#this has been in my drafts forever. finally finished it

[bloomingnewwrld]

Lover to lover

[kabukiaku]

found this papa terzo in my drafts, decided to finish it!! 💜💛🖤 𐕣

[actual-changeling]

"It would have been you."

It's raining.

Of course, it's raining.

A soft, constant drizzle leaving his hair a damp, curly mess that falls into his face and clings to his skin. Even though the cold is slowly seeping into his clothes, Crowley stops and turns around. Condensation is collecting on the inside of his shades where his breath drifts up, warm and too fast, and even if it hadn't been late at night, if the street hadn't been empty, he would have still taken them off.

Aziraphale is licking rain drops from his lips and blinking with dark, heavy lashes.

"What?"

His voice is rough, almost drowned out by the noise of rain hitting the pavement, collecting in small puddles around his feet.

"If it had been a choice, a real one, it would have been you."

The world did not end, questions were answered, apologies spoken, but their last conversation before everything went to shit is still a sharp splinter lodged in his chest, cutting him open more and more with every heartbeat. All of the fears he had left unsaid, the viscous doubt pooling in his lungs and weighing down his breaths��the truth might tip the scales and finally destroy him, and yet he cannot bring himself to stop Aziraphale from talking.

"It has always been you, Crowley. You must know that."

"I don't."

Bitterness laces his voice despite his best intentions, a drop of oil tainting an entire river, six thousand years of history, and it hurts because it's the truth, because they both wish it wasn't.

He doesn't know, couldn't know, because Aziraphale always needed him to stop them, to step back when they got too close. Every single time he had tried to push, gone too bloody fast, the angel had recoiled, scared for him, scared for the both of them. Crowley knows, and at the same time, he doesn't, because he still has hope and there is nothing more dangerous than allowing it to bloom; it's small, withered, brittle, on the verge of death and has been for centuries.

(It's still there, though. It keeps fighting, keeps trying. Keeps hoping.)

They're drenched to the bone, wet and pathetic, and there is nothing romantic about any of it when Aziraphale retraces his steps and closes the distance between them; there is, however, love.

There has always been love, whether they could admit it or not.

"I'm sorry. For- for everything, for making you think that I don't care about you."

"Angel, don't lie-"

"I'm not lying."

Crowley stares, frozen to the spot when Aziraphale presses cold, wet palms to his cheeks, his breath a ghost of warmth on his skin. This is too much, too close to 'our side', and if he didn't know better (does he know better? does he really?) he would think that he is about to—

"I'm not lying," he whispers, broken, truthful, "I love you. I won't leave you."

The rain stings in his eyes, masking the tears—hot and wistful—meeting Aziraphale's skin where it is touching his.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, angel."

His voice cracks and so does his heart, and he can feel the walls they have built together crumbling to dust under their feet. It's not real, it can't be real, and yet the truth is shimmering in storm-blue eyes he has been carrying with him since the moment he first put stars into the sky.

"It's you, always has been, always will be. If you let me."

Crowley kisses him as he falls apart, barely healed fractures reopening as his essence spills over and out, drowning him in please, please be real, please let us have this, please, God.

Just this once.

Aziraphale holds his face so incredibly gently, as if it's something worth keeping, something to protect, something he is afraid to lose. When the ground doesn't open up and swallow them whole, when the sky doesn't reach for them with greedy hands, he allows himself to seize Aziraphale's face in turn, cupping his jaw and kissing the rain drops off his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, tasting his tears when they begin to fall.

"It's always been you. God, of course I will let you."

Sapphire blue eyes blink up at him, a smile pressed against his lips, a smile he can feel, a smile that is for him, them.

"Perhaps you could let me somewhere less, ah, sopping wet?"

"I was right, though. It's the rain that did it."

Aziraphale laughs, bright and happy, and infectious enough to make Crowley laugh too, and grabs his hand to pull him back towards the bookshop - back home.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[orangesand-lemons-234]

anyway, modern au only child albert that was raised by his grandparents, and they are the most supportive people of all time.

his mamó kim brought him and race to their first pride parade wearing a shirt that said "the communal fairy grandmother" (she happily took pictures with people and gave out free hugs to them)

his grandad joey has never missed a single one of his dance recitals since he was a kid, and it is now tradition that they go out for ice cream afterwards.

albert brought jojo home from school once when they were younger and was like "this is my mamó, and the one watching the football is my grandad." and jojo was absolutely baffled because one set of his grandparents had already passed away, and the others lived miles away and albert just said "we can share!"

due to this, any friend of alberts is now their honorary grandchild, but they truly do not mind. finch has accidentally referred to kim and joey as his own grandparents on numerous occasions, and they have not once corrected him. they're just glad that albert has built up the family he didn't have as a kid, no matter how loud and chaotic they are.

[fishbloc]

feel sooooo excited the dd storybook is almost here like theres actually a set deadline (in 2 weeks) and a week after that deadline ill get it shipped off for test prints and if the prototypes are good i can look into selling them. but the point is the storybook will be real!! my first self-published book!!! this is huge!!!

[threefuckencrowsinaleatherjacket]

So are any of you bumfucks on this godforsaken app gonna talk about how Brazil (Declan McKenna) was written By and For Ronan Lynch or am I gonna have to do it myself let’s do this bitches

Fair warning I’m sorta really bad at analysis according to every English teacher I’ve ever had so this is a lot of me freaking out but I think it turned out ok (this took half a year)

Starting off strong with Cars and Animals (Ronan’s favourite) !! Anyway the vibe I’m getting from this is like. The barns and then the He’s got eyes talks like an angel looks like me part is about the like. Greywaren vs Ronan Lynch dream vs human stuff we see in Greywaren (not super spoilery but it kinda doesn’t make sense unless u read the book lmao)

I could write a whole second post as long as this one just about this line but let me unpack this because ohhh my god. First up the use of religion is so perfect for mister Lynch over here and then. IM THE FACE OF GOD IM MY FATHERS SON IS INSANE FOR HIM IM GOING SO FERAL OVER THIS HE LITERALLY IS GOD AND HES HIS FATHERS SON (“and Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war” and also The Scene in TRK where Adam goes into Ronan’s room and thinks Niall is sitting on the bed) THIS IS CANON

He’s Not what u think u see he looks so mean but he just wants his little farm and for his husband to get into heaven when he dies (he’s worried about his agnostic tendencies) jk but this is 100% ab stereotypes and how Ronan doesn’t rly fit into what anyone thinks he is (the whole thing about Adam wanting to be unknowable and realizing Ronan Is Unknowable [poetry chefs kiss])

Can’t eat leather is so self explanatory. The bracelets are RIGHT THERE you can’t fool me Mr mckenna

I’m done. I’m done. I don’t even need to keep explaining this it’s RIGHT THERE AGH

And onto the ecoterrorism

I’m kidding (not really) bc this part always makes me think of literally the Entire Plot of TDT when Ronan is going around destroying capitalism to save dreamers. This IS the servers scene and the underwater pipeline and the Mirrors lady and also the way all of TDT is about self discovery and learning who you are and how to deal with that in a society made to destroy you and how isolating and sad that is (it gets him down 😞) and I can KEEP GOING

And just the way the song is so melancholy and also happy at once hits me so hard cause it feels like what the Barns does when you read the book like it SOUNDS like something Aurora would sing to kid Ronan it’s so homey and sweet but also sad and perfect

And obviously I don’t go through the whole song here but I feel that I’ve made my case sufficiently enough thanks for reading this far I love u mwah

[mychemicalrachel]

Synopsis;

Ronan is sad he'll never be able to introduce his parents to his fiance and his brothers just want to make him feel better. A story about grief and the bonds that brothers share.

Excerpt;

Adam’s chin settled on Ronan’s shoulder and he smiled, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s cheek. “What do you say, Lynch? You gonna introduce me to your folks?”

[delusionisaplace]

"𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪…" 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :))) | tag me if you use any <333 | send a request if you want more

Getting overly jealous over small interactions.

"So what? You're dating them now?"

Overthinking and overanalyzing every single one of their crushes' actions/words, trying to figure out the intent behind them.

"Do they like me back, or not?"

"I can never figure out what you want from me..."

Constantly trying to confess, but biting their tongue before words come out, just to wonder later what would have happened if they had just said what they meant.

Getting upset over cancelled plans and unanswered texts.

Glances that linger on longer than intended.

Recalling small touches, like brushed hands or a small nudge, and immediately yearning for that warmth again.

"Why don't you get it?"

"Is it not obvious? Am I doing something wrong?"

Feeling mad or annoyed with their crush for not realizing their feelings go deeper than just friendship.

Replaying old memories in their head and wishing to make more.

Feeling unwanted whenever they see their crush giving their time, attention, and affection to someone else.

Trying to subtly touch their crush to hint at their feelings.

The "playful" flirting that they mean with every bit of their heart.

Overcompensating by giving compliments and being extra nice, but feeling frustrated all the same when their crush doesn't seem to notice their efforts.

The constant daydreams about how life would be if they were together.

Avoiding any other romantic pursuit because they're stuck on that one person.

Staring at their crush whenever they laugh or smile and thinking: "I wish I can make this moment last forever."

this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, and i finally found the motivation to finish lmaooo

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”

[gatesofember]

Nico senses that Jason is close to death the first time they meet. It’s not surprising. Most demigods die young and the most powerful ones always attract the most danger.

When Nico finds out that Jason is one of the Seven and recalls the words to storm or fire the world must fall and an oath to keep with final breath, he puts the pieces together and feels pretty confident that Jason’s going to be the one to die.

Every time he hears Jason make a promise, he wonders if it’s going to be the one that kills him.

At first, it’s just passive curiosity. Maybe this will be the one that does it, he thinks. I wonder if this will do him in.

Then, Jason starts making promises to Nico.

Promises of confidentiality, of loyalty, of friendship…

Nico doesn’t believe those promises at first. After all, he’s been lied to and hurt and left behind so many times before. Why should Jason be any different? Why would anyone take their promise to Nico so seriously that they’d die for it?

Jason wouldn’t keep his promises. Jason would never die for Nico.

Except…Jason is a man of integrity, and everything he does proves that to Nico. It starts to seem more and more likely that Jason means his promises.

When Nico offers Jason the chalice and asks “how much do you trust me?” half of him is also asking “how much should I trust you?” Jason’s answer is clear: Nico can trust everything.

Nico wouldn’t admit it to himself before then, but part of his resistance to Jason’s offers of friendship is he doesn’t want to get close to someone he knows he’s going to lose. Once he realizes he can trust Jason, though, he can’t help himself.

(He’s always been desperate for companionship.)

And eventually, Nico realizes that when Jason dies, he’s going to be heartbroken. Nothing will prevent that.

And that realization is a release. He’s going to get hurt no matter what, so he might as well stop trying to protect himself and allow himself to feel.

(What’s the harm? If Jason ends up hating him…well, their relationship is going to end in disaster anyway. Either Nico will ruin things himself, or Jason will die. It’s just a matter of which happens first.)

When Leo dies instead, Nico feels scared. It means the danger isn’t over. Jason isn’t safe. If not then, when would it happen?

But then Nico thinks: he hadn’t felt Leo being close to death. Why hadn’t he? Could he really trust his senses?

Then Leo comes back and Nico questions his senses even more. He’d felt Leo’s death, but he’d been wrong about it. Could he have been mistaken about Jason, too?

Bit by bit, Nico starts to hope. And just when he’s beginning to believe that Jason will stay with him, he feels his life end.

nico can sense how close someone is to death by their aura and (rightfully) panics when he meets jason.

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TALES OF CANDOR (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!author!reader

summary: lando’s girlfriend has a secret identity. she’s not quite the girl next door everyone assumed, and he might just be the inspiration for more than just her instagram captions.

warnings: some hate comments

* faceclaim: mélanie, aka wailcester on ig (please imagine her as you see fit)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

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landonorris some days @ home

👤 tagged yourusername

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user i hope ur enjoying ur time off!

user no hate but like what does his gf actually do?

user literally nothing she’s jobless💀

user it’s giving🏅👷‍♀️

user lando i love u but half naked pics of ur girl isn’t helping how much we dislike her…

user what’s she reading!!!

yourusername a thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini!!

user ofc u are. i totally believe u acc read well written books. u probably just read gossip columns but want to seem interesting🙄

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

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musingsofcandor biscuit approves of the final draft🤍

👤 tagged acatcalledbiscuit

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user HELLO??? CANDOR DOES THIS MEAN WE R GETTING A NEW BOOK

user i love that we know more abt candy’s cat than we do her…

user can’t wait to read it🥹🥹

rickriordan has to be my favorite thing you’ve written!

user RICK’S READ IT??? OH YOU KNOW ITS GOOD

user lando norris in the likes he’s just like all of us fr

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

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yourusername ‘when she finally got the camera film developed, seeing his face made it all come rushing back’🦋🫧🧚🏻

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user im sorry i know we r meant to be supportive but she annoys me sm. is she just living off of lando’s money?

user omg the caption!!!

user i recognise it, where’s it from?

user it’s from ‘tales of peter rourke’ by candor!!!

user 🤢

user we get it… ur dating someone rich. now get a job!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mclaren interview

[captions:

interviewer: what have you been up to in your break?

lando: a lot of lounging around with my girlfriend. read a few books too!

interviewer: anything good?

lando: i’m really into magical reality at the moment! that kind of it’s all normal till it’s not stuff, you know?

interviewer: any good recommendations?

lando: if you like that same genre, i recommend ‘the right side of upside’ by candor! it’s pretty recent, i finished it last week.]

comments

user he likes candor??? he’s so real for that

user KNEW I COULD TRUST HIM

user bad taste in women good taste in books

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

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musingsofcandor thank you for all the love lately on ‘the right side of upside’. insane seeing so many of you recommend it, biscuit and i are eternally grateful. love, candy🤍

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user QUEEN DID YOU SEE LANDO RECOMMENDED IT

user CANDY HAS A MAN???

user love u forever ur so talented

user CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DO NEXT. CANT BELIEVE WE HAVE TO WAIT NOW

musingsofcandor it might be sooner than you think ;)

user UM. candor is this a soft launch?????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

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landonorris got some super helpful race advice today

👤 tagged acatnamedbiscuit, musingsofcandor

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user OH MY GOD MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING

user LANDO WE NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING IS SHE CUTE I FEEL LIKE SHES CUTE

user break up w ur gf and date candor when

musingsofcandor biscuit says he can’t be held responsible for the outcome🐾

landonorris can i hold you responsible instead, candy?

user UHHHH WHATS GOING ON HERE

user i just know y/n is feeling THREATENED

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

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yourusername all mine

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user LMAOOO U STARTED SWEATING HUH

user candor could steal ur man if she really wanted to

user GIRL YOU’RE SO OBVIOUS

landonorris yours🖤

user STOP LYINGGGG

ੈ✩‧₊˚ an exclusive interview with candor : entertainment weekly

interviewer: so candor! tell us how it really feels having the world at your feet!

candor: [laughing] honestly quite normal! it’s a blessing and a curse, really, not having my identity revealed. i get to live my life without those pressures, but i don’t get to see anyone and thank them for reading!

interviewer: do you ever get the urge to approach someone reading one of your books?

candor: all the time! whenever i go browsing in book stores and see someone looking at or buying mine, i have such a temptation to scream THANK YOU at them!

interviewer: do you see a future in which you reveal your identity?

candor: maybe! there are a few of my fans who know who i am, those who attend the secret events and signings, but i’m very lucky that they all respect my privacy and haven’t shared anything further. perhaps one day soon i’ll finally let everyone in on the secret.

interviewer: and we can’t talk to you and not bring up your cat — or rather, who your cat met the other day…?

candor: oh! i’m assuming you mean lando norris? yes! he’s a pretty good friend of mine, he’s been a big support over the last few years and we found some time in our schedules last week to meet up.

interviewer: so you’re a formula 1 fan?

candor: huge fan! i’m a big mclaren girl so lando and i met through their events!

interviewer: oh fantastic! see folks reading this, she really is just like us!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

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yourusername cars going vroom vroom makes my heart go boom boom

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user lmao posting before and after candor’s interview. girl ur not subtle.

user im so sorry but ur clearly so threatened it’s hilarious

user i don’t get all the hate in here??? she’s just in love n happy?

user shes a gold digger

comments on this post have now been disabled

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

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musingsofcandor told you it wouldn’t be long🫧 ‘thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat’ will be with you next friday. a lot of love poured into this one over the past few years, i just couldn’t wait any longer to give it to you🤍

already a member on my website? check your emails🦋

view all comments

user WHDHSJSJSJSJS

user OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING

user THE EMAILLLLL🥹

user candy omg where do you live that looks so pretty!!!!

musingsofcandor monaco !!

landonorris 🖤

user lando using the black heart and candor using the white… i’m sorry to his gf (not really) but they’re meant to be

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a photo

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user the best day of my life!!! thank you so much candor for being the absolute sweetest human and taking time to talk to each and every one of us! i cannot wait to read thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat🥹🤍

view all comments

user YOU MET HERRRRE???

user WHO IS SHE TELL TELL TELL

user candor asks us not to share her identity so i’m gonna respect that but LET ME TELL YOU I WAS SHOCKED

user i recognise her from just that inch of her face but i can’t tell whERE FROM

musingsofcandor it was WONDERFUL to meet you! i hope you enjoy the story🤍

user wish people on twitter were as kind as this,,, there’s photos of her going around :/

ੈ✩‧₊˚ f1wags just posted a photo

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f1wags the internet has been in PIECES after famous author candor’s recent book signing. photos have emerged of the popular anonymous author from the event, revealing her to be none other than LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND, Y/N! turns out, she has a job after all👀 (pictures taken from y/n’s instagram!)

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user i… cannot believe this

user see. when y’all were hating on her you were secretly worshipping her

user @ everyone who was an arse to y/n… KARMA IS A BITCH!

user WHAT????

user HOLY SHIT LANDO HAS BEEN DATING MY FAV AUTHOR THIS WHOLE TIME????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

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yourusername well. the secrets out. it’s been a long few years, but it’s nice to not have to hold it in any more.

both my accounts will remain active for separate purposes, but i’m excited to be able to introduce you to candor as she is in her whole truth — just like her name suggests🤍

view all comments

user ironically this is exactly how i picture marian elsie from thomasine jeffe looking. full fairy

user i am. so sorry. so so so sorry. i know nothing can ever compare for the things we said but i really am

yourusername thank you. no hard feelings on my end🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

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landonorris my candy. it may not have been how you intended, but i’m glad i get to show off how proud of you i am.

i’ve watched you as both candor and y/n for a while now, and i love both versions of you entirely. i cannot wait to see what you do now you have the freedom to be whoever you want to.

and hey, pretty cool to be able to say i’m the inspiration behind some of your characters, huh?🖤

ps. so glad i can finally share photos of mY CAT. even if he does hate me biscuit is MINE as well

view all comments

user love the clarification that the most important thing to lando is sharing photos of his cat😭😭

user MORE PICS OF BISCUIT PLEASE

user i’ve always been in love with her i can say that confidently

user oh so you’re a successful fanboy

yourusername biscuit told me to tell u ur smelly for using him for likes

landonorris you literally said to me omg i can post about biscuit now YOU FEEL THE SAME DONT LIE

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

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musingsofcandor i’ve had a bit of inspiration for some time🤍

view all comments

user MOM AND DAD

user i can’t believe this. my worlds are colliding

user I KNEW CAPTAIN ROURKE FELT FAMILIAR IN THE TALES OF PETER ROURKE

user i can’t believe my fav ever love interest is based on lando….

landonorris i love you. thanks for immortalising me🖤

————

a/n: hello hello! another one whilst i recover!

so this was based on an anon request and i have had so much fUN writing it!!!! whilst i don’t normally do requests generally due to being overwhelmed easily, this one stood out to me as i Love books so i was inspired. to the anon who requested, i hope this is what you imagined🤍

in terms of further requests! whilst i can’t promise i’ll do them, if you have any pressing ideas you think would work with my style , do feel free to send them in ! i always love to hear your ideas (and any thoughts on my works!! please send feedback as well!!) and will try gradually to get through some🤍

fun fact: all the book titles are based on actual books i have written hehe

fun fact pt2: yes her pseudonym is chosen bc i watched divergent last night

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[p0orbaby]

Tropicana with the Bits

summary: honeymoon sex on a boat? yes fucking please

warnings: SMUT 18+, public sex (boat), strap-on use, use of a camera, spit, spanking, dom!ale vibes

a/n: this has been sat half cooked in my draft for a while. a certain blonde’s performances in the olympics have spurred me to finish it…

word count: 1.4k

-

This is the fucking life.

The sun. The sea. And a ‘24 quadruple under your belt.

Oh, and a shiny new ring and a brand new wife to tie everything up nicely.

Like a lazy, spoiled cat, you stretch out on the deck of the yacht, the gentle rocking of the boat a sleep-inducing background rhythm. The Mediterranean sun kisses your skin, leaving a warm, tingling sensation that pairs well with the salt of the sea air. A soft breeze rustles the pages of a magazine you’ve abandoned, and the distant squawk of gulls mingles with the sound of waves lapping against the hull. You close your eyes, letting the tranquility wash over you.

Alexia commands the helm, her presence undeniable even in stillness. Dressed in a white linen shirt, unbuttoned to reveal her abs and the curves of her breasts, and a harness snug against her hips, she looks like a wild, untamed champion. The breeze teases her hair, and her eyes meet yours with a predatory gaze.

You think back to the first time you met her on the pitch. Mature for her age, dominating the midfield with grace and power, even back then. And you hated it. You hated how she skipped past you like you were nothing. Discarding you like you were dirt on the bottom of her boots.

She was so effortlessly good, it drove you mad.

Mad to the point that there wasn’t a second that went by that your thoughts weren’t filled with one Alexia putellas. Her smirk emblazoned on the inside of you eyeless every time you tried to sleep. Her intensity clouding your head enough to make you miss simple passes, your concentration shattered by the mere thought of her. She haunted your dreams and invaded your waking moments, a constant, maddening presence.

And things haven’t really changed.

She looks at you with that same intensity, but you know it’s because she’s thinking about what position she likes you in best, not the fastest way in which she can embarrass you on the grass. Your brain is still plagued by the thought of her, but now you know what she’s hiding underneath those jerseys, so your brain fog is warranted.

You are certain your wife is made by the gods themselves.

Leaving the wheel, she approaches with a slow, deliberate stride. Her shirt billows open, exposing more of her tanned skin and the black strap-on jutting proudly from her hips. The sight sends a rush of heat through you, your body aching for her touch.

Or aching from how much she has touched thus far into your honeymoon. You can’t tell, and you don’t care to. This is your time to celebrate, to relax and enjoy your freedom. Her touch, her voice, her presence—everything about Alexia drives you wild with desire. You remember the late-night whispers and her mischievous grin when she suggested bringing a camera on this trip. The memories of your wedding night flood back, the way she took you on the balcony of your suite, moonlight caressing your intertwined bodies.

This time, there’s a camera set up in the corner, its lens catching the light like a voyeur. A wedding gift from you to her, both the camera and its purpose. The idea of being filmed, of capturing these intimate moments forever, had always excited her, and after years of her playful begging, you finally relented.

So here you are, as naked as the day you were born, squirming slightly as anticipation coils in your belly.

Alexia kneels beside you, her hands cool against your heated skin as she traces patterns on your stomach. The strap brushes against your thigh, a teasing promise of what she has in store for you. She leans down, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. Her tongue explores your mouth, her teeth grazing your lower lip, and you melt into her. Her other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, where she leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

She pulls back, her eyes dark with desire. “¿Estás preparada?” she murmurs, her voice a low growl. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. She smirks, her fingers trailing down your body to part your thighs. Her touch is confident, experienced, each stroke designed to drive you wild. She pauses, glancing at the camera, her eyes gleaming with excitement before returning her focus to you.

The first thrust is slow, deliberate, the strap filling you inch by inch. You gasp, your hands clutching at her shoulders, your nails digging into her skin through her shirt. She moves with a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic, each stroke driving you higher, closer to the edge. The feeling of the silicone inside you, combined with the solid deck beneath you and the gentle rocking of the yacht, is almost too much to bear.

Alexia leans down, her breath hot against your ear. “Te ves tan jodidamente bien,” she whispers, her voice rough with arousal. The words send a thrill through you, your body tightening around the strap. She grins, a feral expression, and picks up the pace, her hips snapping against yours with increasing intensity. She’s putting on a show, not just for you but for the camera, her movements precise and deliberate.

She pauses for a moment, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in hard, eliciting a sharp cry from you. “You like that, don’t you?” she taunts, her voice dripping with dominance. “You love being fucked like this, being watched.” Her words make you moan louder, pleasure and embarrassment making your skin flush.

Alexia’s hand slides between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing in slow, torturous circles. “Beg for it,” she demands, her voice firm. When you hesitate, she smacks your thigh, the sting sharp and thrilling. “I said beg for it”

“Please, Ale,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Please, fuck me harder”

She smirks, clearly pleased with your response. “Buena chica,” she purrs, increasing the pressure on your clit as she resumes thrusting, harder and faster this time. Your moans grow louder and you’re certain you have just disturbed a flock of Caspian Tern.

Alexia grabs your hips, lifting them slightly to change the angle, each thrust hitting deeper, making you see stars, galaxies, andromeda. Her free hand moves to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch, causing you to suck in breaths when she’s too distracted to press at your windpipe.

“Such a pretty sight,” she murmurs, glancing at the camera again. “All spread out and desperate for me”

She leans down, spitting on your chest and rubbing it into your skin with rough, possessive strokes. “Mine,” she growls, her eyes burning with intensity.

You can barely form a coherent thought, your entire world narrowed down to the relentless rhythm of her hips, the firm grip on your throat, and the fiery trail her spit leaves on your skin. Each thrust pushes you closer to the infinity, the pressure building inside you like a ticking time bomb.

Alexia’s hand moves from your throat to your ass, delivering a sharp slap that makes you cry out. “Take it,” she commands, her voice scratchy with arousal and sharp with authority. “Take everything I give you”

You nod frantically, your body on fire with need. She slaps you again, harder this time, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a deliciously heady mix. Her movements become almost brutal, each thrust sending shockwaves through you, your orgasm building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Look at me,” she commands, her voice a growl that sends another wave of pleasure through you. You force your eyes open, meeting her gaze. The intensity there is almost too much to bear, a conflagration of desire and possessiveness that leaves you breathless. She smirks, pleased with your obedience, and redoubles her efforts, her hips driving into you with unrelenting force.

When you finally come, it’s with a force that leaves you shaking, your entire body tensing and then releasing like spring that’s snapped under the weight of pleasure. Alexia doesn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm, riding it out until you’re a quivering, boneless mess beneath her.

Only then does she slow, her movements gentle, soothing, as she helps you come down from the high. She leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, a stark contrast to the fire behind her movements just seconds ago.

Finally spent, she collapses beside you, pulling you into her arms. You nestle against her, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. Her hand strokes your back, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a state of blissful contentment. The gentle rocking of the yacht, the warmth of her body against yours, it’s all perfect, a cocoon of love and satisfaction. Alexia glances over at the camera, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, before she whispers, “This is just the beginning”

[backtothefanfiction]

I Run To You | Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: when your abusive ex turns up drunk on your doorstep, yet again, there’s only one person you can turn to.

Warning: angst, implied past domestic assault, high school sweethearts, hurt/comfort, make out session

(Takes place pre-breakout)

A/N: this has been sat in my drafts for a while, thought I should finally finish it.

It’s late… and cold. Your fingers hesitate, curled in tightly, nails digging into the palm of your hand, as you hold them millimetres from his front door. You know he said last time to knock on his door the next time Jack came looking for you again… and for the time after that… and the time after that; but you can’t keep running back here forever. At some point you need to take a stand. Beside he was a widow. He had a young kid who was definitely sound asleep upstairs and shouldn’t be disturbed by your knocking at the door.

Then you remember Jack and his literal drunk jack hammering of his fist on your door. He was no doubt still there now, even though you had turned all the lights off in the house and snuck out the back window and hopped over the fence.

You brace yourself and knock gently on the door. At first there’s nothing, as to be expected for one o’clock in the morning when everyone should be asleep and you knock like a pussy, not wanting to be an inconvenience. But you can see the faint glow from the tv still on in the living room. You know he’s still downstairs, even if he has fallen asleep on the sofa as usual.

You knock a little louder. It takes a moment, but this time an orange glow illuminates the front room as he turns on a lamp. You watch as his shadow looms into sight through the tiny windows set into the front door.

When he opens it, he’s still rubbing sleep from his eyes, but the rest of his expression feigns one of alertness and concern. After all, no one would be knocking at the door at this time of night unless it was an emergency.

“Hey.” He says with a slight frown as he takes you in in your shorts and vest top pyjama set and uggs, an old cream cardigan pulled tightly around you, the only thing standing between you and the mid February night time chill. “What are you-“ but his whispered voice trails off as he suddenly snaps to attention, remembering the only reason why you’d be here like this. You watch as he begins to look left and right up and down the street past you.

It brings tears to your eyes to know after all this time he still cares for you.

He brings his attention back to you as he sees you shift from one foot to the other, your teeth worrying at your lip, fingers pulling at your cardigan sleeves. “Come on, come in.” He says, stepping to the side and opening the door wider, ushering you into the warmth of his home.

“I don’t want to wake Sarah.” You whisper to him anxiously but he merely ushers you further inside as he closes the door behind you.

“You won’t.”

He ushers you back towards the kitchen, quietly closing the door behind you both so the sound won’t carry upstairs to where his little girl is sound asleep.

“I should just move.” You say as he begins to potter about the kitchen, gathering the things he needs to make a pot of decaf coffee for you both.

“You shouldn’t have to.” He grunts, trying to hide his own frustration with your situation.

It had been him after all who had driven you down to the station to report Jack when he had run into you in the local supermarket and seen you covered in bruises. It should have only been a quick “how are you?” “How are you?” “I am fine.” “I am fine,” catch up between old high school sweethearts who drifted away from each other. But the way he suddenly stepped up for you, it was like no time had passed and you quickly became close friends again. Especially when you realise he only lived a street away from you all these years.

Alas, when Jack was interviewed by the police the whole thing became a he said, she said thing and he got off with a slap on the wrist. Still it had given you the confidence to finally leave him, with a little extra help from Joel. Shame the man was like a boomerang and whenever he had one too many drinks, he’d show back up on your doorstep claiming to love you and begging for you to take him back.

The first time he had shown up was when Sarah had been away at summer camp and so you had no problem calling Joel and he of course came running, encouraging Jack to go home. He slept on your sofa that night, just to be sure.

When he showed up on Halloween, he thought it would be hilarious to show up with a mask and smash in the back door. You had immediately run to Joel’s and he made you stay at his whilst he called the police and went and chased Jack back out the house himself. He then changed the locks for you the following day.

For Christmas, he thankfully didn’t break in, however he did pound on the door for a solid hour and a half, claiming to have a special present for you. You seriously doubted that. Unfortunately Joel had taken Sarah to go stay with his Mom for the holidays and wasn’t in, but he was sure to send a couple of his buddies from the construction site over in his stead to scare them off.

“I just can’t keep living like this.” You said as he handed you the steaming mug of coffee and you gratefully wrapped your frozen fingers around it to warm them up. “I’m just so tired of it Joel.”

“I know, I know.”

“Seriously, save from completely moving state, I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not going to come to that.” He said, reaching his hand across the table to take your shaking hands in his, holding them steady. His fingers were rough from all the manual labour he does, but still comforting, still so familiar after all these years.

The sudden reminder of all that history between yourselves made you both grow quiet, a sudden change in energy between you from that one innocent touch. It made you tingly. It made you warm. In all honesty- it freaked you out. You tried to meet his eyes, but it just made it worse. You quickly pulled your hands from his grasp and wrapped them around your warm coffee cup instead.

“I shouldn’t keep bothering you.” You said quietly into your mug.

“No.” He said firmly but kindly, “I want you to bother me.”

You looked at him then- and really looked at him. He had this look in his eyes. Something hidden and unspoken, like something he couldn’t even acknowledge clearly in his own head, let alone say out loud. There was an admiration there. But also guilt.

“Joel…” you said shakily, your voice hesitant and tentative. You needed him to say it. You wouldn’t allow your mind to wander- to hope he might still like you and want you after all these years- until he said it.

His head hung in defeat, eyes staring down into his coffee cup. He couldn’t say it.

“I should just go.” You said, immediately getting up from the table, an instinct deep in your bones telling you to run. If you didn’t even allow the space for the possibility- the opportunity- then you would never know and then there would definitely be no chance of feeling your heart break again.

You’d barely stepped past his chair towards the kitchen door, when his hand flew out to encircle your wrist. It held firm and your body grew rigid as sudden memories from your past suddenly flooded your mind, your body. But he was slow to rise. Feeling your tension at his action he softened his grip, you could slip your wrist free if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“Don’t go.” He pulled slightly at your arm, encouraging you to step back towards him. You did.

Where you struggled to look at him just moments before, now it was like you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He encouraged you closer still; and as you stepped forward one last step he raised his hands to either side of your face. Neither one of you were able to say anything, your eyes doing all the talking for you.

You watched as his eyes moved from searching your own, to seeking out your lips and back. A moment later he was moving in for the kiss and you found your eyes closing in anticipation, your whole body compliant, ready for him to use however he wanted. But for now, all he wanted was a kiss.

His lips were soft. He tasted like black coffee. This close to him, you could smell the soap and the cheap apple scented shampoo he used. You couldn’t help but sigh into his mouth, your lips parting and granting him permission to deepen the kiss.

You had no idea how much you’d wanted this. How long you’d wanted this. Far longer than you’d care to admit- not just to yourself but everyone else too.

His touch grew firmer as his hand snaked around the back of your neck to hold you in place, the other sliding down your body and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. Still in a daze- barely able to acknowledge this was finally happening- you slowly began to lift your hands from your sides to touch him. Your fingers traced up the broad muscles of his back, his T-shirt was so soft.

He hummed against your lips in reaction to your touch and it sent a warmth between your legs to know he wanted you, just as much as you wanted him. It made you hold him tighter, your hands gripping tightly around his shoulder muscles, your nails digging into his flesh over the top of his T-shirt as you held him tighter to you. Your touch made him desperate and hungry for more. When his tongue teased at the entrance to your mouth, you didn’t hesitate to meet it with your own, your breaths growing ragged with need.

He used his body to push you back towards the table, the back of your thighs meeting the wooden top, shunting the table back slightly. You both froze at the sound of the rubber stoppers on the table legs, dragging across the linoleum floor. You took the pause- waiting to see if you had woken Sarah- to catch your breaths, your chests rising and falling in rhythm with one another.

Although it was clear she was still asleep, neither one of you moved or leaned back in to restart your sudden make out session. As you watched his eyes you could already feel him retreating, his guilt setting in.

“It’s okay,” you quickly said, “we can take things slow.” You said to him, desperately needing to hold on to this now it was out in the open. You didn’t care how long it took, you wanted him and you were willing to wait for him.

He slowly nodded, as his fingers sought out your own, the limbs tangling and intertwining. “Stay.” He slowly said.

“Okay.” You quietly agreed and nodded.

“No, I mean it… Stay. Move in with us.” He said and your brow furrowed. “You can have the spare room. He won’t bother you anymore if you’re here.” You were silent as you realised what it was he meant.

He lifted your cardigan back up onto your shoulder from where it had slid down. “Stay.” He said again softly.

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Yeah?” He said, wanting to make sure.

“Yeah. I’ll stay.” You nodded and agreed a little more firmer and he smiled.

[ghyulia]

𝗢𝗯𝗲𝘆 𝗠𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗧𝘆𝗽𝗲

p1 | p2

⋆ ᶠᵗ. ᴸᵘᶜⁱᶠᵉʳ & ᴹᵃᵐᵐᵒⁿ

this was in my drafts for a long time and I finally finished it up..whew. It's not the best but I hope it's enjoyable :)

❕ How do the demon brothers react when they overhear that they’re your ideal type?

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿

⋆ Smug as hell.

⋆ At first, he pretends that he doesn’t hear it. He just continued doing whatever he was doing. Truthfully, he was a bit shocked that he was your ideal type. When you first came to the Devildom, you two never really saw eye-to-eye. He would rather die than admit that most of his animosity towards you came from the fact that you, a human, were slowly making pacts with all of his brothers. It felt like you were stealing them from him, and Lucifer hated it. Eventually, he realized that your intentions were far from that. (And he began to want to be in a pact with you, too). Lucifer decides to head to his study instead of confronting you there and then, a small yet smug smirk adorning his face. He'll let you come to him.

⋆ Eventually, you do swing by to see him, completely unaware that he had heard your previous conversation.

⋆ "Hey Luci! How's it going?" You smile. It had become a regular routine for you to stop by The Prideful First Born's study and check up on him. You knew that you and Lucifer hadn't always been on the best terms, especially at the beginning of the exchange program, but as time went by, you came to love and admire him deeply. You tried your best to keep your little crush under wraps though, in fear that it might taint your relationship with him forever.

⋆ Lucifer deduces that now is the right time to talk to you about what you said. Of course, he reciprocates the feelings. He has never felt the way he does with you with anybody else, and he's sure he never will.

⋆ "..So I'm your type, huh?" Lucifer asks. Your eyes widen and you look at him with what can only be described as a wild expression. "W-W-What..? You heard that? Erm..I mean I guess I said that because you are closest to the type of guy I would want as my significant other, you know? Not that...ₙₒₜ ₜₕₐₜ ᵢ'ₘ ₛₐyᵢₙg ₜₕₐₜ…" You trail off. You were saying that. You wanted him, more than anything. The Firstborn smiles. Then he lets out a laugh. You just stare at him, wondering what could possibly be so funny?

"Hush it, (name)." "You're my type too."

"Oh.."

⋆ Lucifer's smile is genuine and wide. How did a human like you manage to steal his heart so effortlessly? He'll never know. And Lucifer doesn't think that he really cares. As long as you're his.

𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻

・❥・He's in shock! Poor bby isn't used to hearing that he's someone's first choice, or ideal type at that :(

・❥・Mammon doesn't know what to do. He's as red as hellfire noodles, and the only thing on his mind is to make a beeline to the door he came from. He was never supposed to hear that!

・❥・In his attempt to sneak out, he knocks over a vase. Crash! He watches it break into a million little pieces. The noise catches your attention, so you excuse yourself from your conversation and head to the adjacent room, only to find a guilty, wide-eyed, blushing Mammon.

・❥・"...Mams? What's going on here?" You look shocked. "Were you eavesdropping?" "NO! Errr.. well not technically..I didn't mean'ta! I just happened to be in this room, and then I accidentally heard ya saying I was yer type! (Name), You've gotta believe me!" Mammon blabbers.

・❥・At this point, you're both redder than ever. "I believe you Mammon...but how do you feel?... About what I said, I mean." You mumble, hoping to gauge his feelings about your somewhat accidental confession. You had no idea that he was going to hear you say that he was your ideal type, but now that it's gotten to this, you might as well hear how he feels about it too, right?

・❥・"Well...it's only natural that the GREAT Mammon is your ideal type! I'm amazing, aren't I?" Mammon says. He notices your forlorn expression. "..Ahem. I guess what I'm tryna say is..yer my type too, human." Mammon all but whispers, pushing his glasses down his face in an attempt to cover the blush that decorates his face. Not that it does much. You giggle and move a little closer to him, before leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad to know the feelings are mutual."

・❥・"Yea..Me too." Mammon smiles.

Maybe this is what it feels like to be the luckiest guy in all of Devildom. Heck, in all of the three worlds. The Avatar of Greed doesn't think he'll ever feel this way with Grimm.

that's it! I kind of like it but idk hehe