explain the whole situation, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal. No mention of you cuddling session tho. Max he would say is "my, my, didn't know you where such a cat person".

However, his smile freezes immediately when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Well. Here goes all of his feigned confidence.

Here is this feeling again. Your warmth, you scent, the comfort your touch brings. You telling how you started to get worried and how relieved you are that he didn't get hurt. It cuts so deep, makes him feel so exposed yet so needed. Loved even.

At first he doesn't even get it why your eyes get even wider, why a look so lost and worried all of the sudden. Only when your hands hesitantly cup his cheeks and you ask him what's wrong he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.

You know those tears when they just drop from your eyes and it's not like you're hysterical or crying uncontrollably but the tears just keep coming and coming and the more you try to calm down , the worse it gets? Yeah, him.

Would almost automatically tell you that everything is fine. When you confront him, pointing out that he's literally crying, will get even more confused than you. "Hah, seems like you're right, dear" he says with a small smile, giving up on the idea of hiding it from you. After all, it's too late for that anyway.

It feels... not even humiliating, no. It's weird, scary even, to be so open around someone. To be stripped of his mask so suddenly.

And yet he doesn't have time to care when your hands hold him oh so tenderly, when you cup his face and ask him what's wrong.

"Nothing, nothing, really. Just getting a bit sentimental here. Just... hold me like that for a bit more, 'kay?" he manages to whisper with a faint smile before pressing his face in the crook of your neck.

God feeling his tears on your skin feels so surreal. And heartbreaking too.

With each tender touch he gets even more emotional, to the point when he literally chokes on his own tears. Please hold him, run your fingers through his hair, kiss the top of his head.

He just doesn't get it, it feels so good to be held by you, why does his stupid heart hurts so much then?

Honestly he didn't cry for so long and there are so many repressed feelings, just let him let it all out.

He'll probably fall asleep in your arms, feeling very exhausted after the sudden emotional outburst. In the morning would act like nothing has happened, making some dismissing comments about him being a bit overdramatic last night. Don't let him withdraw into himself but don't push him to open up too much as well.

Just touch him more often from now on, especially when he looks like he had a bad day. And eventually he'll turn into your lap cat, reaching out for your warmth himself with or without reason.

"You're being clingy again" "Am not <З" all while sitting on your lap.

You've domesticated him so good luck.

[deathofacupid]

dude (blurb) | jake peralta

summary: "dude" but romantically.

warnings: none.

pairing: fem!reader x jake peralta (friends to lovers)

word count: 0.8k+ words

"okay, but i'm serious! you have to try it, it's literally amazing."

"i was gonna take your word for it, but i remembered it's you... so, no."

"dude," he whined, a soft smile adorning his lips.

"dude," you say back, same tone.

"fine, fine, what if i make you one? that's, like, no work required. y'know minus chewing."

"jacob jeffrey peralta, i am not, not even on my deathbed, trying pickles with ice cream. that's just a new level of gross."

"but charles approved it!"

"why on earth would that affect whether or not i try it?"

"y'know, i have no clue. i'm getting desperate."

"i can see that."

"dudeeee," he kicks his feet on the floor as he's sitting next to you on the couch. die hard is playing on the tv in his apartment, but the two of you have seen it so many times, you practically have it memorized by heart.

and why would you ever watch die hard when jake's sitting right there?

between you and yourself, you know which you'd rather watch. okay, "watch" sounded creepy.

you're laying on his lap as he's looking down at you, pouting.

you roll your eyes, but it's all fun. "dudeeee."

truth be told, you're sure you can handle the odd food combo, but teasing him and drawing this out is so much more fun. god, you really are in love with him.

"pretty, pretty, please? with- with, like, seven cherries on top?"

"just seven?" you pretend to be offended.

"i'm a brokie, the best i can do is eight." jake runs a hand through your hair, it's so comforting.

you sigh, "all right."

"to the cherries or the pream?"

"the- the what now?"

"pickles. ice cream. pickles and ice cream. pream? yeah, you know what, that's... that's not it. doesn't roll of the tongue great."

"oh, yeah. that, and it sounds like an std."

"good point. i'm gonna assume you meant the... cream... pi... creampi-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there."

he nods quickly. "right. what about cream-"

"not if it starts with 'cream', dude."

"icickles?"

"n-"

"piccream!"

"if i try your 'dish'," you air quote, "will you stop trying to come up with names."

"maybe."

you give him a look, and he amends, "yes. maybe. i pledge to do my best." jake salutes you, then pokes your check. you scowl, swatting him away and sitting up.

"lead me to your kitchen."

"sure. it's five steps that-a-way," he says, pointing to the kitchen that is quite exactly five steps away. like a true gentleman, jake scoops you - through which you protest ("dude!") - and then (after six steps, actually [wow, his apartment is slightly bigger than hypothesized]) sets you on the counter.

"i feel like you should know that i'm perfectly capable of walking on my own."

"but why would you when i'm here?"

"dude."

"dude," he replies, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer.

"how are you even supposed to eat this? like... spread it? o-or dip?"

jake grabs a spoon and scoops some ice cream onto it. "watch, young jedi."

"i don't-"

"shh, i'm yoda-ing." he spreads it on the pickle and shoves it in your face. slowly, you sniff it. it doesn't smell... like anything bad, really.

it doesn't look great though. "is it too late to go back?"

"yes." after a second, he groans, "gah, i'll go first." he takes a bite, and you make a face.

"mmm... you shouf knodis is-"

"jake, swallow."

he grins and you furrow your brows. "what- oh. oh! jake!" your cheeks heat up so quickly, for a number of reason. because, yeah, obviously the second one sounds better.

also, of course that's what he instantly goes to.

"oh, my god. are you twelve or thirty-three? because i honestly can't tell."

"dude, i'm well-versed. you wouldn't understand."

"i'm... twenty-five. wo-wouldn't i-?"

"schematics."

"yeah, okay, bud."

"dude," he corrects.

"right," you murmur, "dude."

you don't really realize how he's leaning in, the way if you do too, your lips would touch. you falter, and you can feel warm breath minglingwith yours.

jake cups your cheek and you lean into it. you aren't sure what's about to happen, though it should be obvious. but with jake, you're nervous, afraid that this isn't really happening.

you have no clue what he's done with the pickle, and you have no clue why that's what's on your mind right now.

he squeezes your waist gently, a way of asking for permission. you nod, and at first, it's just a brush. just a brush of his lips against yours, feeling for some type of sense that this is happening. that it's reality.

you press back against him, your hand on top of his, the one on your face. your other hand blindly feels for his hair, tugging against his soft, brown curls.

when you pull away, you're breathing hard. not because of the kiss, because it wasn't aggressive or any longer than twenty seconds, but because of the adrenaline of it all.

"dude," he breathes, and you giggle.

"y'taste like pickles. and ice cream. it's actually not that bad," you admit. "at least not on you."

"dude," jake repeats, dumb-founded at what just happened.

you peck him again, right on the lips, "dude."

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Thankful Reader; HC’s

Anon Request, "Can I ask for Bayverse Turtles reacting to GN reader who thanks them for saving them instead of being scared of them?"

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

 Dudes pretty stoked when it hits him that you’re not running away screaming your head off after he’s saved you from some drunks

He’s really excited and almost loses himself to it, grabbing your hands and cheerfully introducing himself

Probs throws out some kind of pun or pick up line about how this must mean something, and for a moment almost really feels that when you giggle at his shenanigans

A human who thanked him with no shred of fear and thinks he’s funny?! Someone pinch him because there’s no way this isn't a dream

Would slip you his number before dashing off to the calls of his brothers, winking back as he waved goodbye, already picturing you as a new friend

Donatello:

Freaked out at first when he sees you still hanging around after he fought off a thug who tried to rob you, but that shock is quickly replaced with curiosity as you breathlessly thank him

He wonders if this is some other form of distress on your part and does a quick check up to make sure you didn’t hit your head or something

Is even more surprised when it turns out you’re perfectly fine, and you don’t shy away from his touch, a large hand still gently holding you by the shoulder

Donnie’s quick to pull away when he realizes, fumbling with his words for a moment and the soft smile you offer is not helping the warmth dusting his cheeks

The shout from his brothers for him is what saves him from further embarrassment, but as he turns to leave and sees you still standing, watching him go, he can’t help the growing intrigue he now has for you

Raphael:

You’re not running in terror, screaming bloody murder, and Raph isn’t sure how to feel

He just stands and stares absolutely bewildered as you offer him a kind thank you after saving you from random aggressors

He’s quick to catch your hand as it lifts towards his face, more shock coursing through him when he sees the rag in your grasp to clean at a cut on his face

Your fearlessness towards him is impressive, but he can’t help the internal panic

Yes there’s a joyful elation Raph feels, but this is all new territory to him

Sure, he has human friends like April, but even she freaked when she first met him

Not you though, and as he runs off to catch up with his brothers, he finds himself unable to stop thinking of this memorable encounter

Leonardo:

Leo is stunned by your kind thank you versus the usual display of fear he receives, there’s a reason he tried to be super stealthy after all

He’ll actually ask if you’re not scared of him, sounding casual about it but feeling the exact opposite

You’re denying response gives him a sense of relief and curiosity, but also apprehension

Are you trying to trick him? Are you secretly part of the Foot Clan?

He can’t help his skepticism towards your kindness, as the leader he’s sort of built this wall against newer people to protect his family

He’ll eye you for a moment, asking if you’re okay to walk home by yourself, and after he’s sure you are truly fine, he’ll be quick to make his leave

It’s sudden and abrupt and while a small part of him feels kind of rude about suddenly dipping, he’s too busy fighting an inner battle about how his whole existence is to stay hidden, and this new desire to be sought by you

Definitely doesn’t tell his brothers about this meeting, last thing Leo needs is for them to encourage the warm hope you’ve instilled within him

~xXx~