#should have put eye drops in during the day because my eyes are dry as hell rn

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

Testing out a Zebra Spitting Cobra Wesnake design and throwing in some (Safari Chrisbear) hand/paw practice

[demonpiratehuntress]

helloooo!!! can i ask strawhats reactions with a nakama reader who just LOVES doing her nails and every time they have a chill day she takes her sweet time doing it?

sure thing! :) sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with work, university and soccer, and it's been difficult for me to be online during Ramadan because of the fast and other things i have to do, but i hope you enjoy this!

taglist - @kabloswrld

manicure

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - the ask :)

warnings - none

ZORO

It's not often that the crew gets to take a day off and relax, but when you do you take full advantage of it. It's the only time you get to yourself, when you can do anything you want without having the other Straw Hats in your face all the time. Normally you stay in your room and do your nails, but today a certain swordsman was curious to know what you do on days off, so here he was in your room watching you.

"What's the point of that?" He deadpanned, watching the stroke of the paint-tipped brush over your nail.

You looked up at him, beaming, "It looks pretty!"

"It looks-" He sighed. "Okay."

Silence fell between you two again as you continued painting your nails, a (vibrant/dark) shade of (colour). You could tell that Zoro had more questions, probably about the necessity of your hobby, but you pointedly ignored him.

"Are you done yet?" His gruff voice rang out a few minutes later.

"Yes!" You grinned, holding up your hand, "With one hand!"

He groaned, rubbing his face, "This is boring."

"Well nobody said you had to be here, grumpy," you teased.

"i thought you'd do something more exciting. And fun."

"HEY," you protested, "This is fun! For me!"

The swordsman rolled his eyes, and you narrowed yours, "Maybe you should try it and see."

"No thanks."

"Then how about I paint yours too?"

"I can't think of anything I want less than that."

You pouted, but resumed painting your nails. When you were finished with your other hand, you turned to show Zoro proudly, only to find that he was fast asleep. You were disappointed for just a moment before smirking, realising that this was an opportunity for you.

So you painted his nails too, and then hid when he woke up.

LUFFY

Luffy gets bored when there's nothing for the crew to do. Unlike the rest of you, who enjoy the day off and take time to relax, he cannot sit still. He doesn't understand the concept of relaxing, because he's always bouncing off the walls and begging one of you to entertain him. Which is as difficult as it sounds, because he has the attention span of a goldfish.

"(Name), what do you do on days like this?"

You almost jumped out of your skin when the captain appeared at your shoulder suddenly. You dropped the small bottle of (colour) nail polish and watched as some dribbled out and onto your desk.

"Luffy!"

"Sorry," he apologised, but didn't sound like he was really sorry. Or look it, since he was grinning like the gremlin he was.

You sighed and picked the bottle up, cleaning the spilled polish, "I'm just doing my nails. Wanna watch?"

He nodded excitedly, curious about what that actually meant. When he saw you brush the paint on your nail, he oo'ed and ah'ed at the sight. To him it was fascinating how the colour settled on your nail when you finished painting.

But after a few fingers, he started to get bored and fidgety.

"(Name), how long is this going to take?"

"I still have the other hand, Luffy!" You laughed.

He pouted, but continued watching nonetheless. He was fascinated by how the colour stayed on your nails, and when you were done with both hands he jumped up excitedly.

"Now we can go do something more fun!" He grinned.

"No!" You shook your head. "I have to wait for it to dry, and then put another layer, and then wait for that to dry."

He groaned and sat back down, putting his chin in his palms like a little kid. He was going insane with boredom, and you were just happily sitting there painting your nails.

"If you want, Luffy, I can paint yours too."

He seemed thrilled by the idea, until he bounded out of your room to show the others as soon as you were done, and came back whining that it got smudged.

Sigh.

SANJI

This man is possible the only Straw Hat that could watch you do literally anything, no matter how long or how boring, without complaining. He is the only one who will be happy to sit with you for hours doing the most mundane things, because to him the time spent with you is worth it. So the minute you asked him for company, he didn't even let you finish before he was dragging you off to your room.

"Do you want to choose a colour?" You asked him, laughing as you showed him your assortment of nail polish colours.

He was more than happy to do that, and eagerly showed you a (bright/pastel) (colour) bottle. When you smiled and thanked him, he practically melted.

He's also the most patient of all of them. He doesn't mind that it takes forever to get just one hand done, nor does he mind that after you let it dry you have to apply another coat.

"How does it look?" You asked him, holding your hand up with a smile.

His answer is nothing short of what you expect, and he looks at your nails with heart eyes.

"It looks so pretty (Name)! Just like you!"

He might even offer to do it for you, and if you let him you find out that he's surprisingly good at it. Maybe even better than you. He takes longer, but that's because he wants it to be perfect for you. He honestly has no qualms about spending the entire day doing this with you, you will not hear a single complaint from him.

"Thanks, SanjI! Do you want me to do yours now?" You ask him teasingly, then get surprised when he eagerly holds out his hands for you to do whatever you want with. "Okay, which colour?"

And now that he knows you do this on every free day you guys get, he's at your door before you can even ask anyone if they want to choose a colour.

USOPP

Usopp knows what everyone does whenever the crew gets a day off. Everyone but you. You just slink off to your room with a smile and no one sees you for hours. Normally Usopp wouldn't think much of it, but as it happens more and more he gets curious to know what exactly you're doing. It also may be an excuse to get away from an overexcited Luffy who wants to tinker with his explosives.

He doesn't know how to feel about what he discovers.

"Usopp! Great!" You exclaim, pulling him into your room to show him what you were doing. "Would this colour look better, or this one?" You held up two different colours, confusing the poor sharpshooter.

"Look better for what?" He asked nervously, his first thought being that you wanted to paint something on a piece of paper.

"My nails!" You beam, showing him your bare nails. "Which colour matches my skin tone better, do you think?"

He blabbers out some kind of response, then points to the (colour) polish in your right hand. You smile and get to work, and he just stands there awkwardly until he sees you actually applying the paint on your nails.

"You just...paint your nails?" He asked, confused on how that would be fun.

"Yep!"

Deciding it was better than being bugged by Luffy, Usopp sat down and just watched you for a few minutes. That's how long it took for him to get bored, but he was too shy to say it.

"So this is why no one sees you for hours on our days off?" He asked, "The reason is way more boring than I thought it would be."

"Hey!" You protested, painting his nose (colour).

Usopp is in between Sanji and the other two. He's not very impatient, but he's not patient either. He will sit there and watch, and get bored, but he won't say anything about it until he either hears someone pass by or has had enough and pretends to cough and come up with another fake illness.

"You know, I have this rare disease called the-smell-is-killing-me-itis, it's pretty contagious so I should just-"

"Sit down," you interrupted him, "Cause I want to paint yours now."

"W-what?! No! Then I'll look like-I mean I'm allergic-"

"Sit down."

[jolalibrary]

knockin’ down a wall

frankie morales x f!reader

frankie is knocking down a wall and you’re… admiring (mature, but no smut) || drabble. unedited. written on my phone.

@msjarvis says; Knocking down walls… maybe during a hot summer day… him wearing a utility belt low on the hips… biceps bulging every time the hammer hit the wall… sweating a whole lot for the effort… and also swearing under his breath a whole lot for the effort… and at the end he lifts the hem of the tank top for messily wiping his forehead.. which consequentially lead to have a peek of his tummy and happy trail……. 🫢 *cough* or also.. you know.. maybe measuring… it sound “safer”.. 😬

It’s hot. Sweltering.

Drops of perspiration collect at the base of your spine as your hand does its best to fan the warmth from your face.

Your ears have stopped ringing.

The dust is settling, resting along the floor as the plastic sheets covering the furniture do their best to put up a fight and not let any seep in. It, like you and him, battling against the suffocation from the increasing temperature.

But, that’s not why your throat is dry. Why you’ve been rendered useless other than grabbing him a drink.

The cause of both of those things is due to the man swallowing water. Droplets running from the glass and cascading down his dirt-covered fingers, trailing a path along his sweat-beaded neck.

Swallowing, your tongue feels heavy, practically double its usual size.

A sudden desperation inside of you to lick the water that’s on his jugular; trace the tip along the vein that keeps pulsating as his chest rises and falls quickly and heavily.

You try to drag your eyes away, but find they hover on a new home. A space where the tool belt is slung at his waist—his beloved tools dusted with remnants of the wall that had come down. The weight of the belt is forcing his trousers to hang a little lower.

It’s why you’re not staring at the rubble, the mess or the ruin, but instead at the showcased curls that lead from his happy trail to a place where you only ever find happiness. Eyes lingering on his waist, on the soft curve of his stomach you’re able to catch a glimpse of—

“You’re staring.”

“I am, Morales. You look…”

“Sweaty?”

Smirking, you flick your eyes up. Just catching him grabbing a fistful of the end of his own t-shirt, tugging it up, groaning into the fabric as he unveils more of his soft stomach, his chest, wiping sweat from his face that stains against the fabric when he lets it drop back into place.

“You look hot.”

His eyes, all brown—round—look to you all shimmering with surprise and a layer of disbelief.

Because he doesn’t know that you’ve not done whatever it is you promised him—your eyes have only been trained on the way his arms flex as he launched the mallet at the wall.

Frankie doesn’t understand that the grunts, hisses and under-the-breath fucks have done nothing but make arousal pool between your thighs.

Licking your lips, you stand, thighs clenched together. “You look good knocking down my wall, Morales.”

Smirking, he wipes his forehead with his forearm, eyes narrowing for a second, before he drops the mallet to the floor—a thud resounding, vibrating out across the room.

“Think you should strip, baby. Too hot for clothes, don’t ya think?”

You blink. Processing. Before you realise his words.

Then, you barely finish nodding before your top is over your head and he’s closing the gap, pulling you flush against him by your hips.

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This was supposed to say "Bad day" but whoops. I'm tired. anywho, this seriesis inspired by some other authors with their own 'Sunshine series' yet my main take was wanting a main character who is a housewife ish and is fed up with their shit. They're all scared of this rabbit shifter because she's put up with them for this long. There's a whole backstory and lore and such if you want me to get into it, but for now here's 'Bay day' lol

Pairing: (Shifterverse) 141 + Keegan + Konig x Rabbit Shifter! Reader

Warnings: Lots of language, mentions of bodily harm.

Words: 1.3k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

Nothing seemed to be going right. 

First, it was a downpour all day, meaning I couldn’t even drive to the farmer’s market since they had announced that they were going to be closed for the weekend since the weather was so severe. 

It also meant that I had to rush outside to the garden in my new, clean, white sundress, getting mud all over it as I hustled the chickens and ducks back into the coop, and ran around gathering all the tomatoes I could find before they split from the excess rain, some of them already splitting as I gathered them into my dress, staining it red and coating it with tomato seeds.

They boys were all on base today, yet weren’t coming home anytime soon both due to the weather and due to the paperwork they were getting held up with from their last couple missions. 

And today was a Sunday, meant to be a relaxing, self-care, pampering day for me, yet here I am, running around like I lost my head. 

I had just started to dry my hair with a kitchen towel before I remembered that there were sheets hanging outside on the line to dry - one of the perks of living with a team I guess, is that even with an industrial washer and dryer, it still didn’t cut the amount of laundry this house went through during the week. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I yelled as I ran back outside, skipping putting on the rainboots and just decided to go barefoot, easily hopping the small gate that kept the animals on the fenced side of the yard. My ears twitched as the rain hit them, and I flattened them against my head as I muttered curses to myself as I tore the sheets off the drying rack and ran back inside, about to toss them into the dryer before I realized my dress had covered them in mud. 

I opened the washer, expecting it to be empty, yet was greeted with the sight and smell of Soap’s mildew-y clothes that have definitely been sitting in the washer for the last two days, unswitched. 

“Motherfucker.”  I hissed as I dropped the sheets on the floor and grabbed a laundry pod and some scent beads, throwing them into the washer and starting his clothes on a hot, heavy washer since half of it was his workout gear. 

I shook my head as I felt some of the water starting to reach my inner ears, causing them to twitch and me to wince and I quickly grabbed a spare cloth and quickly cleaned them out, hating the feeling of water in them. 

I could faintly hear my phone buzzing from upstairs, and I jogged up there only to be greeting with Price’s contact, wanting a voice call.

I answered as I opened the dishwasher, realizing I forgot to start it before I went to bed last night, the pod door still closed tight. 

“Hey love, looks like we might be running even later tonight, there’s a new recruit….” He started as I held the phone between my shoulder and head and tried to start the dishwasher again. 

“What time should I have dinner on the table then?” I interrupted him as he was telling me about how they were going to be training not just one but several new recruits, causing them to be home around eight pm at the earliest. 

“Oh, uh, probably around nine or ten then?” He questioned. 

I just shut my eyes and sighed for a moment, before nodding. 

“I’ll get some stew in the crockpot then, today’s not going too great so I doubt I’ll be up that late.” 

“That’s alright dove, we can just pick up food on the way over.” I heard Ghost’s voice, causing me to pause for a moment. 

“Am I on speaker?” I asked softly. 

“Yeah, we jus’ got out of a meetin’ “ Soap replied. Sounds like everyone was there. 

“I’m implementing a new rule: Set a fucking timer on your phones for your laundry. Next batch that grows mildew in the washer will go into the burnpit.” 

A hushed silence answered me, before I heard a smack! and Soap yelling out. 

That was definitely Gaz. He’s the only one who actually takes care of his laundry on time. 

The washer beeping from downstairs gathered my attention, and I said my round of ‘be safe’ and ‘don’t kill the newbies’ before I hung up and tossed my phone on the couch, only for it to slide off and land on the wooden floor, landing screen-first. 

“Oh that definitely fucking broke.” I sighed, padding over to it and picking it up, wincing as I saw shards of glass left behind on the ground. 

A slew of expletives left me that would’ve left Soap blushing, and I set it face-up on the coffee table and headed downstairs, switching over laundry and starting half of the sheets in the washer before heading back upstairs, and cleaned up the mess my phone made. 

It was around three at this point, so I gathered some thawed meat out of the fridge and some vegetables and went to work putting together and stew for the boys that could be left cooking for the next several hours. Halfway through chopping up the carrots, the dryer buzzed, scaring me enough that I accidentally sliced into my finger instead, causing me to yelp and immediately hold it to myself, using my dress as a pressure dressing as I rushing into the bathroom and yanked out the medkit from under the sink. Only to find it fucking empty. 

I hissed at finding this, heading back into the hallway and pulling open the doors and finding the spare medkit things, disinfecting and wrapping up my fingers. (Turns out I nicked two, not just one.) 

I didn’t bother putting away the items since I knew I needed to refill the medkit anyways, leaving the bloody wrappers and roll of gauze on top of the box.

I headed downstairs, switching laundry again, and set up the drying lines we had in the laundry room for the sheets, carefully setting them up, not noticing spots of blood getting on the edges from my fingers. 

After switching laundry I headed back upstairs, my phone buzzing with an incoming call from Soap, which I didn’t even bother touching as I was not about to get shards of glass into my fingers. 

I finished making dinner, setting it up in the crockpot on medium heat, and didn’t bother cleaning up the kitchen as I collapsed on the couch, about ready to cry my eyes out. 

Instead, I fell asleep, my body exhausted, and about jumped out of my skin when I heard the door open and several voices. 

About thirty minutes had passed, leaving me groggy as shit, blinking sleep out of my eyes as they shuffled inside, dropping off bags of something on the counters as Price made his way to me. 

“I know we’re a little early but-holy fuck, what happened?” He started, causing everyone to immediately stop and head my way, causing me to be crowded by everyone. I could barely keep the tears out of my eyes, explaining that today was just horrible. 

“C’mon, let’s get you out of that dress and into something warm, bun.” Gaz spoke softly to me and Price starting giving instructions to the rest of the boys: Konig and his crew were to take care of the animals and check the perimeter, Ghost was to help with laundry, Soap was on dish duty, Price was going to finish up with putting away the groceries which I later learned were from them going to the farmer’s market ass-early in the morning before the sky opened up to make sure I got what I needed for the week. Keegan took it upon himself to restock the medkit, and helped rebandage my hand as I sat on my bed, Gaz sitting behind me, softly brushing my tangled mess of hair. 

This. This is what a pack was like.

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war, drabble 2: the one where you meet him

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: None, save for some explicit sexual content down the line! This is just a lighthearded series for fun! Think Bridgerton :)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the wait! I dropped this series premiere and academia decided to just become torture from then until basically now! But now I’m a bit more free to get some writing, and hopefully I can get my content consistent again! I’ve missed you all so much. I hope you guys like this drabble! I wrote it in one sitting so I will probably make some edits/additions down the line, you know how it is lol.

Also, if you would like to be put on a taglist for my fics, please comment and I will tag you for each update! Or if you only want to follow specific fics, you can let me know in your comment and I will make individual taglists for each fic :).

Happy Reading,

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

Y/N Y/L/N

“You filled my entire dance card?” you lamented, feeling your resolve crumble as you scanned over the small piece of cardstock paper’s lineup of 20 names, each aligned with a planned piece from the ensemble: Lord Alexis Cuthbert, Mr. Nigel Crawford, The Honorable Geoffrey Wilson… The list included a plethora of noble lords and heirs to either significant corporations or well-respected aristocratic bloodlines.

“That is in accordance with the terms of the deal, yes,” your mother insisted, simpering at you while Daphne hooked long diamond teardrops in your ears, set in gold to match the thick necklace resting on your chest. “There were many house calls made about this specific inquiry, and they were all qualified young men.” By the tone of her voice, you could tell she felt she was doing you a favor.

But truly, meeting a man during a dance was excruciating. There was no respectable escape if the conversation was painfully dry or offensive. All you could do was pray for the ending measure of the music and make a swift exit.

You sighed, turning your attention back to the list: Mr. Jack Morrison, Lord Clarence Abery, The Honorable George Ackland…

“I understand. Thank you,” you surrendered, knowing fully well that there was no changing this list without disrespecting those on it already. You were fortunate that your parents were giving you the freedom to choose your suitor in the first place. Most of your peers had been betrothed since their birth, promised to a relative or a family friend as one half of a smart match.

Mr. Neil Gayton, Lord George Cuross…

You were the Earl of Richmond and founder of TransAtlantica’s only child. That was two inheritances—even if you couldn’t assume all control. Your positions should have locked you into a smart match from the start, but your parents decided to give you a chance at a love match, too. A chance at finding real love just as they did: through a cultivated list of requirements.

As painful and awkward the prospect was, it certainly wasn’t the worst outcome for a woman in your position.

“Lord Ciel Phantomhive?” your eye caught his name before you could properly descend through the list because you couldn’t believe it was there of all places. You knew the Lord Phantomhive to be incredibly private, skipping most if not all social gatherings and public appearances. The public rumored that he guarded his appearance closely because he was one of Her Majesty’s advisors and private investigators. You were most accustomed to seeing his name in stately cursive at the bottom of correspondences with your father and his associates.

“His butler called on his behalf the other day,” Daphne answered for your mother, smiling apologetically for interjecting. “He said he will be attending the charity ball tonight and wishes to meet you.”

“He is more than qualified and interested,” your mother said, “your father has always liked him.”

“Father likes his business strategy, no one knows him,” you answered, letting the dance card fall from your wrist limply. There was no merit in analyzing the names on it— you knew there was no escaping the evening.

Your mother rolled her eyes, unwilling to engage with your technicalities. “Come now. Our guests are trickling in. We should greet them with your father,” she offered her arm to you. You accepted, allowing her to guide you out of the suite with Daphne in tow. Whenever TransAtlantica co-hosted events at the Langham Hotel, your family rented the penthouse to finish preparations without having to make a commute from the estate.

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability. Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability, Ciel Phantomhive reminded himself with every step closer to The Langham Hotel’s grand ballroom, trudging through formalities and tepid greetings in the populated hall leading to it. It was the phrase he used to justify all of this unyielding frustration at each step: listening to Sebastian as he attempted to break down the confounding science of charming a young woman into comprehensible steps, and now, burdening his already-fraught calendar with unnecessary social appearances just to put himself in Lady Y/n’s path.

Unnecessary social appearances such as The British National Society for Aid and to the Sick and Wounded in War’s annual ball in partnership with TransAtlantica—one of many charitable foundations that the shipping company partnered with. TransAtlantica covered the costs of a lavish evening and invited their extensive networks of business moguls and the aristocracy to partake in raffles throughout the formal night. All proceeds went to the medical organization, and all publicity went to the company.

Until this year, Ciel was content with having Sebastian send his regrets to TransAtlantica alongside a hefty donation to maintain goodwill. But now, maintaining goodwill with this corporation and the family behind it would no longer suffice. He needed to make a personal appearance both at the ball and in the middle of Lady Y/n’s dance card. After Y/n cooly rebuffed him after moments of light teasing Sebastian made the appropriate arrangements with one of the maids to put Ciel.

While Ciel was well aware of the stubborn reputation proceeding her, few dared take such a tone with him. And for so little. Defensive, she was! Was it such a crime to be transparent about how it was careless to step onto a street without looking both ways? If Ciel hadn’t saved her at the perfect moment— even if Sebastian orchestrated the timing — she would have been hit!

“Find Lady Y/n when it comes time for your waltz,” Sebastian reminded Ciel as they entered the ballroom, “you are only on her dance card for a single number. The point is that you make a better impression this time.” The bloody butler prodded at Ciel’s lack of romantic finesse— a talent that a sleazy demon might have in surplus. Apparently, approaching her first and taking the time to see himself onto her dance card would prove Ciel’s interest in her.

“And of course, you must remember your apology, sir,” Sebastian’s words were coated in honey, the most obvious tell of his amusement. The prospect of his master having to express his regrets. “You bruised her pride,” he explained.

In response, Ciel sent him a fleeting gaze, heavy with irritation. Exhaustion after hours of coaching and correcting, endless explanations as to why Sebastian insisted that Y/n could never connect with him properly if he failed to acknowledge her grievances.

“I will,” he answered simply, clenching his jaw at the thought of verbalizing anything along the lines of ‘I apologize.’ He never had to apologize for his actions—not ones that were truly malevolent, and certainly not ones that were decently-natured. Although it seemed the exception was for the daughters of incredibly prominent figures whom he needed to charm. So much so that Sebastian had Ciel practice the series of words in front of a mirror.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

The phrase had Ciel’s shoulders relaxing into proper posture, his tense jaw relaxing with reluctance. He took a gradual inhale in, scanning the room for Lady Y/n. He found her in moments, catching her pale green gown and its gold accents shining in the warm chandelier light. She was engaged in a jubilant exchange with the wife of Selwyn Westley, the owner of a prominent watch company.

“Very good, my Lord,” Sebastian chirped, merely watching Ciel build his resolve. He’d seen the Earl tackle a number of more threatening offenses: vengeful angels, homicidal circus clowns, and corrupt monopolists with less agonizing. “There is absolutely no time to waste,” he added in reference to the rest of TransAtlantica’s suitors (they were longshot candidates, at best) as they readied themselves among their own servants. Several men’s eyes lingered on the small dance card that hung from Lady Y/n’s wrist, looking to secure a spot in the moments before the first dance started.

It was that particular thought that had the corner of Ciel’s mouth twisting upwards, satisfied. Courtship could never be left to chance. It was a strategy— a war. How could they hope to defeat him when they couldn’t even manage to get themselves in front of her?

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N

“And that’s when I told him: I think I left them in the carriage!” Inara Johnson laughed riotously, briefly touching your arm as you laughed, mirroring the young woman’s impish grin. She had been recounting a sordid story about her courtship with her husband since it seemed your mother was quite liberal in spreading the word about your season beginning. Even still, Mrs. Johnson was quite a breath of fresh air after you suffered nine suitors trying too hard to impress you.

“I can’t imagine what you could have done without a spare change of clothing!” You managed through laughs, ignoring the pinch in your cheeks after hours of simpering and entertainment. You were only about halfway through the merriment, the orchestra completing a lively movement to start transitioning to the first waltz of the evening.

You only had a few moments to find your next suitor: Lord Ciel Phantomhive.

“I should find my husband for this waltz! I certainly hope you find yours quite soon, my Lady, I’ll be looking forward to your wedding,” she chuckled, parting with you after a playful wink.

“Enjoy the night,” you nodded, unsure of how to start your search for a faceless man as Mrs. Johnson found Mr. Johnson in seconds. He’d only been paces away, engaged with your parents about something you couldn’t quite pick up.

You took another look at your card to ensure that Ciel Phantomhive was indeed your next dance partner, but just as your gaze caught his name again, the man who pulled you from the carriage approached you. The very one that you were content with never laying eyes on again.

“Lady Y/n, just the perfect timing. Were you looking to join this waltz now?” He dared to ask, his sapphire eye just as breathtaking as it had been, his lips turning in the same mildly amused manner. Trying to appear aloof. “Or were you uninterested in sharing your time with the likes of mediocre destitution such as myself?” he asked, repeating the words you threw at him.

Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

You felt your face warm from his attempts as you fashioned your falling expression into a sparking grin. The future-Countess-of-Richmond-grin that you relied on so much. There was no losing your temper in this environment without mortifying your family name.

“Unfortunately, my dance card is full,” you answered with false kindness, feeling the young man see straight through your pleasant deception. That was one of the only lines a young noblewoman had to tell a man to leave her to her lonesome; it was well-known by all of polite society. “Perhaps another time. Though I really do need to find my next—” you started, starting to take a step to walk around him, but he side-stepped in your path.

“—After I saved your life last week, I thought you might find time for a dance,” he interjected, causing the remnants of your Countess smile to falter. “That’s why I had my butler secure this waltz with you.”

Your blood ran cold, your smile finally melting off your face. He couldn’t be…could he? It would only make sense, you supposed. A person astute enough to even impress your father.

“I was scheduled with the Earl of Phantomhive,” you forced yourself to answer placidly. You readjusted your expression, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of visibly surprising you.

“Then you found me already,” Lord Phantomhive replied, all too satisfied. You didn’t even find him! He found you!

You failed to conceal your thoughts, judging by the condescending mirth in his grin. “Shall we?”

. . .

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I— yes, I suppose we shall,” Lady Y/n cleared her throat, despite herself. She laced her arm with Ciel’s as he guided her to the center of the ballroom, more than certain that they were attracting attention, even if most people couldn’t connect his appearance to his name. The very reputation that filled a room enough to substitute his physical presence, most of the time.

Technically, he didn’t have to bow to Y/n because he outranked her, but as Sebastian insinuated, apparently Ciel needed to nurse her shallow pride.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

Taking Y/n’s hand, Ciel led her into the first steps of the waltz. She seemed more interested in studying him than starting a conversation, mechanically following the dance while her mind was elsewhere. He allowed her to dissect the performance he put on for her for a few long moments before speaking.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to extend my sincerest apologies to you, Lady Y/l/n,” Ciel said, visualizing the script that he and Sebastian formulated. He had to make the words seem genuine as if he’d given them enough thought to be considerate, but not so much that he was reciting them. He guided Y/n through a turn, feeling her back tense under his hand.

“I should have helped you find the man who took your things rather than demean you with quips that failed to land,” Ciel continued, taking her continued silence as a bid to continue. His skin crawled at his words, betrayal bristling down his spine. He didn’t apologize. It was fundamentally wrong. And yet, for TransAtlantica, he would. Perhaps this company was the Earl of Phantomhive’s only real love match. “I know I seem far from deserving, but I do hope for your forgiveness. If you give me the opportunity, I hope to show you that I can be,” he continued, fashioning a similar helpless frown that Sebastian used to appeal to frustrated women.

Y/n’s face was unchanged, the same politely engaged expression with clear notes of frustration layered beneath. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy—she was a petulant heiress unused to not having her way with people. She hummed, tilting her head as she took another moment to dissect his expression. The movement caused her long earrings to sway, drawing Ciel’s attention to the length of her neck and the complicated waves she had her hair styled in.

“You should have helped me,” Y/n agreed gruffly. “A proper gentleman would have, after all,” she mused.

Was the apology not gentlemanly enough? Ciel felt it exceeded expectations.

“I would��treasure the chance to prove myself to be a gentleman, then.” He answered, using part of a line Sebastian fed him. The demon did not have any foresight into the future, but after investigating Y/n with the intensity he would look into a criminal with, he had decent intuition regarding how these planned interactions would unfold. Sebastian accurately assumed she wouldn’t accept that apology.

“The chance to prove yourself?” Y/n repeated, her interest piqued at the proposition. Finally—a new emotion on her face besides detached politeness. “That sounds like quite the endeavor, my Lord.”

“It may very well be, should you let me accompany you on a promenade next week,” Ciel answered, watching her face redden. “If you might overlook my…” his mouth was drier than cotton, “deficiencies.”

He nearly choked on the word. Bloody Hell.

“Perhaps I might find time,” Lady Y/n answered, and Ciel’s heart soared for all the right reasons. He had a chance at the corporation, after all. It seemed acting was just as suspiciously close to lying as Sebastian had insisted.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability.

. . .

[amundsenxcook]

okay so because of who i am as a person i obviously have not stopped thinking about the ellsworth poem since i have learned of it. this one:

some things to note:

• "skoal" is norwegian for "cheers". so he‘s literally toasting him with this poem. also it shows that they were very familiar with each other and ellsworth took an interest in amundsens culture and mother tongue.

• it is dated september 3, 1928. a couple of months after amundsens disappearance. this is as much a toast as it is a eulogy. this is probably a good indicator of when ellsworth considered amundsen no longer missing but dead. feeling great and normal about that.

but i wanted to know more!!! in the hopes of finding more context for this poem i tried looking it up but i couldn‘t find anything in relation to ellsworth and/or amundsen. so i tried to find the poem itself. and i did.

ellsworth didn’t write it, it is by none other than famous romantic poet william wordsworth! but this is not where my search ended. because the part that ellsworth quoted is not the full poem.

you see. the full poem is titled „Lines written by Capt. James upon his leaving Charlton Island, where many of his Ship's Crew had died during the winter, which they passed there A. D. 1631-2.“

so of course the question arises: who was this captain james who overwintered in charlton island in 1631-2?

captain thomas james was a welsh captain and explorer and in the years 1631 and 1632 he set out to find the northwest passage. he did not succeed and had to turn back. he wrote a report on it which you can read here on the internet archive.

wordsworths poem was inspired by this tale (some say the ancient mariner was inspired by it as well) and clearly ellsworth put a lot of thought into his choice. chosing a poem about someone looking for the northwest passage to dedicate it to the guy who found it!!!!! man

conclusion: ellsworth did not write the poem for amundsen, but he did carefully choose one that fit him so perfectly, choosing as well the lines which are the most touching and personal.

anyway, here‘s the whole poem below the cut because it’s actually really good and makes me very sad:

I were unkind unless that I did shed

Before I part some tears upon our Dead:

And when my eyes be dry I will not cease

I heart to pray their bones may rest in peace:

Their better parts, (good souls) I know were given,

With an intent they should return to heaven:

Their lives they spent to the last drop of blood.

Seeking God's glory and their Country's good.

And as a valiant Soldier rather dies.

Than yields his courage to his enemies,

​

And stops their way with his hew'd flesh, when death

Hath quite deprived him of his strength and breath;

So have they spent themselves; and here they lie,

A famous mark of our Discovery.

We that survive, perchance may end our days

In some employment meriting no praise,

And in a dunghill rot, when no man names

The memory of us but to our shames.

They have outlived this fear, and their brave ends

Will ever be an honor to their friends.—

Why drop you so mine eyes? Nay rather pour

My sad departure in a solemn shower.

The winter's cold that lately froze our blood.

Now, were it so extreme, might do this good,

As make these tears bright pearls, which I would lay

Tombed safely with you till doom's fatal day:

That in this solitary place, where none

Will ever come to breathe a sigh or groan,

​

Some remnant might be extant, of the true

And faithful love, I ever tendered you.

Oh! rest in peace, dear Friends, and let it be

No pride to say, the sometime part of me.

What pain and anguish doth afflict the head.

The heart and stomach, when the limbs are dead.—

So grieved I kiss your graves, resolved to die,

A Foster-Father to your memory.

[sunny-mercya]

Memento Mori

Clark Kent x Male Reader | Hinted former Ex!Husband!Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

Masterlist

Long afloat on the shipless oceans

I did all my best to smile

The 4th of July wasn't a day to celebrate—hadn't and shouldn't been one anyway—it was a reminder of death and who you have lost.

Rain was something calming, the pitter patter of it—how it taps with a force against the windows and the roof, leaving tactful rhythm behind—and yet at the same time, the rain itself was a cry from the sky above. Crying out and mourning their loss.

Jon jerked awake from his nap, a nap which shouldn't he have done, when the first chorus of thunder strikes through the sky. Rubbing his eyes he took a glance at the greenish numbers of the DVD-Player; 01:30 AM, past midnight already.

Getting up from the couch, Jon strutted into the kitchen, thanking his dads for always leaving small lights on everywhere in the house—darkness wasn't his favourite, even with his superpowers he hated the dark and what was lurking inside the shadows. There was a time, when he was still in Kindergarten, were he has giving his parents—his papa especially—a hard time during both day and night.

A cup of either Chocolate milk or Tea sounded nice, maybe a few cookies with it. Filling the cup with milk, Jon was about to put 3 spoons of the choco-powder in it, but stopped and dropped the spoon—spilling the powder everywhere.

Jon had gotten spooked by his own papa, who sat there outside on the grass in the rain. Jon had to take a double look on the digital watch above the kitchen table, before running towards his dad office. It wasn't the time, it was the current date.

~~~

Jon wrung his hands into his pyjama shirt, getting nervous within the passing seconds and the downpour of the rain, which echoed through the walls off the house, wasn't helping with it.

Jon felt always incredible nerve wracking nervous, whenever he stood in front of his dad office or even had to go inside. It wasn't because of his dad, never. It just was the office itself and Jon never liked it to bother his dad when he was working. Though now he had to and so, without knocking—dad wouldn't hear it anyways, not when he is listening to music—and taking a deep breath, he open the door and stepped inside.

Jon pulled at his dad headphones, giving Clark a scare in the process.

«Papa is sitting outside in the rain and we already have the 5th of July today and you totally missed dinner last night and you didn't do the laundry and also, I think we forgot to bake cake and visit grave yesterday and flowers we didn't buy either and papa is sad, like really sad and and—»

Flabbergasted, Clark needs a moment to process his sons rambling. A bad habit Jon has gotten from him. Though he only needed to hear 5th of July to know whats going on.

Ruffling his sons hair, bringing a stop to the rambling, Clark smiled down at Jon.

«How about you sleep with us tonight? And I'll go and get Papa» said Clark, taking Jons hand and guiding him out of the office and towards their bedroom, before making his way towards the garden.

~~~

Clark ventured through the house and outside into the garden. Ignoring the howling wind and face slapping rain, which soaks him instantly. Only focusing on his husband, only having his focus on you.

Wordless he picks you up, for him—with his super strength—you were are lightweight. Carrying you back inside, debating for a second if Clark should put you onto the couch, but deciding against it and walking up the stairs into the bathroom. Sitting you down onto bench.

The wave of silence, a tense one, still lingers in the room as Clark drys you off—taking off all your clothes, getting a new set of comfortable nightwear from the bedroom—and redressing you and himself.

«You shouldn't sit in the rain so late, love,» said Clark, airy chuckling leaving his lips. Wanting to try and lift the mood just a bit. So Clark, just like his Son before, starts to ramble about his newest report he is writing.

«You forgot.»

Clarks stopped with his talking, upon hearing your voice—which sounded drily hoarse—and how you said it, with such harshly monotony and in a matter of fact tone. He didn't replied right away.

«You forgot.» you repeated, face turning into a frown. Anger showing through your narrowing glare.

«I didn't.» Clark licked over his lips, feeling a dryness over them as he answers you firmly without hesitation in his words.

But that was a lie and the both of you knew this. Clark did forget, he did. Too immersed with his work to take notice of everything else around him.

«Yes, yes you fucking did. Yesterday, 4th of July, was our son death-day and you forgot about! We didn't even visit the graves, because you forgot about it!» your voice rose an octave higher within the last sentences. Anger now clearly prominent in your feature.

You didn't want to have an argument, even when they are sometimes unavoidable, to erupt into a shouting with Clark—had enough of those with Bruce back then, when the both of you were once married. Hateful and nasty they were—but Clark knew how important this was.

Guilt gnawed at Clarks soft felt heart, weighting it down with heaviness. He knew how important the 4th of July was for you, what that day means to you, knew the past and present connected to it.

Not only have you lost Conner—his death still recent, even when one year has passed already—on this day, but Jason as well—who you had lost years ago, when you were still married with Bruce—and who was also your son, part of a family, your family.

A once fondest happiness in your life and now a memory you held dear.

You still grieved hard over Jason death and with Conners death now, you had pressure on you which would lead to collapse soon.

Clark sighed, taking your hands and pulls you up. Engulfing you into his strong arms, which emits a instant suction of protectiveness, into a loving hug.

«I know that I forgot about it and I'm sorry love.» he mumbles into your ear, leaving gentle kisses all over your face. Picking you up, he carries you into the bedroom.

~~~

When Clark enters the bedroom with you in his arms, he saw that Jon was still wide awake, giving them a worried glance.

Clark gave his youngest a tiny weariness smile. Laying you down into the middle of the bed, Jon goes straight into your arms as Clarks lays himself down behind you. Hugging both, you and Jon to him.

«Do you want to visit the graveyard tomorrow, I mean today?» asked Clark and when you weakly nodded, he kissed the top of your head. Humming some song, while Jon sleepily rambles about some cartoons till he falls into dreamland

Say, if I only could, I'd make a deal with God.

And I'd get him to swap our places

[ageingfangirl2]

A Reason To Come Back! Shanks (OPLA) Part 2

Reader is a mermaid who washed up close to death in Luffy's village and made a home for themselves. Shanks comes back and tries to convince y/n to join his crew. Shanks x Female Reader.

Part 1

Y/N

'Then join my crew!' Shanks said in a carefree manner.

That was four months ago, you didn't quite believe Shanks would go through with his promise, so you said yes.

After that first meeting, you went back to the tavern with Shanks to meet the rest of his crew, after stopping at your house to get some dry clothes. Shanks had so many questions about mermaids just like Luffy did and you tried to answer all of them. Maybe Luffy was right about him being a good guy, he gave off the vibe of someone you could trust but wouldn't want to cross.

You were nervous meeting the rest of his crew since pirates were primarily male, but they quickly put you at ease and were amazed at just how much booze you could put away, turns out that was a pro of being a mermaid. One of the newer crew tried to hit on you and it was then you revealed apparently what Shanks suspected when he heard you laugh, and that was your ability to compel. Let's just say the rest of the crew would never let the guy live down the humiliation you put him through.

Before he went to bed Shanks told Luffy of the promise he'd made to you. At first, the boy was upset that you wouldn't be joining his crew but was happy you'd both be pirates one day.

It did feel nice to let loose, laugh and have fun around others. And Shanks kept his eye on you the whole night. Maybe returning to the sea one day might just happen for you. You sketched a rough drawing of the jolly roger you'd seen during your escape, and it turned out Shanks and his crew didn't like that crew already so were all on board to help you.

During those four months, you kept yourself busy, fishing, helping around the village and keeping an eye on Luffy. You also had started putting things aside in case Shanks kept his promise and you had to join his crew which didn't seem that bad.

Today you'd just finished swimming and were returning to your house when you saw a familiar red-haired pirate sitting on your porch.

'SHANKS!' you call out.

SHANKS

I should have known y/n wouldn't be at home. They weren't in town when we arrived so I assumed they were swimming in the cove. Other than Luffy and myself no one else had been to the cove to see her mermaid form, it was her private space.

'SHANKS!' y/n calls out.

I look up to see the red-haired girl walking up the path towards me smiling and dripping wet. It was very unusual to see someone with the same hair colour as myself but y/n explained mermaids either got the colour from their mother or father or could get a mixture of both but y/n got her mother's red hair and tail.

I stand up and embrace y/n, who hugs me back. She was a lot smaller than me, but that didn't mean you should underestimate her, 'I told you I'd come back. You get younger each time I see you.'

y/n blushes at the compliment and playfully shoves me back, 'How old do you think I am Shanks?'

My face drops, this was a trap women liked to set to trip men up, 'err I don't know maybe early twenties.'

y/n grins, 'Such a charmer, we're the same age Shanks, mermaids just age slower and appear more youthful.'

I was shocked by her answer but also relieved. I said the early twenties to not sound awful when y/n could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. At least we wouldn't have a kid on the crew with us.

'I didn't come to ask your age y/n, I came because I have something for you.'

y/n tilts their head and their eyes widen, 'what do you have for me? How's the arm by the way? Still getting used to only having one?'

Before leaving last time I'd lost my arm rescuing Luffy. I had no regrets and would do it again. It was tough but I was slowly adapting.

'Some days are harder than others but it will take time,' I reply honestly.

I reach behind me and under my cloak pull a wrapped-up piece of black fabric before handing it to y/n. y/n slowly unwraps the fabric and gasps loudly.

'You did it Shanks...this is the jolly roger I saw...thank you...' y/n stumbles over their words, tears pricking their eyes, 'what happened?'

It warmed my heart to see her get happy and emotional staring at the flag belonging to the ship that killed her family, 'they had a lot of enemies, and my crew simply pinned them against each other until they were no more. You're free to return to the sea y/n.'

y/n puts the flag down and throws themselves at me, causing me to grunt at the sudden impact but y/n wasn't that heavy so I was able to catch her as she hugged and clung onto me, 'you kept your end up so I'll keep mine, looks like I'm joining your crew Shanks.'

I laugh and put y/n down, 'Welcome to The Red Hair Pirates. I think you'll fit in nicely.'

It turned out that y/n was already packed, ready for the day to arrive. The rest of the crew and Luffy were waiting at the tavern, so we headed down there with y/n's belongings.

'I'M GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH Y/N!' Luffy shouts in y/n's face as soon as we enter the tavern, but y/n simply smiles and ruffles his hair not fazed by the loudness.

'I'm going to miss you more,' y/n replies and squeezes his cheek.

I clear my throat behind them and they both look up at me, 'What about me Luffy, won't you miss me?'

Luffy grins like an idiot, 'Of course, I'll miss you Shanks, you made me want to become a pirate but how many mermaids am I going to meet in my life?'

y/n sniggers, 'and since I'm now a pirate mermaid I guess you're number two in his eyes Shanks or should I say, captain.'

I roll my eyes but embrace the situation. Things were going to be a lot more interesting with y/n on the crew.

[nhl-stories]

hornylovesickmess – Nico Hischier

Summary: Marie should know better by now, knows she should leave him alone, but Nico's like a drug. One more hit can't hurt.

Author’s Note: Almost a year to the day I finally finished this album series. Phew! Also lol to me thinking I'd have the motivation to finish it in 10 weeks. Seems clear from the title but it does get steamy below.

Word Count: 2.6k

Album Series Masterlist

And I don't wanna be the type of person who calls you up Every time I need to get off

The view from her hotel room is taunting her. It’s sunny and bright on the Hudson River, reflecting off the buildings of the New York skyline.

Most people wouldn’t be too upset about being put up in a nice hotel and having 48 hours free in close proximity to the city, but Marie had moved away for a reason.

And still part of her is stuck here, even at a 4-star hotel minutes away from Newark airport.

So, she does what she does best and gives into her baser instincts.

She’s no stranger to crafting the perfect sext, keeping it tantalizing and teasing enough while still giving her location. Like an eloquent ‘u up?’

Marie hits send before she can second guess herself.

She shouldn’t be reaching out to him, grabbing for that loose thread and pulling for her own selfish reasons. But she’s been lonely since the move and in all honestly, just plain horny.

Nico almost swallows his tongue when he opens the text.

At first glance a simple picture of the New York skyline, but at second glance the reflection of a naked woman comes into view.

It might as well be Marie’s calling card.

He regrets opening the text in the locker room.

“What the hell has you that red Neeks?” Bastian calls from his stall.

He can feel the blush getting darker.

“The last time you looked like that was because of that flight attendant,” Bratter calls out.

When he doesn’t respond balls of tape come flying his way with a chorus of groans.

“It’s not like I texted her first!”

“You never text her first,” Jack rolls his eyes.

“I’m not texting her back.”

“Block her number while you’re at it,” Bratt responds.

Nico stashes his phone away and mostly forgets about the text.

||||

She checks her phone for about the fifth time during drinks with her friends. She knows what they’re thinking, but they’re not gonna say it.

It’s especially kind of them since Nico hasn’t responded. Even though he’s the type of guy to have read receipts on, so she knows he looked at her message.

Her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket so fast she fumbles it, dropping it on the bar. Her friend snatches it up and laughs.

“It’s a notification from Postmates, you have coupon.”

Marie feels herself flush, embarrassed to be caught like some kind of junkie waiting for their next hit.

“Jesus Christ, just go get laid! You’re unbearable when you’re wound this tight. It’s not even worth the catch up.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I haven’t had sex in months. See you on my next layover.”

“Unless you’re still jonesing for that Jersey dick!”

“It’s Swiss,” Marie sticks her tongue out.

She waves down a cab, and she should give the address to her hotel, but she’s in some sort of horny fugue state. Why go back and masturbate at her hotel thinking about him when she knows his address?

Before she knows it, she’s at his door fixing her hair and trying to lean seductively against the doorframe. Maybe she’s lost her mojo during her recent dry spell.

She knocks before she loses her nerve.

Marie hears someone lumbering along around on the other side of the door. Nico finally answers the door; shirtless with a pair of gray sweats low on his hips, hair flopping about like he just woke up.

Her mouth goes dry at the familiar sight, or maybe she salivates, or somehow both at the same time. She feels so out of sync with her hormones.

But she knows she wants, scratch that, needs.

“Thought maybe the picture just didn’t do the real thing justice,” she smirks even though she kind of wants to grimace at the cheesy line.

“I was trying to let you down easy,” he’s trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well, here I am, easy and ready to be let down on your bed.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. She can practically see his willpower crumbling piece by piece.

“C’mon, I haven’t been with anyone else since Denver.”

She dares to reach out, running a finger from his collarbone down, down, down, until Nico grabs her wrist.

“Just–“ he yanks her into the apartment, “get in here.”

Marie is flush against his chest now, she smirks, “that’s more like it.”

“Your picture got me in trouble in locker room, the boys think you’re no good for me.”

“Do you want me to be good for you?” She roughly grabs him through his sweatpants.

“I don’t think you could be if you tried,” he ruts against her palm.

She gentles her touch in response, she wants to be good, for Nico at least.

Marie can’t make eye contact now. If she looks up all the guilt of coming here after she promised herself she’d stop will come rushing back. She doesn’t have time for that when she can feel him hardening in her hand.

So, she closes her eyes and kisses him. Lets her tongue explore his mouth. Lets Nico manhandle her towards the bedroom. A path she’s too familiar with even with her eyes closed.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes until she’s flat on her back and hears Nico rummaging in the bedside table. As he comes back up with a condom, Marie works on the too many layers of clothes she’s still wearing.

He rolls on the condom and strokes himself slowly, “Is this you being good?”

Marie spreads her thighs and bites her lip, holding back demands for him to get on with it.

He pushes her legs even farther apart and nearly drapes himself over her. One finger runs up her slit, feeling how slick she is with desperation, he sucks the finger into his mouth and Marie can’t hold on any longer.

“Please, fuck, please,” she grapples for his shoulders anything to anchor her in the moment.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to push in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Marie gasps at the sudden intrusion, familiar as it is.

He sets an agonizingly slow pace, making her feel every unbearable movement without getting her any closer to her climax.

“C’mon Nico, give it to me,” she whines and clenches around him, trying to egg him on.

But it doesn’t deter him from his mission to tease her death, maybe it’s punishment for how she’s treated him.

She tries to move her own hips for more friction and still Nico keeps with his slow and steady pace.

Marie grabs his hair and makes him look at her, “I swear to god, if you don’t start really fucking me, I’m gonna explode.”

The evil little smirk he gives her, makes her stomach swoop.

“I knew you couldn’t stay good.”

“If being bad means I’ll have an orgasm, I guess I’m the devil,” she pulls him in for a kiss that’s probably too much tongue and teeth but she doesn’t care.

Then Nico takes her by surprise, flipping her onto all fours in such a fluid movement she already feels closer to coming. And that’s before he starts railing her from behind. The slap of skin and pornographic squelching fills the silence in the room.

Marie has lost all her witty words, can barely get enough air to make noises beyond tiny gasps. Nico knows exactly where to thrust, how to grip her hips, tweak her nipples, reach between her thighs and rub her clit. It’s too much, to have your body read like a book.

She clenches around him when she’s almost over the edge and feels him release, one hand tightening so hard on her hips it might bruise.

He blankets his body over her back, kissing her shoulders while he continues to rub her clit, buried deep inside her.

Her arms give out when she finally comes, her body singing with pleasure. Nico’s weight heavy on her, but she can’t bring herself to move him, it all feels too good.

She doesn’t remember when they move apart, or if they clean up at all, or if she peed afterward, she really hopes she at least did the last one. Still, she’s in hazy bliss before she’s rudely awoken from her dream-like state by her alarm obnoxiously ringing, too loudly at that.

She has to get out of the bed to find her phone her jeans pocket.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” she swears before having to put her clothes back on.

Nico’s alarm starts going off now. He sits up to see Marie half-dressed already.

“Of course,” he sounds so disappointed.

“I have a flight to catch and I still have to get my uniform and pack my suitcase.”

“Sure,” he sighs as he starts to get out of bed himself.

She probably deserves this, scratch that she knows she deserves this, but doesn’t mean she won’t defend herself.

“It’s a 9:30 Newark to DFW, look it up” she knows her shirt is inside out but that’s how late she is as she calls an Uber.

“Thanks for last night,” she gives Nico a quick kiss and leaves before he can respond.

Of course, when the elevator opens, Jack is the one standing on the other side, with an exhausted looking boy next to him. It’s probably his brother, Marie’s brain supplies the small Devils knowledge she has.

“That fucking idiot.”

“I showed up here, the blame is on me,” Marie holds her hands up in surrender.

“But the inside shirt and messed up hair is probably on him.”

“Probably can mostly blame me for that too, I know you want to.”

The look of disgust on his face makes that very clear.

Thankfully, the elevator door opens before the torture can continue.

||||

Marie goes back to rebuilding her resolve. She was trying to quit him cold turkey, not mess up Nico’s perfect little world again.  But she couldn’t resist one more hit of her favorite drug.

Still, the universe isn’t making it easy for her to stay sober.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Marie and her coworkers all jump at the exclamation. When she turns around there’s Jack Hughes.

Nico is nowhere to be seen, so Marie is sure she can get away without making much of a scene.

“Of all the hotels in a city with multiple airports…” Jack doesn’t seem amused at her response, “I’m just as surprised as you, sorry the universe is clearly playing a sick joke on us.”

She runs off to her room before she has a chance encounter with Nico. Begs off from dinner plans with her coworkers. Masturbates in the shower in hopes of taking the edge off.

She’s wound up like a rubber band knowing Nico is so close.  For all she knows, there’s only a wall separating them right now.

And of course, she gives in, because Marie is a fiend and a rotten person. How can she resist when the world laid it out on a platter like this.

She hopes he’s stronger than her and doesn’t respond, but she texts him regardless: I have it on good authority we’re in the same hotel

Marie can barely put her phone down before she gets a response.

Yeah for someone who doesn’t want me interacting with you Jack was quick to gossip

She can hear his tone through the words, hear his husky laugh at his own joke. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing her heart. Makes her act out of character.

Wanna get dinner or drinks or something?

Marie from a few months ago would be nauseous at this kind of proposition, but her present-self feels like she owes Nico… something different.

So, she finds herself tucked into a corner booth at some restaurant Nico says he’s been to before.

And she laughs at his jokes. Brushes her hand over his. Turns a bit soppy looking into his warm brown eyes.

And she knows she made a mistake.

But still, she holds his hand as they walk back to the hotel; swaying back and forth, a little wine-drunk.

Marie walks him to the door like she’s some sort of gentleman at the end of a first date, they both know the connotations are anything but gentlemanly.

“This was nice,” she smiles up at him.

“If you were still in Jersey, we could have nights like this all the time,”

That should deflate her a bit, but she’s made it too far for it to end here with some serious conversation, so she reaches into his pocket to grab his room key and unlock the door, shoving him into the room.

She kisses him, hard and needy. She desperately wants her lips everywhere. She follows that train down his jaw.

“Clearly you want this kind of thing too, or you wouldn’t come crawling to me anytime we’re in the same place,” his hands are bunching up the skirt of her dress.

She bites down on his neck, a little meaner than she should. But it gets him going enough to throw her onto his bed. Her underwear is gone and a finger is pushing into her before she can make any moves.

A second and third are soon to follow. The pressure from his thumb on her clit is enough to make her throw back her head and enjoy the intoxication.

His other hand cups her jaw, makes her open her eyes and look at him.

“This is all I wanted, but you had to be a brat who let me find out you moved by showing up to your empty apartment,” he stops moving his fingers, stops using any pressure.

“I apologized for that,” she whines, desperate and uncaring.

“Did you?” He crooks his fingers just so.

“I gave you a blow job,” Marie grits out.

He raises his brows while he pulls out, leaving her feeling emptier than ever before.

“Fuck.”

The realization crashes over her harder than any orgasm ever could.

She scrambles off the bed throwing on her underwear and grabbing her phone.

“I’m deleting your number.”

“What?”

“I moved to a city that doesn’t even have a hockey team to stay away from you and that’s not even working.”

“You moved because of me?” The crease between his brow is like a canyon.

“You wanted more and I knew I wasn’t– I’m not in a place to give that to you, but fuck! Whatever I’m doing now– I’m just being cruel, aren’t I?”

“I’m not exactly turning you away.”

“Doesn’t mean I should keep using you,” tears she wasn’t expecting start to well up, “Nico you’re worth a lot more than a quick fuck from a flight attendant who happens to be in the same zip code as you.”

Nico just stares at her and Marie knows she has to be the bigger person here.

“You should block me on everything too, don’t give me a way to weasel my way back in.”

Once she’s dressed, she moves towards Nico, moves a strand of hair off his forehead.

She feels like she should say something meaningful, but this isn’t that kind of relationship; Marie made sure of that when she scorched the earth behind her when she left.

She kisses him one last time and hopes she’ll be able to find her next hit in someone else.

[thatssomuchlove]

Fic-o-Ween Day 1

For Fic-o-Ween 2024 put on by @noots-fic-fests! All characters by @lumosinlove

The first (and hopefully not only) chapter inspired by the Mafia AU invented on the Hazelnoot discord server:

Sitting on the couch in his apartment living room, Leo was interrupted from struggling not to let his eyes skip lines during a very suspenseful moment in his book when he heard a loud crash from the kitchen. He jumped up and swung around the door jam to see all his nice pans on the floor…again.

His roommate looked up at him with wide eyes from where he stood by the coffee maker, “I swear I didn’t touch it!”

Leo sighed, “It’s not your fault, Finn. That rack keeps falling down because apparently these wall anchors do not hold their advertised weight!” He huffed. The cabinet space in their tiny New York apartment was abysmal, so hanging up his pans like they do in those fancy kitchens with marble counters or copper detailing seemed like the best option.

“Could also be these shitty walls,” Finn chirped and tapped the wall behind him.

“Yeah, that too,” Leo returned Finn’s grin and could tell he was also thinking about how well they can hear the music from the online Zumba class that one of their neighbors attends religiously. “I’m just going to have to get a stud finder at the hardware store. You have a drill, right?” Finn grimaced and shook his head. “Then a drill set, too.”

Finn clapped a hand on his shoulder as he brushed by with his travel mug, “I would offer to go with, but I’m headed into the office.”

“What? Finn, it’s Saturday.”

“A journalist never rests!” And he was out the door.

Leo looked at the small tear through the dry wall from the anchor being ripped out forcefully and sighed again. He stacked his pans on a clear spot on the counter and went to collect what he needed for a walk to the hardware store.

~

The bell on the door jingled overhead as Leo entered the shop. The closest one he could find on maps seemed to be a family-run place without much information on the page at all—just the open hours and a handful of reviews, no website or pictures of the inside. Leo would have to agree with kathybee309, it was surprisingly warm and inviting as soon as he stepped inside. He couldn’t see the check-out counter from the door, but clear, handwritten indices at each aisle directed Leo to the stud finders. He was holding two options in his hands, trying to think of a reason he shouldn’t just get the cheapest one, when a soft voice spoke up to his right.

“Are you finding everything you need?”

Leo noted an accent and looked up quickly only to almost drop what he was holding. The employee that spoke to him was decently shorter than him and had a combination of curly chocolate hair, bright green eyes, and prominent muscles—truly the way his heavy apron cinched around his waist and barely covered the width his denim-wrapped thighs was criminal—that had Leo a bit weak at the knees. “Umm, hi, yeah I think I’m um good,” he stammered. “Just,” a nervous laugh, “trying to decide.” Leo held up the stud finders and tried to make his smile friendly and not as painfully awkward as he currently felt.

The store employee walked closer to him and examined the options in his hands before meeting his eyes again. At this distance Leo could read his nametag: Logan. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, I’m just trying to hang up my pans. The darn wall rack keeps falling out, so I decided to go a little more heavy duty than dry wall anchors.” He held up one of the stud finders and tried to joke, “need some studs.” Logan gave him a smile, small and breathtaking.

“Well, they’ll both work for that, but this simpler one should be sufficient,” Logan tapped his finger on the cheaper one. Yeah, Leo would say that they were working just fine considering the person in front of him. “Is that all?”

“Yep,” Leo nodded, no thoughts in his brain.

“Trés bon, you can follow me back to check out.” Logan jerked his head back the way he had come and started down the aisle. Leo hurriedly put the other stud finder back and trailed after Logan, almost tripping when he noticed the way his ass moved in those tight jeans. He kept his eyes fixed on the back of Logan’s head for the rest of the short walk to the register.

It wasn’t until Leo had closed his apartment door behind him that he realized that he completely forgot about the drill. He leaned against the door and cursed quietly. At least this time he would be prepared for the hardware store hottie and maybe not make quite as big of a fool out of himself.

~

He had decided to give it a day, with the hope that Logan would not be working so that he could avoid further embarrassment. The other half of his brain really wanted to see the hot employee again, convinced that this time he would be able to successfully flirt.

“This is a terrible idea,” Leo murmured under his breath as he rounded the sidewalk and came upon the beautifully carved dark red-brown doors set into the corner of the building.

He beelined to the drill section upon entering and luckily didn’t have as much trouble choosing this time. He came from a Milwaukee household. His eyes bugged out a bit when he saw the prices, “Jesus, that’s expensive.” Good thing his new job paid pretty well.

“We actually have a sale going for those right now.” Leo jumped at the voice behind him and turned to see a familiar, unfairly handsome face.

“Logan, hi,” Leo recovered quickly and came to the conclusion that he would have been far more disappointed to not see Logan today.

“I feel a bit at a disadvantage with you knowing my name when I don’t know yours.”

“Oh lord, where are my manners? My name’s Leo,” and he reached out to shake Logan’s warm, callused hand. He couldn’t squash the urge to explain himself, “I realized yesterday that a stud finder is a little useless without a drill and screws .”

Logan turned to the opposite shelves and scanned them for a second before picking up a box of screws. “These should work well for dry wall and studs.”

Leo offered a winning smile, “What would I do without you?” and took the box from Logan, quite possibly deliberately brushing their fingers together.

Logan looked up at him for a beat too long before stepping back. He cleared his throat, “Just doing my job. Do you need anything else?”

After taking a quick survey of what was in his hands—drill, drill bits, screws—Leo responded, “nope,” and followed Logan to the counter. In effort to keep the conversation going as Logan was ringing him up, he commented, “the front doors are gorgeous.”

“Merci. That was a long project, but one of my favorites. I can’t stand painted front doors.”

Leo chuckled, “Neither can my mama.” He looked behind him in the direction of the front of the store, “I can’t believe you made them,” turning back to look at Logan again, “y- that’s incredible.”

He was rewarded with another small smile, but this one had a tinge of something sad, “Oh I didn’t do them on my own. I was mainly helping my father. This whole store was his passion project.”

“Hell of a successful passion project, I bet I’d be astonished to see what he could accomplish with his day job!”

Logan’s smile twisted confusingly wry, “His day job wasn’t as important to him,” then that same sadness again, “But we’ll never really know what all he could have done, he passed several years ago.”

Trying to temper his shame of talking with Logan about his dead father with the fact that Logan brought him up, Leo erased the shock off his face and brought one hand up to squeeze Logan’s shoulder, “I’m sure he feels at peace knowing you are carrying on the legacy of what he loved.”

“Well, he’s not the only legacy-carrier, are you Lo Bear?” a voice called, and a young woman emerged from the back. Leo dropped his hand. If he hadn’t already guessed that they were related from her statement, he would have known just by looking at her. They could have been twins, but her green eyes were piercing through him where Logan’s were a warm, solid weight.

Logan, with color on his cheeks, huffed, “Leo, this is my sister Noelle.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Noelle.”

“Likewise,” she cocked her head at him. “What brings you here this fine Sunday morning?”

“Oh, just trying to hang stuff up in my kitchen. Not enough cabinet space.”

“An eternal struggle in Gryffindor.”

Leo chuckled, “Yeah, I’m finding that out.”

“Did you move here recently?”

“Yes, actually I moved here only a few months ago.”

“For a job?”

Leo was starting to get slightly unnerved by the accuracy of her guesses but tried not to let it show, “yes ma’am.” Logan had finished putting his things into a bag and pushed it his way while glaring at his sister. He looked between the siblings for a second before politely saying, “well I’ll let y’all get back to work. It was nice to see you again, Logan.”

Logan turned back to him and his gaze softened, “come back any time, Leo.”

~

As soon as Logan heard the sound of the door swinging shut behind Leo, Noelle jumped up and hastily looked around the store, but it was empty. She turned back towards Logan, who furrowed his brows at her.

“Thank god I was here today. You need to be more careful, Lolo.”

“Quoi?” Logan looked around in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are Jackson and Evgeni here?”

“Ouais, of course. What’s going on?” Logan’s eyes started darting around the store and his fingers gravitated towards the handgun strapped to the underside of the counter.

“Nothing right now.” Noelle flashed him a quick smirk, “I thought you were just flirting with a customer and wanted to come out and see, but then I got a good look at him. The tall blond cutie pie is not what he seems, he’s the newest detective on the Gryffindor police force.” At Logan’s wide eyes, she tacked on, “Ouais, the ones who would have us in handcuffs if they even so much as caught a whiff of what’s going on.”

“Merde,” Logan breathed out. While he wouldn’t have pegged Leo as a cop in a million years, he could see how his underlying air of quiet confidence would make him an effective detective. Still, he seemed too genuine to be at the shop secretly sniffing around for a case, and Logan had a good bullshit detector, “I will be more careful, Noelle, but I don’t think that’s why he was here.”

“I trust you, Logan, just don’t let that pretty smile blind you.” Noelle ruffled his hair and stepped back, “I’m gonna head back to Maman’s. I love you.”

“I love you too, Nolly.” Logan waved goodbye and waited until she was out of sight before he sat down with a loud exhale, running a hand through his hair.

He wished that knowing Leo was, in essence, his enemy had halted his fantasies about the man altogether, but it had unfortunately and predictably only intensified his desire. It was unusual for him to feel a connection with someone so quickly, without really knowing them at all, but Leo was special somehow, just like… Logan shook his head.

Why was such a seemingly sweet guy working for such a corrupt system? Why did Logan have the urge to trust him anyway? He opened his laptop and set to find out everything that he could about Leo, the new detective at GPD, for his family’s safety, of course.

[jadewritesficshere]

Scents

Alpha!Steve Harrington x Omega!Reader

Synopsis: You come home smelling of another alpha.

Contents: territorialness (is that even a word well it is now), does this count as a hurt/comfort?, A/B/O dynamics

18+ only

You yawned as you opened the door to the house. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. You still had the nest from when you had presented. You knew some Omegas would only build one during their heat then dismantle it after. You had just been so busy, besides it was kind of nice being tucked in and cosy.

You heard some clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. You peer around the doorway as you take off your shoes. Steve was putting dishes away that had been drying on the drying rack. "Hi Stevie," you say quietly as you slowly step into the room.

Steve turns and smiles a wide smile at you," Hey-" Steve pauses as he inhales. Steve's body becomes tense and he stands up taller. Steve takes a step closer to you," What is that?" "Huh?"

"What. Is. That?" Steve frowns, nose twitching slightly. Your normal scent of honey and nutmeg was hard to smell over the scent that was assaulting his nose. It smelled of smoke and cinnamon.

Steve's heart beat faster. It would smell okay except that's not your scent. And it definitely wasn't Steve's, though he has been told he had a hint of cinnamon before. No...Someone else's scent was all over you. Another alpha's scent.

Steve's jaw clenched. A low growl escaped him before he could hold it back that caused your eyes to widen. He cleared his throat and his hand shot up to rub at his nose. He trusted you. He did! But this wasn't the first time someone had left him and came back reeking of another's scent.

Steve couldn't help but feel his heart sink. He had tried giving you time after you presented so you wouldn't feel like the only reason he liked you was because you were an omega. He wanted to kick himself for not telling you sooner. Steve was hurt that you had someone else's scent on you, parading around without a care.

Your eyes looked wide and innocent at him. You poked his stomach," What is what?" Steve batted your hand away and glared, making you pout. Steve's scent was rolling off him, strong and...annoyed? Your nose and brow wrinkled in confusion. "That!" Steve snarls as he gestures at all of you.

Your mouth drops open slightly before looking down at yourself. You looked fine. You had on your jeans and your work shirt and- oh. Your coworker Heather had given you her jacket because a customer spilled their drink on you. You hadn't thought about the fact that Heather was an alpha. Or how Steve would take it.

"Oh crap, Steve I-," you cut yourself off, inhaling and exhaling shakily. You felt bad. You could tell Steve was upset from his stance. He was tense and looked ready to bolt or fight any second. His smell had bloomed with hurt, not annoyance. Well, maybe a hint of annoyance. A pit settled in your stomach at the thought of hurting Steve.

You fumble with the zipper in your speed to take the jacket off," Fuck! My shirt got wet and became see through. Heather gave me her jacket to cover up." You hastily pull it off, thankful that your shirt has since dried. You hesitate with what to do with the jacket for a second before tossing it onto a chair.

Steve stood there, jaw clenching and unclenching. He had multiple voices in his head yelling at him. The first was how badly he wanted his scent on you. How no other alpha should have their scent on you. The second was how he was thankful Heather had helped you cover up. Heather seemed like a good friend (albeit thats all he wanted Heather to be. A. Friend.). The third was how he had no right to get upset as you were your own person and he had no claim to you- you were not mates. Even if you were mates, you would still be your own person. But Steve hadn't gotten the guts to ask you out yet.

You bit your lip as your anxiety rose. Steve hadn't said anything. You both were just standing and staring at each other. You don't intend for the whine to come out. The sad noise that does escape before you can cut it off snaps Steve out of his thoughts.

He takes two steps and envelopes you in his arms. "Shit, no. I'm being a dick." Steve exhales shakily as he holds you flush to him. "No you're not. Just being an Alpha." You mumble into him, as you lean closer to his neck to smell his scent. "Still. I shouldn't...you aren't..." Steve doesn't know how to vocalize his thoughts.

You aren't his omega. He knows he shouldn't be jealous or territorial. Steve doesn't want to pressure you. Steve simultaneously wants to yell at Heather to back off.

Steve sighs," You aren't my omega- not that I'd own you! We just...aren't together. I'm sorry I-" "What if I was?" "I should- what?" You pull back to look Steve in the face. "What if I was...your omega?"

The silence that filled the air was thick. You felt like you couldn't breathe because of the anxiety welling up in you. You felt like your heart could burst out of your chest. What if he didn't agree? What if he didn't like you snd you had been seeing what wasn't there? What if-

"I'd love that!" Steve grinned wildly at you. He felt overjoyed as he pulled you back into another hug," I would love to be your alpha. More your boyfriend but-" "I thought that was kind of implied?" "Well, you know what assuming does."

Steve shifts his hold on you, not so subtly rubbing his wrist on your neck and shoulders. He was leaving his scent on you, a sign for others to back off. A happy trill left you to which Steve hums happily in response. You know a dopey grin was spread across your face as Steve rubbed his scent all over you.

You know the scent rolling off you is strong, same as Steve. You don't notice it however until the front door slams open and the conversation between Robin and Eddie stops. You turn to look at the doorway as Eddie exaggeratedly coughs. Eddie coughs and grabs at his throat, falling to the ground as Robin stares at how close you snd Steve are.

"The smells...the-" Eddie throws his tongue out of his mouth and plays dead, causing you to giggle (and feel slightly embarrassed). Robin sniffs at the air and shrugs," I mean I can sorta smell it. But it ain't that bad you idiot." Robin nudges Eddie with her foot before stepping over him and coming to you to, "Y'all smell nice."

You lay your head on Steve's shoulder snd hum. "Wait who's jacket is that?" Robin picks up the jacket. Eddie sits up and sniffs it slightly," is that Heather's?" "Yup. She let me wear it after an accident earlier." You shrug as Eddie gets up. "So that's why Steve's all over you," Eddie says smugly. "Yeah. Thats also why we're dating now." Steve pulls you closer to him.

A chorus of congrats, along with some teasing, occurs. You can't help but smile. You feel safe and warm. With your new boyfriend and your pack. You reek of Steve's scent mingling with your own, but you wouldn't have it any other way

[wannabanauthor]

I need a BuckTommy fic where they tell each other about how their crushes on each other started

Tommy could say "The moment you put your hand on my shoulder and smiled at me, I was a goner."

Buck smiles. "Your dry humor during the helicopter ride did me in. That and the fake mouth static. I just remember wanting to be your friend so badly."

"Babe, it took you almost two weeks to call me after we first met. You had me wondering if I imagined that shoulder touch because I for sure thought you might be interested," Tommy says.

Buck blushes. "It took me that long to work up the courage. Plus, had I known you were gallivanting around with Eddie that entire time, I would have called sooner. Did you know he asked me to babysit right after telling me that you and him were doing karaoke trivia?"

Tommy shrugs and grins. "It's Eddie. Besides, he is the main reason we're together now."

"That was actually Christopher. He had been dropping hints for days to his dad that you and I would make such good friends and that he should encourage us to hang out more. I don't think his reasoning behind it was altruistic, something about 'gonna have the best presents this year', whatever that means," Buck says with a roll of his eyes.

"Wow, " Tommy says thoughtfully and taps his chin. "We owe him a lot then."

Buck's eyes are drawn to the movement, and he bites down on his lower lip. "You can modify a car for him when he starts driving. I think that'll settle the debt."

"He told you to say that, didn't he?" Tommy asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I can't recall, so let's move on. What exactly did I do or say to convince you to kiss me?" Bucks asks.

"That's easy, everything. You're hot, smart, great with kids, a fellow firefighter so you know the job, and you have such a shiny personality that the Olympian deities would envy you. But if you're asking for a more specific answer, it was when you told me that you had been trying to get my attention. From the outside, it was hard to put together what exactly was wrong, but once you said that, the realization clicked into place. And I knew I wanted to kiss you then and there and take that chance."

The moment those last words left Tommy's lips, Buck pounced on him, kissing him hard but tenderly.

[aggro-my-beloved]

Rocks at My Window - Guy x Honey Blurb

note: just guy being guy...i'm on that mushy gushy shit. honey and guy are high school sweethearts your honor pairing: guy x gn!honey summary: guy pays honey a visit while they're grounded, but he's not sneaking them out this time... wc: 802

Staring at the same four walls for nearly three weekends was becoming tiresome for Honey. How their parents managed to transform this bedroom into a twisted form of solitary confinement with one swift scolding and angry finger directed at their bedroom door is beyond them. They remember thinking during their sulking trudge to their room: How bad could it be? It's only for a month. 

“This is torture,” They declare to the book smothering their face. The pages, smelling faintly of vanilla and Guy’s cologne, mock them. Forty-odd pages in have them regretting borrowing this book from him. If the slowly building romantic tension was not enough for Honey to lose their mind, the small notes he had written in the margins for Honey to discover were doing the job splendidly. Horrible decisions made between the starring characters being illustrated, with the promise scrawled beside it that we’re doing this one day, made something swelter deep inside the pits of their stomach. Their fingers twitch and almost lose grasp of the book because of their sheer longing to text him, admire his contact picture, the lock screen, and the matching home screen, as well as the shrine of photos featuring Guy they have collected over the years. 

A thought tickles the back of Honey's mind of how easy it would be to slip down the hall and scope out their parents' bedroom for their confiscated phone. They’ll be gone for another couple of hours, the imaginary devil on their shoulder (sounding eerily similar to her significant other) whispers. Just put it back where you find it, and they’ll never know.

Don’t you dare, the figment angel butts in, remember what got you into this mess in the first place?

And how could they forget? Sneaking out with Guy past curfew had been the most fun they had all semester, even if the results were splintered hands from the local park's brutally dry mulch. That was the last time Guy convinces them to jump off the swingset into an “epic tuck and roll." Still, Honey caught themself in a daze whenever their mind wandered to that night and the whispered conversations shared between the two about their future. While the one-month grounding may have not been worth it in Honey's eyes, the healing callouses on their hands were well-earned. 

They turn their attention back to the book with another longing sigh. As they pick it up to resume their current paragraph, a bitter taste fills their mouth--an envious poison they must choke down. 

“Where are the rocks at my window, huh?” They huff with a petty roll of their eyes. 

Moments later, a blood-curdling scream rattles the room as Honey witnesses the sight of broken glass scattered across their bedroom floor alongside a rather large rock. Panic-stricken and swift, they shuffle over to their closet, trapezing over the clear shards in search of the small, wooden baseball bat from their days in junior league. 

“Oh shit!” They hear a voice mutter from outside which perks their ears with familiarity. 

“Oh no he didn’t.” All too quickly, Honey is dropping the bat in exchange for their fleece-lined boots. Now armored and intent to maim, they march to the shattered opening on their wall and poke their head out to be met with the sight of their antsy boyfriend looking frantically around him. 

“Honey…” his voice trails off, “you should really get better landscaping around here. Maybe rocks that are more flat and not so…boulder-like.”

“Guy, what the hell? You could have knocked. My parents are out for the night.” 

“Hey, hey–excuse me for trying to be a little romantic here! And before you get too upset with me,” he holds out a flat, rectangular box, reading Max’s Rustic Pizza and filling their nostrils with the delectable aroma of garlic and tomato sauce, “I brought you your favorite.”  Guy offers a sheepish grin and harbors red cheeks. It leaves Honey floored at how easy it is to forgive him for his earnest, yet absurd trespasses.

"As romantic as this all is," they assure him with a playful scoff, "I can't sneak out with you again. Not unless you're willing to join me in another month of imprisonment." The suggestion makes Guy's smile turn larger and more villainous. 

“Who says you’re sneaking out? I’m sneaking in,” he announces with a devious chuckle. A hum is emitted from Honey, followed by an innocent enough tilt of their head. 

“Oh yeah, lover boy? You and what ladder?” Guy’s promising smile falls at the major hole in his plan (minus the gaping one in what was Honey's window) is revealed to him. He looks around, similar to a lost puppy who'd trekked too far from home amidst a car chase. 

"Honey, do you have a ladder I could borrow?"

[sakuraspages]

sasusaku snippet #11

[Mermaid!Sakura AU - #6]

Sasuke sleeps on the couch. He doesn't have the heart to ask her to give him his bed back. She seems happy with staying home during the day. She grabs the few books he has. She seems curious to read.

When he comes back home after work, he is surprised to hear the shower running. As he walks towards the bathroom, he steps in a puddle of water that’s forming in his bedroom.

He understands when he sees her in the bathtub, with only her tail out of the water, the fin under the shower stream. The tub is overflowing and she’s underwater. He comes closer and looks at her from above. Her hair makes a pink cloud around her.

When he turns the shower off, she smiles at him, and emerges.

“You're back!” she says happily. “Why did you turn it off?”

He doesn’t want to ask how long it has been running. “You're flooding my house.”

She gives him a sorry pout. “I was feeling dry. Help me out?” she asks as she stretches her arms at him.

“How did you get in?”

“I crawled.”

He wraps her in a towel and she quickly pats herself dry but, as soon as her legs are back, she drops the towel and tries to lean against the furniture to drag herself back to the bedroom. He grabs another towel to wrap her with as he helps her stay up.

“Sakura… You can't just stay naked, ok?”

She blinks. “Why?” His heart flutters.

“Because… Because you…”

She suddenly looks very hurt. “You think I'm repulsive?” she asks with worry.

It’d be hard for her to be less repulsive. Her body is sculpted in marble, but soft in all the right places, her legs are unnaturally long, her breasts perfectly round, her behind just firm enough. He has done his hardest not to look at her naked but he is so weak and she is so beautiful… He is trying his best to be respectful, but what if someone else saw her and had bad intentions?

“Your body is yours,” he says quietly, holding her close to him. “You should only show it to people you trust and are really comfortable with.”

She pauses. For a few seconds she looks at him with all the depth of her green eyes and she seems to consider his words.

“Ok,” she says with a nod.

He is relieved that she understands. She turns around, drops the towel on the floor again, and starts stumbling to the bedroom again. He quickly looks away but his face is burning.

He spends a good hour mopping up the water in the bathroom and the bedroom.

Sakura reluctantly accepts to wear a T-shirt again. She tries to walk. It's better than the day before but still not enough that she can stand safely without holding onto something. He also has the strange feeling that she just likes to be carried everywhere in his arms. He never says no. She eats his weekly salary worth of shrimps and clams for dinner. He doesn't care that, between his food and his water bill, their arrangement won't be sustainable very long. He watches her eat like he has never seen anything so desirable.

The next morning he peeks into the bedroom before going to work. She’s still asleep. He briefly finds her cute, but he feels like something is wrong. He gently touches the side of her arm. She is usually cold like the sea, but now she is burning.

“Sakura?” he says as he squats by the bed.

She barely moves. “Hm?”

“Are you ok?”

She struggles to wake up. “I don’t know.”

Her cheeks are red. She's half conscious. He runs her a bath and, when he puts her in the bathtub and her body transforms, he quickly sees what’s wrong.

The wound on her tail is bright red and her fin is inflamed.

“It hurts a lot,” she says with teary eyes.

His chest tightens. He’s calling the doctor before he even thinks about what he’s going to tell her.

[muttfangs]

imo they should teach classes & do exercises in grade school (and college) on human accessibility / empathy / awareness & im not joking they need to conduct this with adults, too. maybe continuing ed or something. just a personal example: I dislocated and smashed my shoulder in a biking accident last week. it has been **infinitely more difficult** to do mundane tasks with one arm, because the entire world is based off the assumption that most people have two working arms list of mundane tasks include: 1. opening pill bottles 2. cooking 3. taking out the trash 4. video games (I literally cant play anything unless it can be done w/ one hand which isnt many lol) 5. texting / using my phone 6. getting dressed 7. getting in / out of the shower 8. cutting up fruit / vegs etc 9. opening plastic packages 10. getting up from a lying down position 11. safely exercising 12. opening cans (if it doesnt have a tab for me to open it w/ im fucked bc I cant operate a can opener with one arm lol) 13. sweeping / mopping 14. doing the dishes (if I didnt have a dishwashing machine in my apartment during this shit........................ fuck me. awful) 15. opening doors 17. drying my hands with a manual roll of paper towels 18. toilet paper 19. standing on the train / bus 20. grocery shopping 21. sleeping comfortably 22. doing shots / injectable medication on myself 23. opening single use eye drop vials 24. using nail clippers and i'm probably missing a lot more bc like. i'm not kidding at all when I say literally every aspect of my life is way harder now i'm not a stranger to chronic pain / illness, but having my shoulder & arm immobile for the next few weeks really has me thinking hard about accessibility. more so than usual. and it's incredibly evident and eye opening just how fucking hostile our day-to-day is to disabled & chronically ill people. I think like. perhaps if in grade school we did something as simple as putting an extra shirt / band / whatever to keep someone's dominant arm down from being used, and then encouraged people to interact with their environments as normal throughout the day-- it would be incredibly eye opening to them as well. and perhaps we could instill more understanding & begin to shift focus to more accessible standards universally it's a simple exercise. but its an effective one. you can try it for yourself and see.

[simiansmoke]

✱ + reverse + mario?

sentence / drabbles - manhandle

✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way + reversed

When Mario showed up in the Jungle Kingdom to pay the Kong champion's Dad a visit on an errand from Peach to apparently collect some ingredients for her upcoming "tea" ceremony, DK knew he was in for some fun.

Before Cranky could even consider granting the twerp access to the deep valves that made up the heart of the jungle where such a specific species of nightshade bloomed only once for a few days during the tail end of the dry season, DK had shifted from his position of leaning against the doorframe and listening in and instead, paced into the room without Mario noticing until he'd clapped a hand on the Mushroom Kingdom's fetch and delivery boy. "Ehh, let the guards sleep in, Pops. I got this ~ "

While Cranky didn't seem to have any objections (rather he was more amazed his son was volunteering for anything kingdom business related) Mario piped up with a "U-uhm. Well that's nice of you DK, but seeing as you're probably busy with all the...princely things? I think I should really just use a regular jungle guide for this-"

"Nope!" DK grinned, already scooping Mario up under his arm like one might carry a smallish dog. "You're stuck with me. Lucky you!"

And like that, his plan to get some sweet jungle platforming in came to fruition. After all, the deeper the jungle got - the more exciting the path forward became. Or in Mario's case, the more of a struggle he'd have to put up just to not drop out of the canopy into some piranha plant's waiting maw.

"C'mon, dude. You're gonna do this on the first platform?" DK tsked behind Mario who had frozen at the ledge of their first jumping off point. The ground was grooved banyan roots and made moving across them a whole ass tripping hazard.

"Hey! I don't recall specifically asking for you to come along. So...deal with it! I'm thinking." He adds, glove clapped to his chin as his eyes were set on a swivel to observe the great gap and the false sense of ground stretching out before them in the form of tree tops and wide-reaching branches that filled in the suspended environment and peppered it with spiked vines and random pops of color in the form of vibrant petals.

Foot tapping impatiently, DK snorts at the other's indignant nature. It was fun watching him get knocked down a peg when he realized there was more to navigating a landscape than those cut and dry obstacle courses over at Peach's place. With his eyes rolling, DK sidled up behind Mario and instead of slapping him out of the way, placed his large hands on each hip in order to lift him and set him aside so that he could take his place on the edge.

Mario was still so deep in thought he didn't quite register what had happened right away until he noticed DK's hands still cupping his hips as he placed him aside and how they lingered just a few extra seconds needed for Mario's face to flush warm - though whether or not that was because he was embarrassed he hadn't figured the puzzle out sooner, or because the Kong's fingertips left hints of wrinkles in the denim.

"Let a pro show you how it's done." DK moved to all fours and with a sudden surge of power, sprung into the air over their platform and grabbed hold of the upturned bark of a large trunk that made a sort of ceiling over them and then angled sharply up into the higher levels of the canopy. Hanging in place with his legs swinging almost playfully, DK beckoned the plumber over with a toss of his head.

"Lesson 1. Sometimes - there's no way forward." Another sway allows him to swing forward just enough to use his feet to grab onto Mario's hips again, some toes looping into denim loop holes for a better grip. "Lesson 2...hang on or I'll drop you."

"Why do I feel like Lesson 2 is intentionally rigged against me?" Mario protested, but was soon being ferried up the near 90 degree angle climb up the moss and fungi ridden trunk of the sequoia sized stretch.

"Because you're halfway paranoid...and halfway right." DK added, grinning up at the skyline he climbed to when he heard a nervous sputter from underneath.