#the way that i kicked my feet writing this

[filiazpink]

🩷"OH PRIMUS,,,"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 warnings: suggestive language (like- once but still), darkwing being darkwing, i’m a sucker for cheesy stuff, really minor transformers one spoilers (?)

summary: orion finds himself completely enamored with one of his superiors and d-16 doesn’t really mind it, until one day, you show up at the mines.

a/n: my very first tumblr fic!! i might post this on my AO3 account as well! hope this reached your expectations considering more than 200 people voted for this prompt on my poll  =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ill get to some of the other prompts shortly after, i just wanted to know which one would be best to start with (and to properly introduce my writing to tumblr teehee) !! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated !! ENJOY!! 💞💞💞

word count: 1139

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

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orion simply couldn't stop thinking about you.

your shiny and colorful armor, your beautiful optics, your height and strength. that voice. the power and authority you had over him. that power rivaled sentinel prime’s in his eyes. everything.

she was simply breathtaking. 

…

“earth to orionnnn, come on, rust bucket!!” pink servos waving at him frantically snapped the red and blue mech out of his trance. focusing his glance, orion watched as elita-1 gave him one of the scariest faces he’s seen yet, followed by d-16 behind her with his arms crossed, looking at his friend with a disappointed expression.

“what’s wrong with you?! you broke protocol, AGAIN!” elita pulled the miner to his feet, groaning in annoyance. orion’s dumb dopey smile quickly turned into a shocked frown and he was about to ask what he did now, but thankfully, his friend answered for him.

“orion, buddy, i know,,, i know you just wanted to save jazz from that explosion but you almost got killed doing that, man.” d-16 looked to the side, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“you can’t keep doing this, pax. ONE more stunt like this and I’LL be the one to get-”

“what happened here??” elita snapped her head towards the newcomer’s voice, expecting maybe another miner, but her angry scowl quickly faded away once she saw who it was.

it was elita’s superior. 

it was you. 

oh primus, beautiful, amazing, spectacular you. orion felt a rush of warmth cover his face as you walked in along with,,,

oh- with darkwing. of course he was there with you.

STILL- you just showed up with no prompting, and two days in advance no less?? clearly, this was important.

orion fixed his posture and tried to dust off any grime he had on him. d-16 chuckled quietly at his best friend’s excitement, before turning his attention to you.

“(y-y/n)! i thought you were coming to check on our sector in t-two days! i’m so sorry you have to see my team like this i swear it was an accident-” the poor pink bot stammered, much to darkwing’s amusement and to your confusion.

“what accident? the cave collapsing? that’s normal, elita-1. don’t worry about it. you’re telling me it was a complete accident so i will take your word for it.” hearing those words coming from you made elita feel like she was just told that sentinel finally found the matrix of leadership.

“oh, thank you, thank you,,,” orion and d-16 watched as elita continuously thanked her superior, chuckling. 

“well, that means we don’t get our butts kicked too, thank primus miss (y/n) was here.” the red and blue miner said, walking away from the scene with his pal.

“yea and now we can just finish this shift and relax-”

“d-16?” the two stopped in their tracks, slowly turning around in an almost comical way to face the much taller femme bot. 

orion’s servos trembled. he felt embarrassed, he was over here making a fool of himself with how obvious his crush on you was. literally everyone who steps foot in the mines knew about it, aside from, clearly, you. heck, even darkwing seemed to know, considering that despite his optics not being visible, he clearly was glaring at the cog-less bot.

or maybe it was just his usual routine of hating them.

d-16, however, gulped and let out the tiniest of “yes?”. ohhh boy, what now?? did she assume that the cave collapsing was his doing?? did darkwing tell her that-

“you’re at the top of your ranks here, correct?” his train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice, watching as you knelt down to his height, placing a hand on his shoulder, which shocked him a bit. orion stared at the polished hand on his best friend’s rusted shoulder with envy, his optics narrowing just a smidge.

“i already spoke to elita about this, but i also want you to hear it. i’ve heard some great things about you, and how you excel amongst your ranks. so i just wanted you to hear this.” d-16 felt frozen.

‘what is this,,, feeling? my face is burning,,’ oh indeed it was. his face flushed in a deep blue as he anxiously waited for your next words. just your soothing voice got him like this and he simply couldn’t understand why.

“,,, i need you.”

,,,

WHAT???

the first to react was darkwing, who let out a very outraged grunt of confusion, as if you just cheated on him with a MINER of all people in his face, followed by elita, the other miners and orion gasping, everyone turning their heads towards the two.

“,,,w-what?” the gray miner’s voice box barely even processed his astonished question. he felt as if his circuits were frying up by how hot he felt. 

orion’s expression showed bewilderment and a hint of betrayal. this,,, wasn’t fair?? well- he knew it wasn’t d-16 who said that to you, but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

he wished it could have been him.

but then finally, you realized what you just said and removed your hand from the shorter bot’s shoulder, standing up straight and bumping into darkwing’s chest armor. “oh- p-please excuse me. i- uh, i chose my words wrong.” 

the onlookers decided to stop eavesdropping, realizing it was a simple mistake on your part. that made orion sigh in relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by d-16. but his attention was quickly brought back to you.

“my apologies, i- i would never say such things- not during work hours, i’m sorry- what i meant to say, i need you- as in i need you to help keep up the good work to motivate the other miners to do the same. it helps your ranks as it helps mine if we all put our parts to make a difference. s-so, yea.” you looked around, avoiding eye contact, a small blush remaining on your face. both miners nearly swooned at such a cute expression on your face.

“i just needed to do an early check up according to sentinel, that’s all. thought i’d try and give some pep talk and you can see i have to work on that,,” you giggled before clearing your throat and staring down at the mesmerized bots.

,,,

“goodbye.” and with that being said, you quickly marched back to the main exit with a very, VERY jealous darkwing in tow. 

orion turned his gaze to his best friend, who watched you depart with a dreamy look on his face. the red and blue bot sighed and gently shook his shoulder.

“d?,,,” oh he knew. 

he recognized that stare. the same stare he gave when he saw anything megatronus prime related, that same glimmer in his optics. it was that same spark that orion had when he first saw you.

oh primus.

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[iceman-kazansky]

Can you write Seb x driver!reader where driver wins race after race and wins the championship and becomes red bulls prodigy and basically Seb is jealous of her and he basically hates her but she’s kind to him and everyone so he ends up falling in love with her

Little Miss Sunshine 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙· ̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: Anon 

Request: ^^

Pairings: Sebastian Vettel x F!RB!Driver!reader 

Warnings: Seb is a bit of an ass at first (as per request,) typical red bull menace era Seb. Y/n utilized. Kissing. Getting drunk. Angst to fluff. No Danny ric to RB and Hamilton doesn't win WDC that year (for the plot.)

Word count: 5295

A/n: AHHH OMG I LOVED THIS REQUEST! GIGGLED AND KICKED MY FEET WHEN I GOT THIS! Hope you enjoy this :):) P.S. Sorry this took so long, Life got quite hectic haha

Taglist: none (if you'd like to be on my taglist, there's a link to the form at the bottom of the post! :] )

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

You had smiled awkwardly at Sebastian when you’d first met him, given him a little wave and greeted him rather shyly. It wasn’t your first year in Formula 1, of course, though, you’d come from a cheaper team, one that hadn’t had a streak of winning like Red Bull. So, naturally, you were a little timid of the new environment and determined not to let your team down or have a sour relation with your teammate.

You were standing in your race suit, your white balaclava pulled over your head as you adjusted your helmet before climbing into your car.

Sitting in the new vehicle had never felt this nerve-wracking. Already, all of their eyes were on you and their expectations were high. You were nervous, eaten to the core by the fear that you might disappoint your new team on your maiden grand prix for them. 

Without further ado, you shoved those thoughts down and went through the routine of starting your car. The engine roared to life and emitted a low purr. Carefully, you steered your car out of the garage, entering the pit lane.

After the formation lap, you'd taken your position at your spot on the grid, lining up midway through the lineup. Around you, the roar of the new v6 engines filled your ears as the lights began igniting.

As the lights went out and you pulled ahead of a few other drivers, you managed to keep up your pace, chasing Sebastian for the entire session.

On your maiden Red Bull race, you'd placed an impressive P2, second none other to teammate Sebastian Vettel.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

The previous race wasn't where your success stopped. Not at all. Last grand prix, you'd placed below Sebastian, something you considered a result of your lesser driving skills compared to the 4 time world champion. Yet, it wasn't long before you found yourself surpassing him on many occasions. 

You placed higher than him many times, scoring podiums nearly every race. And Sebastian didn't like that he was being out-driven by his new teammate. It left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He began to resent you. He loathed the fact that you were new to this team, to Red Bull, a group so closely-knit because of him. The constant reminder that you had penetrated the family-like racing team he had worked so hard to make closer, was impossible to forget when you –in his words– paraded around the paddock with your bright, easy smiles and kind words. He hated the way you smiled so cheerily, sun rays woven between pearly teeth that portrayed a constant warmth. Your smile seemed to never stop shining and it made Sebastian even more bitter about the situation.

Maybe it was silly. A stupid rivalry. But Sebastian was stubborn and he very much liked winning. He liked being dubbed ‘the best’ 4 consecutive years. And you were taking that away from him. He hated you for it.

It was a particularly bad race for Sebastian. Or, atleast, he'd call it bad. He hadn't placed nearly as high as he'd hoped and it made him angry. You on the other hand, had unsurprisingly placed first, which extended your lead over Sebastian and only increased his frustration.

He climbed out of his car, sweating heavily and anger hot as lava beneath his skin. You followed suit before making your way over to him where he stood. He groaned as you approached, his rage boiling.

“That was a tough race, Sebastian,” You said to him, a small, friendly smile on your face, “You did good.”

Something in the way you smiled at him while you said that made him frustrated and irritable. “Save your sympathy for someone who wants it,” He spat angrily, eyes hardened to a glare.

Sebastian didn't miss the small frown that found its way to your lips, and he found himself feeling a small tinge of something in his chest. It almost frightened him at the peculiar nature of the newly discovered feeling.

“I was just being nice,” You replied in a quieter, much sadder tone, “Sorry.”

As you turned and walked away without another word, Sebastian watched. The German driver knew he should do something. Say something. Call you back and apologize. Yet, his mouth remained glued shut and his eyes locked on your retreating form.

“Fuck,” He cursed to himself, a frustrated hand coming up to run through his sweaty strands of hair.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

It was race day again and already, Sebastian wasn't in a good mood. The previous argument had gone forgotten by him and his anger resurged. You'd out-everything'd him. Out-qualified; Out-lapped; Out-fastest lapped; You'd out-raced him entirely, scoring yourself pole position to start the race off.

Sebastian was a few grid spots back. It wasn't his finest performance over the past few days, he would admit that much.

His eyes were locked on the red lights above the grid that slowly began their count.

1..

The first one ignited.

2..

The second light burned a bright red, and Sebastian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

3..

The third set of lights turned on. Sebastian began to rev his car's engine by pressing his foot on the gas.

4..

The fourth pair of lights lit up, and Sebastian could feel his anticipation growing. He wasn't going to let you win again today. He had to place higher than you.

5..

Finally, the fifth pair of lights blinked on. Sebastian subconsciously squeezed the steering wheel, eyes locked firmly on the red lights as he waited almost impatiently.

The lights all extinguished, and all the cars surged forwards as the race began.

Sebastian was fighting tooth and nail as he moved his way up the race standings. He raced behind you now, your car's tail end visible not far ahead. 

You were driving spectacularly. You pulled corners with professional precision, accelerating out of them with the help of ERS to propel you forward, your car following a unique racing line all with a feel that came natural to you.

Sebastian was pushing his car to the limits as he caught up to you, using all of his ability to keep up and attempt an overtake. You were quick to defend when he moved over slightly to pass, your car zipping in front of him to effectively block his path.

It made him angry and want to take first place from you even more. Sebastian just barely managed to get to a point where he was wheel-to-wheel with you on a straightaway. Yet, a corner with a decreased radius was rapidly approaching as your fight for first intensified.

Your car pulled to the outer edge of the track as you followed the perfect racing line into the turn, Sebastian almost parallel with you. The German driver knew he needed to brake soon and get into a better racing line to complete this corner, but he was too caught up in the fact he was neck and neck with you, fighting for first and he didn't want to pull away and give up.

At almost the same time, your cars slowed coming into the corner, and Sebastian steered sharply into the turn as the track narrowed. 

It all happened in a flash. One minute, both of you were racing around the corner, determined to obtain first place and refusing to allow the other to simply have it, and the next, Sebastian's car, which was going a little too fast as it rounded the bend at the same time yours did, veered straight into the side of your car. The impact sent both of you skidding out of control. Your car spun a few times, tossed straight off the track and into the gravel before smashing into the barrier, Sebastian's following the same track, only slightly ahead of yours.

The German's head was pounding as he came to a stop, a nauseous feeling collecting in his stomach. Only when his eyes laid on your similarly crashed car did he feel a strange sense of panic. Fighting against his restraints, he quickly unbuckled himself, scrambling out of his car once he'd shut it off. His feet had barely hit the ground before he had taken off running towards your crashed car.

It didn't take long to reach you, and when he did he was met with what appeared to be a very disorientated you, who groaned, your helmet pressed against the back of your seat. He reached over to shut off your car when you hadn’t already. His nerves were through the roof, panic running icy-cold through his veins. “Are you okay?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calmer than he really felt. When you didn't answer immediately, he asked again, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You groaned in reply, your helmet turning slightly to face him, the object obscuring your face from him. “I'm okay. Are you okay?”

Sebastian blinked a few times in confusion. You were the one still sitting in the car, and asking if he was okay? “Yeah, I'm fine.” He replied after a minute, baffled.

A sigh of relief left your lips and Sebastian imagined one of your signature smiles finding its way onto your face. 

In a strange moment of what he would call brain-fog, but in reality was clarity, Sebastian felt comforted by that thought. However, he was quick to force that feeling back down to the deepest, warmest pits of his heart and soul. Shoving back down that tiny bit of himself that felt warm and fuzzy at the mention of your name. That tiny bit he never wanted to confront because a part of him knew what it meant.

You got out of your car after that, unbuckling your harness and climbing out. Marshals had arrived on scene and before you knew it, they were giving both of you rides back to the paddock.

When you got back to the Red Bull Garage, both of you had pulled off your helmet and your balaclavas. Sebastian still felt stubbornly bitter, but underneath all that was a strong sense of guilt. He knew it was his fault both of you crashed. Yet, when he looked at your face for the first time since you'd both spun out and hit the barriers, he didn't see anger. He saw a soft smile and a warm look present on your face.

Sebastian didn't understand. Why weren't you angry at him? He was the reason why you both crashed, and he'd subsequently gotten both of you disqualified from the race entirely. Any other person would've been fuming, spitting fire from an angry tongue and steam rolling from their ears. Yet, why weren't you?

For a moment– a split second– Sebastian felt his bitterness ebb away. There was this growing tingling in his chest, and he could feel his stomach knotting itself as it thrashed in turmoil. He found himself staring at you, his anger and so-called loathe of you forgotten, now replaced by a feeling of warm fondness. Again.

The German shook his head to clear those thoughts and feelings. This was the second time today this had happened. What had gotten into him?

The moment for Sebastian didn't last long as soon enough your team principal came out and had a stern talking to both of you, but overall you both got let off easy.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

It was the finishing night of another race week again. One of the many breaks in the season was starting and everyone was in good spirits. Especially Sebastian, as for the first time in awhile this season, he came out with an impressive P1. After a few interviews you were finally free and you went back to your hotel room, feeling particularly exhausted and more than ready for this break.

You opened the door, pulling off your shoes with sluggish movements. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell into a deep sleep, your body more than happy to receive its much-needed rest.

It was the middle of the night when your phone rang, stirring you from your sleep. You groggily read the contact: Sebastian. Why was he calling you? “Hello?” You yawned into the speaker, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, hoping to wake yourself a bit.

“Hiii,” Sebastian slurred, his voice unusually cheery, “how are you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It was obvious now that he was drunk. “I’m good, how are you? What’s up?”

“I’m gooood,” He replied, and you noticed the stretching out the syllables of his words when he talked. “Nothings up, I just wanted to talk to you.”

You hummed. “Okay. You’re drunk. Do you need a ride?”

Sebastian was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound being a hiccup, followed by a soft, “Yeah..” 

Sighing, you had already started to get out of bed, getting ready to go pick up Sebastian. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

Once Sebastian managed to spit out his location through his slurred speech, you were on your way. Pulling up to the boisterous club, you noticed Sebastian standing outside on the sidewalk.

You parked and climbed out, knowing damn well he'd need help if he really was anywhere near as drunk as he sounded over the phone.

Sebastian smiled when he noticed you, something you were definitely unaccustomed to after these past months. What surprised you even more was his arms wrapping around your waist as he took upon his drunk self to hug you. 

“Have you always looked this nice?” He asks as he pulls away, and you are forced to shake off the shock of the clinginess when he compliments you.

“Good to see you too,” You say, chuckling in embarrassment at his words, his unnatural actions not going unnoticed by you. “Here, let's get you into the car.”

Sebastian, lucky for you, wasn't one to fight the idea of going back to the hotel and almost eagerly followed your instructions. Your hands guided him in as he plopped unceremoniously down. Watching from the open door, you observed Sebastian struggling with his seatbelt, trying hard to click it in securely but failing miserably. Sighing, you bent over and did it for him before closing the door and crossing the car to get in the driver's seat again.

As you began driving, you imagined the car ride to be quiet, but Sebastian had other plans.

“Thank you for driving me,” he hiccuped, starting the small talk easy.

“It's no big deal,” You replied, glancing at him in the passenger seat. You were a little shocked to find him looking right back at you, his gaze shamelessly wandering your features.

“Look, I'm sorry for being really mean all the time,” Sebastian said suddenly, breaking your distracted train of thought. 

“It's okay,” you replied, gazing back at the road. He was drunk and you weren't sure if his words were as true as they would've been had he been sober.

“But it's not okay,” Sebastian hiccuped, “You're nothing but nice to me and I'm always so angry with you. Don't you ever get upset with me?”

You swallowed a little nervously, staring out the window. When you'd first joined Red Bull at the start of this season, you'd heavily admired Sebastian, but over time your opinion of him was altered through his harshness.

“I..” You mumbled, unsure how to state your view without possibly offending him, “Sometimes.”

Sebastian took a long time to respond after that, and the silence seems to shove you into the spotlight. After an awkward momentary pause, you find yourself blurting out your true feelings to Sebastian in a desperate attempt to end this silence that eats you up. He wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning, anyway. “I just wanted to be as good as you. I saw someone who was a great racer, and I strived to be like that. But then, when I did get to that level, I was met with nothing but resentment. And I'm not even sure I know why.”

More silence. The only noise is the sound of the car as it drives and you wish nothing more than the radio to be on to take away some of these unpleasantly long pauses.

“You probably think I hate you,” Sebastian slurred finally. From your peripherals, you saw him hang his head in shame and sit forward again.

That took you off guard. Through his harsh words, his angry glares, and the countless times he'd displayed his very obvious disdain for you, he'd made it clear that he did hate you, and quite vehemently. If not hate, then a strong distaste. Hell, you were partially certain you’d remembered him saying something in a press conference once. Now, drunken and lost from his wits, he was telling you he didn't feel that at all? That his appearance was not as it seemed all this time? “You don't..?”

“Me? Hate you? No. Quite the opposite, actually.” Sebastian exclaimed, drunken head snapping up to meet your gaze.

Oh.

A beat of silence. A confession that feels like a mouthful too big to swallow. “What?” You ask, mind spinning with what he could possibly mean. 

“I don't hate you,” Sebastian repeats. “Not anymore.”

This doesn't make sense. None of it does. Why does he tell you this now? And here, of all places? “Not anymore?” You repeat, a plea for him to elaborate.

“No,” he sighs, “I've been so stupid.. and stubborn. You threatened my reputation as the best Red Bull driver and I really didn't like that.. And, you were always so.. nice. So kind and cheery all the time. The cameras seemed to be attracted to you, you were press eye-candy and they took full advantage of that. I envied how carefree you were and how much you stole the spotlight off me. How perfect you seemed.”

For a minute you forget he's drunk. Forget that maybe he might not mean a word of this. That he's so out of his wits that he probably doesn't know what he's saying. And it's blissful when you do. To live in ignorance and take his words as they seem. The inebriated lack of clarity he experiences not once crossing your mind, even for just a moment. You allow yourself to think he means it.

“I–” you mumble, not entirely sure what to say, “What made you change your mind?”

Sebastian didn't speak right away, but you could see the way his face portrayed the internal battle he fought. “When I crashed into you and you didn't move. Not an inch.” He pauses, gulping before continuing on quietly, “I thought I’d killed you. I got out of my car the quickest I've ever before and fought to get to you. Something told me I had to see if you were okay. I'd never been so scared in my life.”

His admittance was something unexpected. You wanted to believe him, a small voice in your mind whispered repeatedly ‘drunk words are sober thoughts.’ Now, in your mind, you wonder what he could have possibly meant when he said he didn’t hate you, instead claiming to have felt something ‘quite the opposite.’ What was that opposing thing? It made you wonder if that soft twinkle in his eyes when he looked at you was just your imagination, or if it was really something to consider.

Silence settles like death over the car. Maybe it’s your lack of response, but it doesn’t matter because soon enough, you’re pulling into the hotel parking lot and helping Sebastian back up to his room.

It’s quiet as you lead him down the long hallway, passing many rooms before finally stopping at his door. He uses a keycard to unlock it, and he stumbles in as soon as he does. You walk into his hotel room, bringing him to his bed. You leave for a minute, going to the bathroom to grab the garbage bin and filling a glass with water from the sink. “Here,” You say, extending the glass to him, “Drink this,” You pause, setting the bin on the floor by the bed, “And use this if you need to throw up any time in the night.”

Sebastian nods, finishing up his glass of water.

You sigh, heading to the door and deciding your work is done. “Goodnight Sebastian,” you say to him.

“Goodnight Y/n,” He replies and you leave.

In your own room, you lay restless for a while, pondering everything Sebastian said to you, and for a minute, you like to believe something has changed. That this feeling in you is real and things are really different than they were.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

Months pass from that night, Sebastian never brings up the topic. Yet, things don’t fall back to how they were. You haven’t had any quarrels with the German since then. His words, albeit not at the front of your mind, still ring in your ears from time to time. By now, It’s the end of the season- The last race. And, you’ve won.

The feeling of parking your car at the first-place marker and climbing out onto its long body, hearing the crowds shouts of congratulations while the full weight of your accomplishment began to set in, produced an indescribable emotion. The jumps of joy you denied fighting against as you shouted and screamed in a disbelieving glee, your feet leaving the ground as you leapt around in a craze. As soon as you stepped off your car, you’d jogged across the tarmac and leaped at the fence, straight into the warm embrace of your team. Their acclamations washed over you while they patted your back and shoulders in celebration. When you had finally separated from your team and found yourself walking that short bridge- which, in comparison, had felt much longer and slower than it really was and stepped onto the podium for first place, the sounds of the crowd below you roaring in celebration, their loud cheers filling the air and ringing loud in your ears, made you realize they were cheering for you. As you stood in front of the world, on display, the national anthem for your country playing proudly for the winner, you could feel tears of joy start to well in your eyes.

You’d done it. You’d won the World Drivers Championship. The first female driver in history to ever win a WDC, and you had done it. Through years of hard work in karting as a child, pushing yourself all the way up into the formulas, you had accomplished it. When you’d made your debut into Formula 1, you could hardly believe it then. You never imagined you’d have made it this far into the sport. Of course, you’d dreamed of winning a WDC, as every other driver did. Ever since you were in karting it had been an unimaginable feat you always reached for, striving to one day achieve. A feat many drivers never got a glimpse of. To be dubbed the greatest in Formula 1 was something unbelievable. But here you were, standing atop the podium, being handed the first place trophy of the season’s final grand prix, securing your position as the World Champion. A constant reminder in your mind of ‘you were the champion- the best,’ made your happiness only increase. 

As you held the trophy in your hands, lifting it high over your head, you let the tears fall. There was a wide smile of joy plastered across your face, stretching from ear-to-ear. You held the trophy in the air, a silent echo of your words that screamed ‘I’ve won’ being conveyed through the simple act.

Eventually, you set down your trophy, careful not to break it, the champagne bottle now held in your hands as you popped the cork. You felt the sticky spray from the other podium members as they pelted you with the bubbly drink, while you took a short turn blasting either of them with the liquid. After a moment, you turned and faced the crowd, shaking the bottle and shooting champagne over them with a smile on your face. 

Suddenly, there was a wet feeling of champagne being poured over your head, soaking your hair and running down your race suit, it had you turning to face the other podium winners, one of them being none other than your teammate Sebastian Vettel. He was smiling broadly at you, holding his champagne bottle above your head, dumping the rest of the yellow liquid over you in congrats. You couldn’t care less about it, rather enjoying the celebration more and more as it progressed. You still could hardly believe the fact you’d won the WDC.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

The 2014 Red Bull team went out to party that night, the whole group hitting one of the team members' houses that was coincidentally not far from the location of the last grand prix, upon arrival, booze was promptly handed out.

You, on the other hand, strayed from partaking in the drinking of alcohol. Tonight was your celebration night, and you much preferred to spend it remembering rather than drunk off your wits.

You'd found yourself seeking an isolated place. Somewhere to go to regain your thoughts, almost as if you were relishing in your own victory but with silent regard.

There was a peacefulness on the quiet balcony that made admiring the sky easy. High above your head, the night sky stretched across the horizon like a blanket. Stars looked like pin pricks amongst the great ebony expanse. There was a slight chill to the evening air, but not one great enough for you to retreat back into the mansion. Inside, the party raged on, with loud music blasting loud enough you could hear it from your place on the balcony.

The sound of the sliding balcony door opening caught your attention. Reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the beautiful night sky, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Sebastian.

“Hello,” He greeted, “Whatcha doin’ up here?”

Sebastian was drunk. That much was obvious with the messy onslaught of slurred words and the slight stumble in his step as he joined you in leaning on the balcony.

“I wanted some time alone.” You answered. It wasn't a lie. You really did get away purposefully to be alone.

“Why? It's your party,” he hiccupped, his drunken gaze swimming with confusion.

You sighed. Yes, it was your party, but you just wanted to be alone for a bit to truly celebrate your victory without a full-blown party. “I know it’s my party.” 

Sebastian didn’t say anything after that, instead choosing to just stand silently beside you. Naturally, your gaze was drawn back to the sky, but this time Sebastian joined you.

The moon was a creamy ball of light against the charcoal of the sky, shedding its milky rays on the both of you and illuminating your faces beneath its glow. There was a gentle stillness to it all, a serenity to the scene, with the only sound being the whisper of the wind as it danced near-silently through the trees in the yard. The warmth from Sebastian lingered on your bare arms, his own skin so close to your own.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you said, admiring the stars.

Sebastian merely hummed, and it caused you to glance at him. His eyes weren’t to the sky, instead, they were transfixed on your figure.

You turned to stare into his eyes, neither of you broke the contact. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a twinkle of warm fondness in his gaze. No, actually, you were certain you had. 

The shared glance had sparked something within you. A shift that altered the feelings you experienced. Maybe it was all just a hoax. Confusion. But not even you could deny the whispered nothings screaming that maybe what you felt was most definitely something. Something scary. Daunting. Both too scared to traipse through the thick hazy smoke that stung the eyes and invaded every sense, but what neither of you knew was that cloud was protecting the hot embers and warm flames from within. The parts of them that yearned for each other deeply. However, everything was on the verge of coming undone.

You'd hardly realized you and Sebastian subconsciously closed the gap between each other until you felt the warmth of his booze-ridden breath fan your face. With that train of thought, your gaze had lowered to his candy-coloured lips. It took you a minute to process your action, and it was only another second before your gaze returned to his eyes embarrassedly.

Sebastian doesn't seem to notice– or mind– the longing look. His hand reaches up to brush a piece of hair from your face, and you can feel your stomach erupt in swarms of butterflies at the act. He doesn't let his hand fall, instead it moves to tentatively cradle your cheek.

Sebastian leaned in even closer, his lips just above yours. You didn't miss the lingering stare he left on your lips for a little too long. You knew what was about to happen if you didn't move soon. Something deep inside you had you glued to your spot. And for a moment, a split second, the realization that maybe you wanted this struck you.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, soft slate blue eyes meeting yours, gaze gone unbroken with the sheer intensity of the moment.

Warm fondness rises through you, bubbling softly in your chest. Apprehension courses through your veins, hot like lava to warm your skin despite the late November chill. You won't deny Sebastian the right to kiss you, because deep down you know you want this. You need this. Forever since you'd met him, you've yearned for clarity, for him to draw that line in the sand. To you, this would either spell it out for you or leave you second guessing everything. And that was a risk you considered worth taking.

“I won't say no.” You replied at last, solidifying everything on your end. A wide range of emotions run through your veins, but you don't feel an ounce of regret or unwillingness to taste and feel his lips on yours.

That's all the permission he needs, as he closes that gap to press his lips to yours.

His lips are tender, gentle and soft in a way that makes your knees wobble and your chest tighten. Sebastian's other hand finds its way to your hip, his fingers curling into your skin. 

You find he tastes faintly of liquor, a reminder of his previous drinking. Yet, part of you chooses to ignore it. He wants this too, right?

Your head spins as you stand frozen to the spot, lips linked together. Sebastian inevitably pulls away for air, and you find yourself chasing his lips for a short moment. He notices, a soft smile gracing his features while his hand slides from your cheek to rest on your neck as he pulls you in for a second kiss.

The second kiss ends with both of you pulling away. Sebastian rests his forehead against yours, and it takes a while before you open your eyes again. 

Your breaths mingle in the air between each other, soft smiles present on your faces. High above, the moon observes in awe.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” Sebastian asks.

Nodding, you reply, “Only if you promise to remember this when you're sober.”

The German’s grin widens, “I don't think I could forget.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[writing-mlm]

could you please please please write a jaime reyes fic where reader is sick so jaime takes care of his boyfriend ☹️

Sick Days

Summary: Jaime’s boyfriend is sick and he’s, of course, going to stop everything to help him. Pairing: Jaime Reyes x Male reader Wc: 1k A/n: wrote this while I was (still am) sick so it’s pretty short >:(

“I told him; it’s cold, wear a jacket. It’s cold, don’t go outside with your hair wet. It’s cold, put on thick pants. But did he listen?” Jaime rambles as you’re blowing snot into yet another tissue. He’s not even in your vicinity, you can’t hear him but you can just tell he’s rambling to himself. “No, claro ‘Jaime, I’m from Alaska I’m used to the cold’. You moved to Texas when you were five and haven’t been back since!” 

“You talkin’ ‘bou’ me?” You cough, turning yourself to look into the kitchen. He stops stirring the chicken noodle soup and smiles at you. The tension in his shoulders drops and he shakes his head. 

“Course not, my love. Get your rest,” He cooes, pointing the wooden spoon in your direction. “The soup is almost done.” He adds, killing the fire and covering the pot to let it simmer for a bit longer while he gets a bowl and a plate. 

“Thank you, Jai,” 

“His lymph nodes are swelling, I recommend giving him the water bottle now and a warm rag,” Khaji-Da tells him and he hums in acknowledgment, rushing along the apartment to grab a clean rag and let it run under warm water while he fetches a new water bottle.

When he returns to the living room, he pushes you so you’re lying down and places the rag on your neck. You shudder, eyes closing while he drags the blanket up your body, tucking it under your arms and sides. 

“He needs to be in a more upright position in case he falls asleep and chokes on phlegm,” Hurriedly, he lifts you up a bit, grabbing a throw pillow and shoving it behind your back. He reworks the blanket, tucking your feet under the cover despite you trying to flick them off. 

“You’re gonna stop fighting me on this,” He chuckles while staring over at you. 

“It’s hot,” You whine. “I’m already wearin’ socks, Jaime.” The fuzzy blue and green polka dot socks kick off the blanket again and he sighs, hands on his hips. 

“Blanket over feet or you don’t get to watch TV.” You gasp, although it comes out gagged due to your sore throat. He nods, now crossing his arms and you huff. Fine, if he wants to resort to his evil ways. Again, he tucks the blanket under you and nods when you don’t put up a fuss. 

“I’ll bring you the soup now. Do you want saltine crackers with it?” Shaking your head, he hums and disappears into the kitchen. He reminds himself to clean up his mess later and then to buy canned chicken noodle soup��� even if he knew his mother would kill him for making canned soup over the special homemade one. 

With the soup bowl on top of a plate, he cuts up a bread loaf and places it on the plate with a Benadryl for when you’re done eating. 

“Want more tea, cielo?” 

“Y’s plea’e,” He chuckles, although he knows he shouldn’t, and brings the kettle with him. 

He sets the plate and kettle on the coffee table and goes off to grab a chair, placing it between the couch and the table. Sitting down, he pours more tea, letting it steep while he starts feeding you. 

“I can feed m’self,” Turning your head away from the spoon, he scoots closer and puts the spoon back into the bowl. 

It’s bad enough you’re sick, although you won’t outright admit it. Because, sure, maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to go for a late-night walk during a storm and then walk to work in the light rainfall that came the following morning. But! But, in your defense. You never got sick from doing it before. 

“Considering you couldn’t feed yourself cereal this morning, no you can’t. Let me feed you.” Sighing, you turn your head back, unable to look at him as he holds the spoon out toward your mouth. If you could smell anything you’d know just how tempered Jaime was to eat the soup himself. “Open for the airplane!” He grins. 

“Ja—“ Slipping the spoon into your mouth, you glare at him while he just smiles and pulls the spoon out. The soup is good, you’ll give him that. You couldn’t smell it being made, clogged nose, and all that jazz. 

“Khaji says you’re swallowing too fast, slow down.” With another spoonful, you don’t put up a fuss this time and he’s nearly giddy. He looks away, a sign that Khaji is speaking, and removes the rag from your neck. It had long since gone cold and wasn’t doing anything. And it could make it worse. 

The two of you fall into that rhythm for some time, he talks about random topics during the commercial breaks and you listen with half-lidded eyes. The warmth from the soup already making you feel good enough to take a nap without the worry that you’re going to cough yourself to death.

With the soup and bread gone, he hands you the pill and your cup of tea. This time, he lets you drink on your own and you swallow the pill with the tea as a chaser. He checks, making sure you didn’t slip the pill under your tongue before he nods, confirming to you that you had, in fact, swallowed the pill. 

“Time for bed,” He says, standing to clean up the items. For now, he’ll just place them into the sink. That’s an issue for tomorrow Jaime. 

“Stay with me?” You ask when he walks back around the couch. 

“Of course, baby.” He grins, kissing your forehead before he picks you up. God, you love having a superhero boyfriend who can lift a semi-truck with one arm. Holding his neck, you sigh and lay your head on his chest. 

When he sets you down on your shared bed, you don’t let go of his shirt, too afraid he’s going to leave. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promises, squeezing your hand before moving across the room to dig inside one of the drawers. You know what’s coming and work on taking your shirt off. When he turns around with a Vicks VapoRub jar in hand, you’re sure that he’s truly becoming his parents. 

Sniffling, he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and carefully rubs it along your chest. He works in small circles, humming along to the theme song he’d always hear whenever he was sick. When he’s done, he caps the bottle and sets it on the nightstand before going to turn off the lights. You lay on your side, a towel on your pillow to collect any snot that comes out while you’re sleeping. 

“Get some rest, okay?” The bed dips as he crawls in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Mhmm, ‘m tryi’g.” You respond, holding his hand while your eyes slowly close. He kisses your shoulder before he gets comfortable himself. 

“Night, Jai.” 

“Goodnight, mi amor,”

[asirensrage]

Title: One More Step Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Izana x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC Word count: 2072 Warnings: Dark!fic. Violence. Abuse. Threats. Gaslighting. Suicide attempt. Suicidal thoughts. Mention of "being shared". Seriously gaslighting. Implied future infantilization. Not a happy ending. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out. Including her. Prompt: "Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me."

Notes: based off of the prompt found here by @seaside-writings. Takes place in the future where Izana is controlling Toman (with Manila!Mikey). This was a lot of fun to write and I've enjoyed the reactions I've gotten so far, which has mainly been shock and horror lol. I hope you enjoy it.

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

She’s straddling his chest, knife poised on the base of his throat as her knees keep his arms pinned. His wide violet eyes meet hers and what pisses her off the most is the complete lack of fear she sees in them. She feels like she’s been running a marathon, the end finally in reach if she can just take one more step. That’s all she needs. One more step. 

She doesn't know how it got to this point. 

She can look back, regret bringing a sharp clarity to actions that she was blinded to before it was too late. Before he held her by the throat, forced her to face everything that he was and that he offered and refused to let go. She had been bordered by his men, one way or another. Closed off from anything that could reach out to pull her back out of the open water where he lay waiting to devour. 

She can see every step that led her into his trap, even the ones that were taken in haste because she was forced from behind. The man under her held her softly, sweetly and kissed her deep enough that she could taste the blood on his tongue. Her revulsion made him laugh, made him all the more determined that she remain chained to his side. Every part of her was broken apart, piece after piece, and she has been trying to glue herself back into place. Back into the woman she was before she ever crossed paths with Izana. 

He stares at her patiently, not even trying to fight. As if he knows it’s inevitable. 

It is inevitable. 

There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out and women are the more deadly of the species. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving hers. His gaze strips her bare. It always has. He lured her with promises and idealizations of a home, with the threat of revenge against those who have wronged her. 

“I want to see the life leave your eyes myself,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper with her panting. 

“Even if you got rid of me, you’d miss me. Admit it. You’d miss me.” He stares as if waiting for the answer he knows she’ll give. Not anymore. She refuses. To admit to missing him means that she would miss the way he cradled her to him, the way he held her throat in his hand and threatened to kill her, to throw her to the wolves. To miss him would be to admit that she liked everything he had done for her, to her, and the way he’d allow select few access to her cunt while he fucked them. He was almost always the one fucking. Always the one in control. 

It would be admitting that the pieces she was putting herself back together with were in his image. Not hers. 

She presses the knife a little harder and he doesn’t even flinch. “Never.”

“Liar.” 

He moves. Her weight isn’t enough to stop him, despite her efforts. The knife goes flying as she’s forced onto her back, an inversion of seconds ago. Her feet kick out, arms scratching at his until he uses his hold against her neck to lift her head just enough to slam it back down onto the ground. It makes her dazed. Enough that she stops struggling for a moment as her senses realign. 

“Admit it.” He orders again. “Tell your king the truth.” 

“Not my ki–” her voice is cut off with the pressure of his hand tightening. His gaze hardens at the response. 

“Stop lying.” He slams her head down again, harder this time and her vision goes black for a second before the pain blossoms. It makes her stomach roll but if she throws up now, she’ll choke until he decides she deserves to breathe. If he decides. 

Tears build up in her eyes, a response to the pain. The pressure on her throat releases enough that she can gasp in the air she desperately needs. 

He strokes her cheek gently as she coughs, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes. “You make things so hard on yourself,” he says softly. As if he hadn’t just nearly killed her. He brushes hair out of her eyes. 

“Iz-Iza-” she coughs. His grip tightens again in warning. She closes her eyes, willing to face death for what she’s done. She should have been faster. Why did she hesitate? After everything he’s done, she would have been doing the world a favour. 

“Try again.”

“Si–” his grip tightens and she chokes for a second, coughing once she’s granted air again. “-y king,” she gasps more than says it. A feeble attempt to keep his violence at bay. She’s seen enough of it. Felt enough. 

His grip loosens, back to the softness he imitates. “How long must we play this game? How long until it finally sinks in that you and I are intertwined?” She knows what he’s not saying. She would never be separated from him. He had dug himself into her bones, leaving the remnants of the girl she was into the thing he’s formed. 

Until there’s nothing left, is what she wants to say but she can’t. The words lodge themselves in her throat. Tears slip down the sides of her face as she stares up at the man who calls himself a king. He’s beautiful, ethereal with the casual violence he carries. 

He stares at her a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching before he nods, seemingly satisfied at her inability to argue. She wants to. She does. She just can’t seem to pull the words out of her chest, to breathe life into a promise that she’ll succeed next time. A promise she’s made repeatedly and never fulfilled. 

She feels…tired. Emotionally wrought and wrung out. There’s a slight ringing in her ears that she can almost ignore. Her gaze slips from his face, staring at the art piece on the wall that he bought her after catching her staring at it too long. He hung it in a place of honour, front and centre as if to remind her that no matter what they’ve done, what he’s done, he’s taken care of her. Isn’t that what’s important? 

His fingers tighten on her chin before he turns her so that her eyes meet his again. He kisses his teeth lightly, another admonishment at her choices. She watches his gaze drift over her face. “You need to stop hurting yourself,” he says almost gently. It sounds like he actually cares, as if she’s only fallen and he hasn’t tried her kill her. Quid pro quo.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he says in the same tone. “That you never learn, do you? No matter how many lessons I teach, you stay as stubborn as a child.” He leans back slightly, hips pressing closer against hers as he pulls her slightly closer so they remain connected. “Is that what you are? A child?” He stares as if waiting for a response she can barely think of giving. She tries to shake her head but the motion makes her stomach roll and it feels as if he’s finally knocked something loose in it. She probably needs a hospital. 

“Is that how I need to treat you?” 

“N-no,” she croaks out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forces out. She has to apologize. There’s no choice. If she doesn’t, he won’t kill her, but he’ll force her into another role that she knows will be worse than being a woman at his side. She can only imagine the way his men's faces will light up in amusement if he tells them to treat her as a child. They like humiliation too much when it’s not theirs. 

“Your words are worthless to me,” he tells me. “But I can be merciful. As long as you held the knife at my throat, you could never take that final step, could you?” 

She swallows the lump growing in her throat. No. Something held her back and she hates every part of herself for it. 

“No,” he answers for her. “Like I said, you’d miss me. Miss this.” He yanks her closer, moving her ass to rest on his knees, to keep her hips pressed against his. A parody of a mating press. One she’s been forced into before even if it never took. They’re consistent, at least, in ensuring she’s protected from that. 

Her gaze drifts again. She doesn't mean it but she can’t stay focused. Her head hurts and her throat feels scrubbed raw from his hold. She blinks and it feels like it takes longer than ever before she’s forced back to look at Izana. Will he mourn her if she dies here? Will he regret everything he’s done to her or will he only regret that it wasn’t on his terms? That’s how she should go. While she still has the ability to. She should wait until she’s left alone again and throw herself away, a final act of defiance in refusal to give him the satisfaction of choosing her death. It should be a choice she gets to make. Unless she hesitates like she did with a knife at his throat. Always unable to make that last move. 

He bends forward to brush his lips against hers. It’s soft, nearly tender and a complete contrast to his behaviour. She could lose herself in it, in the illusion he offers every time. It’s always so tempting to. It somehow feels so much more poignant after the things he does. She wants to soothe him, to make him offer this softness more and more until she’s drowning in it. Even if he’s the one pulling her under. 

“Izana,” she breathes into his mouth. 

He hums, smiling slightly at the submission. “Such a pretty thing like this, aren’t you?” He brushes her hair back. “You always are.” 

“My...my head hurts,” she whimpers. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says. “Such a clumsy thing, aren’t you?” He sighs before getting up, rocking back on his heels and standing. “You need me, even if you’re not willing to say it aloud. We both know it.” He offers his hand to her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, trying to will her body to work the way it’s supposed to, the way he expects it to. She’s been buried in his expectations, slowly suffocating under their weight. Can you be buried and broken apart? She thinks so. She feels like she is. The thing that emerges from the rubble is nothing she recognizes but he looks at her in satisfaction that makes part of her preen. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know where she gets the strength, the courage, to shove her foot into his knee instead of taking his hand. He’s broken her into pieces, reforming her into what he wants, but the core of it is still her. She is still the woman she once was, even if she’s not the same. 

He swears at her, a hiss filled with warning and anger. She scrambles to stand but the concussion he’s left on her makes it difficult. She’s moving too quickly. Her stomach rolls and she crashes into the couch before she catches herself. The balcony lies before her. A beacon of release. A choice she can make. 

She runs.

Her fingers brush the cool glass before an arm reaches around her shoulder. A hand grabs her throat, circling it with an ease of familiarity before she’s sent flying back. Away from the balcony. Away from her chance. Still too slow, even if she didn’t hesitate. 

She slides across the floor, crashing into the wall across from it. The impact is jarring, sight going blank as her head rings until she’s folding over to throw up on the hard floor. Something’s broken. She can feel it in her arm, but she can’t focus. Can’t breathe through the nausea and taste of bile.

Izana walks towards her. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s disappointed. She can feel his anger even if he doesn’t show it. Instead, she hears him sigh. She curls up tighter, apologies worthless even if she tried. 

“A child it is then.” 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

also: @scythegal and @m-ilkiee Network: @pixelcafe-network

I’m not tagging anyone else lol

[dissapointu]

SO FFAST HUH.. I looked away and suddenly the ekko tag is. Abundant with little hcs

I love your writing sm !! and if I may add another to the pile, reader patching ekko's wounds after a rough mission? :> (also, hear me out. would he call his partner firebug-)

Thank you for the kind words! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Ekko hcs.

And personally the “firebug”? GENUIS. Had me kicking my feet an shit.

• After a particularly rough mission, Ekko stumbles into the hideout, bruised and bloodied but still managing a smirk. His body language is stiff, and his face is pale from exhaustion, but there’s a certain relief in his eyes when he sees you. He knows you’ll take care of him.

• You get to work right away, carefully cleaning and bandaging his wounds. His usual bravado is gone, replaced with quiet vulnerability as he watches you with soft eyes. He’s used to being the one in control, but with you, he lets his guard down.

• As you dab antiseptic on a gash on his arm, Ekko winces slightly but suppresses the urge to flinch. His lips curl into a playful grin as he catches your eye. “You’re lucky you’re so good at this, Firebug,” he teases, letting his affectionate nickname slip out.

• You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, and he leans into your touch, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know,” he murmurs, “I always knew you’d be the one to patch me up.”

• There’s an unspoken bond between the two of you, something built from trust and understanding. Even in his pain, there’s a comfort in knowing that you’re there, patching him up, always ready to help him heal.

• As you finish, Ekko takes your hand, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Firebug,” he says softly, the playful glint in his eyes giving way to something warmer and more sincere.

• With the final bandage in place, you lean in and kiss him gently, your hand resting on his chest. He pulls you closer, still recovering but cherishing every moment. “You’re my favorite healer,” he adds with a grin, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Thanks for always having my back.”

I hope that was exactly what you were looking for! :) Let me know if you’d like any tweaks or additions.

[kyalico]

I remember how your hands felt on mine

☆ : hai guys this is my first tumblr post (idk how to use this app) english isnt my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes n my overuse of commas :’) was originally gonna be a nanami oneshot but i switched it in the middle of writing

characters: toji fushiguro (jjk) x gn!reader

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader’s kinda an ass but so is toji, reader’s in denial half of the time ngl, rushed, not proofread :(

author’s note: its slightly inspired by i remember how your hands felt on mine by Wisp bc i luv that song <3 go stream!!

word count: 1.2k (short bc i wrote it in an hour and its time to sleep)

the cold air gently brushed on your delicate skin, whispering soft hums into your ear. your feet kicked back and forth above the gloomy water, your reflection barely visible from the cloudy specks floating above the surface.

his raspy voice ringing in your head every time the cool wind breathes onto you.

“i’ll love you forever and always, okay? don’t forget that, honey,” is what he would remind you of no matter the day or situation.

the stupid promises were repetitive to say the least, but you couldn’t help but reminisce the days where he gently held you against his firm arms, cooing nothing but delightful words that sounded melodic.

you had known toji for years. from freshman year of high school to now, adulthood. adulthood was definitely one of the most terrifying things to ever exist, but toji would always be there by your side no matter what. he went through hell and back if it meant seeing your smile that imitated a ray of sunshine for just a split second, and not once did he feel an ounce of regret for it.

the first interaction felt as if it came fresh out of a corny romance movie. looking back on it, you realize how unusual you used to act, yet toji never minded. in fact he loved how much you would rant on and on about something silly you’ve suddenly started to hyper fixate over or how much you absolutely despised chemistry. whatever it was, he adored it. he adored you.

now, what did go wrong in your relationship? was it the fact that you felt that he wasn’t emotionally mature enough or was it the fact that he thought you were never direct about how you felt about him? nobody knew the answer but you wish you did. he wishes he did.

“what the fuck? why would you just pour all of that onto me all at once? didn’t even give me some time to process, damn.” a condescending tone and a rough hand covering his face, he was insanely frustrated with you. you never meant for it to escalate, but it wasn’t really your fault he couldn’t handle this, right?

“it’s not my fault you’re never aware about how i feel,” you retorted, a frown on your face which was unusual knowing the fact you never frowned. seeing the way the corners of your lips turned down made toji uncomfortable.

“how am i supposed to know if you won’t give me shit? you lock yourself away in hopes of me getting the idea about how you feel.” toji groaned. it was getting harder to contain himself, but it was definitely frustrating that you were acting this way. you almost never did, and that’s what was so off about the situation.

“maybe read the room better? it’s not my fault you’re so fucking dense all of the time for no reason. it’s almost like you’d choose money over me.” you sneered as your body felt like it was burning up, temperature quickly rising as you struggled to keep yourself together. “i bet you spend all of that money on your side chicks, hm?” it was completely out of anger and you were basically speaking on autopilot at this point. it was hard to figure out what to say especially in the heat of the moment.

however, toji was infuriated at this point, unable to concentrate as he basically stared you down. his fists clenched, dull nails digging into his calloused hands with his knuckles turning snowy white. “the fuck? why the fuck would you say that? you’re actually so immature. i don’t know why you would think that in the first place, but maybe you’re right.” he scoffed, an unamused look on his face. “it’d be crazy if i just admitted i had a side chick or two, huh?”

“what?” it took you a while to fully process all of that, and it wasn’t great at all. “did you just admit to fucking other girls? holy shit, you’re a fucking whore!” you cried out, hand raising as it came in harsh contact with his cheek.

a red sting stained the feeling of his cheek, his eyes widening as he realized what came out of his mouth and it was stupid.

“wait, darling no.” he gently grabbed up by the shoulders, noticing the way your eyes glistened up. “sweetheart, it was just in the moment. i swear i didn’t mean it and i would never cheat on you.” he spoke rapidly in hopes of you believing whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

a voice interrupted the continuation of your thoughts, the feeling of the wind once brushing against your skin. you didn't even realize the puny tear falling from your eye, sliding down your cheek.

you quickly wipe it away, warily turning around to locate the familiar voice hidden by the whispers of the wind. it was him, wasn’t it? you were unsure whether or not you wanted to see him in this very moment as uninvited memories swam back.

you felt the weight of a large hand covering your shoulder, its thumb gently caressing your skin. “hey, what’re you doing here?” toji spoke softly yet loud enough to penetrate the sound of the wind.

“nothing. what about you, why are you here?” you mumble, responding with a hint of hesitation present in your voice.

“missed you, that’s all.” he gently pecked your cheek without a request and he knows he doesn’t have to ask for permission from you. you’d allow it anytime.

“liar, don’t even.” you slowly pulled away, looking back down at the murky waters. “your ass cheated on me, i dont want you back.” huffing, the wind exposing your features that he absolutely loved.

he squished your cheek gently. “already told ya, i never did and will never want to.” he planted another kiss on your body, except this was on the top of your head.

“your ass admitted it, didn’t you? that’s why we broke up, you slut.” you sighed. you didn’t want to talk about any of this but he was definitely willing to after messing up horribly.

“no, baby, no.” toji sat next to you on the bench, grabbing your hand in his. “i know you won’t believe me, but it was all in the heat of the moment.”

“i genuinely didn’t mean to hurt you at all, please know that. i love you so much and saying those things was the biggest regret and mistake i’ve ever made in my life, and i hate making mistakes especially when it comes to you.” he confessed and you couldn’t lie, you wanted to believe it. and you did.

you noticed the sincerity in his voice, the look of love in his eyes. eyes that were meant for you and only you.

you would’ve never expected for him to own up to his mistakes, but you needed to as well. he wasn’t all at fault, especially when you instigated the argument in the beginning. pride was swallowing you whole, and you didn’t want to ruin the moment at all.

you let it swallow you but also let the warmth of his body engulf you. you missed this. you missed him.

“it’s okay, hun. i forgive you.” you spoke gently, forgiveness was all toji needed. he didn’t even care for the fact that you were at fault. all that mattered was you. just you.

you’ll apologize soon, but you needed him right now. not even the frosty wind and the aroma of seawater could ruin this moment.

☆ rlly rushed ending so sorry!! ill do better :’(

[zablife]

@runnning-outof-time "I think I forgot just how evil you could be with these" I was giggling and kicking my feet as I read this, K! It's the best compliment to receive for my corrupt a wish fics 🖤 So happy to know the story was entertaining. It hurt my heart to write John as such a nasty villain (bc as you say he never cared for Y/n, only used her). However, I think that's what adds to the element of surprise, seeing our fave characters acting in a way that's so unexpected. Ty for sending this amazing request and leaving such thoughtful comments! 🫶

An Unexpected Family Gathering w/ John

John Shelby x female reader

A/N: Reconnecting or an Unexpected family gathering, requested by @runnning-outof-time. Details of the reader's relationship with dark!John requested by a lovely anon. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Divider credit: @wethairjoel

Warnings: coercion, threat with a weapon, mention of poisoning Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

Your infatuation with John began before the war, cautious glances at his handsome features and girlish giggles behind your hands. He paid you no attention in those early days, too infatuated with his sweetheart, Martha. However, that didn't deter you from finding other ways to grow close to him.

It was Tommy who first recognized your potential as a messenger for the family business. No matter the danger, you always accepted, hoping John would hear of your bravery. If there was one thing you possessed over Martha, it was your fearless attitude.

During the war years you continued to help the family as much as possible. You prayed with Polly each morning for the three men away fighting and later for Martha's ailing health. When the time came, you took on the care of John's young children with nothing but love and devotion in your heart.

By the time the men returned from war, you were a permanent fixture at 57 Watery Lane, waiting for the day John would make you his wife. While he hadn't returned quite the same carefree young man you remembered, his bright blue eyes still held a spark of mischievous charm which made you hopeful.

You couldn't say that of his brothers, especially Tommy who began making aggressive moves to control more and more of the city. Within a few months of assuming leadership, Tommy was waging war against the Italians in a bid for power. Ruthless attacks were carried out by his men, cuttings and beatings becoming standard procedure.

The thought of John taking someone's eyes with a razor blade made you physically ill, but nothing compared to the callous way he presented his plan to cut Angel Changretta's throat as he lie helpless in a hospital bed. That's when you knew you'd heard enough.

Small Heath was no longer the place you wished to call home and you began planning an escape from its treacherous depths. However, John was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out fear. He sensed the change in you immediately and took the opportunity to question your loyalty in the worst way imaginable.

"I want you to invite Mrs. Changretta for tea at your parents' on Thursday," he casually mentioned as you were getting ready for bed one night.

"Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

"Cos Tommy said," he gestured vaguely as if to say, If I haven't questioned him, neither should you.

You had the sinking feeling you were luring Mrs. Changretta into blinder territory for nefarious reasons and you quickly worked to appeal to your fiance. "She was our teacher in school, John. A kind, decent woman."

"Then she'll go to heaven, yeah?" he answered, brow furrowing in irritation.

Your heart lurched as you realized the Shelbys were going to kill her. Approaching John gently, you ran a hand across his cheek in hopes of bringing back the kind boy you remembered.

"You don't have to do this. You're not like Tommy, you know. I don't see the same thing in your eyes I see in his," you uttered as you pressed your forehead to his lightly.

Pulling away from your warm embrace, John's blue eyes iced over in a way you'd never witnessed. Grabbing your wrist in a brutal hold to show his determination, he spat, "Tommy puts a bloody roof over our heads or have you forgotten?"

You shook your head slowly, words failing you.

"So you'll do as he fucking says!" John spat, tossing your hand away.

You watched him storm downstairs and grab his coat, deciding to go for a drink instead. Looking back on that moment, you wished you'd run from him when you had the chance, but you didn't have the heart to abandon his children. So you stayed, agreeing to his plan if only to secretly warn Mrs. Changretta of the impending danger.

On the day of her social call, you tucked a small note into the sleeve of your blouse, ready to slip it to her at the soonest opportunity. Your anxious hands trembled when you began to arrange the scones Polly had brought earlier in the day, hoping your nerves didn't show.

Seeing Mrs. Changretta's kind face again soothed you immeasurably. She smiled up at you with the same warmth in her eyes you remembered from your school days and suddenly the memories of your youth came flooding back to you.

Noticing your eyes fill with tears, she asked innocently, "What is it dear?"

Turning your head to swipe a tear from your cheek, you relayed the tender memory of the times she brought you sweets.

"Those were good times," she acknowledged sadly. "Before the lads fell into the hands of the devil."

You took her hands in yours, seizing the moment to place the note to her palm. "It doesn't have to be this way," you whispered, giving her a small squeeze before relinquishing the paper to her grasp. The rest of the visit was carefully monitored by Tommy's soldiers and you didn't dare reach for her again.

That night you woke with John pressing the cold barrel of a gun into your side. Fueled by his outrage and the snow Isaiah had been supplying, he demanded you wake. "I know what you did, Y/n," he whispered as he pressed the weapon just below your ribs.

You gulped as you wondered what he would do to you, his jarring laughter making you afraid to move or even breath beneath his touch.

"The old cunt fell over dead from Polly's scones," he informed you cruelly. "So you see, your little warning was useless." His lip curled into a menacing sneer as he watched your face crumble in despair.

"No!" you cried. "I didn't mean to..."

"But you did," he answered in a mocking tone, releasing the safety with a harsh click.

"John, please," you begged as he began to stroke your arm with a gentle touch that belied the venom in his serpent like hiss.

“You’re so pretty. I couldn’t shoot you.” Cold steel meeting your temple he ghosted the weapon down your jawline as he whispered, “No, I’m not gonna kill you.”

His torture seemed endless as he kept you awake into the early morning hours. Amazed that you were still alive to see the dawn, you pleaded with the man who'd promised to love you forever.

"Let me go, John. Please let me see my family," you begged.

"You will, sweetheart," he promised, knowing the punishment Tommy had devised for you. You would be reunited with your parents on the gallows soon after the arrests for the murder of Audrey Changretta.

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

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[gardenofnoah]

like real people do

for @medusashima's rise of the dead collab. i blacked out and wrote this in like 4 hours because something about a fucked up prompt speaks to the grimy little freak that scratches around in my skull

wc: 1.8k ish. tags: MDNI, dark content, zombie!au, death. angst no comfort (unless you think cannibalism is comforting, i don't know your life), blood, graphic depiction of infection/injury, gn reader. read at your own risk thx love u

♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝

a virus of unknown origin. researchers hypothesize that it was a spillover transmission event—the wrong rat stumbled across the wrong person at just the right time. some new, distant cousin of the rabies virus, with unexpected symptoms—most notably, the consumption of uninfected people by the infected. some suspected this was due to the genetic make up of the virus itself—it seemed to be fine tuned for longevity, and targeted specific motor functions controlled by the certain portions of the brain. this, combined with the rare psychosis symptom reported to be associated with rabies, may cause an uncontrollable compulsion to spread the infection, or, as others postulated, could convince the brain that uninfected bodies were a remedy for its suffering. 

at least that was the hypothesis, when the researchers were alive to articulate it. 

with the authoritative voice of science effectively silenced, there was more than enough room for conspiracy theories and hysteria to wiggle in and take hold. it was around that time that the media began to circulate the "zombie" rhetoric, and with no scientific name or official explanation (or government sanctioned placation) in place, an official zombie outbreak took shape. the violence that followed was as deadly as the outbreak itself, and served as another painfully efficient route of transmission. whoever lived through the war in the street died of the virus shortly thereafter. there'd been doomsday folks to warn of the end of times for as long as there'd been a time to be alive in. it was strange, then, when they'd fallen silent too. 

you and kento had joined in with a ragtag group of strangers early on—with strength in numbers, you successfully isolated yourself in an old, abandoned cabin in the woods a few miles south of town. you got lucky enough to have a few in your group that some construction experience—before you knew it, you had a fairly well reinforced fortress, where you could continue your game of chicken with death. from there, you could ignore the fact that fewer and fewer of your newfound troop came back with each expedition for food and supplies. 

there were books to read there, and if you let yourself, you could even find some joy in cooking meals with whatever kento could find in the pantry. he'd wake you up between moth-bitten sheets with breathless kisses, the two of you just grateful to have the opportunity of another day together. when he dragged you out of bed and twirled you around the creaky floorboards, you could pretend the apocalypse outside of your fenced in oasis was little more than a scary story. sprawled across his chest in the afterglow of some indulgence far removed from your reality, you could ignore the way death lingered on the outskirts of your camp. 

you could ignore it, until it was your turn to fetch the necessities. 

it was fine until it wasn't, as most things tended to be. you'd located a gas station that your group had missed on previous trips—a little farther out, but with how remote it was, it wasn't likely that it had been completely ransacked. if nothing else, you could figure out how to siphon any gas left in the tanks, and hope it was enough to get the old work truck left in front of your fortress running again. if you were mobile, your chances of survival would raise exponentially.

you'd tried to jimmy the door open with your shoulder as quietly as possible, but time and neglect had caused the wood frame to swell and distort around the metal. you grit your teeth when kento put a boot to the door. splinters of wood and glass shards flew as the scrape of metal rattled your bones. for a sickening moment, all was silent. and then you heard the screeching, and the dragging of rotting limbs against asphalt. 

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"fuck, fuck," you grit through your teeth, arms looped under his armpits as you drag him behind the checkout counter and into the first open door with the latch still intact. a storage closet, apparently.

you set him down for a moment, and it's—really, really not good. there's a deep laceration in his slide from a particularly nasty piece of glass. it's nearly eviscerated him.

you don't have the opportunity to fully process what that might mean—all at once, it feels like someone has lit your hand on fire. when you look down, you see a perfect outline of human teeth across the back of your hand. 

you reel back from kento. "oh fuck."

you have no idea what to do, looking around wildly as if the storage closet holds the answers to this god forsaken outbreak. and it might, you realize, when you spot an extension cord, coiled up on one of the shelves.

before you can even make sense of your own actions, you're tying one end of the cord to an exposed pipe sticking out of the brick wall, and the other around your neck. like this, your range of motion is just limited enough to keep you away from the door, and away from kento. 

but in your haste, you haven't packed his wound. he's going to bleed out at your feet. if you untie yourself, you're probably going to eat him. he's dead either way.

as if he senses your realization, he meets your eyes for the first time.

"where?" he rasps.

it's a moment before you can find your voice. "my hand."

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. "i'm so sorry, my love."

"why are you sorry?"

"it's my fault," he's too quiet, and far too uncertain to match the kento that's carried you through the last year of this outbreak, "i drew them to us."

you shake your head, but you're silent. wanting so badly to find the right words, and having a hard time getting your brain to catch up to the current moment. he was upright and steadfast, and now he's staining the tile beneath him. all in the matter of a few seconds.

"you need to untie yourself, love."

"no." you say firmly, barely giving it a second thought.

“you’re just going to watch me rot until you starve to death?” he laughs harshly, choking on it—sputtering a little. he takes a deep breath and he, despite you mentally willing him to stop, continues. 

“no,” he rasps, letting his eyes close, “don’t do that. you can have me—it’s okay.” 

“stop,” it leaves you with a groan, squeezing your own eyes shut and shaking your head, as if you could dislodge his words, “stop—” 

“this won’t end with you and i,” you hear him reach for you, limp arm dragging across the floor. he falls short—you can't bring yourself to meet him halfway, even if you had the range of motion to do it. “you know that, don’t you? locking yourself in here won’t change that.” 

and he just keeps talking, keeps prying open the wound you can’t see. "i just want you to make it out, my love. in case they can find a cure."

you can’t answer him. you want to laugh in his face, you want to scream at him and shake him. but you can't do anything—can't even tell him that you don't want to make it out without him, because when you look down at your hand again, you find that the tissue surrounding the bite has turned necrotic far too quickly—as if you were watching yourself rot, sped up or on loop. you know what comes next. 

you know you’re out of time.

the burn radiates up to your neck. your vision blurs a bit with the pain, and then with hot tears as it hits you—these are the final moments of your life. you wonder what you ever did to deserve to watch the love of your life bleed out in front of you. what could have been so bad, to then be forced to desecrate his corpse.  

“ken,” you choke, curling in on yourself, chin dropping to your chest. it’s an animal attempt at self-soothing—like a house cat that knows the end is here, you feel the instinct to isolate—to protect the others around you—even now. you are reduced to only primal senses: fear, grief, love. the need to survive. to ensure the survival of those you love, even in the final moments.

he’s fading just as quickly, but he’s stubborn. 

“c’mere my love,” he slurs, blinking slow, “it’s alright.” 

against all of your fleeting senses, you find yourself unraveling the cord from around your neck. if you looked down, you’d see that your arm is now blackened to the elbow. 

some part of you already knows, though, so you don’t bother. 

you’re focused on his face, through your tears—the blue eyes that hold yours despite the puddle of blood that you now crawl through. the smell is nauseating, but so is everything else about this—you feel it soak through your tattered jeans as you pull yourself toward him on your three remaining limbs. 

you stop when you’re over top of him, breathing heavy and dripping tears and drool onto his face. he doesn’t mind, and you’re not sure he can even feel it anymore with the way he’s looking at you like nothing about this is abnormal. 

“ken,” whispered, because one last secret between you is a luxury you feel entitled to, “i’m afraid.” 

“i know, my love,” there’s a soft smile on his face that wraps around your heart like barbed wire, “one more kiss? before we meet again.” 

“are you fucking crazy—” 

“please,” he croaks, and you see the fear mirrored on his face for the first time, “please. just one.”

you shake your head stubbornly and yet you reach for him, hands on both sides of his face. you ignore the way you see every one of your veins in your periphery, bold and darkened with decay, pulsing and searing as they trail up your shoulder. with the way you feel it creep up the side of your face, you imagine you have only a minute at most before the virus reaches your brain. 

“i love you,” he breathes against your lips, and you can taste it on your tongue—his love and his leaving, all in three words. if you were a better person, you’d let him go peacefully. 

you think you can feel it, then, when it hits your brain stem. latching on to every nerve, every synapse—choking the life—the willpower— out of you, one cell at a time. 

“please,” he rasps, and you don’t know if he’s begging for you to let him go, or if he's pleading with someone else, now. 

you don’t let yourself deliberate. you drag your lips down his jaw, vision spotty. you hover over the faint pulse of his jugular, hyper aware of how hard his body is fighting to keep him alive right now. feeling the fluttering of arteries, fighting to find something to circulate through themselves.

for a reason you hope you won’t have to justify if there is an afterlife, you open your mouth—whisper one last apologetic declaration of love against his skin—and you bite down. 

you bite until teeth touch teeth again. sinew shreds underneath, and you let it flood your mouth. you hear it when it starts—the death rattle, deep in his chest—and rip yourself away with a piece of him and squelch that should make your stomach turn, but doesn’t. 

he loved me, you think, forcing yourself to swallow. feeling him slide down your throat in some sort of sick last rite—an act of closure that suddenly feels fitting as he struggles to suck down one last breath. he loved me.

♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

[mediumgayitalian]

“My mom is playing at Radio City.”

Nico blinks, holding out Will’s patched backpack. “I know.” He shakes it slightly. A scrap of green fabric peels off the side, fluttering to the grass. The torn threads underneath are pink. Huh. “Thus me being here, at dawn, even though it took me nineteen alarms to crawl out of bed in time.”

“Twenty,” Will corrects, grinning, “if you count me.”

“I do not count your infernal harmonica, no.”

He does not take the bag, even though Nico holds it out to him again; only looking at it, humming. Rocking back on his heels, flip-flops worn so thin he must feel every speck of dirt, every tiny pebble, every blade of grass, every fallen pine needle. Nails chipped with blue glitter paint.

“I bought you a ticket.”

Nico whips his head up.

“Or, well, you know. ‘Bought’. I didn’t really buy my ticket, either, even though that would be kind of funny, wouldn’t it? Using Ma’s money to buy a ticket to her show. Ha.” Rock rock rock. Rock. Fidget, nails on palm. Rock. “But, um. Yeah. Told her I needed two tickets and she got them.” He glances up, now, eyes pretty dawn blue and hopefully wide, sungold eyelashes fluttering, framing. “If you want to come? Maybe.”

Nico’s mouth dries, or it is dry, or it has been. Dried up at some point in time. He’s not sure when. Before the asking, maybe. Bright ringlets in burgeoning sunlight. Twisting, shaking hands. Wide grin. Or an off-key harmonica before the stars went out, even. Or big rough hands and nudging shoulders. Swinging Southern drawl and a tapping foot, arched eyebrow.

There’s a track in there somewhere. Point.

“It’s a little last minute,” he manages, finally, if four piece cracks can be considered managing. Three? Two continuous, maybe, one big break in the middle. “It’s.” He gestures, vaguely, and the charms on the backpack’s zipper chime gently. “You know. Day of, all that.”

Will inclines his head.

He still does not take the backpack.

The sun inches higher into the sky, and a beat-to-shit Toyota turns a bend down the road.

“You’re goddamn lucky I have no plans,” Nico grumbles, even though he does, and Will beams, painfully brightly; blistering, really, blinding, hastily Nico swings the backpack over his shoulders and wishes he’d thought of his sunglasses.

“Lucky I convinced you out of your pajamas,” Will adds, waving at the car as it comes closer. He links their hands together, “C’mon,” and tugs them down Half-Blood Hill, expertly weaving past patches of thistle and bubbling dragon acid, tripping over a pebble that folds his shoe.

Just before Naomi’s — and he’s sure it’s her now — car stops, as they slow to a stop by the edge of the road, Will stops them, digging through his pockets and handing Nico a thin strip of cardstock. Nico inspects the ticket, smiling at the glitter, the exclamation points, the heart on the stubs.

“You’ve been excited.”

Will turns his bright smile full-force in Nico’s direction.

“You got no clue.”

Nico glances, again, at the ticket dates; two months past the date, for a concert across the country. The worn edge where a finger has run across, over and over, the creases where it has lived in someone’s pocket.

He tucks it carefully in his pocket, slips his hand into Will’s, and matches his broad smile.

[izel-scribbles]

just finished malevolent relisten. needless to say the obsession has been rekindled tenfold its previous magnitude

[potatobugz]

tanzen is very funny actually

[rockethorse]

Mid-Century Burst | CC-Free

A tricky little shell challenge that you can get some use out of too! Tried to dig into some 70s inspo for the exterior on this one. This is 2 bed, 1 bath, fully-furnished and CC-free. Because of the limited size of the main shell, I added a detached garage with an apartment on top, which adds +1 studio bedroom and +1 bathroom.

The TS4 shell challenge I used for this lot was called "BubbleShell3" on the gallery from the ID "bubblesisgaming". I'm also playing around with using random palette generators for room inspo, this time from ColorHunt. It's been fun and I recommend using it to get out of your comfort zone!

Download Mid-Century Burst @ SFS

[chaosduckies]

WHAT

I was so unprepared for this smh-

oh my gosh I can’t thank you guys enough 🫶 it means a lot to me, and I mean it!

If im being honest, I have no idea what i was going to do to celebrate, but I hope that this is good enough unless someone has a better idea:

I will be doing writing commissions (for free ofc because y’all are amazing). It can be pretty much any prompt as long as it’s sfw and in my comfort zone (I’ll let you know if it’s not)

Characters can range from my own (a scenario ik a lot of you are dying to read of my OC’s perhaps?), your own OC’s (please give me a ref or smth please TwT), or it it’s just a prompt I’ll make random characters- (please specify what gender you want the main characters to be)

I’ll keep the commissions open for a week or longer depending on what happens, but thank you all again for 100 followers! It means a lot to me and I hope you all have an amazing day/night like the amazing people you are! :D

[scoupsofjisung]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ texting han jisung to wash the dishes pretty please

🧸 paring: han jisung x gn! reader

🧸 author rambles: this is my first text fic ever!! i was kinda just experimenting with the format, thanks hanji for being my test subject!! i hope this was somewhat cute and or made you smile. im very much a “finding beauty in the mundane” enthusiast, so im predicting lots of my works will be fluffy mundanity <3 (i also ramble a lot) (im also in a very “babe” and “baby” mood and it’s bleeding into my writing) (ALSO OMG headcanon that hanji sends <4 to show he loves you MORE than the standard <3. what a dork) anyway, enjoy!!

masterlist

blog info post!

[i-can-do-tricks]

you ever see a work of art so beautiful it moves you to creation. because straight up that's what happened to me. holy shit

(Content warnings in the author's notes, PLEASE don't ignore them before reading I'm serious.)

7k words of Rat Grinders fanfic inspired by that fucking Kill All Your Friends Rat Grinders collab animatic led by @kindlespark. Straight up, god bless you guys I hope you have a fantastic day. Rat Grinders fans never stop winning ✊✊

[lawva-girl]

A Taste of Her

Nami x fem!Reader

Happy pride month :D

Warnings: cunnilingus, fingering

WOMEN omfg women! Also Nami?!??? I just know you two would have nightly catch ups, the two of you just sitting with eachother talking about nonsense, staring into each others eyes in a straight way.

WC: 2764 (I went crazy i fear)

Nami looked like an angel. She was sat in the bathtub, bubbles surrounding her. It looked like she had just finished her shower in the Sunny’s large bathroom. It has been a hot and miserable day. There were two storms Nami had to navigate the crew through, and zoro was sick on top of that. The whole crew was tired and scared for him.

You decided to care for Nami instead.

“Hey, do you want me to braid your hair?” You asked her, through the slightly cracked door.

“Uh okay… you aren’t charging me right?” Nami asked back.

You opened the door, closed it, then made your way to the shower. Before stepping in to rinse off you shed your towel and call out to her, “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

The shower water was cool, something you needed. Nami (and you for that matter) usually took incredibly hot showers and baths. After a day like today? It was nice to have the cold wake you up before you relaxed in the bath.

You rubbed soap onto your body with a portion of netting, making sure to scrub and lather. Once you finished you turned the water off, and took a deep breath.

You liked Nami, a little too much. Ever since you had joined the crew you felt like you two were magnets. Always sitting together during meals, often going the same places once on an island. You liked to say it was to protect her. You almost always had two guns on you, and you could use them incredibly well.

If anyone would protect her it would be you. It just felt like you two were very fast friends. But there were moments. Undeniable and quick, Nami would say something and you suddenly forgot how to breathe.

If it was a quick “your eyes are beautiful” or if it was her running her hand up your inner thigh, it didn’t matter. You were sure they meant something to her, like what they meant to you.

“Hey! Are you doing it or not!?” Nami yanked you from your thoughts.

Finally leaving the shower you strolled over to her, grateful she wasn’t glancing behind her to see your fully exposed form.

“Sorry sorry, here move forward so I can braid it.”

Nami slid forward smoothly, and you slipped into the water directly behind her. Thankfully you had a hair tie left on from your own ponytail. Looking at it you wondered if it would have Nami’s red hair left on it when she was done with it. You wondered if your own hair would tangle with hers, on the hair tie.

“Okay I’m gonna do one, look up.” You spoke while running your fingers through her hair.

“Okay… random question, when was the last time you got fucked?” Nami looked up and you saw the top of her eyebrows, they were lifted with curiosity.

“Uhhh probably a while before I joined. How about you?”

“No way! You don’t get any?”

“No not really… it’s hard to find my type.”

Nami paused, letting you braid a bit more.

“Wait what is your type?” She essentially threw the question and ran, she spoke it so fast.

“I’d say women who… well I guess just women honestly.” You said, mainly focused on making sure the braid came out well, “like there’s not a woman I wouldn’t love to be with? They are all just so, lovable.”

Nami grimaced, most likely due to the braid.

"how is that hard to find?" Nami asked, using a tone between disbelief and anger. you knew the anger wasnt directed toward you, more towards the world, on your behalf

"well most women are into men, nami." Your tone matched hers, and the two of you laughed. You figured she realized once you said it, and got less angry.

The silence washed over the two of you, Nami was relaxing onto your hands and under the water, onto your thighs. You felt her soft skin brush against you, and the water move around the two of you.

Her hair slightly curled around your fingers, you would probably make a journal entry about it later. But in that moment? You were happy.

Just braiding her hair made you happy, feeling her slowly rest more of her weight onto you. Seeing her slightly fall asleep, due to you braiding her hair.

You tied the hair tie around the end of the braid, her orange hairs curling around it. It was like they knew the tie belonged to you.

“Okay, now you tell me why you asked” you spoke with a playful tone, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying to know.

“Well it’s just that today made me so stressed and I swear I’m gonna kill sanji, I just need like some type of physical contact you know?” She laughed then sighed, you couldn’t look away, “like I just need something to tide me over till the next island. I’ll probably use my hairbrush or something.”

You were blushing, embarrassed at the thought that instantly flooded your head.

“Yeahh.” You looked awkwardly to the side.

“What? You seem like you want to say something.” Nami moved a little closer to you, the bubbles were clinging to her thankfully.

“Nothing. It’s embarrassing!” You turned to look her in the eyes and she was much closer than you thought.

Startled, you lowered yourself into the water more, now covered up to your lips.

“Tell me!! You can trust me!” Nami copied you, using the water to level the ground between you.

“Okay, okay! I basically thought that if you really wanted I could help you.” You raised just to speak, then immediately hid under the water again.

Nami did not seem like she wanted to joke anymore. “Oh yeah? How exactly would you help me?” She stood up and was almost entirely exposed to you, her tone was deeper and unmistakably flirty.

“Oh uhm like I could do things, physical things," pause... "to help you relax! Like a massage, or maybe I could force franky into building a massage chair! Or like I could find you a guy to fuck! Haha so many things!”

This was pathetic.

Sure you realized she was being flirty, but she did that with guys she had no intention of sleeping with too.

"How on earth would you get me a guy to fuck when we're in the middle of the sea?" Nami moved one step closer.

"I want to relax y/n... you told me you would help." Nami's voice came out as pure honey to you, and she made the whole situation worse by leaning towards your ear to say so.

Your head was the only thing above water, your eyes wide staring up at Nami. You were processing just what her intentions were, and your mouth was slightly open in shock.

You blinked once or twice then nodded yes to her.

She laughed, then got out of the water and grabbed a towel. She layed it out next to the edge of the bath, and sat on it. "Are you good?"

You stood a bit more, your chest being completely exposed now. (You were desperately trying not to think too much about it.) Taking a second too long to answer her question, since you were trying to comprehend it.

"I'm uhh... well why don't you decide?" You were desperately grabbing at any confidence you could find, but your voice betrayed you by going shyer and more quiet.

"What? you're mumbling."

"You should find out.. or whatever" Thankfully you were louder, and felt some rush to be more confident. You had looked to the side, but you'd take it.

Nami chuckled, and you looked back to her. She had a blush on her face and you decided you wanted to see it forever.

Feeling the previous rush of confidence, you put your hands on her legs. The area just above her knees was so soft and plush that you could see her skin dimple under your hands. Glad you chose that spot, you pushed her legs gently open.

She was beautiful all over apparently. Her pussy had a small bush around it, her lips pressing out just a bit. They looked like they wanted a kiss. You didn't want to stare too long so you pushed yourself up, placing your lips just above her knee, directly above where your hand was still placed.

You started kissing her leg, running your hands up and down her thighs as you did. Feeling her skin was unbelievable since she was still so soft from her shower and bath. You had closed your eyes, to focus on how her thighs felt on your lips, but you realized she might be blushing so you kissed and looked up towards her.

"hey don't... y/n..." not only did she have a blush still plastered on her face, she was also smiling and looking down at you before you even truly met her eyes.

You didn't listen, and kept staring while moving your way up her thighs.

Nami showed her embarrassment and frustration in one move of her hand. She put a hand in your hair and pushed gently, forcing your head back down. You laughed into her thigh before continuing your kissing tour.

Finally, you reached her hip, finding her bikini line and sucking. Nami let out a small laugh, that slowly morphed into a heavy breathing the longer you sucked. Feeling her pull your hair a bit, you took the hint that she was ready to move on. You brushed your hand up to her hips, giving them a small squeeze before pulling her thighs a bit more apart.

You looked up at her and situated yourself more directly in front of her. "You're so beautiful Nami..." your voice was deep and you were shocked at just how horny you sounded.

You kissed just above her pussy, feeling her hairs tickle your nose. then you moved down and placed one long and slow lick. If there was anything you were doing it was definitely savoring this experience.

She gasped when you started the lick, and you would've too, had your mouth not been occupied. She didn't taste like flowers or candy, she tasted just ever so slightly tangy. In another world it was definitely a flavor you would beg to taste nightly.

You finished with flicking your tongue on her clit, and she gasped again. "hah two gasps on one lick? so sensitive, aren't you nami?"

You looked up at her, surprised to see her smile gone and her breath heavy with pleasure. Despite you barely even beginning.

"Shut up its been a second, and you got me all riled on purpose."

You chuckled back, before going back towards where her hole was. You looked up at her and placed your tongue on her. Waiting a second before moving your tongue just barely inside her, then dragging up to just below her clit. You closed your eyes and kissed, before sticking your tongue out again and licking her. You were pretty sloppy here, but it was almost more for you than her. You took a second to lick her different folds, then found her bundle with your tongue, eyes still closed. You pressed flat against it before going a bit more pointy with the tip of your tongue and flicking.

You increased the speed a bit, and switched to sucking every once in a while. You brushed your teeth against her, then sucked a bit with them and your lips. She moaned, and the grip she had. in your hair tightened. You kept sucking there, drinking in her sounds.

Wanting to enjoy yourself too, you moved back down, taking another long and slow lick. Getting the chance to taste all the hard work you were putting in. She moaned again, this time a little more like a whimper. Like she was begging for more.

You used this opportunity to lift her leg on to your shoulder, using one hand to keep it there and the other taking advantage of the new open space. Sliding in one finger, your palm facing up.

"fuck Nami, you feel good." You didn't look up at her to tell her, instead saying it into her pussy so that she could feel the vibrations directly from your vocal cords.

"Y/n..." she said your name like a cry for help, and you knew what she was asking for.

You slid your finger out, putting it in your mouth. You looked up at her as you licked it clean, "You taste so amazing, I feel like I could eat you till I die." The hand she had rested on your head pushed you back down, a bit more forceful. "You are so embarrassing".

You laughed into her and slid your two middle fingers into her, "Tell me about it baby". You once again let her feel the vibrations, hearing your reward immediately after. Her moans sounded so sweet, they sounded even sweeter once you started fingering her and sucking on her clit at the same time.

You were pressing up onto her g-spot, moving your fingers on and off it in a 'come here' motion. She started humping your face a bit, so you figured she was getting closer. You started alternating between sucking, pressing your lips onto her, and licking fast. You felt her hump at a specific rhythm and tried to match it with your fingers.

She moved her other hand to your head and you felt her clench around your fingers.

"Y/n just like that... fuck please... don't stop" Her voice came off as needy and whining and you couldn't be happier.

Then it all aligned, you pressed into her with your fingers, sucked on her clit, and grunted into her. She gasped and let out a louder moan and jutted her hips into your face.

You felt her wetness spill onto your chin and your hand, giving her clit kisses while she came down and had some residual twitches onto your face.

Feeling her lay back and breath heavy, you slowly put her leg down to let her relax fully. You kept your hands on her thighs, tracing shapes into them while you watched her. Her chest was moving up and down, all you could do was sit and watch her.

You were frozen, not knowing what friends do after one of them get eaten out.

"Uh.. id say you are good... uhm... hmmm" Nami's voice was deep and she was still breathing pretty heavy. you were kinda amazed that you were the only reason for her state of being.

"Want me to lay next to you? Or we could get you to bed?" You asked, poking her thigh to make sure she wouldn't fall asleep right then and there.

"What? I don't get both?"

You liked Nami, a little too much. If she asked for all the money you had in that moment you would hand it over, "Yeah you can get both.."

You got out of the water, and grabbed two towels, first making sure yours is secured, then wrapping Nami in one as well. You bent over to her ear, "im gonna pick you up..."

Nami didn't even open her eyes, and you lifted her, bridal style.

Once the two of you were back in the girl's quarters you layed Nami into her bed, "Do you still want me to join you?"

"OF course! come here.." Her tone was more demanding than before, and she forced a hand onto your arm. while she was pulling you, you glanced over to robin. She had the widest smirk on, giving you a knowing glance as you fell onto the bed.

You figured it was obvious, the two of you in towels and Nami being carried, but seeing robin's face made it clear that soon everyone on the ship would know.

But that didn't matter. You could smell namis hair, the braid you did for her still holding up beautifully. Her wavy orange hair was curling around the hair tie still, so you figured you would give it something better. You held the braid in your hand, and the curl wrapped around your finger.

You put your other hand around Nami, it falling somewhere on her waist. Nami did you two the favor of pulling the covers up over your bodies. Once they were covered, the two of you twisted together like threads in a blanket.

This is how you were meant to be.