#the acrylic stand turned out so good he's so handsome

[meownotgood]

here is the rest of the akis I received today 💪

[hysteria-things]

BIRTHDAY BOY

also based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!nate x stripper!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: for his 21st, nate goes to the strip club with his two best friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, drinking, semi-public, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, gagging, p in v, handsome/good boy kink, unprotected sex, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,370

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day THREE of nate week!

let’s pretend that today is yesterday🤫

shoutout to @stellarsturns for the idea <3

boston’s local strip club was the last place nate wanted to go to for his 21st, but chris and matt insisted on bringing him. for understandable reasons, nick decided to stay home and wait for them to get back to have some birthday cake.

this isn’t his scene at all, and to be honest, he’s freaked out. not because of the half-naked girls dancing on poles, but because this isn’t… him.

he wanted to stay at the triplet’s house to celebrate, but according to chris and matt; that was boring.

poor nate got left all alone, watching with wide eyes as the dancer did their thing on the stage in front of him. the other two left and said ‘we’re coming back with a surprise!’ whatever that means.

“nate, dude!” chris slurs loudly over the music, his two friends stumbling back to the table they’re sitting at. “look who we got for you.”

“this is— uh…” matt trails off.

you wave. “cherry.”

“damn straight.” matt says, sipping on his beer. “happy birthday, man. we paid her ahead of time.”

holding your hand out, nate’s silent as he grabs on with his shaky and sweaty one. you can feel that he’s squeezing tight, but he doesn’t notice. you don’t mind, though, and instead start walking to one of the many private rooms. “don’t have too much fun!” chris laughs, cheering until his voice fades.

nate didn’t realize how much his head was pounding until he got into the room, the vibration hurting like crazy. the music is muffled, voices from others outside the door. “sit.” you demand softly, and he does.

he takes a good look at your very revealing two-piece, cash that he assumes is the money chris and matt gave you sits under the strap of your bra. avoiding eye contact, he glances around the room. he’s so intimidated by you, especially when he was standing. you’re much taller than him in those tall heels.

“you’re intimidated.” you point out as if you’re reading his mind.

ain’t that the truth.

taking your acrylic thumb, you graze it over his bottom lip. without thinking, he opens his mouth the tiniest bit. he’s looking at you now, mesmerized by your beauty. “your friends told me it’s your birthday.” you say innocently. “how old are you turning, handsome?”

he clears his throat, stammering syllables before he gets the words out. “t-twenty-one.”

nodding, you hum before straddling his lap, your clothed pussy rubbing on the bulge in his pants. he wants to touch you, but he doesn’t know if he can. your hands run from the sides of his head down to his chest, grinding slowly.

he grunts, rutting his hips subconsciously. “s-sorry.” he stutters, but then does it again. his cheeks are red like a tomato. “i-i’m sorry.”

sighing, you start to leave open-mouthed soft kisses down his neck. he groans, the aching boner rubbing your clit the right way. rutting his hips once more, he whines. “i’m so—”

“it’s highly against the rules to fuck customers.” you say between kisses. “but because you’re the birthday boy… i’ll make you an exception.”

you hover on the ground, licking and biting your lips as you stare into his pleading eyes while you unbuckle his pants.

there’s already a wet spot forming through his calvin klein’s. he’s just about cumming in his underwear already. “aw, pretty boy. you’re already making a mess in your boxers.” you tease innocently.

when you start to kiss his hard-on, he jolts from the sensitivity. his hands rush to the hem, pulling down the remains of his bottoms in a whine.

so needy.

his dick is red, the hardness of it looking painful the more you stare at it. you lick the pre-cum from his slit, pumping your hand and swallowing the amount you can fit in your mouth.

lolling his head back, his mouth hangs open from the warmth. god blessed you with no gag reflex, so this is going to be a piece of cake. his eyes roll back each time you bob down.

your throat morphs into the shape of him, gulping as your saliva moistens his base. you notice his nails claw at his thigh. he wants to grip your hair, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you.

to tease him, you moan to send some vibration throughout his body. he thrusts up into your mouth from the suddenness, but you keep going.

the softness of his hips moving upward has him moaning like a mess. “oh, fuck. oh, fuck.”

his dick twitches, pelvis shuttering before shooting his load down your throat. that doesn’t stop you, though. “w-wait.” he whines, trying to push your head away. you don’t budge.

in fact, you move back to his tip, kitty-licking the rest of his cum off of it before spitting. his breath hitches, legs quivering from the feeling. your plump lips move to the side of his dick, sloppily licking the remains of his orgasm that dripped down.

angling yourself differently, you take him to the point where all of him now fits in your mouth.

“wait!” he cries again, eyes becoming watery. “it’s t-too sensitive.”

even though he’s complaining, he takes each side of your head and guides you nice and deep on his cock; nose touching his pubic bone. “it hurts.” he whimpers, forcing your head to go faster.

nate feels so pathetic because of how fast his second orgasm approaches. he’s squirming and twitching like crazy.

“i’m going to cum again.” he pants, hooded eyes looking into your doe-like ones.

a few gulps later, you stay put on his dick while his spurts of cum land on your tastebuds. it’s still coming out of his slit when you take your mouth off with a pop noise.

you get up from the floor, his eyes staring at what your hands are doing as he catches his breath. you reach for the front clip on your bra, take it off, and let it fall to the floor.

then, you remove your panties, bunching them into a ball. his mouth dangles open in complete awe with your body.

you take your time to walk over and lean over him, smirking when all he seems to look at is your breasts. “you’ve been too noisy.” you state. “i think somebody needs to be gagged.”

before he can answer, you shove your panties into his mouth. you start to sit on his dick, nate’s panting getting more intense the further down you go.

you moan lowly, lifting yourself to the tip and plopping back down. he sniffles, you continuing those actions. you run your hands through his hair, looking at his face of pleasure each time you bounce.

the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs is covering up his muffled whimpers and moans. tears stream down his cheeks, a choked sob flowing through the panties blocking his lips.

“you’re so handsome.” you coo, the eye contact turning you on even more as you wipe the tears. his blue orbs are dark, the lids fluttering closed at how your bare pussy feels.

you can’t help but moan as well from the squelching noise that portrays. the tips of your fingers run through his hair, peppering kisses on his jawline. “you want to be a good boy for me?” you ask.

he nods frantically. “uh huh.”

“be a good boy and cum for me, yeah?” you say, moving faster, causing you to squeal when your g-spot gets hit. your dominance is starting to slip. “you-you have too much of a handsome face.”

his eyes widen when he figures out what you mean by that, but he doesn’t care. he grabs your hips and starts to thrust into you, the both of you whining as you reach your highs. “that’s right, handsome. c-cum in me.”

“mhm.” he moans, following your instructions.

you keep going until you collapse on top of him, removing your underwear from his mouth. grabbing the money his friends gave you, you hold it up and get off of his lap. he’s trying to catch his breath when you put your foot next to his leg to hunch over.

“free of charge.” you smile. “happy birthday.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 18

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You sit on the couch with a few too many pillows and layers of blankets around you. There’s a bright smoothie and a tray of snacks courtesy of Dottie. As you flip to a reality show about single people on an island, Harlan appears, almost like a ghost, and sits in one of the cushioned chairs. You watch him lean an elbow on the armrest.

“I can change this,” you offer, embarrassed.

“No, darlin’, I’m just fine,” he waves you off, “just restin’ my old legs.”

You leave the show on and reach for a cracker. You haven’t seen Lloyd since the hospital and you’re happy for it. He wasn’t in a good mood, not since he found you outside, but his parents did little to help that. You hear Dottie’s distant singing, an Elvis song you vaguely recognise.

“She don’t look like it, but my wife is a ball of energy,” Harlan chuckles to himself, “she’s so excited for ya, kid. Me too, no doubt, me too.”

“Oh, well, uh… it’s a big deal. A baby and all that,” you say evasively. “I appreciate all your help and sorry for putting you two out.”

“Not at all,” he tilts his head at the TV, going quiet as he listens to the confessional, “you know, I don’t trust this one. He’s got skittery eyes. Like a bug.”

You almost laugh. You’re hardly paying attention but he seems to pick up every word, even as he talks to you. You chew the cracker, nearly choking on a crumb as Dottie sweeps in. She leans on the back of the couch.

“Dearie, I was just scoutin’ out a place to put the nursery and I noticed, you ain’t got no photos with Marion,” she reaches to touch your shoulder, “this ain’t no home, y’all need to warm it up. Never you worry, I’ll be talkin’ to my son.”

“Dot, really, it’s–” you begin to protest.

“Oh, if I don’t got some pictures of Marion as a boy,” she chirps, “Harlan, would you fetch my iPad thingie?”

“Yes, honey,” Harlan stands and obediently strides out of the room.

He returns as Dottie flits around the couch and you make space for her as you turn your legs over the edge of the couch. You can’t protest. You can’t bring yourself to be rude to either of them. Funny how their son drives you to the worst rage you’ve ever felt, meanwhile they can calm you with a single word.

Harlan hands over the tablet and bends to kiss his wife’s forehead, “there ya go, sweetness.”

“Thanks, handsome,” she smirks and taps her acrylic on the screen, “my hubby, genius that he is, put all my old photo albums on here. I couldn’t figure it out, ya know, I’m new and all that to this fancy interweb stuff.”

She brings down the menu and searches until she finds her files. She squints and holds the tablet closer to her eyes.

“Dot, you should get your glasses, like the doc said,” Harlan girds.

“My eyes are just fine, bubby,” she insists, “here we are.”

She brings up a picture of a young boy. A posed photo, likely from school. You barely recognise the blonde with the strawish shanks of blond hair in faded overalls. A goofy smile slants his lips as the camera flash gleams in his blue eyes.

“Oh, he was a cutie, huh?” Dottie swipes through the photos, “and look!” She stops on a photo of Lloyd in a pair of those plastic glasses with the nose and mustache attached, “seems he found his look early… now I never know why he went with the look, but he likes it, I s’pose. But he’s so handsome without.”

You hum indecisively as you watch her flip through the pictures. You peek over at her, her cheeks round as she smiles at her son’s likeness. You feel better to know she’ll be around. She’s got all the love you feel like you’re missing. She’ll make up for what you can’t give.

“I hated that suit,” Lloyd’s voice startles you as he bends over the back of the couch, peering down at the image of his in a too tight three-piece. Likely a borrowed outfit from Harlan that was too slender for his growing adolescent figure, “ma, why you gotta show her all this?”

“You were a good kid once, ya know, Mar?” She twists her head around and reaches you pinch his cheek.

He grumbles and his eyes nearly roll back. He stops himself and kisses his mother’s temple, “thanks for comin’, ma.”

“Yes, yes,” she turns and puts the tablet down, “you should be thankin’ me, boy,” she stands and puts her hands on her wide hips as she faces him, “we gotta find some paints for the nursery. And a crib, change table, a nice cozy rockin’ chair for mama, and let me tell you, you’ll be changin’ the little darlin’ too, so you start practicing–”

“Ma,” Lloyd crosses his arms, “are you done?”

“No, not even close. This is real, Marion, you can’t just throw money at a child,” she tuts as she marches around the couch, “or me.” She points her long nail under his chin, a comical vision as she’s at least a foot shorter, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere til you get it sorted. And start treatin’ your babe the way she deserves.” 

She pokes his chest harshly then grabs him by the front of his shirt. She pulls him down and whispers in his ear, a scratchy hiss you can’t decipher. Lloyd’s nostrils flare and she lets him go. He stands and lets out a long sigh that shows in his chest.

He slinks towards you, shoulders slumped, and chews his lip. He looks at his mother as she remains behind the couch, glaring at him. He juts his chin out and slowly lets himself down to his knees before you. His eyes meet yours, your forehead lined with confusion as he takes your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he says bluntly. Dottie growls, a warning. He nods and his cheek twitches, “Peaches, look, I’m… a jackass and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… chased you out and I should’ve stayed at the hospital. You don’t deserve that–” his words are stunted as he peeks over you at his mother, “and I… I’m very sorry.”

He leans forward, making you flinch, as he kisses your cheek, “please forgive me.”

“Nah, don’t,” Dottie steps forward and claps her hand on the back of the couch, “he ain’t earned it yet, but it’s a start.”

You stare at Lloyd, barely able to keep a triumphant smile from dimpling your cheeks. His blue eyes spark and you sense the threat in his grip. Don’t enjoy it too much. Still, it feels good to have some back up.

“I appreciate the apology,” you let the smile break through, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good girl,” Dottie praises, “son, you could work on that a bit longer.”

“Wha–” Lloyd lets you go and stands, “I said sorry–”

“You needa think,” she points to her own head, “I’m a bout to send ya to your room like the child you’re bein’.”

“Ma’s right, boy,” Harlan says without looking away from the television, “lady deserves better than you.”

“Huh, you–” Lloyd sputters, “this isn’t fair. It’s three against one.”

“It’s right against wrong,” Harlan retorts coolly, not missing a beat, “you know you done wrong and you gotta take the flak.”

Lloyd scowls and crosses his arms like a spoiled child. He pouts in his mother’s direction as she smirks at him. She nears him slowly and pats his chest gently, “now, I’m gonna need a budget for the nursery, and your card.”

Lloyd stares at her and drops his arms, easing his stature as he reaches back into his pants pocket. He slides out his wallet and pulls out the gold card. Dottie flicks her fingers at him and grabs the wallet herself, wiggling out the black one. He doesn’t stop her as she shoves the leather back into his hands.

“We’ll go tomorrow when mama is feelin’ better,” she declares as she tucks the card into her bra, “I’m sure she could use some time outside, and away from you.”

“Ma,” Lloyd whines.

“Don’t ma me,” she warns as she comes back to you and plucks a chip up from the tray, “you can do me a favour by clearin’ out the room next to the master. That’s the one.”

“My office?” He stammers.

“You got a dozen more rooms,” she chides, “now be a doll and go make yourself useful. You got strong arms, you can manage.”

He huffs as you try not to gloat. You watch the television as his silhouette slumps away, dragging his feet out of the room. Dottie chuckles through her mouthful, “He always was a drama queen.”

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

King of Your Heart

Chapter 13 "Let Me Suck Your D*ck in the Bathroom"

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

summary: All that Frankie has ever wanted to be was your everything. After years of being best friends one phone call changes everything between the two of you.

inspired by The King by Sarah Kinsley

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 28-29, Frankie 38-39), friends with benefits -> situationship, Frankie isn't a dad, jealously, best friends with benefits, reader is toxic, reader wears makeup, reader has long hair, this chapter is literally just porn but make it halloween, dress code- SLUT IT OUT, smut, drinking, smut, benny's halloween bash!!, smut, frankie is fucking horny for a woman in thigh highs, smut, blowjobs, licking, oh yeah did I mention smut!, princess and frankie are like rabbits, frankie gets drunk, angst with a happy ending finally, no y/n, pet names, possessiveness, triple frontier boys, Tom is dead, reader is a flirt

an: WELCOME TO BENNY'S HALLOWEEN BASH, get ready for a lot of smut, Princess is slut for Frankie as a smooth-dressing cowboy (a little nod to our beloved Whiskey<3).

inside the world of king of your heart

playlist

series mainlist | main masterlist

taglist: @hiroikegawa

"Just sit down and I'm gonna do your hair," You patted the cushiony vanity seat, Frankie never did his hair ever. He liked his messy curls and finishing it off with his hat but tonight was the one night he would ever do this. You smiled and pushed Frankie down into the seat, your fingers combing through his damp curls, his eyes fluttering shut when you lightly scratched his scalp with your new acrylics. You looked at Frankie through the mirror admiring how he shaved his beard and trimmed up his mustache. 

"I like it that I can see your face," You hum, grabbing the comb and gel into your hands. "I get to see my handsome Frankie," your words made Frankie blush, and he rolled his eyes trying to act like he didn't care. He loves it when you tell him he's handsome. He feels like he could do anything all because his lady thinks he's beautiful. 

You smiled at Frankie and combed the gel through his hair, taming the deep chocolate curls. "Do I have to dress up?" Frankie mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him. This is 3rd time around having the conversation. It's Halloween, Frankie. It's my favorite holiday. Please for me. You've been saying since you and Frankie got back together. It's time to debut as a couple officially. "Yes you are dressing up and you are going to look so sexy," You say in a sultry tone and smile sweetly at Frankie. 

The torture was over when you finished off his hair when a good amount of hairspray. Clean-cut Frankie was something you didn't get to see often and well it was a sight to see. His jawline, his face more chiseled out, and his hair out of his face letting his features be the star of the show. Frankie is beautiful, you always thought he was crafted by a higher power. Frankie is standing in the mirror buttoning up the white dress shirt, you turn him around and take over the last couple of buttons then grab the tie to go around his neck. You take a deep breath as you loop the fabric and pull it up to his neck- fuck. 

You set the hat on top of his head and step back looking at your work. Frankie loosened the ties just a bit and your stare was burning into his skin, that's what he always liked about you, never afraid to admire what you like. "Everything you hoped for?" Frankie tilts his head and smirks, jaw dropped and lust blowing your pupils. 

"Everything and more...okay I-I need to finish off my makeup, then we are leaving." You shake yourself out of the lustful haze and step around Frankie. Focus. You dip the end of a brush into the red bottle of fake blood. Focus. Frankie watches you drip the red thick liquid from the corners of your mouth, smearing it across your face for an effortless look. Focus. Dipping again but letting the tear of blood run down your chest and leak down your cleavage. Your costume was just an excuse to wear the black Body Con mini dress that you bought months ago, so you threw on the fake blood and glued fangs to your teeth. Just an excuse to slut it out. Frankie certainly appreciates the way your best features were on display. 

Frankie comes up behind you moves your hair out of your face and gently kisses your soft neck. You sigh, holding back from the intrusive thoughts of pushing Frankie on the bed and fucking him in costume. "I need to put on my tights then we are leaving," you unwrap yourself from his arms and pull out the black thigh highs, very sheer black mesh with a lace strap at the cuff. Frankie watched you sit on the edge of the bed lifting one leg in the air, he noticed the French tip pedicure that you got done. 

The way your body was just on display for him to stare at, Frankie wanted to not leave the house at all tonight. But you and Frankie are not having sex yet, because you think it would be a good idea to date properly, not having sex until 2 months which ends Halloween, that means he can and will make a move tonight. "Princess, you just look so good to eat," Frankie purrs, when he slides between your legs, helping you secure the thigh-high, you were rolling your eyes with a smile on your face. 

"Fish, we are not having sex, now let's get to the party it's already 10!" You push Frankie away from you, grabbing your purse, beer, and vodka. Frankie took his sweet time by grabbing the keys and his beer then locking the door, settling the beer in place, and strapping himself in, checking his mirrors. You grew tired of him being childish, your hands wrapping his tie and pulling him close. Your lips melted into his, the feeling of his mustache grazing your sweet soft skin. Frankie slid his tongue to meet yours, his hands caressing your waist and thighs, his fingers snapping the top of the thigh highs making you yelp and moan into his hot wet mouth. His touch was a white flash of heat inching toward your aching core. Desperate to be touched by his calloused strong strategic fingers. 

"Let me suck your dick in the bathroom...so drive," You pull away from Frankie, buckling your seatbelt. Frankie grins pulls out of the park and throws it into drive, you laugh holding on to the door. You love seeing Frankie be playful and just a boy. Knowing that you bring that out in him brought such warmth in your heart oozing it through your veins. The streetlights guide you to the front of Benny's house, with people piling in through the one door. You quickly get out of the truck and make your way through people, just a quick hello then you are dragging Frankie to the bathroom.  

Frankie was trying to catch up with you but people held him back, it felt like he was in his 20s again trying to get into parties. Once he pushes his way through, he finds you sitting on the kitchen counter serving yourself shots while talking to Benny's girlfriend Mari. You were smiling and making faces every time you took a shot. He thought you looked so pretty in the kitchen light, "There's my cowboy," You call out to him, Mari turns around and laughs at how Frankie looked in his get-up. "Don't laugh at him, he is the most good-looking cowboy ever," You reach out for Frankie, and he takes the bottle from your hands and pours himself a shot, knocking it back. Frankie taking shots was a big deal, he was just always about getting beer drunk. 

You don't know what it was but Frankie taking a shot had to be the hottest thing ever. You watched how his adams' apple bobbed when he downed the alcohol. "C'mon baby, let's go dance," Frankie leans into you and whispers into your ear, your face burns from how forward he was being. You want Frankie to like this more. He helps you off the counter takes you to the living room and slips you guys down the hall to Benny's room. Frankie slams the door closed and locks it. You could feel the shots starting to settle in. Frankie backs you into the bathroom and shoves you facing the mirror, your hands bracing yourself from falling forward. Your core started to ache when Frankie started to manhandle you. 

You drop down to your knees and your hands quickly undo his belt and unzip his jeans, without any hesitation, you giggled when you saw the tattoo on his plump ass. You turn his hips to show you the tattoo better, you lean toward his tattoo and lick his skin. Frankie hisses fisting your hair. "Be a good girl and suck my dick," Frankie's stern tone captures your attention, and drool falls from your swollen lips. You smile up at Frankie opening your mouth, and kissing the tip of his hard cock, "Sweet girl, you like kissing my cock?" Frankie smugly coos, fists your hair, and thrusts down your throat. You gag just a bit then moaned with a mouth full of cock of the man who makes you forget all common sense. Your eyes were stinging from the salt of your tears, your hands caressing his thick thighs, just letting Frankie take control of your body.

Frankie couldn't stop himself from fucking your throat, loving the sounds that spilled out when he pulled his wet hot cock from your whiny mouth. "F-fuck baby...If I'm gonna cum then it's gonna be in your tight pussy," Frankie growls, forcing you back to your feet, you automatically bend over the sink, spreading your legs, on your tiptoes to level with Frankie. He pushes your dress up, giving a breathtaking view of your ass with a black g-string and the thigh highs gripping deliciously on your plump thighs. His thumb brushes over the tattooed skin then slaps your cheek, watching it jiggle. 

"Princess, I need you to your rub your cute little clit for me while I fuck you," Frankie feels guilty for getting you off at least one time by his mouth. His finger slid inside you collecting your wetness and using it to coat his hard cock. His cock notches at your entrance and pushes in without warning.

You reach between your legs, and first, just lightly rub your clit on the palm of your hand, just tease yourself a little bit. "I said touch yourself, little princess," Frankie grunts, pulling himself all the way out and then slamming back into your slicked hole, you let a girlish moan loving how the tip of his throbbing length hits your cervix. Your legs trembled with each thrust, the sweet spot only Frankie can reach being hit and added pressure from the counter right on your pelvis. "Ooh-YES, yes, yes, Frankie baby right there!" You let out the most pornographic scream. Frankie smiling at how fucked out you look in the mirror, eyes crossing, a smile, and tits threatening to spill over the top of your dress. 

Frankie wraps your leg around his waist, forcing you to face him. He presses his hand down on your pelvis whilst fucking deeper into you. The white-hot waves crash through your veins, your juices splash on Frankie's button-up and slacks.

"You're so fucking hot," You slurred, letting your body go limp as Frankie chases his high. "You're so sexy, Frankie...only man for me-" You gasp for a breath as Frankie spills his seed into you, feeling his cock throb and spurt out a lot of pent-up cum.  He looks down and takes in the view of your cum and his mix together leaking out around his still-hard cock and down your thighs and ass. He looks up at you, glistening in sweat and smelling of sex, the vanilla base in your perfume, and the way his cologne smells on you. 

"I love you, Princesa." Frankie kisses your forehead gently as he removes his cock from you. This is the first time he ever used, Princesa. You smile and look at him with such love and happiness. Your eyes twinkled, giving Frankie a look into the galaxy. "I love you, Francisco" 

[rafesangelita]

okay this is really specific but when i saw that you’re a latina writer i had to request a oneshot with latina!reader who gets approached by rafe in a club bc he’s in love with the way she dances >.< pls end it w smut, i’ll dieee

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐥𝐚́𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐬

pairing: rafe cameron x latina!kook!reader

warnings: rafe is shy until he gets in the bedroom, unprotected sex, soft sex (for the most part), body worship, sorta fast paced ngl

word count: 1.9k

a/n: the way i screamed when i saw this prompt!! pls give me feedback for latina!reader, i’d love to include her in more works!

“you haven’t said a word since we got here, man.” kelce took a seat next to rafe at the bar, ordering a shot he knew he shouldn’t take. “this isn’t really my scene. none of it.” rafe couldn’t stand all the party lasers lighting up the place, let alone the overly loud music that boomed throughout the club. “you haven’t even tried to have fun, look at topper! he’s having the time of his life.” eyes moving past his friend, rafe laughed once he saw topper drunkenly dancing with a group of girls.. you being one of them. he didn’t know what he was fascinated by more; your beauty, or the way that you moved.

“who’s that?” rafe nodded in your direction, his heart skipping a beat when you glanced up at him. “why don’t you find out?” kelce downed his shot, a groan tumbling from his throat. rafe never approached women, mostly because they were already lined up and waiting for him, but with you he felt a sudden urge to get up and get you before anyone else can. just as he was leaving his seat, he watched you roll your hips against one of your girlfriends, his eyes locking with yours as you did so. “fuck.” rafe cursed under his breath, you and your bestie giggling at the flustered look on his face.

it felt like forever before he actually approached you, your friend whispering a ‘buena suerte— good luck.’ to you before sauntering off in topper’s direction. “i hope i’m not interrupting your fun or anything..” rafe didn’t think it was possible for someone to be this beautiful, yet so intimidating at the same time. he felt like he was throwing himself into the lion’s den with the way you were looking at him. “i saw you when i was talking to my friend, and i just had to come over here.” he scratched the back of his neck, the nervous action making you smile.

“you had to?” rafe swallowed thickly, nodding slowly as you got closer to him. “ven, let’s talk.” reaching for his hand, you led him back to your section where it wasn’t so loud. he couldn’t keep his eyes from watching the way your hips swayed when you walked, your perfume intoxicating him more than any bottle of liquor in this club could. “siéntate— sit down.” you patted the spot next to you, draping your legs across his lap. rafe rested his hand on your thigh as if it was second nature to do so. trailing his gaze from your glossy lips to the way your jewelry shined against your skin, he couldn’t choose what looked prettier.

“what’s your name?” you asked him, fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you batted your eyelashes up at the handsome man. “just rafe, nothing special.” he shrugged, a nervous laugh leaving his lips once you started trailing an acrylic nail down his chest. you were fully aware of the effect you had on men, but something about rafe endeared you and turned you on at the same time. “nothing special?” you gasped, “you’re the first rafe i’ve ever met, of course you’re special.” it wasn’t often that rafe received any kind of praise, but if someone told him that a woman as beautiful as yourself would be giving that to him tonight, he wouldn’t believe them.

“yeah?” he felt his chest bloom with pride when you smiled. “and your name?” rafe watched as your eyes flickered down to his lips. “y/n.” damn, even your name was perfect, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when you heard him test it out on his tongue. “y/n.. i like that.” both of you laughed to yourselves, exchanging glances as you two decided to share a drink together. rafe surprised himself when he agreed, surely he’d decline if it was anyone else but he felt like he was lucky just by merely being in your presence.

you conversed for a while, trying your best to break rafe out of his shell, in which you were slowly but surely succeeding. now he couldn’t stop smiling down at you, even going as far as cracking a few jokes that you didn’t have to fake a laugh for. “thank goodness you’re funny, i like someone who knows how to have a good time..” maybe it was because you knew you made him nervous, and that alone made you overconfident, but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you tried. rafe studied you for a moment, fingertips tracing the neckline of your top.

“i’ve never met someone like you.” you’ve heard that plenty of times, but coming from rafe it felt more genuine and not a ploy to get you in bed.. even though you wouldn’t deny him if he asked. “someone like me?” you leaned in, nearly stealing his breath away when he felt your nails running across the skin underneath his shirt. “y-yeah, you make me feel things.” the revelation made you pause. truth be told, rafe wasn’t the kind of guy you’d expect to hear that from, let alone reciprocate. “you make me feel things, too.” now it was your turn to lose your breath as he leaned in, his thumb stroking your chin.

the second his lips touched yours, you knew you were done for. he was gentle at first, leading the kiss until you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. you soon rested a hand on the back of his neck as if you could pull him any closer than he already was. “come home with me.” rafe pulled away breathlessly, the urgency in his voice bringing him to his feet. “okay..” you nodded, his hand taking yours. “you don’t want to let your friends know?” he looked around, kelce and topper no where to be found.

“no te preocupes— don’t worry about it, they’ll find me.” you and rafe shared a look, a giddy feeling erupting in your tummy as he lead you out of the club and to his truck. “thank god i don’t live far.” you giggled as you watched him jog around to his side of the truck. the ride back to rafe’s place consisted of sloppy kisses and curses under his breath as you ran your palm across his jean-clad erection. “fuck, you’re killing me right now.” he would look down momentarily at your hand, pursing his lips together to keep any sounds from coming out of his mouth.

finally, he pulled into the driveway of tanneyhill, carrying you bridal style up the stairs as your laugh echoed throughout the empty house. once he got you inside his room, he refused to waste time, tossing you on his bed before you two practically ravaged one another. despite having rafe wrapped around your finger, you were the first one to get naked, rafe’s hands roaming your body as if you weren’t real. “holy shit.” he felt overwhelmed, not knowing what to do or where to start.

“how?” he traced the curves of your hips, trailing kisses from the valley of your breasts to your neck. “how the fuck is someone this perfect?” you shimmered under the soft lighting of his room, courtesy of the body glitter your friend doused you in earlier in the night. you cupped his face, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. you couldn’t help but tug at his shirt, hoping he’d get the hint. rafe took the garment off in one swift movement. while he was over here worshipping your body, you were at a loss for words at the sight of his.

you kept your eyes on him as his jeans and boxers were next to go, your thighs rubbing together when his cock sprang up against his stomach. “i don’t think i could let you leave after this..” he slotted himself between your legs, reaching over to his bedside table for a condom. you stopped him once you saw the foiled square between his fingers. “por favor— please, i want you like this.” rafe nearly cried in relief. tossing the condom to a random corner of his room, both of you let out a shaky breath as he lined himself up with your entrance.

he groaned, your slick cunt hugging his cock. “fuck, you’re soaked.” he took one of your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours as you left kisses across his chest. “f-feels so good..” you whimpered, his arm caging you in to keep your body flush against his. “yeah? you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in pleasure, his pubic bone hitting your clit. moving your hips to meet his thrusts, rafe’s eyes rolled back when he felt your walls squeezing around his length.

“oh, dios!” your grip on his bicep tightened, your cries sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “what does that mean?” he looked down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “i said ‘oh, god.’” your voice came out shaky, a particular stroke of his hips making you moan. “you gonna teach me spanish?” you nodded, pulling your hand away from his to run your fingers through his hair. “want to ride you..” you whispered, pushing at his chest so you could go on top.

rafe would’ve been perfectly fine with you being a pillow princess, but after hearing those words leave your mouth, he thought he’d die if he didn’t see you ride his cock. laying on his back, he guided you on top of his lap, where you sunk down on his length, both of you moaning in unison. “shit.” he hissed, his hands now resting on your ass. you yelped, leaning your weight on his chest as you started slamming your hips down on his. “fuck, rafe,” the man underneath you was mesmerized by everything you did.

the rise and fall of your chest with every breath, the way your tits bounced, your bottom lip being trapped between your teeth, all of it was ingrained in his brain now. rafe laid a palm flat against your stomach, using his thumb to rub your clit in fast circles. “i want you to cum around my cock, let me feel it baby.” you cried out, thighs trembling around his waist as your nails dug crescents into his skin.

this was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, your head rolling to the side while rafe did everything in his power not to fill you up with his cum. “rafe?” you looked down at him, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “yes?” his mouth hung open, eyes glued to where your pussy took him in with ease. “want you to cum inside me.” that sentence made his eyes shoot up, cock twitching as he neared his high. “are you sure?” he groaned, wrapping both arms around your waist. you hummed, holding onto his shoulders as he fucked into you from below.

“sí— yes, i want it!” your hair fell from it’s updo, a stray curl falling in your face as both of you came. “ah, shit,” rafe panted, your soft velvety walls squeezing around him, taking him for everything he had. you cried out, hugging him to your chest as you shook in his embrace. eventually, your movements came to a stop, the two of you slowly coming down from your highs. “oh, my god.” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck. “are you okay?” he moved your hair out of your face, admiring your post-sex afterglow.

you hummed, giving him a shy smile as you hid in the crook of his neck. “y/n?” rafe ran a soothing hand down your back, “how do you say ‘stay the night.’ in spanish?”

[clearlydiamondz]

Your Only Fan

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

--------------------

Erik Finds out his best friend slash crush has an only fans. Things go a little right once he finds out.

Warnings: Cursing, SMUT, 18+ Content

--------------------

It was a Friday night, which meant that (Y/N) was getting a chance to see her best friend, Erik. Or E, which she calls him. It’s been a minute since she seen him considering she’s been caught up in her school work and he’s been caught up in whatever he had going on. 

Erik was excited when he saw that she messaged him, asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie. Instantly he answered. 

E: Awe, lil baby miss me :( lol

(Y/N): how you my best friend and you don’t even come see me no more. i feel neglected.

E: Don’t worry, I’ma be there in an hour..

(Y/N): make it 30?

E: oh u desperate? aight, 30 min it is.

Erik grabbed his belongings, grabbing his adidas bag packing an overnight bag. After getting his phone and charger, he made his way out the door and to his car.

(Y/N) finished up cleaning herself up after doing a session on her Only Fans. After about an hour, she earned about a good 900 alone from just tips and subscriptions. This was one of the good nights. 

She made her way out of her bathroom, go to her little recording area cleaning all the toys and things before Erik got there. She didn’t want her best friend to find out about her dirty little secret. It was something that she wanted to keep buried for as long as she could.

She wasn’t ashamed of being a sex worker, she supported other girls. Spoke very strongly about it online. Even did some work with other girls and guys. She just didn’t want everything to change between her and Erik if he ever found out. 

She was in the kitchen making her famous dip when she heard the door open. She looked up and saw Erik walking in with his things in his hands. “Wassup big head?” he said walking into the apartment as she smile at him.

“Hi E, so I found this perfect movie for us to watch.” she said as he groaned. 

“It better not be no scary movie.” he said as she pouted. 

“Nevermind,..” she mumbled looking down as he laughed. “Lemme put my shit down and Ima come show you some love.” he said as she nodded. There was no question that had (Y/N) had feelings for her best friend. How could she not? He was handsome, kept up with himself, a gentlemen. The way he talked and made her blush. It was hard not to have feelings for this man.  

Erik walked into the room putting the extra clothes in the empty drawer she had for him. As he was putting the clothes inside, she heard his phone going off. He grabbed it seeing that it was one of his friends, Tyrel sending him an iMessage and picture. 

Ty: bro , u know bout this??

Erik confused, opened up the picture to see an Only Fans profile. He was about to question him about it until he saw the profile picture.

“Is that-”

PearlyPerfection

Hi, my name is (Y/N), come visit me on my page to come play with me. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself. It took everything in him not to pull up OnlyFans on his phone, but it was failed. Miserably. He searched her name, sitting on the bed looking at one of the thumbnails on the videos. He saw that it was a price for ten dollars a month for the basic subscription fee. After paying for it, he clicked on the video. 

“Hi daddy...’ she seductively whispered to the camera. She had on a white and black school girl outfit that barely covered her ass and pussy. Her skin was oiled, shining looking like  milk chocolate. “My pussy been so wet just thinking about you. Do you want to see?” she gushed biting her lip.

Erik couldn’t contain the weapon that swing between his legs. Just by the second it was getting harder looking at her. She sat back against the pillows opening her legs to show her wetness. 

Okay.. now I understand why she’s called Pearly Perfection...

If it wasn’t perfect, it was close to. The wetness spread across her outer lips, making her skin gloss. She spread her lips with her fingers, the yellow acrylic really contemplating her skin complexion, letting the wetness get on her fingers as she moved it up and downward to the entrance. 

“Ooh that feels good..” she moaned quietly to herself. She dipped a finger inside, slowly fucking herself with it.  She lifted her leg, slapping her vulva before leaning forward grabbing something behind the camera. She came back into frame with a clear dildo. She grabbed it, looking into the camera before licking the tip of it. She placed her mouth on it before deep throating it, basically shallowing the entire thing.

“Damn-”

“Erik!” he heard from the kitchen. “Everything good?” 

“Uh yeah, I’m coming!” he exclaimed standing up. He exited the tab before placing his phone in his hoodies pocket. He stood up adjusting his issue, before walking out to the kitchen to see her pouring dip chips into the bowl. 

“You good? Look like you seen some shit?” she said chuckling as he shook his head. 

“If only you knew.” he whispered but she heard him. 

“Did you say something?”

“Nah..” he walked into the living room grabbing the remote as she looked at him a bit confused. Damn, I can’t even get a hug.. 

She grabbed the dip and chips walking to the living room, placing it on the coffee table. She walked back grabbing herself a wine cooler and Erik a beer. She walked back walking past him plopping down on the sofa. 

“I hope you found a good movie since you want to watch a damn scary movie.” she joked, all Erik did was just chuckle before going through the list. She looked at Erik waiting for a smart comeback but nothing.  

“Erik... are you okay?” she asked him touching his cheek as he looked at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re acting strange. If something happened than you can talk to me.” she reassured him as he smiled. Erik turned back to the screen before picking a random action film.

About an hour into the movie, (Y/N) leaned forward grabbing some dip and chips, her shirt was risen up a bit showing her red laced underwear and her back side. It was usual that (Y/N) dressed like that around him, they were comfortable with it. But for known reasons, it had Erik squirming in his seat. She looked back to see why he was moving so much. 

“Erik.. are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him as he nodded. She leaned back and he moved to the opposite side of her. “That’s it.” she grabbed the remote pausing the movie. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” she asked him standing up as he looked up at her. 

“What do you mean? I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You acting like you can’t touch me. You haven’t even eaten my dip and you eat my shit up as soon as it hits the table. I know when there is something wrong with you and there is something bothering you.” she said to him as he sighed scratching the back of his neck. 

“Okay, I’m going to be honest with you but be honest with me.” he said as she nodded. “Do you have an only fans?” The question rightfully was a curve ball but she would never like to Erik. Plus, if he was asking about it most likely he already knew the answer.

“Yes..” she trailed off. “How did you find out?” she asked him. Her heart was beating fast, so loud she could hear it in her own ears. 

“Ty sent me a picture of the profile.” he said as she rolled her eyes. 

“Wow, creepy ass nigga.” she said smacking her teeth. 

“No offense but there are a bunch of creepy ass niggas on Only Fans.” he said sitting up as she sighed. “Why you never told me about this?”

“Look how you’re acting. You can’t even touch me. I don’t want it to change things between us. That’s the last thing that I want to happen. A-And your acting different.” she pouted as he sighed. “Like if you ashamed that you are friends with me just up and say that. Trust me, it’s feels way more better than being- than being treated like I’m dirty or something.” Erik saw her eyes watering, and his entire mood changed. For a split second he forgot he was friends with a water bag.

“Wait, (Y/N) it’s not like that.” he stood up cupping her cheeks in his hands looking at her. “I don’t care what you do , you will always my best friend. I won’t ever look at you differently.” he said to her as she started to sniffle. 

“So why are you acting like this?”

Erik mentally cursed at himself. Now he really is going to have to admit that he watched a video and felt some type of way about it. It was all happening the wrong way. “Before I admit it to you, there is something else I should admit first" he said as she nodded. She sat down as he sat down beside her. 

“First of all, I’m admitting this to you because I’ve let this shit drag on for way to long and I need to just to say it. (Y/N), I’ve always had a thing for you. I’ve always wanted you to be mine. Like in a way where we are more than just bestfriends.” he said as she took it all in. 

"Erik I-"

“Wait, I’m not done yet. Out of curiosity, I went to your profile and I saw one of you’re videos. Ima keep it real, shit was sexy as hell. To the point where I wanna fuck the shit outta you.” he admitted. If there was one thing that she loved about him was how honest he was. 

“Okay, I just want to start off by saying that I have feelings for you too. And I want to be more than just best friends...” she trailed off as he smiled at her. “And another thing, if you have an Only Fans, doesn’t that make you one of those creepy ass niggas that-” her sentence was cut off by him pinching her thigh. “Ow.. that hurt.” she pouted as he smirked at her. There was something in his eyes that she never seen before. She stood up before straddling his lap as his hands gripped her waist. 

“Oh you bold.” he said as she nodded. 

“So tell me, what did you think about my videos?” she whispered in his ear. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt her lips kissing along his neck. 

“They were something.. I- ooh.” he moaned out as she started to whine directly on his dick. She grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head showing his bare chest. She traced her hands up his chest before throwing across his shoulders. 

Erik leaned in, brushing his lips passed hers smirking. With a brief movement her lips connected with his, him immediately dominating hers. He kinda tasted the cherry lip balm that was on her lips, that made her lips smooth and soft. Their tongues traced along each others in a way, like Erik was giving up his dominance. 

She bit her lip, standing up from his lap as she smirked at him. “What you doin/” he asked her. When she didn’t give him an answer, she got on her knees. “(Y/N).’ he said in a warning tone. 

“What’s wrong daddy?” she asked him. The way she said that you would think it was sinful. “I always thought about you fucking my throat, Erik.” she said as she smiled. She pulled the waist band down from his Nike Sweat pants, noticing he was free balling. “Oh you are big...” she said grabbing the base of it. She squeezed it making him jolt his hips forward. 

She kissed the tip, licking along it tasting his pre-cum. She knew Erik always kept up with himself. Drinking water and eating fruit. If he tasted like this now, she wanted to taste him when he bust in her mouth. 

She wrapped her lips around his erection, before going downward, letting her throat relax around him. “Nasty ass bitch..” he grunted thrusting his hips upward. Seeing him like this had her dripping down her thighs. 

She was messy, he liked that. Spit dropped down her chin along pre-cum.

“This is how you do it, huh? Freaky ass...” he said throwing his head back. She smiled at him. She hallowed her cheeks inward to make it tighter as he grunted. He grabbed her lifting him as she pouted. 

“Fuck wrong with you?” he asked her.

“I wanted you to cum in my mouth..” she said as he chuckled. He leaned forward kissing her, there tongues sliding against each other. She was just like him she liked having that shit messy. 

“Let me ride it, daddy..” she whispered to him, stroking his dick as he stood up. They quickly took off all their clothes as she pushed him back on the sofa. She hovered over it and before she could sit on it, he stopped her.

“You still on the pill, right?” he asked her as she nodded. 

“Yeah I am..” she said making him smirk. 

“Thank God, I don’t plan on pulling out.” he said as she bit her lip. She sink herself on it as the both of them whispered out a quiet ‘fuck’. By far, Erik was one of the biggest nigga’s she been with. She had dildos his size probably a little bigger, but it was different because he was fucking her back. 

“Tight ass pussy, this shit wet for me huh?’ he grunted in her ear as she gasped. All she could do was moan. “Answer me..” he started to thrust his hips upward s she moaned out. 

“Fuck, yes daddy.” she gasped out as he smirked, He was hitting a spot that she ain’t even believe was possible to reach. He rotated his hips in a way that made him hit ever inch of her wall. 

“You’re so fucking deep, I feel it in my stomach.” she gasped as he smirked. 

“Yeah take all this big dick. Take it like a big girl. Making a mess all over my shit, I should have you’re nasty ass get down on your knee’s and clean it up.” he taunted her as she fucked him back. She gained her confidence back. 

She purposely made herself tight as he halted his movements. He leaned back grabbing her waist as she smiled. “Does it feel good, daddy?” she asked him as he grunted squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You tryna make me bust this quick? Huh? Get up. I got something for you’re ass.” he said. She lifted herself off as he stood up. He picked her up, walking to her bedroom. He threw her on the bed getting in between her legs. She prepped herself up to see what he was doing as he kissed her up along her thighs. 

He licked along her folds as she let out a huge sigh. He moved his tongue in slow circular motion applying pressure. “Oh shit, just like that.” she gasped. He moved his tongue downward to her entrance. She started to grind herself against his mouth, basically using him. 

“That’s it, use my fucking mouth bitch.” he grunted. His tongue was demonic. She wasn’t expecting to come so close but damn was she getting a run for her money.

“FUCK! ERIK! YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM...” 

“Who’s stopping you?” he said to her. Within a couple of seconds, she came all over his tongue in lips with a piercing scream. 

“Ass up face down. I’m beating that shit up until I’m done.” he grunted out at her. She turned on her stomach before lifting her ass in the air, creating the perfect arch.

Coming from behind, he entered her nice and slow as he winced. “Shit don’t make no sense. Why you giving me this good pussy, huh?” he said fucking her and she moaned. “I ain’t tell you again, answer me.”

“Because your dick feel so good in my pussy daddy..” she moaned out, gripping the sheets. She started fucking him back at the same pace. “Cum inside me please... I want it so bad.” she moaned as he smiled. 

“Yeah, beg for my shit. Nasty Ass,” he grunted slapping her ass making her scream.. “Pussy making a straight up mess on my dick... shit fucking creaming.” he said looking at his dick. He paused her movement as she gasped at the sudden halt. 

Erik was in a complete shock about what was happening. He was finally digging in her guts and he was about to bust all in her. He pulled out flipping her on her back as he settled in between her lips. 

“Baby...” she moaned out as he smiled. Genuinely smiled. 

“Talk to me..” he whispered kissing her shoulders as she shuttered.

“I’m so close.. please baby.” she whispered back looking into his eyes. The energy in the room instantly shifted. They weren’t fucking any more, they were making love.

He inserted himself inside of her as she let out at a satisfied sigh. He gave her slow strokes as he put his hands behind her to hold himself up. The strokes were slow and deep. 

(Y/N) thought that the only sex she could enjoy was rough and hard, but she was just proven wrong about everything. She was loved this feeling. She didn’t know if it was because it was with Erik, but she needed more of this. 

Erik was in his own world. His main focus was to make her cum. And he was  close to itg just by the feeling. She was gripping him to the point where it was hard for him to move. 

“Loosen up ma, shit tight as hell.” he said chuckling as she moaned. 

“I’m sorry I’m so close..” she said as he nodded. He was close too, and most likely was going to cum before her. 

Within a couple of seconds later he came deep. She felt his heavy load paint her walls, that triggered her own orgasm. She clawed at his back, definitely drawing a bit of blood. He collapsed right beside her as they both looked at each other. 

“You do know that means that you are mine, right?” he said to her as she chuckled looking up at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I’m the only one that need to be getting all in that, you understand me?” he said as she nodded. 

“Loud and clear..” she whispered before tucking herself under the covers. 

“Quick question... why did you start doing it?” he asked as she sighed. 

“Like two years ago, money got real tight. I started doing it, honestly I thought that it was just gonna be something for me to extra money on but than I blew up, and I started to get a lot of money from it. Now, I make enough money on it to pay all my bills, plus more. Including my job down at the restaurant.” she admitted to him. 

“Hm, well I understand..” he said. Their was a sudden silence until he spoke up again. 

“You could join me on my Only Fans. My fans would love seeing you fuck me.” she joked as he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Shit, I don’t mind.” 

“Wait you serious.” 

“Dead ass.”

The next morning, Erik woke up in the bed, where it was empty. The smell of her cooking made him get out of the bed. After brushing his teeth and what not, he made his way into the kitchen to see she was making homemade pancakes. 

The only thing she had on was one of Erik’s T-Shirts that he left over her the last time he was here, with some a pair of boy shorts. “Good morning.” he said walking behind her wrapping his arms around her waist kissing her neck as she smiled. 

“Good morning to you too.” she placed the batter on the counter, turning around to look at him. 

“Mm, you smell good.” he said. “I’m so glad that I can finally call you mine.” he replied as she smiled at him. Here she was thinking that it was just something said in the moment, but she was glad the feelings were genuinely real.

“I am too..”

[echos-newlegs]

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

[confused-as-all-hell]

"i know we broke up, i know we don't talk anymore, but I still miss you"

@wesper-week i'm sincerely sorry for this chaos

Jesper Fahey's trade was humor.

His clothes were the colour of too much attention, his laugh limned in shimmering gold. He drew gazes and wistful stares like a lighthouse beacon called for drifting ships. The lines of his body were sharp, elegant, sprawling. When the corners of his mouth lifted in a grin, stars gleamed in his eyes.

He was so achingly beautiful, all tousled dark hair and broad shoulders and warm hands.

Girls and boys fell over themselves for one kiss, one little smile, one whispered word in their ear. How could they not?

Jesper was young and handsome and heady as a cup of evening wine, clever with his graceful fingers, wicked with his soft lips. His GPA was polished, his manners immaculate.

They hung on to his words, the cadence of them, the amused lilt that drenched every sentence.

Jesper had fallen in love with so many, men with rough laughs and kind smiles, women with curling hair and bright eyes. He had taken them over the world, to parks and monuments and cafes, kissed them in the shadow of history.

For every one of his lovers, he bought a ring.

Amethyst for the young lady who carried the scent of lavender.

Gold for the pretty girl whose lips tasted of joy.

Sapphire for the boy who kissed like a fucking god.

Ruby for the trickster woman who loved to laugh.

Copper for the handsome man who had a smile like late summer.

Jesper had cared for each of them in turn. He gifted flowers and jewelry and handwritten letters in his untidy scrawl. He had told them stupid jokes and held their hands and read to them in his unmade bed.

But one by one, they left him, and soon all that was left of their love were those glinting rings.

"Is there something wrong with me?" he whispered once, face shining with tears, head thrown back against the wall.

Nina rested her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him awkwardly. "Of course not, darling."

He patted her cheek clumsily. "Then why does everyone keep leaving, Nina? Why does nobody stay?"

"Wylan—" she began, but shut her mouth instantly.

"Wylan is different."

And he was.

Beautiful, quiet, sweet Wylan Van Eck with his slender hands and paint-splattered face. He was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, sketching the stars as they lay intertwined in bed, smiling over his cup of morning tea, dressed in his oversized shirts and plaid trousers.

His kisses were soft and tentative and tasted of tea leaves. His grins were slow and mischievous and bright as the damned sun. When he sprinted along the rim of a fountain, laughing and arms aloft, Jesper thought love might kill him.

He still dreamt about that day, Wylan leaping across the broad rim, his face upturned, sunlight brightening his hair to flame and gold. Wylan, paint smudged across his lower lip, hands stained with red acrylic. Wylan, pretty blue eyes bright with mirth, his panicked yelp as he nearly toppled sideways.

Wylan, Wylan, Wylan.

Sometimes, when Jesper was laying on the floor of someone else's bathroom, watching the ceiling spin and spin, he could still hear Wylan whispering, "And if I said I am yours, and there is no greater honor, what then Jesper?"

They had been so fucking happy, happier than Jesper deserved, all sticky orange juice kisses and skinny dipping in the ocean and opulent restaurants of ivory and gold.

And then Wylan had mentioned the gambling.

They had argued for days and weeks and then months, furious and bitter. Jesper used to live for the clink of coins and soft rush of the wheel and the elation that flooded into his eyes, ears, mouth, fingers. He loved the hum and chaos of the nightclubs, the frenzy of congratulations and drunken kisses and the retreat into those shadowed alcoves.

The scent of alcohol, the sounds of triumph, the press of hands on his body, the pleasure and ecstasy and joy.

But on their hundredth argument, tears were running down Wylan's face, distorting his freckles and widening those fucking blue eyes. He'd whispered he wouldn't stand for it, and Jesper had woken alone the next morning.

His bed was too empty, his kitchen was too quiet, the room where Wylan painted was too fucking much. All that remained was the hole in Jesper's heart and a sketch of the water fountain Wylan had drawn so lovingly, each detail of the scene preserved forever within charcoal. The ice cream parlor. The sunlight. Wylan, laughing and trying to keep his balance, eyes bright bright bright. Jesper, staring at Wylan as if he had never seen another quite so magical.

The memory of those eyes haunted him, every damn day.

He found himself writing essays on Wylan's long, copper lashes. His eyes, the blue of tranquil oceans, of the clear winter sky, of salvation. The glints of silver shining within, a quiet intelligence that so few had glimpsed. The way he would shyly glance away whenever Jesper grinned at him.

How many times had he stared into those eyes, while the two of them lay bare and exhausted among his own silk sheets?

How many times had he looked up after a kiss to find Wylan smiling back at him?

How many times had he nearly drowned within Wylan's gaze, steady and thoughtful and really fucking hot?

But slowly, agonizingly, bitterly, he grew used to the silence.

He stopped texting Wylan in the middle of the day, face damp with tears, hands shaking with misery.

He stopped accidently brewing a second cup of coffee at breakfast.

He stopped glancing to his left, searching for a glint of red hair in crowded spaces.

He stopped seeing Wylan when another was beneath him.

But sometimes Jesper wondered if anything could make him stop loving the boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

And if sometimes he glimpsed Wylan in the halls, or at a nightclub, or sketching with those fucking charcoal pencils, he could wave. Smile. Pretend he wasn't going to take another home just to ease the day's pain.

'Why won't you go back to him?" Kaz asked once, barely glancing up from his phone.

"He doesn't want me," Jesper said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows as if in disbelief. "Jes, I have it on good authority that Wylan Van Eck hasn't dated a single soul after your breakup."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody," Kaz said airily.

"Nina?"

"Nina."

Jesper attempted a loose smile, but it drifted aside easily as a gauzy veil twitching in the wind.

Wylan Van Eck, kind and brave and good.

Wylan, with his inquisitive eyes and thoughtful conversation.

Wylan, lonely and miserable because one stupid fucking boy had broken his heart.

He could barely stand it.

In some hidden chamber of his mind, he had locked away Wylan’s laughter, the tide of his amusement, inexplicably bright and wondrous. It felt like gazing at one of his softest paintings, a lush blend of ivory and blue and gold, like glimpsing something raw and beautiful and secret.

A burning star.

A miracle, spinning through the galaxy, leaving nothing but light in its wake.

A memory, and no more.

Wylan had once laughed so freely, snickering over an amusing quip, or stifling his smile when Jesper read to him late at night.

That sound of joy and delight. . . it was the brightest damn thing in the world.

And Jesper wanted to know that somewhere, in some other softly lit room with a man looking up at Wy like he was the sun, that laugh was sounding again.

He wanted to know that even if Wylan didn’t shine for him, he shone nevertheless.

The next morning dawned piercing and cold, a bright jewel in the crown of winter. Jesper chose his clothes with unusual care, knotting the laces of his boots twice, cleaning his dozens of rings before slipping them on.

Once he had hoped Wylan would give him the last of the collection—the wedding ring.

Now, as he finished with the last of them, he left his fourth finger bare, a final shrine to the ghosts of their past.

The cafe where he had asked, begged, pleaded for Wylan to meet him was nearly empty, but for a handful of people. His gaze lingered on a young woman with curling brown hair who might have been Nina in a hat, and a man with his leg propped up that was almost certainly Kaz.

Even though he made a mental note to strangle them later, the gesture eased the pressure within his chest ever so slightly.

And there was Wylan, a cup of tea clutched between his slender hands, huddled in a soft brown sweater. He was staring out of the window, those damned blue eyes vague and empty.

Jesper slid soundlessly into the booth, holding his breath as if he could force the longing from his lungs. “Hello, Wylan,” he said softly.

When he glanced up, something in his gaze shifted.

A blossoming flower.

An easing rainfall.

Something wonderful and exquisite and otherworldly.

Hope, hope, hope.

“Jes,” he returned with a little smile.

And Jesper leaned forwards. He couldn’t help it, not when Wylan was there before him and his lips were curved so slightly and his fingers were wrapped around his mug like—

“Wy,” he said, clearing his throat, “I wanted to talk.”

He straightened slightly, that quiet peace dissolving. “Had I not wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have answered your text.”

They stared at each other silently, waiting; it felt like sitting in the living room together, huddled over a game of chess, Jesper grinning as he slid the first pawn two squares up.

But he was not nearly so confident about his play now.

“I’ve been talking to Kaz,” he began awkwardly, the words clumsy in his mouth. “He told me you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“And I’ve been speaking with Inej,” returned Wylan, utterly refined and elegant in his simplicity. “She tells me you’ve been seeing everyone.”

Jesper felt like a child again, clutching a rifle in his inexperienced hands, brows drawn together in concentration as he replayed his mother’s instruction in his mind. His father was playing target again, brown eyes gentle with encouragement. He didn’t know what to do, he was going to shoot his father, he was going to harm harm harm.

The words in his hands, his throat, were constricted and awful and stumbling. He didn’t know how to shoot without hurting anyone he loved.

Wylan was still gazing at him, blue eyes dark, for the first time in memory. “Jes,” he said, “was I so easy to forget?”

“Forget?” Jesper croaked. “Like a stupid song or piece of information on the study guide? Like you didn’t shine brighter than the damned sun? Like there were days when I didn’t wish to capture the stars and give them to you?”

There was a strange, crackling rush in Jesper’s ears, as if the ocean had swelled too high and now he was drowning, drowning, drowned.

If Wylan wanted him back, if Wylan loved him still—

He could wake up every morning with soft limbs tangled in his own. He could kiss Wylan again, taste tea and sugar cookies and mint. He could marry him, live out a life with him, die on the bed beside his own, fingers interlocked tight.

The future was there, tangled and messy and uncertain, but there all the same.

But Wylan was shifting in his seat, almost anxiously. “Jes,” he said softly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His eyes, his lovely blue eyes, were beginning to shine. “I know that look,” he said, almost bitterly. “I know that look damn well.”

Jesper’s giddy excitement was beginning to wither, and he clung to it desperately, a final shield against the darkness. “What look?”

Wylan reached out, fingertips stained blue with paint, hands still slim and delicate, a work of art. “If you think I want to… to get back together, I don’t. You and I, it was so much fun, and sometimes I wonder if everything was more than a college romance.”

He retracted his shaking hands, and ran them through his copper hair. “I wonder if another Jesper, who loved himself as much as his friends love him, and another Wylan, who was just a little bit of a better boyfriend, might have had their future together.”

Jesper could only stare

Wylan whispered, “Don’t you see it, Jes? We were stupid fucking collage kids who fell in love, but it was never supposed to carry on. I told you, that night in the club, I just wanted sex.”

He remembered.

Just sex, do you understand? No more, Jes.

But then, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you just once.

And it kept going, spiraling, until one morning they were laying in bed and Wylan was wearing Jesper’s shirt, and Jesper was stroking Wylan’s hair, and it was much more than just sex.

One date, Wy. Give me a chance.

I love you, I love you, I love you, dumbass.

I want you to move in with me. I want you in my bed, my kitchen, my clothes. I want to see you tired and angry and miserable and I want to tell you you’re still the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Jesper had imagined their wedding, every so often, a blazing pillar of hope lighting the path to the future. He had dreamt tailored suits and blue eyes and the final ring. He had planned every detail of his speech, his vows, his oath to live and die with Wylan Van Eck.

“Just sex,” he said at last. “We fucked it up, didn’t we, Wy?”

Wylan extended his hand once more. “I loved you, Jes, I won’t pretend. But I’m with someone else now, and I care for him, and I promised I would sort out the ghosts of my past.”

Jesper slid his palm over his, reveling in the soft skin, the gentle touch he would never feel again. “You’re happy?” he said softly. “He makes you laugh?”

He smiled, a secret, lovely smile. “Yeah. Yeah, he makes me laugh.”

And the sudden truth of it, the fact Wylan was someone else’s now, and he was laughing in another’s arms, hit Jesper. It sent ice through his veins, his mind, the final shattered shard of his heart, tearing through memories.

Wylan, brave and wonderful, laying on his bed. His hands were aloft, describing a particularly clear night sky, the shapes he traced in the stars. He had named one for Jesper, and he said it was shaped like love.

Jesper, doubled up in laughter as he flipped a pancake, listening to yet another one of Wylan’s rambling stories. He never tired of them. Those recollections, the happy lilt to his voice, the giddy, “There’s more, though!” were treasured beyond gold.

Wylan, working on some assignment or another, sprawled on the grass of a dewy meadow. His head was pillowed on Jesper’s hoodie as he wrote, filling the page with his elegant script. Every so often, he would glance over and point out a butterfly or shaped cloud with a smile.

Jesper, watching as Wylan leapt across the fountain. His copper head was upturned, sunlight streaming down onto the angles of his face, joy etched in his brilliant grin. He looked like a god for that one moment, frozen forever in a snapshot of peace.

“I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me not to,” Jesper had whispered once. “I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me to. I will love you, because I am yours, and there has never been such an honor.”

When the years whiled past, when the bone-deep sorrow lightened at last, did Jesper still love him?

That was the question he asked himself every morning over a cup of bitter coffee.

Twenty-four years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Thirty-one years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Forty-five years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Fifty-seven years old, and Jesper still loved him.

An old man, dying in his bed, and the laugh ringing through his head belonged to a boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

A dead man, and Jesper loved him from the grave.

Love bowed to no one, and least of all death.

A collage romance was theirs, but their love was not that of two foolish young men, out for a kiss and in for a good fuck. It was carefree, happy, bright as the sun. It was etched in the stars, and it was doomed from the start.

Love bowed to no one, but perhaps it inclined its head towards Jesper Fahey and Wylan Van Eck.

[lilyginnyblackv2]

Flower Language Time Again~

So, with the Episode 8 Preview providing us with this image:

And with the flowers in it looking so similar to, and reminding many of, Kagura’s death scene in a field of flowers:

I decided to do some research into what flower this might be (for both Setsuna’s scene here and Kagura’s). What I found provided some interesting results!

I think that the flower is a white Japanese anemone. They are a flower that is related to the buttercup family, which is fascinating, since the flower often associated with Rin in the Inuyasha Exhibition goods has been a Japanese buttercup. Also, another name for anemone is “windflower.” This “refers to the fact that it grows where the wind blows openly.” 

And here are some symbolic meanings of the flower:

While in Japanese the while anemone flower symbolizes:

or “truth/sincerity,” “expectation/anticipation,” and “hope, wish, and aspiration.”

The meaning of the flower being connected to things like “the death of a loved one,” “fragility of life,” and etc. all fit with Kagura’s death. But there some other interesting names, meanings, and origins to this flower and its name.

While most of the myth doesn’t really fit Kagura and Sesshomaru, there are aspects of the myth that do stand out now with Yashahime in the mix and the introduction of Kirinmaru and the Four Perils.

Basically, in the myth, Aphrodite fell in love with a handsome young man named Adonis. But her other lover was Ares (God of War) and she warned Adonis about him, stating that her lover could turn into a wild beast. At one point Adonis is injured by a wild boar. And the anemone was create d from the tears of Aphrodite mixing with the blood of Adonis as she held him in her arms. As we know, Kirinmaru is referred to as The King of Beasts and one of the Four Perils is a Boar Demon:

Those aspects could definitely be coincidence. Though, after this most recent episode (Episode 7), in which Riku definitely seems to be linking the apple he ate with the Biblical/Western association of apples with sin...who knows. We already have some Buddhist elements mixed in with that Biblical element/reference, so some Greek/Roman mythology too...why not, lol!

But more interestingly than that is the fact that the anemone in Greek means this:

The Daughter of the Wind.

I also found this meaning/symbolism for the flower as well:

“A new beginning and anticipation as the flower closes its petals at night and blossom again in the morning.” 

Those last two meanings are the ones that I think could connect to Setsuna. That and the fact that Setsuna displays wind based powers and attacks, which would connect her to the alternative name of anemone - “windflower,” just like Kagura.

As always, please feel free to add on! :D

Sources of the information on anemone - origin, mythology, meaning, and flower language:

hanakotoba(dot)com

morflora(dot)com

flower-meanings(dot)com

Pictures/Images are from:

Episode 7 - From the Preview Section for Episode 8 - Setsuna

The Inuyasha Exhibition Twitter / Goods Website - SessKagu Acrylic Stand

The Yashahime official site - Toukotsu (A Four Great Peril - Boar Demon)

[sexbirthdeaths]

if i had an orchard

ship: morgan x garcia

summary: penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. with each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. and he can’t look away.

warnings: mentions of minor character death (hank morgan, the boy morgan finds in the junkyard), episode 3x09 “penelope”, rotting fruit/maggot imagery, religious imagery, implied murder (boy in junkyard), toxic masculinity

words: 3000

Derek is eight when his dad takes him camping for the first time. It’s the summer of 81, Sarah is entering middle school and Desiree is about to start Kindergarten, so after all of the stress of school applications, Hank proposes they just go out, enjoy the sights of Illinois.

So they go to Buffalo Rock, and he loves it, loves the smell of nature and the feeling of the sun on his skin. He plays soccer with his dad by the campsite whilst Sarah burns through her summer reading list and Desiree cries because she doesn’t like the bugs and she’s too small to play with the boys, and it’s the best summer of his life.

One night, his father pulls a bag of apples from the rucksack, suggests they bake them in some tinfoil over the fire. So while Fran puts Desiree away to bed, Hank sits him down by the campfire and shows him how to pare an apple with a penknife. Slow, using his thumb to stabilise the blade, careful not to cut his finger.

He cuts it straight through the core, hands Derek one of the slices to parcel up carefully in tinfoil. And once those are on the flames, he gives him the knife, another apple from the bag.

“Be careful,” Hank guides him slowly, hand hovering over Dereks’ own, “You don’t want to cut yourself.”

Derek peels it clean and precise, he’s always been a bit of a perfectionist like that. But when he cuts down the core of the apple, and the two pieces fall away in his palm, something is wrong. Very wrong.

His hand retracts in an instant, sends the apple flying, maggots spilling onto the ground into a writhing mass. His stomach is churning, twisting itself in disgust at the sight, and his father stomps it with his boot.

“That one was rotten,” Hank says, pulls the knife from Derek’s hand, “No good. It’s no good.”

Even when the apples are done baking, he can’t stand the sight of them, can’t stomach it after seeing the rotten fruit.

“Tenderness is a sign of rot,” Hank informs him as he eats his slices, “They shouldn’t be soft. That’s how you know they’re bad.”

And he takes that sentiment with him. Even when his father dies, especially when his father dies. He doesn’t cry at the funeral, he starts lashing out at anyone and everyone because to be soft is a sign of rot, of corruption at the core, it makes you undesirable and unwanted and sickening. Keep the toughest rind and you will come out the other side strong.

So he picks fights, even with the kids he knows will beat him. He’s always been a tall kid but Rodney has always been taller, stronger, but to turn the other cheek is a soft man’s path, and Derek Morgan is not soft.

He picks fights and he loses them, comes home battered and bruised and his mother will fuss over him, press a bag of frozen peas to his eye and sing him to sleep. She doesn’t care if he’s too old for it, he’ll always be her son. And even when the pain runs more than skin-deep, crawls through his veins and writhes like a maggot, sickly and decay-drawn, she will cradle his body like he isn’t crumbling from the inside out.

When Derek is 11, it’s the first Thanksgiving since his dad died. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the house as Sarah and Fran work on dinner, and Desiree’s out in the backyard with the neighbour’s kids. His grandparents aren’t coming this year, something about the Chicago winters being cruel on their arthritis.

There’s a faint layer of snow already beginning to settle outside, and he can see the constellations of snowflakes in Desiree’s hair as she finally bids the neighbours farewell and comes tumbling inside, ready to bound up the stairs.

“You promised you’d help me with the apple pie,” Sarah chides as she scoops Desiree up in her arms. The girl laughs loud and gleeful, the first real laugh since the day began, wriggles as she tries to escape her older sister’s grip. Desiree is a big girl now, 6 years old and wide-eyed and too mischievous for her own damn good, and she’s too big now for Sarah to pick her up with ease but she tries anyway.

Derek steps out, takes Desiree from Sarah’s grasp and slings her over his shoulder, grinning at the shrieks he hears.

“Come on, Des,” He laughs, “You promised!”

So, whilst his mom cooks the turkey and the mash and the myriad of thanksgiving side dishes, the three Morgan children converge in the living room, and work on the apples. Sarah peels them and Derek slices them, and Desiree just watches with her big brown eyes and pretends she's helping, because Lord knows no one trusts her with a real knife.

When they’re done there’s a pile of peels in a bowl. Their mom takes it, a sparkle in her eye.

“You know,” she says, grinning and setting down her knife, “There’s an old wives’ tale that if you throw the peel behind your shoulder, it will spell your husband’s name.”

Desiree and Sarah dissolve into giggles. Desiree’s too young to know what true love like that really feels like, too young to be thinking about marriage and life as an adult. And Sarah’s approaching it closer and closer with each passing day, she’s had her heart broken by careless boys to want nothing but a guarantee that the next boy will be the one.

So they take the peels and throw them. Desiree’s looks sort of like an L from the right angle, and Sarah’s is an A, if you use a bit of imagination, and Derek doesn’t get anything because he refuses to try it.

“That’s for girls,” he scoffs, puffs his chest up like a proud robin all red and strong.

“You’re impossible,” Is the response he gets.

When he is 15 he finds a boy’s body in the junkyard. All battered and bruised and broken and he wishes he could press a bag of frozen peas to his head like his mother had done, tell this boy it would all be okay. But it won’t be okay, and the case is never solved because the police don’t seem to care for kids like Derek or the boy, seem for focused on pinning things on them than catching their killers.

When he sees the policeman shake the community centre owner’s hand, Derek knows his killer will not be caught.

He goes door to door and pools up enough money to buy a headstone, and he visits it whenever he can, touches the cool rock and feels himself break. And he doesn’t know this boy, know his face or his name, but they feel connected. Through space and time and tragedy, maybe in another life they were friends. Maybe in another life it was him, and he would be the one rotting in the ground.

Move forward a few years and he feels like something inside of him is broken. Like he’s been torn apart and stitched back together again but something went wrong in the process. He feels moldy, he thinks one day as he’s filling out college applications, disgusting. If he could he’d rip all his skin off and scrub himself spotless. But this runs deeper than skin.

He gets the football scholarship, and his mother cries when he reads the letter because her baby is going to Northwestern and he’s gonna be something great, bigger than himself, he’s gonna change the world. And the success feels like the pinprick in the lid for him, like he can finally breathe as there’s a chance for him to go. Leave those rotten parts of him behind.

After college and the Chicago department, he finds himself starting in the BAU. The team is pretty small - Hotch is a hard-ass and Gideon is, well, Gideon, and the liaison stays in her office too much for Derek to really know who she is, but the BAU feels right for him. Gideon’s got some kid on his radar and so does Hotch, but they’re both so frustratingly secretive that he has no clue who they could be.

He fits right in like a puzzle piece that’s been missing for so long, takes on a role as the ladies’ man and the handsome coworker who flirts with you over coffee, but also the guy who’ll sit with child victims for hours to make sure they’re alright. Hotch hasn’t booted him yet so he figures he’s doing something right.

And then he meets her.

Penelope Garcia, she introduces herself as, and she’s so unlike any girl he’s ever met before with her long, dark hair and she acts like she’s the smartest person in the room (and after a few hours interrogating her, he figures that sentiment isn’t too far off). She’s got these big curious eyes and glittery pink acrylics and he can see the person that sits behind the dark facade.

They don’t hit it off, at first, because he’s proud and she’s defensive and he has a job to complete, but then Hotch informs him of the deal that’s been made, so he better start trying to get along with her. She gets along great with JJ, they eat lunches together in Garcia’s ‘batcave’ and JJ’s finally starting to open up a bit more, actually talks to Derek at the coffee machine in the mornings and asks how he’s been. Before, she’d talk to him, or Hotch, or Gideon even, with strained words and avoiding eye contact.

The first time he calls her babygirl is the first time he sees her properly flustered, cheeks red and stammering as she types away at her keyboard and Hotch gives him the mother of all death glares because they’re trying to run an FBI investigation here, Derek. But it makes him smile, seeing her all blushed pink, and he decides he likes it.

She pretends she doesn’t struggle sometimes, and he sees it. The mass of figurines and posters in her office are just a distraction technique - he’s well versed in those - and he knows just how taxing it must be for her, seeing all those awful things. She loves and she loves like it’s the only thing she knows how to do, full-bodied and all in, and some days he wonders if she’s really capable of hatred at all.

“How can you do it? How do you deal with it all?” She asks one day over coffee, voice small and sad. She’s seen some awful things over the past few days, and he wraps her up tightly in her arms. The worst thing is - he doesn’t know what to say. For as long as he can remember, he’s just been pushing it away and ignoring it. Letting it sit inside him and simmer, rip him from the inside out and just pray he’ll be able to pick up the pieces once he finally falls apart.

Things shift, change, over the years as people come and go. There’s a new kid, one Gideon’s been raving about for months who’s finally gotten all the necessary qualifications, even if some exams had to be waived. And he gets hurt, gets hurt bad, and Derek wonder’s if that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back because it isn’t long before Gideon leaves. There’s a new man in his place and they’re still trying to trust him, but he just isn’t Gideon, he isn’t the mentor and the peacekeeper and the caretaker that they’ve all grown to need.

Penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. With each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. And he can’t look away.

She has a date. She has a date and he doesn’t know why there’s this ache in his chest, like something’s been scraped out from him and left him hollow. But it’s her choice, he figures, he doesn’t own her. And then he gets the phone call.

Shot, he hears Hotch say over the phone, voice crackled and rough, and it’s like everything in him shuts down. Like someone’s ripping him apart limb by limb. That motherfucker. He will not know kindness from me. Do you need me? He asks, but Hotch just sighs.

She needs you.

And he’s driving to the hospital but he’s so pissed he can barely even focus, consumed by the rage bubbling within him, he wants to find that son of a bitch and make him feel a thousand times what Penelope felt. His skin is itching like thousands of maggots are crawling across him, it’s so overwhelming.

He feels rotten, like he’s so full of pain he can barely breathe, and his cheeks are wet and he doesn’t know why they are until he reaches up to touch them, realises he’s crying.

Men like Morgan do not cry. It’s a sign of weakness, he thinks, and you cannot afford to be weak. Not here, not now, you have never been safe enough to be weak. You bottle it up and ignore it, because to be soft is to be rotten.

He flashes his badge to the hospital receptionist and she informs him with pitying eyes that Penelope is in emergency surgery, that he can wait until she’s out and hear the verdict. So he collapses into the waiting room chairs, unable to look at the others, waits for Penelope to be okay.

Waiting lasts a century. All he wants is to take her in his arms and let her know she’s going to be okay, but he can’t. He can’t even guarantee that it will all be fine, because from what he’s heard it’s a bad wound from a good shot and it’s not looking good.

See, Penelope is an apple tree. She gives and she gives and she asks for nothing in return but a spot in the sun and a love her body has been starved of for years. And all Derek wants is to drown in blossom petals and cider, to drown himself in her warmth. All she asks for is to be loved, and that bastard didn’t even try. Derek will try, he will try and he will pray to a God he does not even believe in (Goddamnit he’s trying, he’s trying) if it means he can love her, if it means that she will be there to receive his love.

When the surgeon comes back, gives them the news, everything in him relaxes. Like the tightly-wound coil of a music box as the lever is finally released. She’s okay, she will be okay, no one must die today.

Her makeup is gone, hair a knotted mass, she’s traded out the bright clothes and heavy jewellry for a hospital gown. And she’s as breathtaking as ever, and Morgan can’t look away. He wants to reach out and hold her hand, press his forehead against hers, let her know that he’s here and everything is going to be okay, tell her how glad he is that she’s alive.

“You really love her, huh?” JJ asks with a smile, looks up at Morgan with a piercing, knowing gaze once they file out of the room, split up the group. She’s cradling a to-go coffee cup in her hands and disshevelled - she’d been the first one at the hospital, been in charge of letting everyone else know.

It’s JJ that knows Penelope the best, if not Derek. She knows the ins-and-outs of their relationship, she can see what they’re too scared to say to eachother. Love, he thinks, this is what this is.

“I do.” He nods.

“So tell her- show her, god knows she needs you right now.”

He waits until the others have left Penelope’s hospital room. The thing is - he flirts with her all the time, has himself branded as a ladies man, but it’s been so long since he’s had something real. He’s always been too afraid to show that tender side that a relationship requires.

But he’s tired of holding back. Penelope softens him, turns all his harsh edges hazy, makes his heart wrench in his chest. He has forgotten what it means to be rotten.

So he sits himself at the edge of her bed, doesn’t care if any of the others can see him through the window, all that matters is here and now.

“I almost lost you,” he says, voice soft, “I was so scared- I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you’d gone besides tear the bastard apart.”

He scoots closer, chair handle digging into him as he leans into her. His hand cups her face, feels her warm skin against his cool palm, heartbeat thrumming under his fingertips. She’s alive, good god, and she’s here with him, and maybe everything will be okay.

His forehead presses against Penelope’s own and she seems to welcome the movement, twists a handful of his shirt in her grip like she can’t bear the thought of ever letting him go. Derek has never wanted to be loved more than right now, loved by her.

He’d bite the apple for her, Derek thinks, swallow it down seeds and all. Because he loved her, he didn’t care if the fruit was rotten or wretched, damnation was a gift if he was condemned alongside her. He’d run to the edges of the world where all that could reach them was the moon and the stars, and he’d tell Penelope how he hung them just for her.

Kissing her feels like breaking the water’s surface. Being reborn, baptised under her hands, and for what feels like the first time, he can breathe.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you buy him an action figure of himself

This work, 当你买了他的手办, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You’ve been trembling with fear and trepidation for close to ten minutes in your own office at your own company, afraid that the person sitting in your seat would criticise your proposal for lacking a single redeeming feature.

Just as you feel as though you’re about to faint from anxiety, Victor finally sets down the proposal in his hand.

“Not bad.”

A great weight rolls off your shoulders, and you lift your head. “It’s really passable?”

Faced with a sudden visit from the CEO, you were so frightened earlier that your heart was about to stop.

“Mm.”

“That’s amazing. Teacher Victor, I want red wine steak tonight~” You smile coquettishly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He tilts his head and is just about give your cheeks a pinch when his gaze sweeps over a miniature figure on the table.

“What’s this?” He grips the clay figurine’s head, lifting it up to have a look.

“Isn’t it cute? I passed by a small shop and the boss made it based on a photo I had of you.” You hurriedly take the clay figurine from him before he destroys it, placing it back on the table with much care.

"You look at it every day?”

Despite sensing that his tone sounds slightly off, you nod honestly.

VIctor’s face darkens, and he throws the figurine into his bag. His sudden change in temperament makes you afraid to even breathe.

From his wallet, he takes out a photograph - it’s a picture of the both of you.

“I’m confiscating this. Next time, just look at this photo. Take a walk after dinner and buy a photo frame along the way.”

“...” 

Is Teacher Victor jealous of himself?

[ GAVIN ]

During one of your idle online shopping adventures, you come across a service which does customisable figurines. Curious, you scan through the reviews, realising that the photos are all exquisite. After finalising the price with the customer service staff, you send over a picture of Gavin playing basketball.

A month flies past quickly. Intending it to be a surprise, you keep this from Gavin.

When the parcel finally arrives, you wield the fruit knife from the table expectantly.

“Are you cutting fruits?” Gavin immediately stands up and asks, afraid you’d injure yourself.

You shake your head. “No, I'm opening a parcel.”

Still feeling uneasy, he decides to stand next to you, only to be greeted by a figurine which looks exactly like him.

“This is...”

“It’s my handsome Officer Gavin!” 

You hand it to him slowly, as though you’re cradling a treasure. 

He accepts it carefully. “Isn’t this the time we went to play basketball with Eli and Minor in Loveland High?”

As expected of Officer Gavin - his memory is incredible. 

“That’s right! This way, I’ll have a big Gavin, and a small Gavin!” You take the clay figurine, hugging it to yourself.

“Mm.” Gavin nods in agreement. “No matter which Gavin it is, they’re all yours. But... I’d actually prefer to make a mini Gavin with you.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Was this figurine made to look like me?” Lucien studies the miniature figure on the table.

You nod. “Yeah, a chibi Professor Lucien is really cute. It’s no wonder why the students used a chibi version of you to attract guests during the university’s anniversary.

“It is cute. But it isn’t perfect.”

Lucien shuts the acrylic box properly.

You turn the box around, looking at the figurine carefully. Even though it’s a chibi, it is an exact replica of Lucien in terms of appearance, pose and expression - especially the eyes. Even the angle of its slight smile is the same.

“I think it’s pretty perfect though.” You comment, wondering what flaws he noticed.

With a laugh, Lucien holds onto your shoulder, pushing you in front of the mirror, beckoning you to look into it, then at the figurine on the table.

“Do you notice that something is missing?” He hints, eyes crinkling.

The mirror reflects two profiles leaning against each other. On the other hand, the figurine on the table appears lonely. 

“Do you still remember where that figurine shop is?” He holds your hand. “It’d only be perfect with you.”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro!” You exclaim the moment you step into the house.

“Have you collected the parcel? What did you buy?” 

Ever since you vehemently rejected his offer to accompany you to collect the parcel, Kiro’s dejection was about to burst through the roof. Now that he sees you calling for him, he tosses his earlier unhappiness aside, running over eagerly.

“Didn’t your fan club make a lot of Kiro figurines recently? I bought one~”

Filled with anticipation, you remove the small figurine from the parcel. The moment you see it, you’re held captive by its spirited expression and bright, starry eyes. “This is really adorable!”

Kiro feels as though his position in the household is no longer stable.

“I think it looks average.” Kiro’s comment is accompanied by his menacing ‘claws’ giving the figurine’s face a poke. 

“I think looks very nice.” You swat his ‘claws’ away. “Be careful not to spoil it!”

With extreme caution, you place this newbie on the display shelf, and even pat its head gently. “Get along well with the other figurines, okay?”

Kiro is certain that his position in the household is no longer stable.

“Miss Chips, why are you treating the figurine so well QAQ You’re not only ignoring the real person standing next to you, but you’re being so tender to a figurine. I can sing for you. Can the figurine do that? I can bring you to eat good food. Can the figurine do that? In bed, I can even-”

“Stop!” You clasp a hand over his mouth before he can say something embarrassing. “Fine fine fine, you’re the best, okay?”

You shoot him a look of resignation.

Kiro nods, satisfied. “I also want Miss Chips to acknowledge that I’m the one you cherish most in your heart!”

Tickled, you rub his head. “Whatever you say, three-year-old Kiro~”

[ SHAW ]

“What’s this toy? Why is it so ugly?” Shaw looks distastefully at the object you’ve placed on the table.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Are you blind? Can’t you tell that it’s a figurine of you?”

You straighten the figurine with a serious expression on your face. Chibi Shaw is carrying a bass, his sharp little canines looking adorable beyond belief. It really exudes his aura.

“Oh please, this toy doesn’t have any of my coolness.” 

Ignoring your murderous glare, he picks up the figurine you've painstakingly fixed. Pinching its head and turning it around several times, the distaste on Shaw’s face grows even deeper.

Resisting the urge to whack him with the figurine, you snatch it back, placing it once again in its original position. “If you don’t like it, then suck it up. What matters is that I like it!”

He rubs the area that you’ve hit, his tone somewhat sincere and his expression amiable. “It’s ugly - just throw it away. Save yourself from nightmares.”

“So... you’re saying that you’re ugly?” You give him a direct reminder that the figurine was made based on his appearance, so he’s basically insulting himself.

“I didn’t say that.” Unbothered, he throws the figurine back into the box. “This toy doesn’t resemble me at all. It’s ugly as hell.”

He seals the box shut, then finds a rubber band to tie it several times, ensuring it wouldn’t fall out.

“Next time, just look at me directly if you want to. Why look at these ugly things? The real me will always be by your side.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[thewildomega]

Always wondered how Katakuri would react to a painter S / O ? The strange way they look at life from an artistic view , Since it probably wouldn't be practical for a pirate to be an artist : ( Like them randomly stopping to admire a flower and talking about how the color makes them feel only to hear someone like Luffy say " it's just a flower , what's the big deal ? " ) You can make is angst if you want , but can it please have a happy ending ? ( I don't wanna cry!😫)

P.s. My angst idea is the Katakuri's S / O has some ability to do with water and her belief is that is the only reason Katakuri and the Charlotte fam like her (she might be right about some of them🤔) after all I imagine they would think being a painter is stupid . You don't have to do this it's just my idea . 🌸Please and thank you💖

A/N: Thank you for requesting! So I changed a few things up but I hope you liked it!

Through the eyes of an Artist 

Finding a secluded area away from everyone else you pulled out your sketch book and charcoals, your most cherished possessions. Glancing up to the spring that was surrounded by beautiful flowers of all colors you grinned a little and started drawing away, drifting away into your own mind. Times like these were your favorite, times when you could be yourself and not the woman you had been forced to play the part of. 

Your mother and father owned a large sugar cane plantation and had made many business investments over the years by marrying off your brothers and sister. now however it was your turn, your parents chosen suitor had been none other than a man from the Charlotte family, one of the notorious Big Mom's sons. For weeks now you parents had been doubling down on your 'princess' training along with your lessons on how to make be a proper wife. You hadn't known to just two days ago when your ship had arrived at Toto Land Island that your betrothed just happened to be the most feared of them all, Katakuri. Having only been in his presence once, he had said nothing to you, only looked down at you with a cold stare that told you everything you needed to know. He didn't want you. Your parents and brothers had seen it as well apparently and the moment all of you had been shown to your temporary rooms they had all started jumping you. 

"You couldn't smile a little?"

"Why did you not curtsy like we talked about?"

"Couldn't you have made yourself even the slightest bit attractive tonight?" 

"You are such a disappointment..."

"Why oh why did we have to be cursed with such a worthless daughter!"

"The only thing good she has going for her is her devil fruit powers..."

On and on they went, your eyes focused on the floor as tears brimmed and threatened to spill down your cheeks. That night when you had laid in bed all you could think about was how not even your husband would care about you. You were doomed to be forever unloved. What sucked even more was that you were being ripped away from the only friend that you had ever had, the only person that didn't see you as a failure and waste of space. Tika had been the only person to seem to like you for you not just because of your water manipulation devil fruit powers. 

Before you knew it splotches were messing up your art piece and you sniffled as you reached up to wipe away the tears falling from your eyes. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath and sighed. Opening your eyes a bit you looked towards the blueish purple hyacinth and blinked slowly, turning the page to capture that single flower, the one that represented how you felt. Adding in different shades and blending them together with your fingertip you tilted your head to the side in concentration, not even hearing the person walk up behind you. 

"You shouldn't be out here." a deep voice spoke. 

Completely caught off guard by the sudden voice you threw your sketch book and charcoal out of your hands and let out a little yelp. Snapping your eyes up you saw the two crimson eyes looking at you with the same coldness and disdain as they had two days ago. Opening and closing your mouth you quickly bowed your head. "I'm sorry. I... I didn't know it was off limits o..or anything I just... well I..." Stupid you had done it again, you had messed up again. Just like you always did. "I'm sorry." you said in a whisper. 

He just stood there watching as the woman, his bride to be stumbled over an apology. Seeing her bow her head low and then move to gather her things he moved his eyes to the ground and saw a pad of paper of sorts and what looked to be a set of colorful charcoals, many of which were very small. She had been drawing? Crouching down he began helping her gather all the little pieces for her. 

When his large hand started picking the pieces of charcoal out of the grass to hand them to you you glanced up to him and saw his face buried in his scarf. Taking them when he held them out for you, you quickly thanked him and went about placing them in the small bag you had. Being so focused on the task at hand you didn't even notice him lift your sketch pad up and flip it over to examine your flower piece until it was too late. "No! Don't look at tha...." you tried saying but it was too late.

Standing back to his full height he looked over the different drawings and art pieces. "You did all these?" he asked, his voice emotionless. 

Curling up some you mumbled out a small 'yes' and readied yourself for the cruel words you were so used to hearing. When he said nothing you bit your lip and looked down. "I know it's a useless pass time, stupid even but I..."

Looking to a painting of the sea he grinned a little behind his scarf. "You are an exceptional artist." Hearing her small gasp he looked down to see a small blush dusting her cheeks and her eyes looking up at him in pure shock. She wasn't used to such compliments apparently. 

You could honestly say your heart warmed a bit at his kind words and you swallowed thickly before replying. "Thank you." 

Humming he began leading her back to the palace. "Do you preferer to use Charcoals?" he asked. 

Shaking your head you reached up to brush your hair back behind your ear. "No, paints are my favorite." 

"Gouache, Watercolors, acrylics or oil?" he asked. 

You had never had anyone to talk about art with before and could feel yourself smiling a little at the conversation. "Well I've only ever been able to use Acrylics and oil based paints before. I have seen some watercolor pieces from other artist before though and hope to one day try them as well." 

Humming he continued walking with her all the way to the palace doors, the both of them quietly talking about this and that until he heard a man and woman yell his fiancé's name. 

Quickly looking up when you heard your parents yell your name you saw them both waiting at the front entrance, deep scowls on their faces. Instantly the smile that Katakuri had managed to bring to your lips disappeared. "Mother, fath..."

"Where have you been?! We have been searching for you for hours!" you mother screeched. "Just look at your dress, covered in those damn charcoals again." she snapped. 

"I.. I'm sorry.. I..." You started but were quickly cut off by your father. 

"No more of your excuses. I am sick and tired of this worthless hobby of yours." he growled, snatching your sketch pad and charcoals from you. 

"No, please father I..."

"Y/n that is enough." your mother hissed out between clenched teeth. 

"Now, you will apologize to Katakuri for no doubt wasting his time with your foolishness." your father demanded. 

He had stood there quietly, listening to Y/n's parents belittle her. Crossing his arms over his chest he continued to remain silent, even when his bride to be turned to him and whispered out a sorrowful apology. Not responding because he knew if he opened his mouth he would say too much he just stood there and watched as her mother grabbed her wrist, too hard judging by the small wince she made, and quickly pulled her back towards their rooms. 

Sighing your father pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards the commander. "I assure you Katakuri she isn't as useless as she seems. While she may be stuck on this junk and her looks aren't very good, my daughter does have a powerful water power unlike any other. I have no doubt that she will prove to be a valuable asset to your family. Not to mention she will also be able to give you plenty of heirs. I only hope this little mishap hasn't made you change your mind about marrying her. I will be having a long talk with her and I promise that she will give this up." he said, holding up the art supplies in his hand . 

Gritting his teeth he glared down at the man. "I intend to keep my families side of the deal." Without another word he walked away from the man before he did something he would regret or rather something his mother would not be happy about. 

........................

Today was the day, your wedding day but you couldn't find a reason to be happy. All day you had been getting ready. People pinning you up in an attempt to make you look somewhat acceptable. Your mother's harsh comment about Katakuri not looking to your face too long making a knot form in your throat. Walking down the isle towards him you could only think back on the last few days where he had went back to ignoring you. To your knowledge the two of you had been hitting it off pretty good the other day, speaking of this and that. Perhaps though your family had been right and he was only being nice for the sake of your upcoming union. 

Standing beside him as the priest spoke you looked him over through your veil and noticed how handsome he looked. Before too long your mind had began making notes about how you could draw this moment later but then you remembered your father's words and frowned. Never again would you be allowed to practice your art skills, having brought enough shame to your family. 

When it came time to kiss and he lifted your veil you looked up into his crimson eyes and saw them not as cold as they were before and blinked. Feeling him kiss your head through his scarf you heard one of your brothers make a quiet comment about not blaming Katakuri for wanting to kiss you, the words making your heart clench painfully. 

During the reception you sat beside Katakuri and kept your head down. 

"Congratulations..."

Looking up you saw a thin, tall looking woman standing there and straightened up when you realized it was one of the other Charlotte children. "T..Thank you." you said politely. 

"My name is Brulee, we haven't met yet but Big Brother here tells me you are an artist." she said with a smile. 

"An Artist!?" Big Mom questioned around a mouthful of cake. 

Gasping a little you looked between her and your husband. Nodding a bit you opened your mouth to speak when you caught sight of your father staring daggers at you and dropped your shoulders. "I... I used to be."

Knitting his brows at her sudden change in emotion he looked across the hall to see her father looking at her with a very strict look and raised his chin as father went on talking to his mother. 

"It was a childhood hobby, nothing to brag about." you father laughed off with the rest of your family joining in. 

Seeing his wife's eyes look to her lap and noticing a droplet of water fall to her lap he let out a deep breath and stood. "Mama, Y/n and I are going to retire for the night." he spoke deeply.

"Yes, yes. Of course you both are ready for the honeymoon." she laughed. 

Blushing behind his scarf he said nothing as he held his hand out for Y/n to take, noticing her hand shaking a bit. "Brulee." he said and heard his little sister hum. Without a word they led her from the room and out to the hall. Seeing Brulee stand before a mirror he continued holding his wife's hand as his sister opened the mirror world. 

Going through one mirror and then being led to another you felt Katakuri stop and glanced up just the tiniest amount. 

"Thank you sister." he said. 

"Of course." She told her brother with a smile before looking down to the smaller woman. "I can't wait to get to know you Y/n. Congratulations again." 

With that you felt Katakuri pull you through another mirror and looked around when you saw you were now in a large house of sorts. 

Seeing her look around curiously he grinned, "Welcome home." 

Looking up to him you blinked and then scanned your eyes around the house. From where you were, which seemed to be a front foyer you could see a living area, kitchen and dining room. There was a massive stairway in front of you with many doors on the upper level that were closed. 

"I will give you the grand tour tomorrow but there is one room I have been wanting to show you." he said. Holding her hand he led her up the stairs and down the hall a bit to the third door down from his... their bedroom. Grabbing the knob he looked down to her and grinned behind his scarf. "I wanted you to have a room to call your own... I guess you could call it a wedding gift from me to you." he told her, noticing her confused look. Opening the door he turned on the light and instantly heard her gasp. 

Gasping you moved your hand to cover your mouth. Staring into the room you saw it filled with different art supplies. A large easel sat in the middle of the room with a chair in front of it. New paints of all different colors and types sat on the built in shelves and any other kinds of supplies you could ever dream of having. For the first time in your life you felt happy tears fill your eyes. You had to be dreaming, this had to be a dream. 

Watching her quietly he said nothing until a few minutes had passed and he started getting nervous, maybe he had went overboard and it was now creepy. "So is this acceptable... do you like..." He didn't get to finish his sentence before she was pulling him down by his scarf and smashing her lips to his. Freezing he felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes go wide. Her soft lips stayed on his for a moment before she slowly pulled away and opened her eyes to look at him. Readying himself for the cruel comments he felt his body tense but to his surprise she only smiled and it made him even more uncomfortable. "Well go on say something." he grunted out. 

Cupping his scared cheek you felt his large teeth against your skin and smiled, "You're beautiful, a true masterpiece. Maybe one day you might let me paint you?" 

A deep blush tinted his cheeks and now it was him that thought he was dreaming. 

[lost-inthedream]

From summer to summer

Request: Hiii, can i request for Hwiyoung with fluff genre?

Words: 1,5 K

POV: 3rd.

Biker! Hwiyoung x female character

Summary: a lovestory between a handsome biker and the girl who shyly stole his heart.

.

Note: Yes, I needed to write something about him on a motorcycle. I’m not sorry. Any resemblance between this fanfiction and Harleys in Hawaii by Katy Perry is not coincidence :)

Sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes that you possibly find.

Being on the back of Youngkyun’s Harley-Davidson was a dream that somehow came true. Now with her chin softly pressed to his right shoulder, wearing that exclusive half helmet that he gave her, to celebrate one year together, and feeling the summer breeze caressing her face, those times of complete unsureness are far away. She couldn’t even remember the lack of confidence she erstwhile had in herself. One year ago both of them didn’t know each other yet, even though she used to contemplate his gorgeous figure riding around her neighborhood.

He talked to her for the first time thanks to that summer night in that cool karaoke bar filled with Hawaii themes and by the cost. Her group of friends encouraged her to go sing by herself on the stage. The idea of standing there with the microphone close to her mouth as her voice would be resonating for everyone was scary at first but why not? It could be her chance to grow as a person, to bloom.

The yellow flower put on her ear was the first sign.

she got up and chose the song she often sang in the shower because that one already made part of her. She was used to the rhythm, to the way the words were connected, the pauses. Everything.

Once she put her foot on the little stage, her eyes were surprised by the heavenly vision of the biker she was enamored. He was still entering the place, serene features, a neat white t-shirt under a leather jacket and fluff messed hair. His helmet being embraced by his arm. He was detached and calm, a lone wolf.

The song started and she focused on singing to her friends. Timidly vibing to the song, she acted as only them existed. She could hear they sing even though her voice was the only one amplified by the speakers. Her confidence increased more and more and she ventured to look to other tables,to explore, it was an unexpected desire to know how they were reacting to that. To know if she weren’t disturbing all the customers a lot.

Besides, there was the handsome biker in the back surrounded by the mystic of her dreams.

Was he smiling at her? Or was she hallucinating? To the sight of his lips widening into an open smile, she gagged on two or three words already at the end of the song and her eyes skidded back to her friends.

She didn’t remember her legs trembling when she was simply singing to her own table direction. However, now they were like jelly. She left her body fall at her sit as everyone was hyped by her little performance. “ I didn’t think you would have the courage!”

She chuckled proudly and made an effort to look to the biker, now her admirer, she badly wished. He was far from her anyways, she barely could see his messy hair behind so many other heads. The night passed right  and he almost left himself being forgotten. Almost. A waiter arrived at her table to deliver her a drink, the same she tasted an hour before. However, it came with a message. "Your voice is a blessing. I wish I could hear it again."

Suddenly everybody’s loud presence was swallowed by the silent of her amazement. He used the word ‘blessing’ to refer at her, being himself a celestial view. Her friend, sitting next, sneaked at the little piece of paper she held and whispered at her ear. “Stealing hearts? You’re such a cute criminal, huh?”

Surprised, she didn’t know how to reply to that but, being realistic, she would never know. She simply folded the sheet back to its original way and heard her girl friend asking her over all the sounds in the bar: “Who sent you this?”

The other girl didn’t leave her alone about the fact that the guy she talked about for months was now there. The friend knew that if she pushed her strings enough, insisting and daring her to make a move, she would take an attitude, just like she did earlier when bravely stepped up onto the stage. She merely had to show her glow one more time and it could result into a memorable night to remember. She needed that, even if the guy wasn’t all that in the end. Nobody could be that perfect.

When she finally lost all her patience at her friend’s insistent encouragement, she dragged the chair away from the table only to get up and see him coming. 

Him.

He runned his own fingers through his perfect dark brown hair. So simple but her chin fell open. He smiled and she could swear that he was shy about being caught.

“Hey there” he greeted out loud so she could hear clearly.

She noticed her own stunned look and tried to regroup herself immediately, not sure if she succeeded.

“Hello” she left the greeting out her mouth not as audible as his.

“I was thinking” he revealed while playing with his own fingers behind his body. “can we talk?”

Her lips couldn’t lie. The way they curled up showed everything. She didn’t know why her natural defense always was to pretend being confident and poorly interested but still used to do like that. However, It didn’t happened that time. All her defenses fell apart to that guy’s gummy smile like it was his super power.

“It’s too loud here” she referred to the noisy speakers as another person sang. Her table was too close to the stage. She wasn’t even sure if the biker had heard her. 

“What if we sit in the back?” His face got just a little bit closer to her.

She looked at Rose, other friend sitting on the opposite side of that table, she would be the next to one to take the microphone, the next one to own the stage, in her words. The girl looked back at her and slipped her eyes to the tall guy for less than a second. She made a “go ahead” sign with one hand in the air; 

His helmet was occupying a sit and the boy rushed to remove it from there once she arrived. It was funny.

“I’m glad that you accepted the drink.” he said placing the rounded item on the table, next to french fries.

“And I’m not drunk. I guess.”

She stole an amuzed smile from him this time. Stealing felt good that night, first his attention, now smiles here and there. He looked approachable, easy in the most positive way. Maybe that’s why her defenses were out of place, in summer vacations.

He apparently didn’t know the drink wasn’t alcoholic.

“You can be but I can’t. You know, I have to carry  a lady back home. My bike is waiting for me outside.”

She laughed noisily.

“Did you left a lady alone?” she surprised him with more jokes.

“She’s looking the stars” he finally replied trying to be serious. Failing.

“Aren’t you jealous? The sky has been cloudless these days.”

“I’m looking at something- someone much better than the sky,”

She lowered her face feeling shy, feeling completely stolen. The subtle movement made the flower laying on his ear fall gracefully on the table surface. Using her hand to take it back was natural, exactly like the handsome biker did. Their hands touched softly at the fingertips. The place fell into silence only for them. She noticed a ring embracing his pinky finger and let her sight linger there a little as he slid his hands away. She caressed the flower petals instead of setting it back to her ear.

"I always wanted to know your name." His voice resonates.

"Always?"

"I saw you plenty of times on the streets."

.

Now she was back to the summer season. This time her summer felt sure yet keeping the dreamlike thrill of their very first talk. There was poetry about being in love, about being loved. 

He stopped at the beach like planned. She chuckled against his curve of his neck feeling a bit stupid because she didn’t notice that they were arriving there.

“Why are you laughing, my daisy?”

She settled one foot on the ground and used her hands on Youngkyun’s shoulders so she could get her balance to jump off the bike. The laugh sounds didn’t have a break.

“I’m so silly.” She finally was able to say standing with her back to the sand and infinite ocean.

She looked stunning in his eyes. The sun lightened up her skin and that broad happy smile occupied all her face, her eyes, cheeks and even nose were smiling to him behind the acrylic visor.

“You are” he agreed. “but in a good way.”

He got off and took his own helmet off with a privileged ability and stood up right in front of her to delicately open the buckle on her chin.

“Now you’re free.” He said playfully holding both helmets.

she turned to face the horizon that them both craved to meet again and embraced him by the side. The two of them stayed there for a brief moment, just enough to breathe in and out, to smell the summer scent and then run away to the sand without thinking. He initiated that time, inviting her to be a little bit sillier and laugh out loud while chasing him.

[janetbrown711]

Hate that I’m doin this one: ❝ for which f are you drinking? fuck, forget, or fun? ❞- The Witch and Huey

Warning: This fic shows a depiction of abuse and alcoholism. Such topics are triggering for many readers, so discretion is advised. 

Hazel was four months old, and Huey swore to Donald and Della that he’d be fine taking care of her on his own for the weekend. It had been five months since he had left Clarisse, and he was feeling much better, especially since Hazel had been mostly sleeping through the night by now. Huey could tell his mom and uncle were getting tired (they weren’t exactly young anymore). He decided to let them take the week off, and to go relax on a beach somewhere while cousins Fethry and Gladstone were both in town, while he stayed home and worked as much as he could from his home and take care of Hazel by himself. 

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Donald asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll be fine Uncle Donald, I have everything under control now,” Huey gave him weak smile. 

“Be sure to call if you do need us though, we’ll just be 20 minutes away,” Della reminded before heading to the car. 

“Are you sure you can-”

“Yes, I’m sure. You and mom can have some quality cousin time with Fethry and Gladstone,” Huey laughed. Donald was going to say more but Della honked the car horn and he rushed to join. 

 The afternoon was okay, he managed to get a good amount of work done, and Hazel seemed plenty happy. Huey would set her in his lap as he worked and she would gawk at the computer and put her fist in her mouth and watch him as he typed, which she must’ve thought was very cool. 

However, as the sun set in the sky and the moon rose, an eerie quiet spread through the house as he prepared her for bed. Huey felt like he was being followed, and he kept turning, expecting to see someone, anyone, but he knew it was ridiculous because Donald and Della had left. He was alone.

However, a familiar voice spoke behind him that caused the feather’s on the back of his neck to rise.

“You know, I knew you’d always knew you’d be a failure without me, but this is a  whole other level,” It said. Huey tried to ignore it as he changed Hazel’s diaper.

“You really believe you’re strong on your own, maybe even brave, but look at you. So sad and pathetic really,” It mocked. 

“Shut up Clarisse,” Huey grit his teeth. 

“And so you admit it,” Clarisse’s voice sounded pleased with itself. “I’m still here Huey.”

“No, you’re not.” He said sharply, rebuttoning Hazel’s striped onesie. Clarisse laughed. 

“You really are a complete and utter moron. Always in denial, always trying to play the strongman. You need me, Huey, you know that.” Huey turned around and he could see her standing behind him. He knew she wasn’t real, she couldn’t be. 

“You aren’t actually here. Hazel would be crying if you were actually here; she’d know a monster when she smelled one,” Huey glared at her. She looked just as he remembered; soft curls framing her face, a golden halo of leaves and flowers on her head, her acrylic nails red as rubies and sharp enough to cut his skin, and that red dress she loved so much framing her body in a way that made her harder to resist her pleas. 

“I may not be here, but I am there,” She pointed to his forehead. “I’ll always be there, no matter what you do, I’ll always be there.” She smiled. 

“Leave me alone Clari, you’ve caused enough trouble,” he turned back to his infant daughter, who was starting to whine. 

“Have I? Last I recalled, you did this all yourself,” Clarisse follow him as he went to set Hazel down in her crib. 

“You do know it takes two, right?” He glared and turned the light off in her nursery. Clarisse laughed.

“I tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. You refused to listen, like always,” She said. Huey ignored the ridiculous comment and went to the kitchen.

“Oooh, drinks. For which f are you drinking? Forget, fuck, or fun?” She grinned and began looking through the cabinets. 

“I’m not drinking Clarisse,” Huey pushed away the idea. 

“Oh come on, not even for old times sake?” She pouted and Huey made the mistake of glancing at her. Before she knew it, he had the bottle from the secret stash in his hand. 

“Dammit Clarisse, I’m not doing this. I swore never again,” He set it down on the counter and walked away. 

“Then why do you have a secret stash in the first place, hm? Seems like you’re setting yourself up for failure there,” She sat on the counter next to the booze. Unfortunately, she was right. How was she always right?! Huey had no response. 

Clarisse grinned. “You’re weak, I knew it. You’re dying for a drink. You miss it...” she paused. 

“You miss me.”

Huey didn’t move.

“You miss me every day. She has my eyes, you see it too. She’s the spitting image of her dear mother, and every time you look at her, you’re reminded of what you’ve lost. It twists the knife in your chest and it gets so painful you can hardly breathe.”

“Shut up Clarisse.”

“You worry constantly. You think she’ll be the spitting image of me as she ages. You fear that every time you look into your precious little daughter’s eyes, you’ll only see me.”

“Shut up Clarisse.”

“You need me, Huey. You keep lying to yourself, over and over, telling yourself it’s okay, that she’ll be fine and you’ll be fine and that everything will be fine. Well, wake up, dipshit. You’ll never make it without me. You. Need. Me.”

“I said shut up, Clarisse!!!” Huey threw a glass at her and it phased right through her, leaving her unphased. Then, she started laughing. 

“You’re so... emotional. It’s so pathetic, really. You’re so muscular and handsome, all of that hard work to come crashing down when someone pushes your buttons a little too hard,” She smiled wickedly. Huey’s fist shook with anger. 

“What the hell do you want from me?! Please, leave me and Hazel alone, I’m begging you,” Huey ignored her comment, tears now streaking down his face.

“Oh, Huey...” She smiled simply. Huey fell to his knees and began to sob, holding his sides. She set a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t feel a thing. 

“Huey, it’s like the song says. I am flame and I am fire/ I am destruction/ Decay and desire/ I’ll hurt you/ I’ll heal you,” She sang. 

“Come back. I’m waiting for you at my apartment. It’ll be just like old times. You can come home, we can have a few drinks, laugh, listen to the jazz on the radio, you can hold me close, I’d listen to your heartbeat and we’d sway...” She helped him up and they went into the soft and tender dancing position. Her voice was softer now, like a lullaby trying to lure him to sleep. Huey was so tired...

 “You could even leave Hazel if you want. What good is a baby anyway? All she does is cry and cry and tire and exhaust you. Without her, you’d be free once more. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Huey stepped back. 

“N-no. That’s awful- I could never do that to her,” Huey stepped back. 

“Oh come on, don’t act like she isn’t a burden,” Clarisse rolled her eyes. 

“She isn’t. She’s a person. A small, and beautiful person who hasn’t done a single thing wrong or to hurt me, unlike some people,” He glared. Clarisse went quiet. 

“She’ll always remind you of me. No matter what you do, if you keep that thing around, I’ll never leave you. So long as she’s here, I’ll be here in the back of your mind, burning these words into your skull: You’ll never be good enough. You failed me. You failed yourself. And you’ll fail her too.”

Her words were poison, taking over his whole body and making it shut down as he absorbed it. He could hear Hazel crying, and he wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he couldn’t move a muscle. She had paralyzed him. 

“I have to go, Clarisse,” He closed his eyes. 

“Then go. Leave. I’ll be here, waiting. I’m very patient, I’m not going anywhere, I am dead after all.”

“Wh-what?” Her statement through him off.

"Well, not yet, but soon... maybe if you came...” she suggested, but quickly changed the subject like it was nothing. “Have you made your choice?”

Huey’s mind scrambled to comprehend what she meant. It didn’t take long, but he was internally pleading that wasn’t what she meant. Huey glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the photos on the kitchen wall; photos of him, his brothers, his mom, and Uncle Donald all happy and having a good time. He turned away from her, and took in a deep breath.

“Clarisse, I meant it when I said I was never coming back. I’m not... responsible for you or your happiness. I really hoped you would get help, but you ignored me and you abused me. I deserve better than you Clarisse, and Hazel does too. You’re a monster.”

Clarisse snarled. “You need me, Huey. You’re nothing without me.”

“No, I’m not Clarisse. I’m worth so much more than you ever thought or made me feel.”

“I’ll never leave you!” She cried out. “You’ll never be happy without me. I’ll haunt you ‘til the day you die! And that daughter of yours will always be a burden and a reminder of what shit I left behind for you to clean up.”

“No. She. Won’t.” He glared at her. “I love Hazel a thousand times more than I ever loved you, and she will be a million times better than you will have ever been because of that.”

Clarisse was silent. 

“Huey-”

“Burn in hell Clarisse. Go and haunt someone else. I don’t need you here,” He took another breath and turned around, but she was gone. The kitchen was empty. Huey’s attention immediately turned to Hazel’s cries and he ran into her nursery and picked her up. 

“I’m sorry Hazel, did I scare you?” He swayed her in his arms, wiping away her tears with his free arm. Slowly, the crying duckling relaxed in her father’s arms. Huey smiled tiredly down at his little girl and all the pain he felt disappeared. Clarisse was dead wrong about her. She was his pride and joy, and Huey was the luckiest duck alive to be the father of such a beautiful duckling. 

Hazel was nothing like Clarisse, and they’d both be plenty happy without her.

[kosmosguk]

You. Me. Us| Yandere Jimin x Reader

[Summary: The handsome guy you meet briefly in a bookstore is intent on intertwining his fate with yours, although his methods themselves are unorthodox. After all, he’s intent on his belief that in the end, it’s you. Him. And the word Us. And it doesn’t matter how he gets to the ending he deserves.]

Type: Horror/Thriller fic

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism with no consent from one party, brief mentions of alcohol, near-death experience, obsessive behaviors painted as normal

A/N: based on the tv show You, so credit goes to the show and its producers! I didn’t vibe with the second season that came out yesterday so I decided to write a fic based on the first season but with a different ending. This is the first part, and if it goes well, I’ll update other parts!

December 27, 4:33PM

He had met you on that day, a cold gray day in the unforgiving city of Seoul. Two days after Christmas, Jimin remembers how frigid the city was as the warmth of the holiday season seeped away. He remembers every detail about that afternoon, that meeting; hell, he remembers every detail about you.

You’re soulmates. Lovers cast by the stars of the universe and molded with brushings of stardust. It’s inevitable that he had seen you, that he had met you. 

Pretty, with wide eyes shadowed by long, curled lashes. Rosy lips arched in a pleasant curve. A scarf--he remembers the color: crimson, like blood roses--loosely circled around your delicate neck. You, you were perfect.

"Hey," you had called to him. Had spoken to him. Did he even deserve to be witnessing you, the you that glowed in this worn down bookstore in Seoul?

"Hello?" he heard you speak again, like cold water splashing on him, and he blinked his vision clear.

You smiled gently, a little shyly as you met his gaze. "Is this book any good?"

He cleared his throat, flitting his gaze to the worn book you had in hand. "Yes. Victor Hugo, a classic. Although it gets a little tedious sometimes to read, it's amazing to see how major issues from the 19th century can still be applicable to modern times. That and the way he manages to describe societal anguish in a poetic manner leaves a feeling of satisfaction."

His voice trailed off. Shit, he did it again; he talked on and on about something that people as pretty as you most likely didn't care about. You must be bored, must see him as boring.

But instead, your smile grew just a little bit bigger. "This sounds interesting. I'll take it."

And Jimin felt his heart speed up a little bit more. This, you, him. It must be destined.

December 27, 8:41PM

You're a writer. He can't help but notice the bundles of paper delicately clipped together in your bag when you open it to find your wallet.

And he also can't help it when he catches your name when you answer a call. It seems that he can't help a lot of things when it comes to you.

He looks you up on social media first. Instagram. Facebook. Snapchat. Twitter. Hell, even Tumblr. It's advantageous for him that you use the same username for each social media platform.

Spending some time with friends to take my mind off of writer's block. The caption follows a shot of drinks, glistening in the low light of a bar, lined up on a table. There are three people tagged. He makes a mental note to look at their profiles later.

Wishing I was back in the sun. It's a shot of you in a bikini, lying underneath the golden sun. He can't help but feel a little jealous that all of these people--218 according to the likes on your post--get to witness your body like this. But it's okay, he tells himself. This was posted months ago, long before you met him, someone who looks past superficial aspects.

He scrolls until his thumbs grow tired. As he turns off his laptop, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that you haven't posted anything, not even a short hinting tweet, about the cute guy you met at a bookstore.

He remembers your latest tweet, posted 2 minutes ago. You're at a bar celebrating your friend's birthday. He decides that a peek or two won't do any harm. Besides, he's only there to make sure you're safe.

His cap is pressed over gray-dyed hair, and he's in clothes that will allow him to blend into the crowd. A girl sidles up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder flirtatiously. He shrugs it off; she's not you after all. The girl, obviously more than a little tipsy, gets up and stumbles away.

He sits in a place that allows him to see and hear you, but he's not too close so that you can see him.

"Minyoung! Happy birthday!" he can hear your voice, high-pitched and bubbly. It's a lot different from the voice you had used in the bookstore. He can't help but feel just a little prideful that he knows the real you more than your supposed friends do.

He remembers Minyoung from her Instagram profile. Minyoung herself, with 2K followers, is pretty with a straight small nose and cropped hair dyed neon green, but in a phony way that leaves him swallowing bile. She doesn't deserve you, and she especially doesn't deserve the expensive gift. You'll be lucky to get something a quarter as expensive for your birthday; he knows your friends almost as well as he knows you. And he also knows that they don't deserve you.

"Bitch, you didn't!" Minyoung tears through your delicate wrapping with sharp and long acrylic nails. Jimin can't help but wince from his seat.

"She did! Flexing on us, huh, babe," your next friend he recalls is named Ji-Ah. She's the kind of phony pretty that Minyoung is too, with long brown curls and glossy lips. Jimin thinks he hates her almost as much as he hates Minyoung.

You smile, though he notices how it's just a little strained, and he feels anger as he watches Miyoung toss your gift on the table without even as much as a thank you. Fuck Ji-Ah, Jimin doesn't think he hates anyone as much as he hates Minyoung.

Your gift, one you poured care in, cast aside. You are an angel. Your "friends" don't deserve to be in your presence, let alone receive a gift from you. Jimin's clenches his hands, and when he relaxes them, there are crescent-shaped indents, drops of blood smeared on pale skin.

"Come on, let's move to a club! This bar is so fucking boring," Minyoung coos after she’s done opening her gifts.

You shake your head. "I have to work early tomorrow and a manuscript to write. I’m so sorry, but have a fun time without me!"

"Boo! Don't be a boring bitch," Ji-Ah sticks her tongue out as she gets up and walks off with Minyoung.

It only leaves you and your last friend. Haeun looks the least fake of your friends, but Jimin knows that she's the same level as them. Rich. Fake. Obnoxious. Only using you. 

"(Y/N), why did you buy that for her? You know you can't afford it. Minyoung doesn't deserve that at all. Next time, if you need money, just ask me," Haeun pushes her long black hair fixed in a high ponytail off her shoulder as she gets up to leave. You just force a smile as Haeun sidles away. The smile drops when none of your friends can see you anymore.

Condescending isn't she. You really know how to pick your friends.

You take the nearest glass of alcohol and pour it back rapidly. When you've swallowed it all and wiped your mouth, you pull on your jacket and leave the bar. Jimin follows behind you, your silent protector in a bitterly empty world.

You wander into the train station. A nearby drunkard tries to accost you, and Jimin makes a move towards you. You manage to fend the drunkard off before Jimin can be your hero, but your phone slips out of your already shaky grip and falls onto the tracks.

You stumble into the tracks. Jimin rushes towards you. You grab your phone and stand up as the train whistles begin to grow nearer, and Jimin watches as your eyes blow wide, frantic as tears drip down your cheeks.

"Take my hand!" he yells over the sound of the train. You look up, your eyes bleary, and grab his hand. He hoists you up as the lights of the train glow brighter.

"Um," you manage to sputter as you try to grab ahold of yourself," Thank you."

Your hazy eyes focus on Jimin and clear a little. "Oh! Bookstore guy!"

You look adorable like this, hair slightly messy and lips parted in confusion. Jimin's heart tugs a little. God, he's already fallen for you so deep.

That moment fades as your cheeks puff a little, and you vomit over his shoes and the bottom of his pants.

He finds himself in a taxi cab, his shoes in a plastic bag next to him, as you snore softly by his side, having passed out after telling him your address. He catches sight of your phone, the case dirty from its fall into the tracks.

You won't mind if he just...peeks, do you? He acts before he can think, grabbing your phone and fiddling around with it. Perfect, now he'll be able to watch everything you do on it. He feels a little guilty, but the train incident proves that you need him just as much as he needs you. He sets the phone back down next to you. It looks like nothing has happened, but Jimin knows better.

The taxi rolls to a stop in front of an apartment building. He reaches out to nudge you awake, but you're already blinking glossy eyes open before he can.

"Thank you," you say before your mouth falls open," Oh my God, I threw up on you. I threw up on you; that's so fucking embarrassing! Here, uh, my phone number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call me, and I'll, um, get you new shoes."

"It's fine, really. These shoes were getting old anyway, and I needed a new pair of shoes soon. How about a drink instead?" Jimin beams in a way that has swooned the hearts of many, crinkling his eyes into upside-down crescents. You smile back at him as you get out.

"Sounds good! Just text me when!"

The taxi door shuts behind you. Jimin is left temporarily breathless. Just like he thought, you’re meant to be together. 

When you get into your apartment and look back out, the taxi is gone. You can't help but feel a little guilty that you hadn't done much for your savior after he had done so much for you.

A knock bangs on your door, and you look at who it is.

"God, leave me fucking alone, Seojun," you spit out, sliding open the door. Seojun’s standing there, his body swaying slightly; he can barely stand straight.

"I'm sorry, babe! I swear to God nothing happened with me and her," your ex-boyfriend sputters out. He smells of booze; you’re not surprised.

"So you tripped and your dick somehow managed to land in her mouth; don't be a fucking lying cunt, Choi," you bristle, making a move to slam the door.

"Baby, baby, listen to me," Seojun steps in closer before you can, sliding his hands onto the curve of your waist," She didn't mean anything. I've missed you. I’ve missed the way you feel, baby. My cock misses the way you squeeze down on me. Aren’t you lonely, baby?’’

You hesitate before pushing him off of you and slamming the door shut on him. "God, don’t fucking talk to me anymore. Just leave me alone, Choi. Don't come back."

You hear boots scraping against the pavement as he walks away from your door and hopefully out of your life. He always was and always will be an asshole. You had dated him for the fun of it after he made a move on you at a party, and all of your friends had insisted that you ‘’try him out,’’ whatever the fuck that meant. 

But still, his words make you remember just how lonely and untouched you are.

Sagging against your sofa in front of your window, you push your pants down your hips, spreading your legs apart slightly as your hands slide down your body. Your fingers circle your clit, quick, short movements that leave you quivering slightly and clenching down on empty air.

You think of the guy from the bookstore. His handsome features with his sharp facial structure, puffy eyes, and rosy plump lips. He’s ethereal, a fairy. His voice was soft and just a bit high pitched. You think of how tempting he looked, clad in a soft sweater and dark jeans that showed off his thighs and ass. You bite your lip as your thighs close around your arm. 

You come with a cracking moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you shake slightly from the pleasure.

You sail down from your peak, crashing back into sobriety that leaves you feeling more empty and more guilty. God, you really are pathetic, aren't you? Fucking yourself to a guy you barely even know, barely even talked to.

Wiping your fingers on a tissue and pulling your pants back up, you stand up and walk away from your spot by the window, having forgotten that you had left the curtains open.

Jimin had seen the whole thing from his hidden spot across the street, and he softly moans to himself as he rubs himself hard through his jeans. Fuck, you look so, so pretty when you come. If only you weren't thinking about that jerk ass who had come to your door.

Jimin comes hard, groaning softly into the fabric of his coat as images of fucking you and how good he would make you feel overtake his mind. He sags against the rough brick wall of the building across from yours, his chest heaving, and he makes up his mind right then and there.

He would do something to make you forget about that jerk ass. He would do anything for you after all.

Choi Seojun, the man plastered over your Twitter for a solid six months, would be hard to get rid of, with his status as an esteemed rich party boy and your ex-boyfriend.

But for you, Jimin would do anything.

After all, in the end, it was you. Him. And the word Us.

[pluto-fics]

Inspiration is Motivation － Prologue

Fanfiction | Artist!Taehyung x SingleMom!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Romance, Humor, Smut

Rating: G (for this chapter)

Word Count: 2.385 words

Chapter Warnings: none

Your brows furrow at the earlier statement of your best friend, Hanna.

"Believe me, it'll help you to relax for a few hours and I'll take good care of Ty."

You have no doubt about the latter. Hanna might be that stereotype single woman who likes to go out for a couple drinks every so often, but she is a reliable caretaker and one ridiculously good cook. Based on this, she was an absolute blessing the last two times she watched over your son. However, you still feel a little uneasy about her suggestion.

"I don't know... Tyler is kind of stubborn and moody lately, how could I leave you both alone for nearly four full hours? Not to mention that I can paint at home if I want to, I don't need to go to some weird art course..." you try to defy yourself. The idea of entrusting Hanna with your five year old son for so long worries you. Just the thought of it causes a bad feeling to spread throughout your body. Hanna just rolls her eyes, however. "Listen. I already signed you up for that course this Saturday. It's supposed to start at eleven, won't go past three in the afternoon and you can calmly come back home to Tyler and me having a great time without setting your apartment on fire."

You can't fight down the amused giggle at her statement before you sigh. "Hanna, I really don't-..." you begin, only to be interrupted mid-sentence. "Yes, you do want to try it. I'll be here at 10 this Saturday and you can either go to that course or stay here with us and bathe in my judgment."

And here you are, two days later and sat on a chair in front of an empty canvas and an A3 sized sketchpad, surrounded by strangers who, just like you, are waiting for the course to begin.

You take this time to inspect the equipment provided to you. Brushes and pencils of rather good quality, however accompanied by a cheap, fizzy eraser. The watercolor paint seems decent enough. But the big bottles of acrylics and oils on the desk in the middle of the room, accessible for everyone in it, clearly are not top-notch quality. That of course does not mean it is bad per se, you just might have expected something fancier in the art department of the local Community College.

Your train of thoughts comes to an abrupt stop when you hear someone opening the big wooden door and entering the room, a deep but smooth voice wishing you and your fellow course participants a good morning. The slender figure who just stepped into the room makes your eyes grow wide the second you lay your eyes on him. He is tall, with model like features, facial as well as bodywise. His fashion sense clearly is a little extravagant, for he wears a way too oversized dress shirt with a pair of what almost seemed to be pajama pants of some sort, and a matching beige colored beret topping his head. The big round glasses topping his nose make you curious. Does he need them to see? Or were they simply added to this retro outfit because they fit the vibe?

"I'm glad you all made it here on time, unlike myself" he then speaks while rummaging in the bag he has just placed on top of the desk in the front of the room. You hear quiet giggles erupting from two slightly older women in the back. His lips curve into a handsome smile, not even needing to show the whites of his teeth to make you doubt the existence of a man with such impressive visuals. Yet, you feel kind of stupid for the way you swoon over his looks like a teenager, despite being a grown woman with a child waiting for her to return home.

The young man claps his hands together as if to catch everyone's attention, even though he already possesses the full concentration of everyone in this room. "Now, I'd like to start by introducing myself, if that's alright by you."

He swiftly turns to the chalkboard behind himself and writes down what you assume to be his name.

"My name is Kim Taehyung and I teach traditional art at the local University. But as you can tell, I'm also hosting art courses like this one once a week, while also working as a hobby freelance artist. So I guess you could say that art is my passion."

There it is again. That charming smile of his as he tends to the attentive group of people in front of him. "But enough of me, I think we're all here to improve our skills, so how about we start with some easy warm ups to get creative first?" You notice everyone responding by nodding or already flipping over the cover of the massive sketchpad in front of them to reveal a blank page. Imitating your 'classmates', you flip open your sketchpad and face Mr. Kim again.

He begins by instructing everyone to warm up their wrists by drawing circular shapes of several sizes and shading them to your heart's content to make yourself familiar with the medium you're using. Another hint of his is to try the different art materials provided to each one of the participants and see which one you'd preferably work with today.

A couple minutes later, you can tell Mr. Kim valued his participants' individuality. Only giving a rough theme for the artwork you are supposed to create, he left everything else to you. "Warm Autumn" was the theme he came up with and your mind immediately drifts off into what you would like to call your ‘creative mode’. Images of brown leaves, soft breezes of air and fluffy fabrics of knitwear come to your mind. Thus, you begin by settling on a color palette in warm brown, red and yellow tones and soon start by sketching an idea.

Mr. Kim does no longer talk to the whole course. Instead, he begins to slowly walk around the classroom and take a look at everyone's approaches on the topic. Usually, you'd get so engulfed in your works that you would blend out most of your surroundings. However, Mr. Kim's presence makes it hard for you to fully concentrate on the sketch before you like you usually would. You don't even need to look up to know where Mr. Kim currently stood at, while he gradually comes closer to where you are seated at.

The sound of his steps approaching you slowly sends shivers down your spine, just like the feeling of him standing right beside you, wordlessly examining your sketch. You can't keep from glancing up at his face as his gaze remains locked on the paper before you, an approving look surfacing on his face. He then glances at your face, his eyes meeting yours immediately as he leans down a bit to speak to you with a quieter, low voice. "Nice choice of motives. Do you have an idea for the final composition already?"

You feel your cheeks heating up as you mumble out a shy "Um, kind of", unsure of how to feel about the genuine interest Mr. Kim shows. It's been a while since someone other than your son Tyler had commented on one of your works. The young artist next to you smiles. "You're a fast one, huh? I like that. But let me know if you need anything, alright?" His voice is just as unique as his appearance. And the more you get to hear of it, the more you come to like the sound of it. Nodding your head with a smile, you thank him before he smiles back and moves on to the next participant of his course.

By the end of the course, you have created a piece you are rather proud of - the motives assembled in a harmonic way, adding to the calm and welcoming atmosphere of your painting. Throughout the creation process of it, Mr. Kim came around every once in a while to praise you for your ideas or help you improve parts of your piece in ways you wouldn't have been able to think of yourself. You have actually truly enjoyed today. At the end of the course, Mr. Kim gives his final speech in which he thanks everyone for participating and gives some last advice before sending everyone home with their final artworks. You had just put the materials you had used back to where you got them from, ready to pack your things to leave, when Mr. Kim approaches you with a gentle smile. "(Y/N), am I right?" He addresses you, your heart seemingly skipping a beat at the way your name sounds when spoken with his smooth voice. "Yes, that would be me" you say, turning to him with faked confidence. In reality, something about this Kim Taehyung makes you feel like a shy teenager again. He smiles apologetically as he asks "Do you perhaps have a minute or two to talk? If you're not in a hurry to be somewhere, that is."

To be honest, you want to apologize and leave right now. Tyler is waiting for you at home, after all. And so is Hanna. But your head nods on it’s own accord before your mind could stop it from doing so. What are a few minutes anyway, right?

"Great! Actually, I was curious to see how your piece turned out. To be honest, I didn't really get to look at it yet," he then says as he regards your artwork which is still on the easel at your seat. Examining it interestedly, he chuckles. "You're really talented, you know? This can't have been the first time you’ve painted something like this."

Your lips curve upwards in a bashful smile. "Ah, well actually... It's kind of my hobby. It's just that I haven't had much time to pursue it recently..." you answer. A soft humming noise resonates in his throat before he faces you again. "Are you interested in modern art too?" He suddenly asks, catching you a little off guard. "Modern art?" You repeat, to which he nods. "There's an art exhibition at the City Hall next friday. The main focus of it lays on contemporary artists and most works shown there are paintings and sculptures, rather than installations or anything like that. But I have a feeling that you might like it." You aren't sure where he was aiming at with this information, but you appreciate it. Mirroring his friendly smile, you say "It does sound interesting, yes. But I'm really busy lately, I'm not sure if I'll be able to go."

Mr. Kim seems understanding as he nods. "Well, if you do make it, maybe we'll meet there." He responds, making you nod slowly as you mumble a barely audible "That'd be nice." You want to ask him if there'd also be works of his exhibited there, remembering that he introduced himself as a freelance artist earlier, but the sound of your phone vibrating in your pocket interrupts you. "Ah, sorry" you then say, quickly looking at your phone to see messages of Hanna coming in. It’s nothing serious, just questions about whether Tyler still takes naps after lunch or not, since he apparently got a little energy boost after having eaten well. But it is urgent enough for you to decide that it is time to go home now. "I better get going now. Today was really nice, thank you. And thank you for telling me about the art exhibition, too. As you said, maybe we'll meet there." You speak as you collect your belongings and art piece, Mr. Kim nodding calmly and smiling as he wishes you a nice day before you leave.

On your way home, you keep thinking about today's events. About the fun you have had while painting for the first time in months and the useful help Mr. Kim had offered. The giddy feeling you got whenever he would lean in to talk to you quietly with that soothing deep voice of his. You have really had a great day, even if you still feel a little awkward for being so affected by the male's looks and kind words. But who could blame you, if said artist looks like a piece of art himself?

Arriving at home, the first thing you notice right after opening the front door is the welcoming scent of warm pancakes coming from your kitchen. Peeking past the doorframe, you smile at the sight of your best friend and son pouring dough into a frying pan together, your little son giggling in excitement.

"Hello you two" you greet the diligently working duo and laugh when your son immediately comes running to you to hug your legs and welcome you back excitedly. Crouching down to meet his eyes, you then give him a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. "Did you have a nice time with Hanna?" You ask, your smile widening when Tyler nods eagerly. "Yes! Hanna knows so many fun games for two! We played hide and seek too!” You give Hanna a glance, relieved to see her smiling just as happily as your little son. For some reason you’re always worried that he might be a little too challenging for her sometimes, but seeing her reaction to his happy storytelling, you have no doubt that she adores your son almost as much as you do.

Getting up to greet your friend properly with a short hug, you then look at the pile of pancakes on the kitchen counter. "Someone seems to be hungry, huh" you comment, Hanna rolling her eyes as she speaks, avoiding the topic. "How was the art course?"

You can feel Tyler leaning against your legs, silently requesting your attention. Picking him up to hold him close, you then begin to tell Hanna about the building, the people there, the fun you had when painting something from start to finish for the first time in ages, and in the end you thank her for having made this possible. Yet, a very specific detail you keep to yourself for now － Kim Taehyung.

Thank you for reading the Prologue to my new series “Inspiration is Motivation”!

If you can’t wait to read the next chapter, check out my Series Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics to be notified of new updates.

Stay safe and see you soon! 💜

- Pluto 🌑