#this is!!! very self indulgent to pair with a food study

[lamina-tsrif]

can’t you see he’s busy spoiling himself?

[bobluvbot]

late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)  wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach  a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part. 

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest. 

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort. 

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement. 

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts. 

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world. 

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall. 

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better. 

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did. 

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft. 

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier. 

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it. 

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare. 

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa? 

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal. 

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope. 

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response. 

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell? 

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy. 

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread. 

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back. 

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm. 

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man. 

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him. 

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach. 

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?” 

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.” 

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind. 

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck. 

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence. 

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.” 

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin. 

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought. 

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?” 

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

summary: opening up about your insecurities is a daunting thing, but suna lets you know you’re in good hands

pairing: suna rintarou x afab! reader

warnings:  smut/ comfort, minors dni; skin-related insecurities (acne, scars, bumps, etc) with comfort, unprotected sex (use condoms, don’t get a kid or a std), pet names (doll, pretty), marking, very wholesome spice if you can say that jsjsh, also very self indulgent; i wanted to name it ‘under my skin’ first, so now i have mirotic stuck in my head

happy birthday, rin!! ♡

haikyuu masterlist

Flickering colours illuminated your dimly lit living room in arrhythmic sequences, the voices of actors paired with underlying music bouncing around the apartment. Next to you, snuggled up under a cosy blanket with you, was your boyfriend, his eyes fixed on the TV but keeping you close to his side with an arm curled around your middle. 

Leaning against his sturdy body, you sunk further into the hoodie you had stolen from his side of the closet earlier and you inhaled a noseful of the scent clinging to it, a familiar mixture of Suna’s body wash and cologne. Underneath you, you could feel his muscles flex and relax with every breath and every laugh and, inevitably, your mind drifted from the scenes on the screen to the man next to you.

There was no doubt about it, when it came to boyfriends, you somehow managed to snatch up the price catch all for yourself. Suna was attentive, caring and funny; he always checked in on you, brought food when he knew you hadn’t eaten, sent you photos, voice messages and even flowers when he was away for work and generally pestered you to take care of yourself. 

Besides all of that, he was also, of course, ridiculously beautiful. Be it his well-built body showing through every outfit he wore, whether it was loungewear, work out clothes or a suit, or the defined features of his face, the sharp slant of his olive eyes only being the highlight, he was sure to garner attention. And he did. Quite a lot, actually. The fantaken videos of him sighted on the streets or the edits you scrolled past on your timeline definitely proved your point.

Still, Rin never made you feel unwanted, the opposite, really. You could be lazing around on the couch when Rin made it seem as if you were posing for the cover of Vogue, bending down to shower you in kisses as his hands wandered like he had no control over them. Or the way he’d sidle up behind you, leaning his weight onto you like an overgrown cat just to show you dumb videos while you go about what you were doing.

Your own mind, however, was not always as kind to you as your boyfriend.

Case and point, as you looked up at him and studied his sharp jaw and smooth skin, your thoughts started heading to a darker place, one you normally kept under tight lock and seal. Certainly, no matter how genuine his compliments were, there was no way he actually meant any of them, only trying to make you feel better about yourself. After all, what would someone like him see in someone like you? 

A tap to the tip of your nose pulled you back into reality, blinking to see bright green eyes sparkling down at you. The arm around your waist adjusted its grip, allowing you to turn towards him better but holding you close again the second you had settled.

“What are you thinking about? The film’s not that deep of a thinkpiece.” The lighthearted tone and tiny smirk playing around his lips were contrasted by the inquisitive raise of a brow, letting you know he was quite serious about your answer. “And it’d better not be anything stupid.”

“Oh you know,” you vaguely gestured towards the screen as you avoided his gaze, “there’s just no way they could’ve made it out of that building before the bomb went up. That was so much longer than 30 seconds.”

There was a soft touch against your cheek where calloused fingertips tilted your head back towards him, not forcibly but determined. You were more starkly made aware of the heat radiating from his body as he leant further into you, the arm around your back giving you no chance to wind yourself out of his proximity. Under other circumstances there would absolutely be no way you’d want to in the first place. But you knew Rin was sharp enough to deduce exactly where your mind had gone if you gave him only the faintest of clues and you really didn’t want to disrupt your movie night with your insecurities.

“Very cute, doll, but you never pay attention to realism. Besides,” the ends of his hair tickled your face as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “do you really think I didn’t notice you burning holes into the side of my head? If there’s something you want, you only need to ask.”

“That’s what you got from that, Rin?” You laughed, pushing his head from the crook of your neck with the pad of your forefinger. “Could it be that you're projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

“What else could I be thinking about when someone this pretty has been clinging to my side the entire evening?” Your boyfriend hummed the question thoughtfully before your centre of gravity shifted. A surprised gasp later, you found yourself in his lap with your knees bracketing his hips, courtesy of the muscles flexing against the small of your back where he kept you pinned to his front. “You can’t blame a guy for getting ideas when you’re this cute.”

“You’re such a horndog, Rin,” you giggled, melting into his hold as his large palms smoothed out the material of his sweats covering your thighs, the repetitive motion relaxing as you lost yourself in each other’s eyes, despite having done so a million times before.

“It’s all your fault, doll,” Suna murmured and your gaze automatically tracked the movement of his mouth as it formed the words. Inspired by you, he mirrored the action and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, your lips moving languidly against each other, giving you all the time in the world to bury your fingers in the hair of his nape. The swipe of his tongue asking for entry was accompanied by firm hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you so flush against him, it was like he wanted to become one entity altogether. You happily parted your lips for him so your tongues could tangle together in the same rhythm of his arms moving you to grind down on him.

When his warm hands explored the bare skin under his hoodie, however, it was like someone had sounded the alarm bells in your head. Sure, you’d been intimate with Suna plenty of times, that was nothing new, but so far, you’d avoided any positions where your back would be on display or his hands could roam too freely across it. Up until this point, you’d put up excuse after excuse and the brunet had respected your wishes but slowly you were running out of fronts to put up without addressing the real issue.

Over time, you’d gotten used to Suna seeing your face with all blemishes and impurities on display, more out of necessity than free will in the beginning. You couldn’t hide your face from him forever after all. In typical Rin fashion, he’d been so gentle and reassuring about it, thanking you for putting your trust in him and nearly making you cry in the process. 

Your back, however, was an area you could cover up way easier and that was how you kept it. The thought of him seeing the redness and scars littering the expanse of the skin there, running his hands over it and feeling the bumpy texture where other people’s would be smooth, it made you shrink in on yourself. As you wrecked your brain for a new excuse and got ready to push his hands down to your hips again, he withdrew them from the hoodie himself, making the garment feel much too big on you as he took his warmth with him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Suna began, his voice calm as one hand settled back against your hip and the other cradled your cheek. Your fidgeting must have conveyed your discomfort, because he started drawing tiny circles onto your cheek bone, the callouses from years of playing volleyball contrasting the softness of his touch, making you subconsciously lean into the movement. “I didn’t know how to bring it up but at this point I feel like I need to know… Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to show me your back? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know you better than that.”

“Ah, so you noticed,” you meekly replied, swallowing hard around the words stuck in your throat. “What gave it away?”

“You’re not the best at lying to me, you know. It was pretty obvious you were making excuses for something else.” You felt like a cartoon character getting hit with an arrow through the stomach. “I just want to understand what’s putting you so on edge, so I can fix it. Whatever it is, you can tell me and I’ll work hard so you can trust me. But I won’t know what I did if you won’t tell me.”

“What you did?” You echoed incredibly. “Rin, you’ve done nothing wrong, more like the opposite, honestly. You’re like the guy out of anybody’s dreams, of course I trust you.”

“Then what is it? I don’t want to pressure you but I hate to see you uncomfortable,” Suna’s voice was soothing like a fireplace in winter as his finger smoothed out the furrow of your brows, silently telling you to take all the time you needed, he wouldn’t judge.

“It’s just– My back it’s so ugly,” you weakly admitted, opting to hide your face in the crook of his neck when holding eye contact became too painful. For a split second, Suna went as rigid as you had earlier before gingerly setting his hand down on the top of your back and running it lightly up and down to test your reaction. “Everyone has this perfect, smooth skin but mine is full of scarring and blemishes and I… I don’t want you to see how hideous I– it is.”

“Oh baby, that’s not true,” he soothed. “You are so stunning, I could never think you’re ugly.”

“No, you would,” you disagreed, shaking your head. “I already don’t know how you can say that with so much confidence, I don’t want to ultimately prove you wrong.”“So instead you just made the decision for me?” Ah, his signature deadpan response.

“Huh?”

“You are so convinced of your own perception you won’t even entertain the thought I could see something else entirely. I’m a lot of things but not a liar, doll. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I mean it.” To show he wasn’t taking offence at your words, he tapped the tip of your nose again when you emerged from your hiding spot to peer up at him. Bouncing you in his lap as if to jostle the negative thoughts from the forefront of your mind, mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Do you really think I’d put myself into this position just to make someone feel better? Usually, I only try to fuck unbelievably attractive people on my couch.”

“Oh my god, Rin! You’re such an idiot!” You were well aware your boyfriend had the tendency to be shamelessly blunt and it still made you smack your palms against his chest, though your shoulders did feel lighter at his very characteristic way of encouraging you. “Also we bought this couch together, so it’s mine as much as it’s yours.”

“The point still stands,” he nonchalantly answered, trailing one finger down the dip of your neck as his half-lidded eyes tracked its path before finding yours again. You knew that look well and it made your earlier arousal flare up again. “You’ll give me a chance to prove you wrong, won’t you, pretty? I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated for a moment before mustering up all your courage. Suna had never betrayed the trust you placed in him and he’d not given you any reason to doubt him this time either. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you.” You could feel his smile against your temple when he leaned forward to place a small peck there. “Hmm now where were we? Oh, that’s right.”

Long fingers splayed over the back of your head to tilt your head up so he could reconnect your lips once more. Just like before, the kiss started off slow and built in intensity until you were gasping for breath, a thread of a saliva connecting you until it broke from the rocking of your hips. Having foregone a bra that night, your nipples rubbed against the soft lining of the sweater, perking up from the friction.

This time, when his hands snuck under your clothes, you didn’t move to stop him, instead letting the warmth of his palms spread across your back. Slowly but steadily his touch rose higher, his fingertips nearly massaging the skin with the light pressure he was exerting. At the same time, his mouth moved south as if he wanted to meet his hands in the middle, trailing a hot path of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw to just below your ear.

“The calluses of my hands, do they bother you?” A little disoriented by the low timbre of his voice and confused by the sudden question, you quickly made it known you liked them quite a lot, to which he chuckled. “See, at first, I was really insecure about it. Such rough hands handling something so precious, that didn’t seem right. But I learnt pretty quickly I was fussing about nothing, considering how you seem to love holding my hands or cumming all over my fingers.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” you nearly whined, both at his choice of example and the way he bucked his hips up into yours. Your face felt as if it was set ablaze as his hands roamed and kneaded whatever part of skin they could find and your hips kept up a steady rhythm. “You have such nice hands, Rin.”“Something you made me aware of,” he smiled. When his lips reached the point where the collar of the hoodie wouldn't allow him to go any further, his hot breath fanned the expanse of your throat and his fingers played with the hem of his piece of clothing. “Let me do the same for you, yeah? Are you comfortable with taking this off?”

“Yeah,” you quietly affirmed, nodding your head at his request. With his help, the soft material slipped over your head and arms before being tossed somewhere next to the two of you and you fought hard to return your hands to his shoulders in lieu of covering up your bare body. 

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing these,” Suna groaned, cupping your breasts with appreciative hands, forefingers and thumbs immediately working on rolling your pert nipples between them as the other digits fondled the surrounding area. “Look how perfect these look in my hands, like they were made to be held by me.”

A soft sigh of his name escaped you as you tilted your head back at the sensation of his warm hands contrasting with the temperature of the living room. It drew his attention back to the exposed column of your neck, focusing on the task of sucking a pulsing bruise against the spot that he knew made you weak. 

However, what you didn’t expect was him reaching around you to ghost his finger up the length of your spine, sending electricity right through you. Combined, the actions effortlessly pulled a gasp from you as you arched your back against his chest, which resulted in you pressing down hard against his bulge. His groan reverberated against your chest, a beautiful and husky sound which made you crave to hear more.

“Did that feel good? I bet it did,” Suna whispered against your feverish skin, fingers splaying out in the dip oy your back to keep you steady. “I can make you feel so much better, you know that. Just say the word.”

By now, your panties were probably soaked through as your clit pulsed with need, hips rocking in search for more friction but not getting enough to satisfy that itch inside of you. With how your heart was hammering against your ribcage, you could’ve bet Rin was able to feel it too, even through the material of his shirt. Balling the material in your fists you whimpered, “Rin, I need more, please.”

He grinned against your shoulder, pressing your chest tighter against his and grabbing the fat of your thigh with his free hand. Without any strain, he flipped you over so your back hit the couch cushions and he towered over your form, your legs still spread around his waist.

Running his hands down and back up the length of your legs, squeezing your thighs and calves appreciatively, his touch made goosebumps spread all across your body, no matter how seating it was on you. When his fingers reached the waistband of your sweatpants, playing with it as he leaned into your space, his heavy gaze met yours once more.

“Can I take these off?” No matter how clear it was you wanted this too, Suna would always ask. This night too, you willingly lay yourself in his hands as you lifted your hips to help him shimmy your pants off you, tossing them in the vague direction of the hoodie without taking his eyes off of you. He especially didn’t want to miss the string of slick sticking to your panties as they followed suit.

Drinking in the sight of your nude form, he traced a reverent finger over the seam where your legs met your hips, purposefully applying only a hint of pressure, knowing the featherlight touch was driving you positively insane. Slowly circling further in, he then caressed your outer lips covered in soft pubes, collecting your arousal with an experimental stroke over your slit but intentionally missing where you wanted him most.

“Rin, don’t tease,” you whined, squirming against the couch cushions.

“Sorry, doll, but you just look so pretty like this,” he mused, bright eyes showing not a hint of remorse. “I just have to indulge a little.”

And indulge he did. When he finally grazed his thumb over your neglected clit, his touch seemed to scorch, which only served to fuel the desire inside of you and it inevitably coaxed a wanton moan from you. Incredibly adept at reading you and keen to hear more of your sweet noises, Suna easily slid his middle finger into your hole, that at this point had been clenching around nothing. With how wet you were, he was met with no resistance at all and soon complied with your pleas for more and added his ring finger to the first.

“Shit, baby, you’re clinging to my fingers,” Suna voiced his thoughts as he smoothed one hand down the length of your leg once more to grab your ankle. Keeping up the steady pumps of his hand, curling his digits right into the spot that had your leg spasming in his hold, he turned his head to kiss the joint in his hold. However, he didn’t stop there. 

As if your leg was a fuse and he was the fire, Suna leisurely crept his affections higher, over your calves and past your knees, until you really felt ready to explode. Dimpling the flesh under his fingertips, he tightened the hold on your thigh so he could suck a myriad of hickeys on its expanse, unbothered by your incessant writhing. 

His hot breath fanned your core as his plush lips mapped out the juncture of your leg, paying careful attention to the area littered with stretch marks and covering the cause of some of your insecurities with his own marks. Like he wanted to claim your body as his, not that of the doubts in your mind. When he was satisfied with the blotches of red forming on your skin, he finally pulled back to admire his work.

“Have I been neglecting you lately?” Suna whispered, almost drowned out by the squelches of your pussy as he scissored his fingers. Looking up at you over the length of your heated body, he replaced his thumb with his kiss-swollen lips, placing a sweet peck against your clit and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it. You should never feel like this about yourself.”

“It’s not your fault, Rin,” you breathily reassured him only to be shushed by idle fingers dancing across your lower stomach, then precisely pressing down where his other hand was crooking up into.

“What kind of boyfriend lets his baby feel anything less than gorgeous?” Snaking one arm around your arched back, his long fingers covered a large part of it and held you steady against his chest as the coils in your stomach wound tighter and your toes curled at his sides. “I wish I could show you what I see. But since I can’t, I’ll have to settle for conveying it like this.”

His thumb had taken up its former spot again, resumed drawing firm figure eights on your clit and your nipples rubbed against the front of his shirt where Suna curled over you to reach your lips with his. Under the influence of his messy kiss, you felt like you were set ablaze as your boyfriend encouraged you to let go for him.

Someone might as well have replaced your blood with molten lava as your orgasm washed over you with fiery intensity and sweat pearled on your temple. Your arms slung around his body as your hands searched for whatever they could grab to hold on, be it the muscles of his shoulder or his dishevelled dark locks. Your lungs were already burning with the need for air but if you stopped kissing him, stopped vocalising your pleasure right for him to swallow it up, you thought you might die.

Suna kept up his ministrations until you were trembling like a candle in the wind before he even considered pulling his fingers from you. With half lidded eyes you watched as he brought the digits up to his mouth, cleaning up your mess with slightly exaggerated lewdness and moaning at your taste.

As he sat back up, he kept you flush against him and returned you to the position that started this all. Only this time your heightened sensitivity made you hyper aware of his arousal underneath you. 

“How are you feeling, pretty?” Nosing the crook of your neck lovingly, Suna nibbled on your salty skin where your quickened pulse thrummed underneath. His strong hands massaged your sides as you caught your breath and willed your chest to stop heaving. “Do you want to keep going?”

“You can’t do all of that and then deny me this,” you laughed breathlessly as you rolled your hips into his prominent bulge which caused him to inhale sharply. On top of everything, your boyfriend was also fucking hung, something his sweats didn’t hide in the slightest. “But I need you to take this off first.”

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, shrugging the shirt over his head unceremoniously, his biceps and triceps flexing in the process. While he busied himself with untangling himself from his pants, you ran an appreciative hand over the firm planes of his abs and up his pectorals. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you mused, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “Got so lucky with you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Suna smiled, letting his hands roam over every dip and curve of your body as he urged you to straddle him again. Wasting no time, you started rocking yourself over his length, gasping every time his head caught your clit while you covered him in your arousal. After starving himself of stimulation earlier to focus entirely on you, your boyfriend shuddered at the contact. “You already feel so good doll, how am I supposed to last like this?”

“It’s okay, I want you to feel good too, Rin,” you stated but your movement was promptly stopped by two heavy hands on your hips. There was a subtle flush decorating his complexion and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really this affected just because of you? “As tempting as that sounds, tonight is all about you. No room to argue.” There was a tender finality in his tone, one that made clear he really wouldn’t budge on the topic, so you relented and melted into his hold. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Yes, this wasn’t the first time you’d been intimate with Suna, but it still felt like it. Every time he sunk his cock into you the stretch had you tossing your head back. From the way his thick tip slowly breached the tight ring of muscle, to the pleasant friction of his veins sliding against your walls and the satisfying feeling of being stuffed full, you believed you’d never get used to it.

“You always take me so well,” Suna panted as he bottomed out, fingers flexing against the pudge of your ass as he willed himself to patience to let you adjust to his girth, no matter how heavenly your warm cunt felt enveloping him. 

“Fuck Rin, I need you to move. Please, I–” Your brows were furrowed and you supported yourself on his chest as you started circling your hips against his while his cock pressed against all your sensitive spots so nicely.

And who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly? 

Starting with slow and deliberate thrusts, you both knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. While Suna normally prided himself on patience, even his was running thin by now and soon after, the rhythmic slapping of your thighs on his echoed around your apartment as he effortlessly moved you up and down on him, each thrust seemingly deeper as the previous one.

Not able to keep yourself upright for much longer, you slumped against his equally sweat-slicked chest and surrendered yourself completely to his actions, opting instead to claw at his back every time a particularly well aimed stroke had you clench your eyes shut. It was the best kind of torture and if you were exposed to it for too long you might actually go mad.

With your head nestled in the crook of his neck it gave Suna the perfect view down your back, admiring the way it bowed so graciously against his broad body or how your ass bounced with each slap of his thighs. How you were able to see anything but your beauty was something he just couldn't get behind; not because he was without insecurities but because no part of you could ever be a flaw in his eyes. Not when it made you who you were.

His fingers fluttered over the curve of your spine again, eliciting a more visceral reaction as your body shuddered and you pressed yourself tighter against him, trying to evade his searing touch while simultaneously craving more of it. Your whole body felt like you were boiling from the inside out, every part his scorching hands touched sizzling with nerves.

The constant grind of his pelvis against your clit had your walls gripping his length like a vice, making it increasingly harder for your boyfriend to pull out, let alone hold his own release back for much longer. Dipping his head down with a groan, his lips connected with your shoulder as his fingers kneaded and fondled wherever he could reach. Perhaps by the time you woke up tomorrow you wouldn’t see the blemishes you agonised over but the imprint of his fingers on your waist or the love bites littering your shoulder.

“If you don’t like these marks, I guess it’s on me to cover them with my own,” he mumbled lowly, perhaps more to himself than to you. Either way, the deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear followed by the sound of him reattaching his lips where he had left off shot down your spine like a lightning bolt. “You’re close, aren’t you? C’mon, you can do it. Show me how beautiful you are when you cream on my cock.”

The effect Suna’s voice and words had over you should maybe concern you. But you didn’t care as you came for the second time this night with a cry of his name on your lips, weightless as your boyfriend rode out your orgasm while chasing his own. Just as you came down from the aftershock of pleasure, Suna pushed inside of you as far as he could and painted your insides white.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything, content to stay lost in the feeling of the other as two sets of hands explored the shared silhouette of your bodies. Kisses were exchanged or randomly placed wherever you could reach, Suna caressed your sides and you swept sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

“So,” Rin broke the comfortable silence, “are you still hellbent on arguing with me on this?”

Picking up his hint of playfulness, you decided to lean into it. “Hmm I dunno, the jury’s still out.”

“I thought you might say something like this,” he chuckled, pinching your side between his eyes, resulting in you yelping in surprise and sending him a half-hearted glare which was only returned in mischief. “Good thing I already planned to bend you over the back of the couch and paint your back. Bet you’d look lovely, even if you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are. Same place and time tomorrow work for you?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” You laughed at his shrugged ‘Might have mentioned it before’ before leaning up for a brief peck. “But sure, I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

After your movie night had effectively been rebranded into a shared bath Suna had drawn for you, you let the warm water rinse away most of the soreness you felt in the moment. Despite the tub being a rather snug fit with your professional athlete occupying a big chunk of it by himself, you let yourself relax against his chest.

Rin had taken it upon himself to gently scrub your body down for you, being extra careful with any of the spots he might have been a little rougher on. When it was time to dry off, he took his time to shower your back in kisses; every mark he left, every scar, every blemish, he covered them all equally in his affection and adoration. 

“I love you,” he murmured when his eyes met yours through the mirror and he tangled your fingers together. “I would never dream to change a single thing about you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, like it was a secret only meant for his ears. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for.” Suna brought your hand up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss there too. “I’m just doing what any good boyfriend should.”

Later in bed:

“How much did you have to hold back from saying ‘I’ve got your back’?”

“You have no idea.”

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[bucknastysbabe]

Please pleaseee, modern!aegon who loves to overstimulate his girlfriend and loves to breed her. Thx🙏

Yes I can whip it up for you🫠 Sorry for the wait!!!! Thank you for the request sm mwah mwah kith! I want horny stoner college party animal chubby baby and his innocent little gf✨a little blurb hehe

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Overstimulation, breeding kink/creampie, marathon sex, one-sided high sex, sweetie recovering frat douche Aeg, college!au, chubby!Aegon, pnv!sex, oral (f!receiving)

Marathons

Aegon liked to party, be the center of attention, an attention whore. You liked to read, utilize the campus’ nature trails. Opposites attract is a saying but in your classes you’d learned it’s actually the opposite. Regardless of how differently social the two of you were, there was many shared loves.

He liked nature, reading about sappy love stories, and exploring abandoned places just like you did. You loved to cook and experiment with new foods, Aegon loved to watch you do that then eat all of the new food. He was very sweet under the layers of familial issues and shot out self esteem. The pair of you also loved to game, or you’d sit and watch him after making the fool study.

The cherry on top was your insatiable need to be fucking and sucking. Aegon a bit more so but you were delighted to indulge. He was the perfect cutie when all high and sluggish from his munchie induced snack binge, eating you out for what felt like hours on end.

Gliding aimlessly through social media, bottle of wine on hand, you curled up in the den of madness called Aegon’s room at the fraternity. The party boomed on downstairs, shaking the walls. He’d be back soon. Baby got too needy after too long. You’d imagine he was smoking a j then hitting the keg.

Over time you dozed off a bit…a cacophony of noises awoke you with a sleepy yelp. Aegon was…fucked up…but he still had some clarity about him. You murmured, wiping the sleep outta your eyes, “What’cha doing baby?” Aegon crawled onto the bed, spreading himself close and inhaling your scent. He purred into your ear, “Been needing you, got all hot thinking about you by yourself and wanted to play.”

Still sleepy you mumbled, “Wha’ time is it?”

Aegon’s plump lips caressed your ear, hands sliding up your lax thighs, “Don’t matter, want you babyyy.”

You sighed and instinctively lifted your hips, letting Aegon’s greedy hands tear them down, flinging the garment across his already disastrous room. His purple eyes were glazed in the dim light, boy was high as fuck. Which meant marathon fucking for your poor pussy.

You leaned up to unbutton his tight jeans, thumbing at the indent under his soft belly. Munchies, your cooking, and loads of beer did a number on his once svelte frame. Aegon breathed out in relief, tummy pooching out. You jerked down his underwear while the blonde tore impatiently at your thin tank top. He rambled, “Can’t, ugh, fucking believe you were just sitting up here like this.”

You pulled at a strand of blonde hair, teasing, “Those freshman girlies wearing the push-up’s did nothing for ya?” Aegon groaned, latching onto your sensitive nipple. Gripping his pretty blonde waves you undulated under him, rubbing against that thick fucking cock. He may not be the longest but god it hit all the right spots.

Aegon murmured between your perky tits, “Nah, want my girl. Hiding away, my little secret.” You kissed him passionately, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Nibbling downwards you bit at that cute softness below his chin, teasing, “Who knew Aegon Targaryen would be felled by the virginal honors student.” He gasped at your warm mouth, fingers tweaking your bud.

“Mh- ruined me for anyone else. Got me fat too you devil.” He pressed his soft belly into your frame for emphasis. Helplessly you moaned, “Ohgod- but it’s so cute Aeg. Love your belly.” His full lips smacked into your own, rutting against your wet sex with cut off grunts, breathing going ragged with the force.

Your tits rubbed against his softened chest, whining at the sensation. The kisses grew sloppier, lazier, wetter. Aegon always liked it messy anyways. Usually impatient— if your boyfriend was high he was lackadaisical and sensual. It strung you out to no end.

The blonde pulled away with a string of drool, rasping, “Lemme eat that pretty cunt dear.” You babbled, “Yes, yes, c’mon!” In a frenzy you pushed his tousled head down, Aegon giggling at your impatience. Once between your thighs he inhaled and groaned. Fucking pervert.

“You’re soaking already, naughty slut.”

Calloused hands from gaming spread you wide open, a broad tongue lapping your drenched pussy with a lurid slurp. He groaned, hips flexing against the unmade bed. You thrashed and squeezed your thighs when his sinful lips enveloped your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue. You yanked at his hair harder, crying his name. Aegon seemed to laugh and dug two fingers into your cunt, crooking upwards without warning.

You seized and tried to squirm away, Aegon’s free hand gripping you tight. He sucked harder, fingers flying, aiming to send you over the edge fast. Every other breath was you shouting and clawing desperately, orgasm threatening to knock you silly. He nipped at your swollen, oversensitive bud and your body snapped.

Eyes rolling, howling, and scratching his shoulders raw kind of orgasm. Going boneless, Aegon seized the moment to grab you by the hips and spear you on his cock, making you keen in pleasurable agony. It was too much, your nerve endings still alight. Aegon panted and haphazardly pushed back his hair, grunting, “Don’t cry yet baby, we’re just getting started.”

Oh but tears were streaming down your face, whining his name over and over. Aegon, Aegon, Aegon. The evil bastard. Your eyes rolled as his thick midsection rolled against yours, soft thighs slapping your own. He thumbed at your clit again, making you mewl and beg for relief. But you didn’t want this to stop.

Like he read your mind Aegon hissed, “Gonna keep fucking you all night til’ that pussy s’full of me. Being my good girl. Cry all you want baby, m’gonna stuff you up right.”

“Yes baby, please, all yours!”

Bringing the sun up with a leaking cunt and your boyfriend cooing over you might be the greatest feeling in the world. Besides your cunt being so sensitive you whimpered every other shift of your thighs. Aegon cooed and nuzzled you, belly plastered to your back. He kept his hand to your outer thigh, mindful of your overstimulated body. He kissed the shell of your ear, “My girl. Fucking divine you are.”

Thank the gods it was Sunday.

[ichore]

FRISSON | SNAKE (VINLAND SAGA)

synopsis: upon hearing the news of you becoming single, snake takes it upon himself to comfort you pairing: snake x fem!reader wc: est. 2.1k tags, warnings: smut, cunnilingus, unprotected p -> v, snake is obsessed with you, this fic is lowkey self-indulgent | @rottiens

Snake wasn’t one to meddle in his men’s personal lives, but the furrow between his brows deepened as he overheard his subordinates consoling their comrade with promises of a barrel of wine and a new girl to ease the sting of his parting from you. It was a mutual decision, the man claimed. Snake clicked his tongue against his teeth, unable to stomach any more of their foolish chatter.

His thoughts drifted instead to you — your hands deftly slicing vegetables as you prepared him dinner, the seagrass basket brimming with crops resting effortlessly against the curve of your hips. He wondered if your work on the farm ever left accidental bruises on your skin, and how sweet it would feel to kiss each one, tasting you as he soothed them away. No — he could never agree to leave you. 

With a swift kick of his heel, he urged his horse to gallop faster, putting distance between himself and the fool who had once been your lover. “You lot keep patrolling this area. I’m heading that way,” he barked to his men before veering off on his own. The closer he got to your house, the more impatient he became, each passing second only deepening his need to see you.

By the time he stood before your door, night had fallen. The moon hung high on the iron-hued sky, and the flicker of firelight glowed softly through the cracks in the wooden frame. The aroma of freshly made supper wafted out, but for once, his hunger had nothing to do with food. All he wanted was to see your face.

When the door creaked open, his heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked lashes, your eyes rimmed with red sorrow, your chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. His fists clenched at the thought of your former lover finding solace in another woman’s arms while you sat here, weeping above the meal you had lovingly prepared for him.

“What brings you here, Snake?” you asked, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

“Heard the news. Thought you might need some company,” he replied, his tone gruff, an attempt to mask the ache your sad smile stirred in his chest.

“Come in,” you said softly.

As he stepped inside, his broad frame seemed to fill the room, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. He set his sword down as you poured him a bowl of soup, your hands trembling slightly.

“How come you came here and didn’t tag along with the others?” you asked. You knew very well how the guards console their heartbroken comrades, and given Snake’s reputation as a gallivant, it surprised you to see him at your table.

“I’m more interested in how you’re doing,” he said, his emerald gaze steady on you. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. It’s about time I returned the favor.”

“Well, I was fine during the day. Work had my mind occupied a little, but I'm afraid the silence and the lonely night will break my heart in two at times. But it's just a part of life. You're a smart man, you know that,” you sat ahead of him, your tears pouring as you watched the steam curl above his bowl.

“Look at you,” he pushed the food to the side to be able to reach across the table and place his calloused hands on yours, his thumbs caressing the back of your gentle hands. “You're going through so much pain and you still find a way to flatter me. You deserve better than him. No sane man would leave a woman like you,”

“I hardly believe he's been viewing me as a woman in a long while, but … I shouldn't tell you this, you're his boss.”

Snake's hold tightened on your skin, his emerald stare studying your cheeks that you turned away in shame until he realized just what you meant by your words. “How long since…?”

“It's been months.” you took your hands out of his hold to wipe away your tears began to swell faster and played drums against the wooden table. You rested your face against your palms as you began to sob uncontrollably, your body trembling ahead of him.

This sight of you painfully clawed at his heart and set his soul into a flickering ember of rage. To think one of his men dared to make you think less of yourself by not worshiping your body every night angered him.

He was searching for you in every girl he chased after on Ketil's farm ever since he first laid eyes on you; your hair shining in the afternoon sunlight, the curve of your brows, the kind light in your eyes and the gentle simper sitting on your lips whenever you greeted him. No matter how many women moaned under him, he always wished it was your laughter vibrating against his lips. And to think he respected his subordinate's relationship with you to find out he took you for granted, “What an idiot,” Snake mumbled as he stood up and made his way over to you. “Come here.”

His shadow loomed over you before he sat down next to you, his palm finding the curve of your nape to lead your face to his shoulder as his other hand caressed across the length of your back. He smelled of horse sweat and leather, the frostbitten mud stench of wind still lingering on his shirt as your tears wetted the material. His warmth wrapped around you as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your temple, and his fingers massaged the back of your head and his other hand found the small of your back to pull you closer against him. “You deserve better than him. Someone who worships every inch of your perfect being, who thanks the Gods they get to wake up right beside you and the first thing they see is your beautiful face. Someone who yearns to have your pretty lips moan their name like a mantra every night.”

“Snake…” you whispered breathlessly as his words became hot against your sensitive neck, forcing you to hold your thighs together tightly while the liquid luster began to dwell in between them. You let go of his back, placing your arms between you and him to be able to pull away and look at his face. His dark locks framed his desire filled face, his eyes dark with wanton that threw your heart into a burning ache and need to taste his lips. But for a second, you hesitated. “So you're just a man, after all,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “Thought I'd entertain you tonight? After having my heart broken? I'm nothing but an easy prey to you.”

“There's nothing ‘just’ about the way I've been feeling about you. Had your love for another man not blinded you, you would've realized it a long time ago,” he smoothed his knuckles against the soft of your tear-streaked cheeks before his palms cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your lament. Your lips trembled, parting instinctively as he claimed them for his own that night; he tasted of dried meat and cheap, red wine as his tongue deepened the kiss with a fervor that made your breath hitch. “Your kiss is even sweeter than I've ever imagined,” he whispers, his fingers tangled in your hair at the back of your head to gingerly tug at it and open your neck for his trail of kisses.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage with guilt and excitement; to make love with your past lover's boss in the same bed you adored him in for years on the same night you two parted ways. Yet, Snake's words and touches made such eager moans bubble in your chest. Heat rises to your cheeks as you notice the bulge tenting on his lap, a wet spot expanding on his pants while the tip of his tongue rushed across your collarbone.

“Don't think of him,” he whispered, sensing your hesitation from the way your moans got stuck at your throat. “Think of me. Only me. I'll show you how beautiful you are. Will you allow me? Yes?”

It was strange to see him like this - always so composed and calculated, now so eager, almost pleading, just for a taste of you. You nodded, and in an instant, his strong arms lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you, laying you gently across the bed beside the flickering glow of the fireplace.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as he began to expertly remove your clothes, his movements precise yet reverent. His gaze swept over you, drinking in every inch of your revealed skin, his dark eyes heavy with desire that made your heart race as his face was between your thighs.

“I can't believe I finally get to taste you, gorgeous, and you're so wet for me already,” he took his pointing and middle fingers to spread your folds, rushing his fingerpads across while the thumb of his other hand found your clit. “Soaking fucking wet, dripping.”

“Oh, gods,” your cheeks flushed into crimson at his words and the way he never broke eye contact with you, not even when his upper lip teased your clit and his tongue sheathed into your gummy walls as two of fingers massaged them inside. It made your back arch and your face turn away as a sharp peak of pleasure was building at the pit of your stomach.

“Don't look away from me, sweetest,” he got on his knees to have his palm on your nape, gently forcing you to look into his eyes as his fingers took you to your first orgasm and tears of pleasure swollen in your eyes. Your wetness overflowed, traveling down on your body and pooling under you by the time he was done and he was licking his fingers while his thighs spread your legs open. The mix of your liquid desire and his saliva coated the tip of his dick while he rushed it across your folds. “I'll fuck that bastard right out of your pretty your head, okay? You want it?”

“Yes, Roald, please,” the sound of his real name falling from your lips, the eager arch of your pack to have his cock inside you immediately made him stop with any teasing and he slowly pushed himself in. His jaw hung low as he felt himself stretching you out, the vehement pulsing in your walls massaging his dick. His size snuffed the air out of you, making your brows furrow as the two of you watched him push the last inch in until his dark pubic hair was right against your clit. 

“You feel like you were made just for me, sweetest,” Snake placed his elbow right next to you, his naked chest resting against your breasts as he brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed you. “I love that you remember my name even though I told you about it once in a fleeting moment. Now, I want you to scream it to your heart's content. Don't hold back.”

As he began to move, his pace fast and measured, your nails raked across his back. Each thrust drew out a new whimper or moan against his groans, making you tightly wrap your legs around him as his hands rested on your shoulder blades to keep you in space. You felt your body reaching the heavens over and over again underneath him, your throat was dry from screaming the syllables of his name and your lips were raw from his kisses and love bites.

“Cum with me, gorgeous.” he groaned against your ear as his rhythm became uneven, but harder and faster. You felt the tip of his dick harden and throb before his seeds filled you up. His dark locks fell onto your face as he left gentle pecks all over your forehead, nose, eyelids and jawline while he kept cumming inside you. You whimpered each time his dick twitched with its last drop, and you moaned as he slowly pulled himself out.

“I made quite the mess here, darling,” Snake chuckled to himself as he found his subordinate's shirt to wipe you clean before he found a blanket to cover you with. Your gaze followed him as he put his clothes back on, your heart already aching at the thought that perhaps every word he told you that night was a lie.

As if he could read your thoughts, he sat right beside you and pressed his lips against your forehead. “I'm still on duty and I have to check on Gramps. I'll come back as soon as I can. I want you to rest now, sweetest.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thinking about Gale Dekarios as a Dad

A/N: Is this self indulgent? Yes, but we're on the cringe website, so who cares. As always thanks to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble.

So first things first, this is more centered around my thoughts about Gale becoming a father to my Single Mom!Tav's (Gwen) daughter Clara and eventually their daughter Morgan. But, I think this can apply to Gale being a father in general

Just imagine Gale getting hit with the triple whammy on not only does he want to live, not only is he more than willing to remain a mortal man in order to be with Gwen, but doing so also means he has a new responsibility of being a father to Clara

Once Gale decides he's going to do something, he does not half ass it

He may not be confident in his ability as a father, but damn it he's going to try

Queue him finding every book on parenting he can and going to Gwen constantly for advice (and assurance he's not completely fucking this up)

He, of course, ends up having to throw most of it out since Gwen was 100% right and most of it is just improvisation, but he did need some base for security

I personally headcanon that his father wasn't in the picture so he doesn't exactly have an example of what a good father looks like

While to do think Gale would still teach in Waterdeep, that man is using a dimension door to get to class because he's moving in with Gwen and Clara

Clara has her own friends and a small community Gwen found when she was first on her own raising her; this is more about just Gale and Gwen being together, it's about them being a family, so not forcing Clara to move is a part of it

Once things are more secure between the three of them they may move, but not for a while (or even after Morgan is born)

Any way you slice it, Gale and Clara get time to bond before he and Gwen walk down the isle

Clara is a very curious kid and the type come home with whatever frogs or cool sticks she found, her boots caked in mud and twigs in her hair

Gale absolutely encourages her and gives her books on essentially any subject she's even mildly interested in

Gwen has walked in more than once to the pair of them info dumping to each other in a continuous loop until interrupted by dinner and even then food won't stop Clara

Teachers quickly discovered that calling in Gale when Clara lands herself in trouble is also a very bad idea

Gale: I expressed an opinion. Clara is a very curious young girl and I don’t think it’s too much to ask a teacher to encourage that curiosity. Teacher: She also happened to be in grade six and certain questions are inappropriate for such a setting. Gale: The subject of undead, although taboo, is still a valid school of study if one approaches it with care. Teacher: Asking how long it takes for a body to rot to the point it can no longer be resurrected is not something an eleven year old should be asking!

Experiments in the kitchen! (with proper safety equipment of course)

Gale learning how to do Clara's hair because Gwen can't always be there to do it

Gale telling stories and illustrating them with minor illusions so sometimes Clara ends up more hyped up at bedtime than she should be

Even when she gets too old for bedtime stories, she slips into Morgan's room to listen to her dad

Also Gale totally gets a dad bod the longer he settles into domesticity and nobody (especially Gwen) is complaining about it

Honestly the first word Clara and Morgan think of when describing their dad is soft

For all his wizard prowess and verbosity, what he is first to them is their dad; the person with the soothing voice, kind eyes and comforting hugs

Morgan especially when she's little just clings to him

She seems to like his voice and he even sings to her on occasion; nothing concert worthy, but some broken lullaby his mother used to sing to him

Honestly now having children of his own, he has a new appreciating for both Gwen and his mother doing all this on their own

But back to Morgan for a moment; Gale is absolutely the type of person to have a full on conversation with a baby and respond to every babble with "yes you make an excellent point"

She end up with a very extensive vocabulary for a toddler

Gale can't wait until she can hold a proper conversation, if there is one thing Gale loves, it's talking to his kids

There's a moment where he’s in bed with Gwen and the girls sleeping between them, and he takes a moment to just soak it all in. It’s so much more than he thought his life would have been. 

Even before the orb, he spent so much time chasing after his own ambition.

When Mystra came to him, he still wanted more, willing to abandon the material plane entirely, and for what? To sit at the feet of a goddess who could never truly care for him? To become a god himself? He’s almost ashamed at himself for ever wishing for those things in the first place. For wishing he could be something so cold and distant all for the sake of a power he could claim no use for except to prove that he could. 

Morgan curls herself a little closer to him while Clara takes up the center of the bed, her still growing limbs just as tangled as her hair. He lets out a soft chuckle, giving Morgan a reassuring rub on her back and she settles back down. Gwen is just as much a mess as Clara. He can just spit a little bit of drool coming out of her mouth. Still she manages to keep an arm across her eldest, keeping her close even in sleep.

How could any power be worth more than this? What higher purpose could he have than to make sure his family is safe and loved?

I've got more stuff about Gale being a dad if you're curious (and Astarion being an uncle). Send me an ask if you want to read more! I've got a ton of stuff!

[honeysuckleharringtons]

just steve harrington being so selfless and not taking time for himself melting into a puddle if the reader or you or y/n (idk which one to put 💀) just asked him if he was okay a lot (I do that 24/7, this is purely self indulgent) and the many times he said yeah and the one time he said no :(

i was originally gonna do a full fic style blurb on this but words have been very hard for me lately so i'm just gonna do a text post about this! hope you don't mind 🫶🏻

warnings: reader is sorta implied to be fem!reader, allusions to steve being treated not so well by his parents as a kid, part of this does mention some upside down violence, tiny mention of food, no use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

send me steve thoughts | ask box

I imagine the first time it happens is probably in gym class when you're younger.

You accidentally hit him right in his pretty lil face with a dodgeball ☹️

And Steve being Steve insists he's okay because "I get hit all the time in basketball and football. I've broken bones and nearly busted my teeth out. A lil dodgeball never hurt anyone."

But you can tell he's hurt.

Whether it's him that's hurt or his bruised ego, you can't really tell.

But some part of him was clearly hurt.

more under the cut!

The second time it happens is when you get paired together for a study group during senior year.

Steve struggles with a lot of subjects, but math is probably his worst.

And it's not like he doesn't want to get better, his parents just never sat down at the table and helped him with anything growing up, and when his nannies told his dad about his report cards, it didn't end very well ☹️

But math is the one he's always had the hardest time with.

So when the two of you get paired to study for the calculus final, you can almost immediately tell he's struggling to understand the questions on the example sheet.

At one point, he just kinda places his head in his hands and groans into his palms.

And you're just kinda like, "Hey, you okay?"

And again, Steve is never one to admit defeat.

"I'll be fine. Can you just help me with question four?"

Surprisingly though, after just a few nights of studying together, you become sort of reluctant allies.

He surprisingly excelled in human biology, which you did not. So, the two of you helped each other where you could.

And then it happened a third time, during the summer after you'd graduated.

Steve had had a rather unsuccessful time trying to flirt with the ladies that often came into Scoops Ahoy.

This day had been no different.

He'd really tried his hardest to get the beautiful ginger in front of you to go with him to the movies on Friday.

But she and her friends just moved along, double-scoop ice cream cones in hand, back to their shopping.

"You good?" you asked, nearly on the verge of laughing, as you stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he answered sarcastically. "Just a little bruise to my ego. That was definitely the first time any lady has turned down this beautiful face."

Part of you, though, was hurting. Hurting that, even though you were right in front of him, he'd never bothered to look at you that way.

The fourth time it happened, you really started to question everything you thought you knew about Steve.

Somehow, despite being back in town for a total of two days, you'd gotten roped into something to do with some evil dude named Vecna.

And for once, after everything you'd learned since arriving back in Hawkins for spring break, Steve was the one asking if you were okay.

Also for once, one of you was answering the question truthfully.

However, in the week that followed after, even in the midst of alternate dimensions and weird mutations of bats, you'd learned that Steve might have been causing his previous lady problems on purpose.

And when you saw the painful expression he sported as Nancy Wheeler was reunited with her boyfriend, your own heart shattered all over again.

Still, if there was one thing you were, it was a good friend to Steve.

So, you pulled him aside and asked those three little words.

Steve simply ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a slow nod.

But you could tell he was nearly at the point of breaking.

And the time when he finally answered truthfully, he really did break.

You'd drove with him to the hospital to check up on Max Mayfield, who somehow he'd became friends with despite the age difference.

The room was dead silent, other than the annoying buzzing coming from the lights.

You finally gave him a good once-over as he sat at Max's bedside—his messy hair, his pale face with newly acquired purple spots under his eyes, a small cut under his lip.

And for the first time since you'd known Steve, you watched as tears formed in his eyes.

You were quick to rush over to the other side of the bed, your hand splaying across his back and rubbing soft, small circles against his frame.

"Steve, I know this is a silly question to ask, because we both know the real answer, but seriously, are you okay?"

He knew he couldn't hide. Not any longer. So, he simply let the walls come down, croaking out a small, "No," through his flood of tears.

After crying into your shoulder and allowing himself to finally let go of everything he'd been holding in for all those years, he just simply held you.

Finally, after explaining everything—from the reason why he never told you about the Upside Down, to why he'd used Nancy and all those girls as a distraction from the person he really wanted—he just grabbed your face and kissed you. A sweet and tender kiss, not a desperate or lustful kiss, but a longing one—one he'd waited much too long to give you.

And somehow, even in the midst of all the bad stuff, even in the midst of Steve finally breaking, the two of you could finally find a way to maybe, just maybe, be okay for once. ❤️‍🩹

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[philliam-writes]

you are in the earth of me [01]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Content: cot3 +1 (and kipps), canon-typical violence & horror, loss of family member (not just Lockwood), found family, touch starved Lockwood, childhood friends Kipps & Reader, childhood trauma, slow burn, rivals to lovers (if this stays a Lockwood/Reader), mature language (swearing), aged up characters (everybody's in their early 20s; Kipps is mid-20s), fem! Reader though pronouns are used sparingly and no use of y/n

Summary: “Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.” Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?” You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Notes: [02]

Words: 5.1k

A/N: Words will never suffice how much Lockwood & Co. has carried me through some of the toughest parts of my life. To see it adapted to a show is SO EXCITING, I couldn't help but be a little self-indulgent and plan out a whole ass story for my favourite three (+ Kipps) ghost hunters. So here we go.

This could either stay a Lockwood/fem!Reader or I could easily change it into Locklyle or even freaking poly cot3 x Reader or just Locklyle depending on what people want to read. I'm fine with pretty much everything; I just want my silly little Reader joining 35 Portland Row because I am in DIRE NEED OF FOUND FAMILY AND JUST SELF-INDULGENT GHOST HUNTING

So yeah, I'm totally open to people requesting Locklyle or anything for this one, but it's still gonna be from Reader's POV and focusing on an original story with action and characters studies and personal growth. Also sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language and I'd be super happy if someone offered to become my beta-reader for this! Any feedback is super super appreciated!!

01: let the dead hollers hum

when i first saw you, the end was soon to bethlehem it slouched and then it must've caught a good look at you

—hozier: nfwmb

At almost two in the morning the streets should be empty of people and cars, yet you manage to nearly get hit by a night cab turning down Tredegar Road. Its ghastly horn echoes like the wail of a Banshee through the dark, disturbing the peaceful night. Across the street, a kitchen light flickers to life inside a building. A shadow moves behind the white curtains, pausing for a second to look out at the street.

Bracing against the cutting wind, you turn up your maroon trenchcoat’s collar and duck your head like a turtle trying to hide inside its shell. It would have been much colder without your gloves now that the early winter bite is coming, but it’s still very unpleasant to be outside after the sun has set. Today is a clearer night, despite the day of rain; the moon chases stray wisps of cloud across an otherwise unmarked black sky.

London turns in earlier than usual now that the nights grow longer and colder—and more dangerous as well. Just yesterday you heard two more night-watch kids have succumbed to ghost-lock down at the warehouses near Blackfriars when they got distracted trying to warm up from the freezing evening rain that had set in after eleven. They turned into easy pickings for a Drowner lurking beneath the docs—former scoundrels who ended their sorry lives in the water by drowning. They rarely make a pleasant sight with their bloated limbs and skin wrinkled so hard it is peeling off like layers of paint.

It makes you glad to feel the familiar weight of your rapier hanging from your hip holster, to know that just within short reach, everything you need to protect yourself is at your disposal. That and the salt bombs around your belt. It’s hard not to feel safe while carrying around something with ‘bomb’ in its name.

You find the meeting point you’ve been summoned to at the end of the street. The Green Goose is a two-floor building with the restaurant at the bottom and what you can only assume the storage and other facilities upstairs. All sun-blinds on the first floor are drawn shut.

Few London establishments are open during the night, and fewest of all in the dark hours before the dawn. But places like this, catering for agents or night-watch kids, are easily recognised by the additional fortification against possibly unwanted visitors. High up where the first floor meets the second, heavy mistletoe bushes run around the whole building like a gigantic garland. You imagine in summer this would be lavender blooms, plunging the whole street into their thick, sweet scent. The door and windows are laced with iron grilles, and overhung with battered ghost-lamps. A few wooden dining tables and benches remain vacated outside, left to their own until the warmth of spring returns.

After a first glance inside the premise through the grimy windows, you don’t spot your friend. How much easier this would be if you could carry a phone around, just to check if you are at the right place. Now all you have to go on is his cryptic call before your shift started this morning, and a vague sense of the kind of establishments he likes based to his tastes.

Good thing you have known him for almost a decade.

But that doesn’t really give you an idea what exactly Quill Kipps wants from you. Maybe help with a case? Or he has finally realised he has a crush on his co-worker, that lemony-smelling Kat or Kate, and now he needs advice. Not hanging out at the dead of the night would be a preferable start.

Small bells jingle when you push the door open with your shoulder, and a waft of warm air scented with grease and coffee hits your nose, bringing heat back to your face. It looks a lot smaller than from the outside, narrow and with the sitting area stretched in an L-shape around the bar and counter in the middle. Behind that a pair of slightly askew doors lead to the kitchen where you can hear a radio play.

The first row of tables line alongside the window, then disappear further into the back. In the corner, two night-watch kids sit huddled together, quietly snoring and drooling on each other’s shoulders with their meagre food spread before them. A waitress with short black hair and a chubby chin standing behind the counter looks up from a magazine, stares at you, and blows out a baby-blue bubble of gum until it pops loudly.

She raises an eyebrow.

You raise one back at her.

From the other side of the entrance, you hear Kipps calling your name. At that, the waitress gives you a single, polite nod which you answer alike, as though you are two cowboys engaged in a stand-off who don’t want to shoot each other.

Marching down the narrow aisle, you pass an occupied table and accidentally bump into it. Cutlery rattles against an empty plate. You mumble a half-hearted apology and move on, barely listening to the grumbled answer or really looking at the man clad in black sitting there. He gives of a sweet, heavy scent you can’t really place, and quickly move on.

Knowing you’d arrive in a foul mood, Kipps has already ordered your favourite midnight snack after a hard day’s work: coffee and a simple English breakfast with a fried egg, hot and greasy sausages, crispy bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms on the side.

“It better be important, Kippy,” you say in lieu of hello, manoeuvring over his lap to the unoccupied seat by the window, using elbows and knees to execute a complicated dance with him so you can squeeze into the narrow booth. He grunts and makes barely any effort to make you room. His outstretched legs take up a disproportionate amount of real estate. “I got a ten hour shift behind me and I’m desperate for my bed.”

“You certainly smell like after a ten hour shift,” he comments, wrinkling his nose. Of course he looks well kempt and neat as always with not a single ginger curl on his head out of order. But there are dark circles under his eyes as though someone put a charcoal pen to his skin, betraying his tidy appearance. His eyes flit over your face for a second, scanning it for any injuries.

You give him your best shit-eating grin and wolf down on your eggs when someone clears his throat from across the table—and that’s when you realise Kipps isn’t alone.

Nursing a cup of tea, opposite you sits a young man in a black suit, slender and tall, his short, unruly hair swept back elegantly. He watches you with mild interest, his thin lips slightly pursed, like someone would watch a flock of hungry pigeons plunge towards bread crumbs spread by tourists at Hyde Park—nothing out of order. Just another regular sight in the big city on a late afternoon stroll.

You hold his steady, dark eyes when you bite into your egg, feeling the yolk escape at the corners of your mouth and run down your chin. You didn’t even realise how much you were starving.

“Hwo’sh yor fren’, ‘Ippy?” you ask with your mouth full because you have absolutely zero shame.

Kipps swallows a groan.

“Yes, Kippy,” the young man replies with the most soothing, alluring voice you have ever heard, as though he’s eaten silk and honey for breakfast. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

Kipps makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. Annoyance radiates off him stronger than any other-light you have seen on apparitions. “Friend is a bit much,” he says slowly, as though he has to talk around the word ‘friend’ because it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “That’s Lockwood.” You recognise his tone. It sounds a lot as if he’s saying That’s the biggest nuisance of my life.

The effect is pretty much the same.

You nearly choke on your next bite and aim for the coffee to wash it down. When you jerk your head around to stare at Kipps in disbelief, your eyes stretch wider than the dinner plate before you. Kipps must read what’s written on your face: That’s Lockwood? Tony Lockwood you can’t shut up about? Your arch-nemesis?

Kipps rolls his eyes so hard it must give him a spectacular view of his skull. Just humour me, his expression says.

“Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.”

Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?”

You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

Lockwood seems to understand, for he doesn’t inquire further, but his smile seems to freeze a little at the corners. “And you are?”

“Kipps’s friend.” You stuff the rest of your toast into your mouth and give your name. Lockwood blinks and keeps a polite smile, and doesn’t ask even though you’re sure he didn’t understand a word you just said.

“I wasn’t aware Kipps has friends.” Lockwood’s eyes have taken on a taunting glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “Certainly not friends at Rotwell.”

His eyes drop to the crest stitched onto the upper part of your sleeve on your trench-coat: a snarling lion holding a rapier in its front paw—the agency’s symbol—before he gives Kipps a pointed look as though that small detail would have been worth mentioning before they got up to whatever this is.

Kipps ignores him. “I called you because I need your help,” he says, sliding napkins over to you which you promptly ignore. “I need your Talent.”

You halt at that and give him a long, level look. Kipps doesn’t shy away from the weight of your gaze, and suddenly you become painfully aware of the tension surrounding them, thick enough you could cut it with your dull knife.

Slowly, you chew your sausage. “What exactly are we talking about?” you ask, voice quieter, matching Kipps’s. He’s doing that little wiggle in his seat, shifting his weight from left to right he always does when bracing for potential conflict. When he trails his eyes away from you, you follow them to Lockwood who is looking at Kipps as though seeing him for the first time.

From the pockets of his long, black coat, Lockwood pulls out a small wooden box. It would easily fit into the palm of your hand, and from where you sit you can’t see a particular design or anything on the surface. Lockwood slides the box across the table towards you, flips it over with his long, slender fingers, and opens the lid, revealing a small bronze key lying on a cushion surrounded by thin iron plates.

You stare at it for five, six seconds. Then reach out to take another big swig of your coffee. With no sugar, acidly bitter taste explodes on your tongue, just the way you like it.

“It’s a Source,” you say. “You just carry a Source around like that?”

“Exceptional observation skills,” Lockwood says with the mild tone of someone barely holding back his impatience. “I can see why you asked her to join us, Kippy.”

“I can see why Kipps wants to shove his rapier up your—”

“Trust me, I’d be the last one missing out on a chance to ridicule Lockwood,” Kipps interrupts, tapping a finger on the table in front of the box, “but Barnes wants results by tomorrow and I’d like to act like professionals for once, so can we please focus?”

Lockwood and you throw a mirror glare at Kipps that’s something along the lines of You’re one to talk. When you notice each other’s similar expressions, Lockwood quickly schools his features back to a neutral one. “It is secure inside its seal for now, but the Visitor contained in it is not particularly strong. If we’re quick, it won’t have time to come through,” he says.

You shake your head. “You’re mad. And you—” you knock your knee against Kipps’s—“what’s wrong with you for going along with this?”

“There’s just … not enough time,” Kipps says. Exhaustion seeps into his voice, strong enough to peel back layers of caution for he shares a quick glance with Lockwood and what they don’t say screams so loudly that you have to lean back and re-evaluate what you’ve known about their relationship up until now.

It seems that Kipps has missed out on filling you in on some crucial details about the past few weeks he has worked at Kensal Green Cemetery.

“Then why don’t you just tell me what this is about?” you say, looking over at Kipps sharply. “Why does Barnes need you both to work on it? Is it a Fittes job? Did Bobby get his greasy little hands on something and—”

“Actually,” Lockwood chimes in, “it is our case. Lockwood & Co. Kipps is … an associate. And we’re very short on time to solve this case. Let’s just say Kipps has a little favour to repay. We need someone who excels at Touch, and he said you are the best at it. You might be our last chance to find out more about this key.” He has switched from that arrogant drawl to a soft, melodic cadence with that maddeningly smooth voice of his. It has to be intentional—he is trying to play you like a fiddle with that charm he switched on like an industrial bulb.

“What’s there to solve? You got the Source, you sealed it. That’s all there is. This should be on its way to a furnace right now.” You fall back into your seat, eyes raking over Lockwood’s form. He doesn’t even wear a uniform for Christ’s sake. “And you call yourself an agent?”

And just like that the light goes out, the switch flicks off. Lockwood’s face is calm; the only sign of his agitation is a pulse hammering in his throat and a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Kipps shifts in his seat. “We can’t give it to Barnes yet,” he says in a quiet voice, wrenching your eyes away from the glaring contest you have engaged in with Lockwood. Kipps presses his lips into a thin line, and you can see the mental strain it takes on him to agree with something Lockwood said. His handsome face crumples as though he has bitten into a lemon. “We believe the murder of that Visitor is still out there.”

You digest that. Go in for some more food. It takes a lot more effort to swallow your bacon. “Even more reason to just leave it to Inspector Barnes and DEPRAC. Exactly why is this your responsibility?”

“Justice for the dead?” Kipps offers.

“Protecting the living?” Lockwood states nobly.

It sounds like a load of crap, but you are too sleep-deprived to bother figuring out what truly is at stake for them. Maybe another stupid bet, or whatever favour Kipps owes Lockwood from the last.

You run a hand through your hair, bobbing your leg up and down in a frantic rhythm. It isn’t your favourite thing to do, but you have always had a hard time telling Kipps no—and God knows he has done so much for you.

“You owe me,” you tell him. Kipps nods, and visibly relaxes with relief.

“Do you need me to—” he starts, sliding his hand across the seat and offering it to you. From across the table, you hear the seat’s leather creak as Lockwood leans forward to get a better look at what you are doing. It reminds you of a hound scenting blood in the air and going out on the hunt for its prey.

“No, I’m good. I’m not taking my gloves off anyway.” You don’t like using your Talent without anything to ground you, but there is something about the way Lockwood is looking at you two, hungry almost, as though he is categorizing a particular fascinating information to dissect it later and see what use he can draw from it. Best to just ignore him. Besides, without your gloves, you feel naked, vulnerable. This isn’t something for prying eyes—and Lockwood has an awfully piercing, scrutinising pair of unfathomably dark eyes you are not interested at all to get lost in.

You lean back into the seat and get comfortable first. It never works when you go in too tense because it takes more effort to peel away the wards of your consciousness. When Kipps takes the key and plays it into your open palm, you focus on its weight first—akin to a bird bone, you barely feel it through the thick fabric of your glove.

Which doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. The energy radiating off this thing is like a physical force pushing you back into the backrest of your seat. You close your eyes and focus on the low thrum of energy—feelings and impressions wash over you in torrents, layer after layer. Your chest feels heavy. Your stomach clenches in a hard, tight knot—fear. Fear grips you in a tight, cold grip.

Something is lurking, far far back, something unfathomably dark and abysmal but you can’t get a hold od if through your gloves and as you begin to sift through the chaotic blur of emotions to find the source—so much darkness, so much death; good Lord the things people did to get their hands on—

Excitement. A lingering echo burning so bright it blinds; hope swelling after long periods of dread, like the first spring buds blooming after a cruel, cold winter. Agitation. The adrenaline-inducing last sprint towards your goal knowing there is nothing that stops you from reaching it. The smell of damp soil and coppery hijacks your senses, and then—

Pain explodes in your chest, knocking you back against a cushioned surface. Your knees slam against something hard, sending hot shots of pain up your legs. Your eyes snap open but the world spins when all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and warmth spreads over your chest, liquid seeps through your fingers—but how? He could not. He would never—someone is screaming, a piercing, blood-churning scream. It takes a moment to realise the scream belongs to you; the wailing is drawn out from your raw throat, but how could anybody blame you; you are dying, shot in the chest by—

Someone is calling your name. Strong hands grab your shoulders and shake you hard as though trying to tear you away from a dream, a nightmare.

“Oh God, help me. He—he shot me—please help.” You gasp, trying to stop the bleeding by pressing your trembling hands against the wound.

“You’re fine. Listen to me, you’re fine. Nobody shot you!” A familiar voice—Kipps’s voice pierces through the wailing terror inside your head. You stare up at his green eyes which are paler than usual, widened in worry. “It’s just a psychic echo. You’re safe here.”

Another forceful inhale expands your lungs. The hot pinpoint pain in your chest subsides slowly with every shaking exhale, and when you look down at your hands, there is no blood sticking to your fingers, only coffee. When you hit your knees against the table, you knocked over your cup. Now the liquid is spreading across the table in a big puddle and dripping down its edges.

Lockwood is busy wiping the table clean with the leftover napkins while wildly gesturing with his free hand to the waitress looming over your table. “Just a long night, nothing serious,” you hear him say in haste. Either she isn’t interested or doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this; she shrugs and drags herself back behind the counter. You look around the establishment, ready to apologise for your outburst, but everybody has left already.

You turn around. When your eyes meet Lockwood’s, he grins, his smile so sudden and jarring as a thunderclap. “I have never seen anyone so sensitive to Touch. That was remarkable.” He beams as though you have performed an exceptional trick at the circus.

Something about the excitement in his voice sets you off—or maybe you are just still very raw from the experience, and the aftershock of such a gruesome echo is driving you up the wall.

“Oh yeah, it is so much fun! Feeling how people get killed every time is so worth it.” You grab your fork and stab your sausage with enough force you send tomatoes flying. On second thought, you are not hungry anymore. “Why don’t I get a gun and shoot you just so you can get an idea—”

“I’ve had my own fair share, thank you,” comes Lockwood’s flippant answer and for a second you imagine leaning over the table and smothering him with his own tie.

“So he was shot.” Kipps quickly steers the conversation back to its topic before you can follow your impulse. You slump against the seat, feeling pressure around your hand. When you look down, Kipps is holding your hand tightly, grounding you. You should have let him from the start. Weakly, you squeeze back. “We knew that already—”

“He … he never expected it to end like this,” you say slowly, gazing outside the window. Only your own reflection stares back at you. “He was shot by someone he knew. There was … genuine surprise. Before the pain, I mean. He couldn’t believe he would be hurt by someone he trusted. It was so absurd, he didn’t even have time to feel betrayed. That’s how unbelievable it was.”

“So it was someone very close to the victim. Who’s someone you’d never expect to betray you?” Kipps thinks aloud.

“Friends,” Lockwood provides.

“Family,” you say, quietly.

“A lover.” Kipps takes your fork and helps himself to some leftover mushrooms from your plate. When you look at the food, your stomach churns. “We should go back to the house tomorrow and see if you missed something, Tony. Wouldn’t surprise me if you managed to gloss over some obvious evidence,” he says to Lockwood.

“Why do you believe I would be the one—”

You shut out their bickering. A fine drizzle has set in outside, leaving small rain drops on the window. The street is a blur of black and faint white light from the ghost-lamps. When you look at your own face in the window’s reflection, your own eyes stare back at you—big, scared and haunted.

It always takes some time to get back after using your talent—to slowly build up the walls and distance yourself from the echoes of someone else’s life and the brutal way it ended. Deaths like these: sudden, violent, painful are always difficult to come back from. Which is why it is so important to have someone to ground you. Kipps has known you for so long, he is well aware how the psychic hangover drags your senses through the shredder and leaves your mind and body bruised and raw like an open nerve.

He had a few years training on how to handle it thanks to your brother.

The thought of Matthew shakes you awake and shoves you into full alertness, as if ice-cold water has been dumped down the back of your neck. You feel a sharp ache in your chest as you shove the ghost of his memory out of your mind, and then raw emptiness, as if a grappling hook has yanked your heart out of your body. It is just the aftershock—the hangover from the psychic connection, you try to reason. This is no time to allow grief back into your body, your mind.

Kipps must have heard the quiet sound you made, like a wounded animal. He falls dead silent mid-sentence and whips his head towards you. An echo of recognition passes his features for a second—there and gone so quickly, you think you imagined it.

“We are done here,” he says, and reaches over to close the box’s lid with a resolute click. You didn’t even notice he has taken the key away from you and returned it inside its seal. Lockwood opens his mouth, as though ready to argue, but whatever expression your face paints, even he recognises that you have reached your limit. Without another word, he swiftly slides the box back into his pocket.

You turn away from them, feeling anger and frustration boil inside you. You don’t want them to think you are weak just because you are a little more sensitive than other agents who can use Touch.

“Want me to drop you off the dormitory?” Kipps asks, his voice intensely neutral. He is digging through his purse to pay for your food, and shoots a glare towards Lockwood to indicate that no, he will not pay for his.

The dormitory for Rotwell agents, commonly known as the Lions Den, are rows of sand-bricked two-room apartments housing most of Rotwell’s younger agents in Chelsea. Half of your monthly salary evaporates just for paying rent, but at least it is a roof over your head and only a few stops away from your workplace. There is also something about pretending to belong to the upper posh class of London, to stroll through the highly-maintained gardens and polished windows glinting like diamonds in the early morning sun. They don’t have to deal with countless sleepless nights, the psychic hangover that makes you feel as if your body is not your own, or the constant fear every shift might be the last.

Sometimes it is that moment of pretending as though you live a different life that makes a difference.

“It’s okay, I’ll just take a cab.” Because for one, Kipps lives on the other side of the city, and two, you need to be alone.

Kipps nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Lockwood stays silent and is completely relaxed, a paragon of serenity with alert, dark eyes.

You scoot out of the booth and follow them outside into the cold drizzle. Mist hangs in the dark streets, rendering the area nearly invisible. Kipps and Lockwood share a few quiet words. When they part, Lockwood’s coat end flaps like black wings in the dark. He turns halfway around, gives you a long, considering look over the back of his shoulder. He parts with a single, almost approving nod, then ducks his head against the biting wind and strides down the street, disappearing into the dark night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kipps buttons the front of your trenchcoat. He is balancing on the back of his heels—an old habit when he feels bad for something and doesn’t quite know how to apologise and it would be easier to just bail from the conflict. “You still look like shit.”

You give him a weak kick to the shin. His shoulders relax. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow about how it went,” he says, jamming his hands inside his pockets. He pulls one out again and shoves a crushed candy into your hand. It’s your favourite brand and for the first time today, you feel something warm spreading in your chest.

“Wait.” Before he can turn away, you quickly catch his sleeve and make him turn around. “About that key…”

“Is there anything else?” Kipps leans forward and you have to bend your neck back to meet his eyes.

You remember when he was much smaller and you were at the same eye level. At 13 years, Kipps used to be smaller than the rest of the boys at Stroud & Co. where you started out your agent career and met. He’s had his share of playing errand boy or punching bag for the older, taller boys, until Matthew came along one day, dunked one of Kipps’s bullies into an overflowing rain barrel and got his nose broken in return.

They became best friends after that, and you in the middle. Matthew, Quill, and you. Lock, Shock, and Barrel.

Now, only two remain.

Kipps claps your shoulder, snapping you out of the memory and dispersing the picture you have conjured in your mind of him young. Today, he stands tall and broad-shouldered before you, twice in size and muscle. Nobody sane would try and mess with him.

“What’s wrong?” Kipps asks. “Where did you go in there?” He taps two fingers against his temple.

“When I was holding the key, the recent death was the strongest echo, but there was more. Like … way, way more.” You sling your arms around yourself. “Like many layers on a painting, and whatever is underneath all that … it feels evil. Really, really evil. There is a lot of death attached to that key.”

Kipps chews on this. He looks down the street to where Lockwood has vanished, his square jaw drawn tense. “I can’t say Lockwood’s stake on this, but I don’t care much about its history. It changed owners, I get it, but who would kill for something like that?”

“I don’t know.” You think back to the smell of blood, to the underlying eagerness to own that key. “But if that key is already that vile,” you say, shuddering, “then what about the thing it opens?”

“Not important to me as long as it’s not our problem.” He yawns, and taps a foot against the hard pavement to stave off the cold. “I bet it got destroyed or lost long ago. There is no way it’s still around.” Kipps runs a hand through his hair. It curls against his temple and neck in the damp mist. “Chances are high we’ll never hear anything about it ever again after this week. Case closed. Thanks for helping us. I’m sure DEPRAC can find the murderer and it’ll be just another case in the books.”

“Yeah, sure. I guess you’re right.” You barely hold back a yawn.

Kipps nudges your elbow. “I’ll catch up with you later, OK? Gotta make sure Lockwood’s the one who messed up the earlier investigation and go back to the crime scene.”

“Doing the Lord’s work,” you joke and give him a mocking salute. For the first time tonight, Kipps grins that lopsided half-grin showing part of his white teeth before he rushes off into the night after Lockwood.

For a moment, you stand still and let the drizzle engulf you. Although you have been almost sixteen hours on your feet, exhaustion has slowly trickled away, and in its stead a bone-deep anxiety has settled. Sleep. You need to sleep this off, and everything will return back to normal by tomorrow.

Heading for the main street to catch a night cab, you don’t turn around, and just like that, you miss out on the shadow unhitching itself from a wall even though the ghost-lamp flickers to life.

A/N: hmu if you want to join the taglist!

[izzywantscheesecake]

end of the semester

Pairing: Roommate!Hobie x RoommateGN!Reader🕸🕷🎸 Fandom: Into/Across/Beyond the Spiderverse Quick Synopsis: Your final grade in a class was poor, so Hobie is there to give you a pep talk. Tags: Drabble, Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (besides maybe slight height mention?), reader can be male/female or none, Hobie and reader can be read as a platonic or romantic pairing, Fluff, Comfort, very slight use of british slang, kind of self indulgent.

It was a chilly Tuesday afternoon, the perfect day to use whatever was in the fridge to make something instead of ordering food like Hobie was doing for the past week.

He grabbed lettuce, already cooked leftover chicken, tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers and placed everything to the side while he got started on cutting the latter.

It had been a good minute since he washed the veggies and began cutting, but his pace started to get slower and slower.

Something felt off. He just knew it.

Suddenly, the front door swung open, and there you walked in, hands covering your eyes as you let out the loudest groan known to man. 

In an instant, you grabbed onto your bag barely attached to your arm, and threw it towards the side of the ottoman, where it landed and fell over, exposing your pencils to the carpet.

You then kicked off your shoes and plopped yourself face first onto one of the couch pillows.

Hobie redirected his focus from the salad he was making to your pretty depressed state. “What happened to you?”

“I’m dead.”

“Alright, ‘Dead,’ can you explain what’s going on with my roommate right now?”

“Ha ha.” You lifted yourself up from the pillow, with the emotion ‘upset’ practically plastered onto your face like gum on pavement. “Grades were put in today.”

“I know, haven’t checked mine yet. Just trying to enjoy the last meal of my day before it all turns to shit,” Hobie chuckled, pouring his cut cucumbers into the bowl with a knife.

“Yeah.”

“I’m assuming you checked yours?”

“Mhm, I did great in everything, you know, the standard A minuses and A pluses, but..” You paused.

“But?”

“..I did great in everything but calculus.”

“What'd ya get?” 

“C.”

Hobie went silent for a few seconds, before giving you a short round of applause.

“Not bad. At least it wasn’t an F.”

“I know, but..”

“But what?”

“I’m just disappointed ‘cause I worked so hard this semester. I took notes, spoke to teachers, bought extra material and even got a tutor at some point. All that just for a C. Maybe I should’ve studied longer, crammed more..”

You hadn’t even noticed Hobie move from his position and begin to walk towards you as you rambled.

When you snapped back to reality and saw his loud and obnoxious pajama pants standing in front of you, you paused. He kneeled down to match your height, and put both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Listen, Y/N. I know you’ve worked hard, I’ve seen it, but this is way more trivial than you think.”

“I-”

“I know a C isn’t usually considered the best grade and all, but.. It’s calculus. You got stuck with this class. Some people go through the entire four years of schooling without doing calculus, me planning to be one of them. I think the fact you passed this semester with an okay grade and even better grades on everything else is incredible.”

You stayed silent as he searched your eyes, waiting for any type of reaction.

“I’m just saying, don’t beat yourself up about this, love. It’s just one C in a sea of A’s.”

You smiled at him. “I guess that’s true.”

“Bloody right it is.”

He stood up, and walked back towards the mini-kitchen.

“Any road, pop on your PJ’s and find something for us to watch. We’re gonna need a good laugh before we see how I did.”

A/N: can you tell i'm about to fail my classes and this is my last ditch effort in creating happiness before shit hits the fan

[projectjasper]

for the ask game... toey! 🙌

damn, y'all decided to really indulge me today and have me write out a million headcanons! well, thank you 🥹

choose a character and ask about my headcanons here, if you like

🏳️‍🌈 a sexuality headcanon

biromantic asexual.

🏳️‍⚧️ a gender headcanon

honestly, he's kind of giving binary trans guy vibes, so let's go with that <3

😇 a headcanon about their religion/lack thereof

very religious, buddhist obviously. can't say any more on that, because i am unfortunately not very knowledgable about buddhism, but yeah.

🧸 a headcanon about their childhood

from the little that we know of his parents, it seems like they accepted the fact that he suddenly decided to study art, which is a good sign. he also seems fairly well-adjusted. but we do know he was bullied at school, which means his nice home life was unfortunately up against his shitty school life, so he has had some bad experiences during his childhood for sure.

👻 a headcanon about what scares them

horror movies! cannot stand them. has nightmares after watching them all the time. psychologically, abandonment, obviously (thanks, q /lh).

🎶 a headcanon about music

post-punk for life, actually.

💤 a headcanon about their sleep

he falls asleep really easily ✨ imagining scenarios ✨

💝 a headcanon about their love language

i think quality time wins with him. just being there, next to q, was enough for him. but also acts of service, because he legit giggled and kicked his feet, when q sharpened his pencils.

🫂 a friendship headcanon

despite his charming and adorable personality, he doesn't make friends that easily. he really only got close with matt organically. otherwise, fang and phum started protecting him first, and he got close to our main friendship group through becoming q's mentee.

💔 an angsty headcanon

he spent a lot of time crying and wondering what he's done wrong after q disappeared :(

🪢 a headcanon about their family

like i mentioned, when i talked about his childhood, i think his parents are really lovely. oh, and he is an only child.

📓 a headcanon about their hobbies

to top off skateboarding and drawing, he gives me gamer vibes.

👗 a headcanon about their clothes

he is giving someone who dresses at a store for skaters but doesn't actually care about fashion that much. he has the familiar baggy jeans and shoes and everything, but they don't feel that intentional.

🔪 a headcanon relating to fighting/violence

just absolutely not a violent person at all.

🌟 a headcanon about their desires/wishes

i don't think he's quite there yet, but paired off with my gaming headcanon, i think he's gonna wanna be something like a concept artist for games and stuff in the future.

🥇 a headcanon about what they’re best at

he's great at art! no questions there! he might not have that immediate natural talent like q, but he's really good and he improves daily.

🍫 a headcanon about food

he loves sweet things. can't live without soda and chocolate and snacks.

🎭 a headcanon about what they lie about

to be honest, despite all the shenanigans, i don't think he is big on lying.

❤️‍🔥 a romantic headcanon

he is a very softly romantic person. i don't think he's huge on any "classic" romantic gestures, none of that restaurants and roses and things. but he is very romantic in the big sense, i'm sure the fact that he has been in love with q this whole time and has been waiting for him is proof enough of that. and he definitely loves their special little romantic quirks, like the sticky notes.

😺 an animal related headcanon

he adores animals of all sorts and qtoey are probably gonna have a whole entire zoo at their home in a couple of years.

😭 a headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them

probably unfortunately q disappearing. all the school stuff is definitely a close second, but i think his sticky note crush just caused that special kind of self-doubt, and no one was in his corner (regarding that particular situation) to support him with what he was going through and convince him he wasn't at fault.

😶 a random headcanon!

he is deeply monogamous or, as i like to call it, delusionally loyal. meaning that even if he was approached by someone, who was interested in him, in that period between q disappearing and them getting close again, he would reject that person, because he was waiting for q.

[runningupthatvecna]

night drive | part 1

joseph quinn x fem!reader

masterlist

story summary: you're just out there working your job when you encounter a special (and very familiar) client that is going to change your life. for the better, obviously. but should you really entertain personal relations with a client of yours?

general tags/warnings: rpf (don't like, don't read), strangers to lovers, mutual pining, fluff and eventual spice, slow burn, this will be just a small fluffy happy story tbh :)

chapter summary: it's just another day at work. at least that's what you think to yourself when you leave your flat in berlin one morning, yet unknowing that this day – or more like the client you have to drive to his destination – is being surprisingly gentle and kind to you, his personal driver. and the best part about it? he doesn't seem too scared of you wanting to get your daily dose of adrenaline.

cw/tw: fluff! just the overwhelming smol bean sweetness that is joseph quinn really, mentions of driving at high speeds on a highway, very brief mention of throwing up and usage of drugs, y/n mentioned once (1) at the end

word count: 3,9k

a/n: this idea has been engraved in my brain for literal months and i'm being reminded of it every goddamn time i am at work. so i had to get it out, right? jesus, yeah this is gonna be incredibly self-indulgent since i am german (stereotypes apply), but i tried to keep this as non-german as possible so more of you can relate in some way. hope that's alright and not too underwhelming in general. also, please leave me feedback/reblogs if you've enjoyed this so far! thank you and i love you :)

-----

Let's see who's gonna be flying in today, you thought to yourself as you shoved the last bite of your toasted bread slice into your mouth. Always have to have some form of breakfast at least.

Early signs of sunrise were making an entrance across the sky as you downed the last sips of your orange juice, leaving a tickling sour-sweet taste on your tongue.

Thankfully, your work uniform could easily be changed into something lighter and more casual during the summer months, which is why you only had to throw on a linen blouse and a pair of pants of the same fabric, supporting the flow of air around your skin to help keep your body at a reasonable temperature.

Berlin summers could be brutal, mainly regarding temperature, which is why the air conditioned environment you found yourself working in was the main reason for you to feel grateful these days.

Earning the bread while driving people around? And not in a oh god this guy is so drunk he's going to spill the insides of his stomach in my uber kind of way, but being the exclusive chauffeur for important people? Yeah, it could definitely be worse.

Especially in Berlin, where you can be anything you want.

Most people here get lost in the consumption of intoxicating substances while spending their entire weekends at Sisyphos; they have epiphanies about starting a career in dj-ing, before abandoning that idea again two weeks later just to start a food blog or become a yoga teacher. Long forgotten be the actual reason they once moved here in the first place. For studying or something.

There was a time when you used to think that this specific culture was cool, the same thought a lot of countryside kids think before they wave goodbye to their boring stuck-in-1982 German village life, trying to escape the impending doom of getting tied down to the soils of their direct ancestors, and decide to move here.

But the years of seeing what you had seen here had changed your mindset. A lot.

You loved the morning. The peaceful silence and quietness, empty streets when you could still hear the chirping of the birds, before the rush and heat of the hectic city would cast its overlay over East and West, before most people would start their day, trying to make it to everlasting work, meetings, important business corporate tralala on time.

It was something you had learned to appreciate early on after moving here.

Lighter shades of blue creeped upon the sky now, a sign for you to get ready to leave for your first client of the day.

Airport runs, all day long.

The morning shift, yeah.

You wondered how many people with sticks up their ass you would encounter today, since Germans were usually more of the awkward silence type. Some proved themselves to be quite bearable though, engaging in friendly small talk you would always try to initiate, just to break the tension in the air which sitting in close proximity to total strangers could evoke.

Plus, you never knew who else you would have to transfer. Could it be some important sheikh from Dubai today? A South African basketball player? Maybe the ambassador of Canada, though that would require a police escort.

Ever since you got your license, you had always enjoyed driving. You kinda have to get one if you grow up in small town Germany, where there is a bus service going, but only once per decade or so. Driving had to essentially be part of your DNA at this point.

Grabbing your keys and handbag filled with a water bottle, tissues, really good smelling deodorant, some chocolate you hoped wouldn't melt in the heat of late-ish May, and other small and useful things, you headed outside.

A shiny pearly white Audi A6 was sitting in your street elegantly, a bit further down from your building. Not your own, sadly. It was owned by the agency you worked for; however, with the frequency you found yourself driving it, it could be considered your property anyway.

You really couldn't complain. It was the latest model, seat and steering wheel heating, Apple carplay, a grade A sound system, cruise control, lane assist and all sorts of other nice features a modern car had these days.

From time to time the astonishment about being trusted enough to steer this four-wheeled beast in Berlin traffic was getting to your head.

The click of the lock was like music to your ears and you threw your bag on the passenger seat, since the clients you were supposed to transfer usually sat in the back.

Like a cab, but more personal and exclusive.

The warmth of the previous day had stayed inside the car overnight, which made you lightly turn up the A/C.

You had driven the route to the airport enough times to have figured out alternatives when the main roads would be too full with traffic during rush hours, so you were never really late for work. A true German virtue.

The first client of the day was some journalist working for the German broadcasting service ARD and it was your job to deliver them to the headquarters.

As per usual you asked them a few questions, from where they were flying in, how long they'd be staying, if they'd been to the city or even the country before, etc.

Right after drop off in the center, waving the journalist goodbye and wishing them a great time, your work phone received the message with further info for your next commission.

It was always like this. You'd receive a text message with pick up and drop off address, name of the client and their time of arrival at the airport. Sometimes additional instructions.

And yes, you needed to hurry.

You needed to hurry so much in fact, that your brain completely overlooked the name of the client next on your agenda. Your sole focus was on the time, and it became clear to you that you only had thirty minutes to make the distance.

The time aspect was always but thankfully the only stressful part of your job, still you loved it nonetheless.

You could be on the road twentyfour-seven, if one would let you.

Exceeding the speed limit on the A113 only slightly by 19km/h, you made your way back out to the airport before sliding out of the driver's seat. And yes, you had to get into the building with one of those cringy signs that spelled out the name of the person you'd be awaiting.

As you locked the car out front, parked between two cabs not too far away from the huge sliding doors of the immense window front underneath the massive concrete roof of terminal 1, your entire system flooded with the tingling sensation of nervousness.

You felt your heart make five million jumps, heat rising to your cheeks, and it wasn't because the early morning sun was already casting its heat down onto earth.

It was because of the name next to the arrival time info that you only now had to pay attention to.

It was half past seven, ten minutes after his estimated landing time, and you wondered how long it would take for him to make his way through the maze that BER could be and waltz through those sliding doors in the arrival hall.

The thoughts in your head went faster than what you'd just been going on the highway to get here.

You were about to pick up Joseph Quinn.

British actor, one of your absolute favourites. You knew about all the roles he had been working on, before his international breakthrough on Stranger Things' latest season, which is exactly why now, internally, you were screaming.

Your nervousness only got worse with every opening slide of the doors, built into the wall that kept the arrival hall and baggage claim separate, revealing behind it another random person that wasn't him.

The feeling of impatience grew with each passing second, mixing into the blood you felt getting pumped through you at increasing intensity, mingling with the rushes of euphoria and thrill caused by the thoughts of meeting someone you had so much admiration for.

And yet, a yawn escaped you just in the right moment, just when the doors opened for what felt like the millionth time within the fifteen minutes of you waiting behind the little gate.

He was wearing a dark blue cap, flattening down his light brown curls and making them stick to his (fore)head, brown sunglasses sitting on the brim, a white button down with chest pockets paired with light blue jeans and two rather thin silver chains around his neck. The sleeves of the button down folded right below the elbows. A black leather jacket hung over his forearm, his phone in the hand. A small dark blue suitcase on wheels was following behind him pulled by his free hand, alongside a middle-aged woman you guessed was his manager, because she stuck by his side, holding onto her own phone and own suitcase for dear life.

Didn't seem too fond of airports, you guessed.

With the way he was dressing it almost looked like he was here for much more casual reasons, but you were mostly to never driving people around just for leisure.

You could see him scanning the gathering of people awaiting someone, in search for a sign with an all too familiar name on it.

When his eyes fell on you, he smiled, warmly. Approached you, in fact, and with the way this man maintained eye contact, you felt your knees go weaker with each step he took in your direction.

You now understood what everyone that had met him was going on about.

Your breath hitched in your throat, forcing you to clear it to avoid your voice coming out as a squeak.

While dragging in one long inhale, you tried to gather every last ounce of your confidence, praying to whatever higher power there was that neither of them would catch a whiff of your tense nerves.

Okay, okay. Oh god. Okay, be professional.

He's just another client.

"Good morning, welcome to Berlin!" A smile appeared on your lips as you were met with Joe's warm reaction before you went on with your usual routine as your brain defaulted to that, telling them your name, mentioning that you'd be here to drive them to their destination.

"Hey darling, pleasure to meet you", he shot you another warm smile, lightly touching your upper arm right above your elbow to emphasize what he had just said. You just couldn't help but chuckle lightly at his Britishness and his subtle yet intentional touch made your arm almost twitch. And the skin underneath your linen blouse warm up.

Darling.

You knew well enough that it was more of a casual thing for a British person to say and that there wasn't anything to read into, buuuuuut you just couldn't help the way you found yourself attracted to him. It was melting you. You felt warmth spread on your cheeks at his words.

All of a sudden, it became so much clearer as to why everyone's brain chemistry seemed to be altered in a good way after an encounter of this kind.

And to your surprise, your nervousness was slowly vanishing into thin air. His presence, the way he was looking at you all soft and gentle, his entire aura was calming you in a way you just didn't expect to happen at all while being around him for the first time.

The realisation that he was indeed real and just a human being was doing its part, you guessed.

As you lead them out of the building, straight to your car as discreetly as possible, trying not to evoke the attention of any potential fan, you felt his eyes on you.

Okay, let's stay professional.

Sure you had met all sorts of interesting people through your job, and yes, there also had been moments you had gotten a bit starstruck before. For example when you'd met Dave Grohl while driving him to an appointment at Universal the other day.

However, nothing you had experienced at your job had you feeling quite like Mr Joseph Quinn was making you feel.

You were internally dying to ask him a million questions. And you were going to be surprised at how many he was going to direct towards you.

"So, what brings you to Berlin?", you asked after the carry-on's got safely tucked away in the trunk and all of you had settled into your seats. His manager behind you, him behind the seat your handbag was still occupying.

From the address that was given to you, you could already tell what his answer was going to be, yet you wanted to hear it from him and avoid making assumptions.

You set the car into motion, leaving the parking bay to make your way towards the highway, and while you asked your question number one, you briefly stole a few glances at him through the rear view mirror, awaiting his response.

And yes, he noticed.

His smile appeared back on his face, before he started explaining how this trip was going to be the start of him being on the move back and forth between London and Berlin for the coming weeks since he got cast in something and was now set to film said something here.

"I am quite excited to be part of it, actually. It's gonna be directed by one of my favourite directors and I honestly have had my eyes on working with him ever since I went to drama school years ago", he explained further with a nod, another look at him through the rear revealing the small spark in his eye.

You were getting excited for him.

"You must be quite nervous then, meeting him and the cast and all for the first time?"

You were also almost stunned at yourself for how many words you were able to put into a cohesive sentence in his presence.

A light chuckle escaped his chest, "oh yeah definitely. It's always a bit nerve-wrecking meeting everyone. But the excitement about being somewhere new and being surrounded by new people and getting to experience new things kind of balances it out quite bearably."

His deep brown eyes found yours again through the mirror. The eye contact this man was able to hold, even without being face to face with his person opposite, was honestly impressive.

You wanted to tell him. About how you'd seen all of his previous work, how all of his performances always left you completely stunned out of your mind since you were unable to wrap your head around how anyone could be this good at acting and portraying characters the way he always managed to. About how proud you were of him, seeing him succeed and receive things he'd been dreaming of, getting the things in life he'd always seemed to want and work towards. About how you had nothing but utter admiration for him. But you couldn't, because that would mean overstepping your boundaries.

Maybe, just maybe you would say that at the end of the week, when you were scheduled to shuttle him back to the airport.

"That sounds .. bearable", you quipped before continuing on a more serious note, "is this your first time here then?"

"Yes and no, I think I was here one time with school, but that was ages ago. We went and saw a few places, as part of history class, but I didn't pay enough attention back then to remember details, if I'm honest."

He let out another one of his deep chuckles.

Delightful how he was elaborating on his answers instead of keeping them one or two-worded.

"Oh, that doesn't count then", you answered while putting the car in cruise control as you switched back onto the A113. Speed limit was at 120km/h and you intended to stay there this time.

"Yeah, I definitely need a refresher I think, maybe I'll have some time on my days off during the next weeks. What about you, are you from here?"

Why, need a tour guide, Mr Quinn?

Just now, the A/C brought a whiff of his scent around to you, which you hadn't really taken note of before when he had stood close enough while greeting you at the terminal. Sandalwood, bergamot, a slight note of lingering cigarette smoke.

Once again you shot him a little glance through the mirror, which is when you noticed that his manager had passed out with her head resting against the window.

Sleep deprived, aren't we all?

"Yes and no", you mirrored him, "I grew up the South, in an insignificantly small town somewhere between Stuttgart and Munich, if you happen to know where that is?"

Joseph nodded, still with a curious expression decorating his facial features.

A bit impressed at his geography knowledge, you continued.

"I was born in the West, my family's from there originally. But I've been living in Berlin for a solid five years now, so I do consider myself somewhat of a local."

"That sounds sweet. So you know all the good spots then, hm?"

"Oh, for sure", you replied quirking up an eyebrow and then paused when you took the exit onto the A10, just to ask him, "ever been on a German highway before?"

"Not that I can recall", his voice changed into one of a slightly worried tone and you had a feeling that he was raising an eyebrow at you, "um, why?"

"You're about to see, just let me know in case the speed is making you uncomfortable or anything, I can go slower."

You could tell from the expression on his face that he wasn't sure if he should laugh or be terrified about what you just said to him, but he ended up giving you the green light anyway.

You thanked him mentally for the trust he was instilling in you.

No speed limit for at least 12km, aka getting paid to play Formula 1 in real life. Unfortunately, morning traffic crossed your plans of mildly and humbly impressing him (and his still asleep manager), so the top speed for today stayed at a cozy 173km/h. And maybe it was a good thing, getting speedblocked by traffic and keeping you from exposing yourself as a douchey sucker for speeds above two hundred kilometers per hour.

"You must really enjoy driving", you heard him almost mumble, a smile playing on his plush pink lips, almost making the colour in them disappear as it grew wider. He looked as if something in his head just clicked into place and he had come to a realization.

"Oh, what gave me away?"

"I think it's the way you stay so calm and collected while switching lanes at light speed."

His conclusion made you snort a little, the way he said it with such British seriousness.

"It's actually my German genes, you know?", you quipped back at him, without taking your eyes off what was happening in front of you.

You figured Joe would be appreciative of that.

Throughout the whole rest of the thirty minute ride to Babelsberg, a part of the town of Potsdam, with Babelsberg itself being a prestigious area with all sorts of different film sets and a bunch of production companies located at, there was not a single second in which you felt uncomfortable. No awkward silence whatsoever. And you hadn't even have to be the one breaking the ice this time.

Because there wasn't any to break in the first place. It was almost like the two of you had met before.

However, you kept the topics of your conversation on a strict small talk level. Your own level of professionalism was nagging at your brain in the back of your head continuously. You shouldn't be engaging in sharing personal info. You weren't supposed to make and entertain any sort of deep(er) connection with clients.

They were just clients and you were just their designated driver.

So you kept the convo at a strictly friendly brief small talk level.

Eventually you reached the hotel your two passengers were going to be staying at for the time being, and after you had gotten their suitcases out of the trunk for them in the hotel entry way, you actually worked up the courage to ask Joseph for a picture.

You knew yourself well enough that if you didn't, you'd regret it for the rest of your time on earth. And surely this was a once in a time-on-earth encounter, right?

-----

Another few airport calls were awaiting you silently through single respective vibrations of your work phone.

The outlook on the rest of the day was making a rather dull impression on you, not surprising after the morning you just had.

Pick up a medium known German actress and transfer her to the set of a talk show. Some athlete needing to get to the olympic stadium for some training camp. Another journalist scheduled to attend a convention. Another random rich person able to afford private shuttle service asking you to drive them to some hotel in the center.

Your thoughts kept drifting to your (by far) favourite encounter of the day. Over and over and over again.

During your lonely lunch break on the parking lot of the airport's closest gas station, you couldn't stop yourself from grinning at your private phone screen, the few selfies Joseph had taken of the both of you being reproduced on the display and being swiped back and forth by your thumb.

He had swung an arm around your half a head smaller figure, pulled you surprisingly tight into his white button up covering his side, cap still forcing this light brown curls to stick to his forehead, the arm not surrounding you stretched out, holding your phone into the warm early summer air, spinning the both of you around to find the best angle and background with one of his silly little giggles filling your ears.

In one of the photos, a toothy smile spread across both of your faces; another was slightly blurred because his focus was lying on taking you in instead of bothering to hold the phone steady.

Yeah, just a client.

The rest of the shift went the utmost ordinary and usual way. Time flew, which you were thankful for, since the only thing you wanted to do at this point was go home, refresh yourself through showering your warmed up skin in cool water, and keep staring at those photos juuust a little more.

For what would be the last time today your work phone vibrated once more, and the reason appeared entirely clueless to you as you were already on your way home.

A direct message from your boss.

Hey y/n, special commission for you this coming week. You're going to be assigned to Mr Quinn exclusively for the entirety of his stay. He will need transfer between hotel and film set twice daily until his ADT on May 27. I know I can count on you. Cheers and enjoy the rest of your evening.

– Laurenz

The letters of the words became a blur in your periphery.

Oh dear lord.

-----

taglist is empty and open

[switch-writer]

Liyue’s Laws

Lee!Scaramouche/Wanderer, Ler!Yanfei

A/N: ALRIGHT! So, ahem. Let me start out by saying isn’t my fic but rather one by a extremely close friend of mine (whom, dare I say, is my best friend). I personally loved reading this and asked if I could post it for them due to them wishing to be anonymous for various reasons! The pairing being Wanderer and Yanfei is actually due to us playing Genshin Impact quite often recently and I recently began to main Wanderer while they main Yanfei! Sooo it was a very self indulgent pairing but still one that actually works quite alright! And I do ask be gentle with this fic. This was my dear friend’s first time writing for Genshin Impact, along with these two characters and I believe they did very well so I wanted to share it! I hope you enjoy! :D

Description: Upon arriving in the City of Contacts, Scaramouche meets up with a familiar legal advisor who has to teach him a bit about the laws!

“And for civil cases like this, I charge-“ Yanfei paused, looking away from her potential client and seeing a familiar face. “You know what- Here’s my card. Let me write my prices on the back for you- One moment… Okay! Here you go- I know this is only a civil case that you’ll need my help with, so I’d be happy to discuss the case further with you on another day… perhaps in two days?” She smiled at the client as they nodded and took the card, walking out.

With that, the adeptus stood up from her desk, quickly placing a ‘Be back in 30!’ sign down on said desk.

“How’d you manage to sneak into my office?” Yanfei questioned the wanderer with a smile on her face.

“I dunno..? The door was just kinda… unlocked.”

“Shoot- I knew I was forgetting something. What are you doing in Liyue? Wait! Don’t answer that. I bet I can guess- Are you just traveling through?”

Scaramouche replied with a shrug.

“What an awfully detailed answer. Well! Lucky for you, I was about to go on my break anyway. Now- Did you need me for a legal situation, or were you just stopping by?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m in some kind of legal trouble, but I’m just stopping by.” The anemo user snickered, leaning on the doorframe to the office.

“Well, I *am* a legal advisor, and you did show up to my job. At that point why wouldn’t I assume?”

Yanfei sat back down, motioning to the seat in front of her desk for Scara to take a seat. The two had spent some time chatting about the wanderer’s travels with the traveler and their floating companion- Or as the traveler affectionately referred to her as, ‘emergency food.’ Though knowing those two, it didn’t take long for the conversation topic to switch to something more serious.

“Now, I personally find that topic to be quite interesting to debate on. Mainly because I enjoy hearing people’s opinions on the Northland Bank! Though my *actual* favorite topic would be discussing Liyue’s laws. Ooh! Wait! Do you have a favorite law from Liyue specifically?”

Scaramouche stared at the pink haired woman, shaking his head.

“No… I never particularly studied the laws here. At least… studied them to the extent that you do.”

The adeptus snickered, shaking her head. Though she suddenly got an idea. Albeit, a mean idea, but it was an idea nonetheless.

“That’s just a shame. They’re a good thing to know, y’know! Although I guess if everyone knew the law, there wouldn’t be a need for jobs like mine… However, I could teach you some of the laws! Maybe some of the important ones?”

The anemo user continued staring at Yanfei, slightly in disbelief before just shrugging. He knew there was no stopping her when it came to one of her favorite topics like this, and frankly, he didn’t mind it.

“Sure. Do you have a favorite one or…” The wanderer questioned, watching as the adeptus started to smirk. “…And you’re smirking… whyyy?”

Yanfei stood up, walking around her desk and standing next to the chair that Scaramouche was currently sitting in. She leaned against her desk, thinking for a moment.

“Sure, I’ve got plenty of favorites. Although, I don’t have any paper to write them down on… uh… and I can’t use ink on your hand- It would just rub off eventually.” She lied. She did in fact have paper. Though the ink thing was true.

“We could always save it for another day then, Yanfei.”

“Hm… Oh! Wait a second. I just remembered that there *is* another way I can write it down for you, but you’d really have to rely on your memory, because I’m not gonna use ink. May I have your hand?” Yanfei smiled, holding out her hand.

Scaramouche looked at her hand, then at her face, then back at her hand before just holding his hand out, palm up.

“Great! Now, this first law is a personal favorite- ‘Commercial Law of Liyue,’ Chapter…” As she spoke, she used her index finger to trace out the words on the wanderer’s palm. Almost immediately, he closed his hand up, grabbing her finger.

“Aha! I knew it. I had a feeling that you were ticklish!”

“Who said anything about me being ticklish? I just closed my hand.” Scaramouche quickly replied, opening up his hand again to avoid any further suspicion.

“…Now why do I get the feeling that you’re not being totally honest with me, hm?” Yanfei questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Anyhow… Liyue’s Laws, Chapter 54, Section 3…” She paused, looking up at Scaramouche, who was currently smiling and biting his lip.

“Are you okay…?”

“Yeah yeah yeah- I’m good. Keep going.”

The legal advisor smiled and nodded. “Article 5 stipulates that-“ Yanfei was cut off by a burst of giggles from the wanderer. She looked up with a knowing smile, deciding that the reaction was adorable from the stoic anemo user.

“Ihihi’m sohohorry-“ Scaramouche giggled, closing his hand once again. “Ihi dihidn’t mean to cut you ohohoff.”

The adeptus smirked, getting an idea.

“Ohhh it’s more than okay. It’s not like you cut me off or anything.” She crossed her arms, joking with him. “However I think I just may need to take you to court for that!”

“Wha-? Can you take me to court for that?”

“Oh totally! It would certainly be a big case, I know that.” She paused, bringing her hand up to her ear as if it was a phone. “What’s that? Oh, of course! Yes, your honor!” Then brought her hand down. “Scara, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news…”

“Did you just use your hand to talk to someone-? Why and how did you- Uh- Okay… Give me the good news?”

“You’re getting off easy.”

“…And the bad news…?”

“You’ve been sentenced to… 5 minutes of me tickling you!”

Yanfei giggled seeing Scaramouche’s wide eyes, then watched as he tried to stand up to make a quick escape.

“Oho no you don’t!” The pink haired girl was quick to grab the wanderer from behind, wrapping her arms around his midsection before clawing away at his sides. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

Though Scaramouche yelped upon being grabbed, he immediately began squirming around to try and get away. And while he was able to hold back his giggling for a moment, he quickly bursted into a giggle fit.

Yanfei’s hands danced over his sides, then crawled over to his tummy. She traced out a few shapes before suddenly switching to quickly scribbling her fingers over the sensitive skin. This caused a squeal from Scaramouche, then he quickly dissolved back into giggles. All the while, he kept up his squirming.

“Hmm… Clock’s ticking! I gotta find that sweet spot of yours!”

“Nohoho!”

With an incredibly lucky guess, and her ability to use logic, she decided to test all the spots she could think of. She started by quickly scribbling at the wanderer’s ribs, earning some giggles. Then she tried scribbling under his arms, causing his arms to glue to his sides, and some softer giggles. Tracing and scribbles on his back earned a squeal, then some calm laughs. Finally, she tried scribbling at his hips, earning slightly more frantic laughter, and a few stomps.

“Now I know this may be speculation, but is this your sweet spot?”

“NOHo!”

“I believe that reaction in itself says enough!” Yanfei snickered, beginning to squeeze at Scaramouche’s hips.

Scaramouche responded by stomping a few times, frantically squirming, and of course, cackles.

“YAHAHANFEI- YAHAHAN! NOHO!”

“You lied in the court of law?! You definitely deserve this then! This is what you get for not abiding by the law!”

“IHIHI DIHIDN’T DOHO ANYTHIHIHING!”

“You most certainly did!” The adeptus switched to drilling her fingers into the hip bones, which caused a whole bunch of stomps and attempts to get away. “Wohohoah! It’s getting difficult to hold onto you!”

“OHOHOFF!”

Yanfei shook her head, smiling as she rapidly squeezed at the wanderer’s hips. She was certainly enjoying the laughs and squeals and frantic reactions that he was giving, and she knew that he certainly didn’t genuinely laugh enough.

Unfortunately, he was reaching his limit. Scaramouche wasn’t used to being tickled, let alone being wrecked like this, so he was running out of energy pretty quickly.

“PLEHEHEASEEE! IHIHIT’S SOHOHO BAHAD!”

“But you’ve still got like… a minute thirty! Lemme at least try one more thing.”

“HUHUHURRY UHUP!”

The legal advisor smiled and nodded, leaning her head down and blowing a raspberry onto his side.

“AHahahaHAhaHAHa- YAhaHAnFeHEi! PLehEHeAse! ENohOHouGh!”

“Ahahalright! Alright! I’ll stop.” Yanfei finally let go of Scaramouche, who quickly rubbed away the phantom feelings on his side and hips.

“Ohoho jeheheez- Thahat was cruel! You did that and I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Perhaps that was the case.”

“I- Alright… Considering you’ve still got about… mm… 25 minutes of your break, give or take, I’ve got a question for you. Are *you* ticklish?”

Yanfei just smiled at the question, turning a bit red and shying away, staring at the floor.

“Ihi uh..”

“I’ll take that as a yes! I’ll give you a 5 second head start. 1… 2…”

And Yanfei ran straight out her office door.

[originemesis]

@brokendreamscreation xxx

The wheels in Lucid’s head visibly turn as Adam lets all his talk and suggestions sink into his mind, eyes never leaving the portal view. He’s snapped out of his hyper focus as a large wing envelops him, finding his small body pressed to the larger angels side. Blue hues flick upward momentarily, wrinkling where his would be nose as that kernels and crumbs falling on his head. But the seraphim admits that the warmth radiating from the First Man’s body and wing around him was nice. “Well, I don’t think the high council ever expected me to visually witness the act of copulation and breeding, let alone myself participate. At worst I feel certain they thought I may only hear it described or spoken in vulgarity. They know I can read about the process, it was part of my studies in understanding humans a few hundred years ago. It was however the textbook description. I do not believe they have updated the filter either or seen a reason to.” If the council knew now however what the naughty seraphim has been getting himself into, they’d more than update his halo. They’d surely restrain him to his workshop under guard, lock and key. Giving an awkward cough into a closed fist, Lucid feels the blooming warmth of a blush bloom on his already apple red marked cheeks. While it was not a regular thought for him to have, whenever the memory does strike he recalls the rush of the experience. Heat, skin on skin, the mix of whimpers and moans, the unexpected pleasure that burned in him with such intensity that his very mind went blank. A time he for once did not think and only acted, reacted, and let an unknown instinct guide him. Lucid fidgets, feeling his own body suddenly growing warmer at the memories.

His chatter with this so-called memory remade in the image of his ire may seem self indulgent, especially with how often he dips his talons into Lucid's popcorn bowl to retrieve more food for fueling his supposed 'commander's concerns', but even so- it is not without intent. That is, his intent to confirm a certain suspicion he'd been sold on the more he continued these interactions with yet another piece of heaven's dirty laundry. And oh ~ was it dirty if he was right. And when is he ever wrong?

With a few last crunches, he swallows what hasn't managed to drop onto the seraphim copy's face, his gaze sliding down to subtly check for more, though it locks smugly with the pair of blue peepers below. "Suspecting isn't exactly their strong suit, bruh." That much was evident given all the bathwater of a certain hell queen he brought into the office daily, smuggled in via soda cup and straw. So no, it's not impossible for him to believe this old 'friend' of his had been tampering with time space. "And if they suddenly should get a reason to? Well, I'm guessing that would suck for you~" With a twitch of a smirk sensing the other's blooming cognizance that the commander may know more than he's been letting on their past few run-ins around the embassy, he pins the smaller seraphim tighter with a tucking of his wing and boxes him in with the other, forming a sort of tent around their conversation...or rather- a confessional.

"Wouldn't it?"

Voice dripping with more amused menace than just scattered crumbs, he gives the flushed clone the briefest opportunity to sputter before he reaches down to snake a talon beneath Lucid's chin, a firm thump aiding him in tipping his face back at a strained angle and holding it in place. Despite the concealment of feathers, the various sounds of debauchery continued to serve as the background noise to their conversation- every slap and subsequent moan- unfilterable by heaven's past interests in multiplying humanity with a single pair that could hardly get along, let alone mass produce their kind.

"Because you're the one I [REDACTED], right? Well, I guess your filter would prefer we'd classify it as breeding, riiiiiiight~?" Nevermind what all of that entailed as far as how the past had played out between he and the other garden residents. All that mattered to him at the moment was securing yet another edge for his own under the rug activities.

"Y'know...I don't have to tell them. But you'd have to make it worth my silence." With a curl of claws, he'd wrapped the great expanse of his hand around the underside of the seraphim's jaw, holding his head with the promise of a grape's fate with his easy it might be to squash him if he wanted.

"What'dya say? I mean, I could use an errand-bitch, and that popcorn wasn't half bad."

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

hi, i go by kaso (he/she). requesting for the twst and ror boys (with the exception of idia and leona)

im mostly on the neutral centerpoint when it comes to myself. im an introvert. im calm, mellow, down-to-earth. im also observant as i pick up small things n remember them when the time is right. also to js sniff out peoples intentions but its more of the first most of the time.

im a soft-spoken guy. usually im relaxed and unshaken, though my motivation seems to come on a whim ebery other day so i may seem out of it at times. its easy to keep my composure for most things and keep my emotions in check.  i have tendencies to be passive-aggressive when provoked and im kinda stubborn. but im chill and friendly.

its easy for me to pick up from setbacks. im naturally intelligent but i dont really study to keep it.. its not like i dont want because im quite self-aware its just the lack of motivation. im also quite clever when the time comes.. cant explain it but its kinda easy to play the cards right when its laid out in my favour.

i may have an avoidant attachment of the sort im not sure.

when it comes to humour, im genuinely such a corny person and its always a hit or miss for my jokes. its also tinged with satire and sarcasm most if not all the time. i love to laugh and will find anything funny that might come out of your mouth.

i enjoy indulging in my interests, listsning to music, drawing and other things. i dont really have set things i enjoy, i just do whatever makes me happy tbh. i love having fun but it drains me. id try everything once if i could to make more of the moment.

i think my greatest fear is being unable to uphold to what ive created and not achieving my dreams.. im not so sure if it truly bothers me though. i experience small emotional highs and lows so maybe thats why.

i cant tolerate critical people who need to call you out for every flaw or people that cant keep their mouth shut. not chatty or talkative people im talking abt those who gossip. trust is a really big thing for me and its honestly a huge turn off.

i love with actions rather than words. i try and take my time with someone and treat them with the best care i can muster. im very passionate abt the things and people i love and i feel and care deeply even if i show it terribly. its in the little things. my love languages are quality time and parallel play.

im not sure if i have a type if im being honest.. never really thought hard on enough.. is not being an ass to other count?? like idk bare minimum wins i suppose.

thanks ^_^

Hello Kaso! I pair you with: Silver!

Calm, laid back and observant, silver is open minded when it doesn't come to the protection of Malleus and likes his quiet. Though he doesn't mind company either. He's likely and prone to falling asleep though which does make him miss things here and there, so your observant mind comes in handy.

While he may or may not be able to draw himself he finds listening to music with you while you draw is a nice atmosphere to be around as well as being with another human, not that he doesn't like fae of course. Silver oftentimes does go in and out of sleeping, though he tries his best to stay awake when the time calls for it.

Shown to be a good cook under supervision he enjoys bringing you some home cooked food he'd made, and thankfully didn't let Lilia touch. His favorite thing about you is your soft spoken nature and calm personality, even if you do have your times of sarcasm and stubbornness. Silver is a person that respects your opinions and isn't one I can see gossiping and spreading rumors either.

I can see him being more introverted than extroverted and understand your need to have your social battery recharge at times. Silver is a hardworking individual especially when it comes to being a Knight, though he enjoys being able to rely on you even if it's something small and hopes you can do the same by confiding in him. Silver finds your cleverness interesting as well as your natural intelligence.

His favorite thing to do with you is spend quality time with you. As friends or something more he doesn't mind as long as you're by his side.

Character matchups found here

[jaylaxies]

DINNER FOR THREE

pairing : dom!jake x afab!reader x dom!heeseung

genre : smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), breeding, praising, usage of nicknames, mentions of food (ramyeon) and eating, double penetration.

wc : 2.7k words

synopsis : university was stressful, the constant tests and assignments had drained you enough for you to look lifeless so, heeseung and jake, your closest friends, very graciously offered to study with you and also staying for a bowl of ramyeon, promising that they'll help you destress in their own way.

warning : 18+ content, minors dni.

a/n : hihi! im back with another request! this fic was self indulgent ngl, 'stress relief' with heejake is a need! it's not proofread so i'm sorry if it has mistakes! all likes, comments, reblogs and shares are highly appreciated. please let me know if you like my works, it's the best way to motivate me <3 iloveyou all and i hope you enjoy it :3

Your room stared at you with its mess clearly on display, the mess created by none other than you. Papers stacked everywhere, textbooks half-opened—full of sticky notes and highlighted lines which you didn't bother reading again and your laptop on your bed—biology notes opened on the website.

The exams were just around the corner and any person who interacted with you could clearly see how stressed you had been. The dark circles and neverending sighs were enough evidence of how worn-out you were and this was the case even before the exams had started. 

You weren't the only one struggling though, your best friends were in the same boat as you, struggling with a subject that the other mastered.

Even if Heeseung and Jake were struggling as much as you, they were skilled enough to hide it, with no hint of distress on their pretty faces. It made you envious of them, they were what everyone called 'perfect'.

Heeseung was in the university basketball team, his athletic build being attractive as it is but his face added on to it, not to mention—he was great at the sport he played. Winking after each basket he scored was just enough to send the crowd into a state of frenzy with how perfect he was, a social butterfly at its best.

Jake was no less, being in the university football team was something he loved to boast about but was equally passionate about studies, which made him the ideal student in the eyes of professors and, well, made him the ideal guy in eyes of students. Girls were whipped for him as it is but, the guys were no less, staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy whenever he was around.

It was an unusual type of friend group you had, no one understood how you three came together, it was a mismatch as others said yet, you fit with each other perfectly. More importantly, your love for video games glued you together.

Now sitting in the cafe near your apartment, your same two friends exchanged worried glances seeing you bang your head on the table for the third time in a span of fifteen minutes.

And you were going to do so again after taking a sip of your drink but Heeseung kept his hand just in time to prevent your forehead from getting hurt by the wood again. you pouted, looking at him with wary eyes.

“I'm so tired, Hee.” your voice quivers and a sigh leaves your mouth yet again.

He cups your face, pulling you close to him as Jake puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

“I know, baby. You've been working hard.” his thumbs caress your cheekbones and you practically melt in his touch.

“And we are proud of you.” Jake continued as you turned to look at him smiling from ear to ear.

They were highly affectionate when it came to you and you'd be lying to say it didn't feel good. In the eyes of strangers, it looked like a romantic relationship but, they were also confused if you were with Jake or Heeseung while in reality, you were nothing more than friends.

“We'll study together, ’kay?” Jake reassures you.

“Okay.” you quietly let out, playing with the straw in your drink, stirring it while Jake and Heeseung exchanged looks, nodding with a different glint in their eyes.

“We'll help you relax, sweetheart,” they promised.

True to their word, both of them stood in front of your apartment sharp at four in the evening, delicate glasses perched on their noses making their aura seem more of the studious kind than they essentially were.

Jake's toothy grin made you feel at peace already, your day wasn't the best. Apparently, waking up to two new assignments isn't the most motivational thing to start your day to.

“Thank you for coming over,” you said, hugging them both once they sat down on either side of you. “You guys can stay for dinner as well! We can get a takeout.”

“What would you like to eat though?” Heeseung asked.

“Uhh—we can have ramyeon, I've got your favourite one!” you smiled, satisfied with your ideas.

The boys looked at each other, a small smile playing on their lips which almost looked naughty.

“Sounds like the perfect way to end the day.” Heeseung appraised.

Sitting down, they started getting their study material out. Starting with physics wasn't the best idea, it had you slumping against Jake's shoulder in just thirty minutes.

“I can't do this anymore.” you groaned.

Jake lifted your chin using his slender pointy finger. “You won't be able to study if you stress this much.” he frowned, softly running his thumb on the creases of your forehead to relax it.

“Take a break if required,” Heeseung spoke, placing his large hand on your thigh and squeezing it lightly.

Your breathing hitched with the proximity, they've always been tender with you yet this particular setting elicited something new inside you.

“Come on.” they guided you towards your bed which looked comfier than ever at this certain moment. You wordlessly follow them as if they had you under a trance, Heeseung's hand on your lower back only tingled your spine at the bare minimum contact. He sat down with his back against the headboard, getting comfortable putting a pillow to support him.

He patted the space just in front of him, asking you to sit in between his legs. You looked up at Jake who gave you a nod of encouragement as you sat there, his toned chest against your back.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, giving them a subtle massage, his fingers digging in the most soothing way possible, his face near your ear, close enough for you to hear his breathing.

Jake decided to work on your legs, massaging your middle thigh area, rubbing circles with his thumb. The direct contact of his warm hands against your cold legs was delightful—too delightful when he started moving his hands up so they were near your core.

Seems like they both were on the same page as Heeseung's hands were also trailing down your clavicle, too close to your boobs. You closed your eyes, your breathing heightening as sudden wetness started pooling around in your panties, the kind that would definitely show in your shorts.

Lips bitten, you tried not to make any absurd sounds. Thinking of your best friends in such a manner wasn't something new to you, they were attractive and your body fully responded to the fact.

“Feels good?” Jake asked, his accent thicker than ever.

“Mmh,” you replied, not trusting yourself with words.

“Use your words, baby.” Heeseung whispered, nibbling on your earlobe as his hand finally grabbed your right tit, his other hand playing with the drawstring of your shorts.

“Fuck—yes it does ah!”

Jake smirked, his plump lips bitten as he rubbed your clothed pussy which dampened the material enough for them to know how much they affect you with the mere touches.

Your palms covered your face, trying to hide your embarrassment but they only chuckled.

“don't cover your pretty face, we need to see you, love,” Heeseung spoke, his fingers untying the drawstrings and Jake softly asking you if he can take your clothes off, to which you nod.

“Why are you two dressed?” you ask in a small voice and that was all it took for them to remove their t-shirts, while Heeseung also removed your top.

You could feel the warmth of his back radiating now that you didn't have any clothing restrictions on your body, just your bra and underwear with two men who wanted to devour your body.

“More!” you mindlessly spoke as if they had magic and were taking all your stress away from you.

“More huh? What does my girl want?” Heeseung asked, moving his positions so that you lied down on the bed.

“Want you.” a whimper left your mouth as Heeseung got in between your thighs, peppering kisses all over your inner thighs as his hands made sure to keep your legs open, his arms flexing in the process which only added to his godly features.

Meanwhile Jake swiftly unclasped your bra by lifting you a bit, his tongue swiped his lower lip at the sight. He wasted no time in sucking your hardening nipples.

“Fuck, so pretty,” Heeseung said, removing your underwear to see your dripping wet core. He touched it using his two fingers to collect your arousal and proceeded to lick it, humming at the taste. “Been waiting for this for so long,” he admitted without any shame.

“Wanted to kiss your body from so long." Jake hummed along.

It was as if your cheeks were on fire, they had been thinking about you from 'long' as they mentioned. To think back, they've never talked about their sexual activities like your other friends did.

Heeseung didn't feel like holding back anymore, his tongue licked a stripe of your cunt as you bucked your hips for more contact, your eyes fixated on the pretty boy who expertly moved his muscle where you wanted him the most.

Jake caressed your cheek, placing hot kisses on your neck, trailing them up to your lips where he finally kissed you with zeal. The kiss was messy, your fingers kneaded in his soft locks, tugging at them hard enough to make him groan as Heeseung continued to lap at your core fervently, making you moan into Jake's mouth.

He took this opportunity to insert his tongue in your mouth, smiling at how your body shivered as both men pleased you. Leaning back for a second, he looked into your eyes while fondling your tits.

“Look at me, baby.”

And you looked at him with hooded eyes, your room felt misty, as if the air was filled with the drug of intimacy.

The eye contact was short lived as Heeseung decided to fasten his pace, your hand clasping his shoulder as he moves his tongue over your most sensitive spot, rhythmically almost.

You could feel your orgasm building up, your legs shook, trying to close themselves with how sensitive your pussy was and Heeseung's thumb rubbing your clitoris only added to that.

“You're going at me when you cum,” Jake instructed as he gently held your chin, making you look at him. “Right?” he asked and you mustered a nod.

Your brain stopped comprehending the moment Heeseung gently sucked your clitoris, mouth opening to let out a moan but only your deep breaths came out as you stared into Jake's eyes, him watching your expression intently as if trying to memorise you as a whole.

You came all over his tongue and he licked your fluids clean, “That's our good girl.” he smiled, coming up to get a taste of your lips as well, kissing you deeply while Jake patted your head softly, letting you come down from your euphoria.

“My turn.” Jake simply said before getting in between your legs.

“Permission to fuck your stress away, beautiful?” his constant praises made you blush, you hadn't even noticed when he removed his pants, the erect dick teasing your sensitive folds was huge, the tip leaking with precum which he smeared for easy thrusting.

“P–please!” your broken voice begged.

The boyish smile on his face made you swoon, he knew you were in dire need of getting fucked yet he wanted to pause a little just to tease you a bit.

“Please what, baby?” he cooed and Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Do it or I will.”

The warning was enough to push him. Literally. He pumped his cock a few times before pushing in slowly, as your eyes teared up at the stretch which evidently was too pleasing for you to put into words.

Meanwhile, Heeseung had gotten rid of his own pants, the tip of dick being red, in essential need to be taken care of. He grabbed your free hand, wrapping his fingers around your own as he made you stoke his length while Jake easily slid in and out of you, grateful for your wetness which allowed him to do this with ease.

“Come on baby, be a good girl and let Heeseung use your mouth, yeah?”

“Yes!” you desperately let out, barely registering when Heeseung came closer and tapper your cheek twice, your mouth opening up in its own accord as if you were under a trance and these two pretty boys were controlling you.

“Slack your jaw, baby.” he commanded.

Which they actually were, in all ways you could have wanted them to. You took him in your mouth, trying your best to bob your head up and down while stroking the part you could reach.

To take it up a notch, Jake fucked into you harsh enough for the sounds to resonate the room, the outcome was you moaning and choking on Heeseung's length, the vibrations coursing a wave of sensitivity—strong enough to make him twitch in your mouth with the deepest groan you've ever heard.

“You like that? You like it when I fuck you that deep and fuck your stress out? Want me to fill your pretty hole with my pups?”

You couldn't say a thing, you wanted to scream yes but it seems like they understood telepathically. Heeseung pulled out as you took a deep breath, your hormones, emotions and sensitivity heightened by miles.

“Fuck my stress away please,” you weakly let out, your brain wanted both of them at once. “Need you both!”

You looked at Jake on top of you, his cheeks were flushed and eyes dilated with a sheath of sweat on his forehead, he looked gorgeous while doing the bare minimum.

Heeseung joined him, lifting your leg for a better access to your dripping hole, all three of you very close to your highs. And he thrusts into you slowly with a deep groan, letting you adjust to the new addition, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as Heeseung bent a little to kiss them away.

Both their groans echoed in your ear, it threatening to to make you cum then and there yet you hold it for a little more longer.

They rubbed their cocks in you, panting with the urgency to make you cum faster while also chasing their orgasm,  your bodies connected perfectly and even the minute things such as their breathing made you lose your mind, you knew you wouldn't last any longer.

“C—cum in me please!” you cried out before arching your back and creaming both their cocks, the expression on your face was a sight to see and your dirty request sent them into overdrive.

“Fuck, y/n.” they collectively cussed, releasing their thick hot cum in you, successfully filling you up with their pups as promised before.

They placed several kisses all over your face, suddenly making you giddy as they pulled out, sitting back to stare at your pussy which was now dripping with their cum, creating a mixture with your own fluids.

“So pretty.” they marvelled at the sight.

You yanked Heeseung forward in a kiss, Jake resting right beside you as he took out a cloth, going to the washroom to get it wet for cleaning you up.

“You did so well for us.” He smiled as he softly used the wet towel on you, getting you some fresh comfortable clothes from your closet while Heeseung disappeared somewhere after wearing his own clothes.

“You hungry, baby?” he asked, pecking your forehead. The atmosphere was so calm all of a sudden that you had forgotten about your stress altogether.

“Mhm.” you nodded with a small smile and he asked you to wait for a few minutes more.

The faint aroma coming from the kitchen told you that Heeseung was making ramyeon, which was correct.

They were hellbent on feeding you with their own chopsticks, almost fought like kids while doing so contrasting their behaviour from a few minutes back.

“You guys took do you want to eat ramyeon with me too seriously”

They laughed, “It helped though.”

“Are you still stressed, baby?” Heeseung asked, smirking.

You smirked back.

“Round two?”

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[scribbledbeans]

Eating Isn't Something Earned

Summary: You overthink how hard you work for the crew and decide you don't work enough to deserve to eat. Sanji reminds you that food isn't earned. Warnings: ED, mentions of not feeling worthy of food, self hatred Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent but I figured other people may benefit from some Sanji love [GN!Reader so everyone can enjoy <3]

"And~ Voila!" The table bursts into cheers and ogling once Sanji reveals the giant fish from under the cloche. The fish was caught earlier in the day by the crews sharp shooter. Immediately, Sanji had recipes flooding his brain the moment he laid sight on it.

"WHOAAA~!" Luffy's eyes shine bright, mouth watering at the sight of the monster of a creature plated in front of him. Before the plans in his head go into action he quickly gets smack to the back of the head.

"Let me cut into it first." Sanji's brow twinges in anger. Like he would allow the captain to demolish this perfect feast before anyone else could even taste it. Sanji portions out plates for the crew, making sure Robin's, Nami's, and your plate were delicately crafted to make sure the perfect bites could be crafted. The captain obviously given the largest plate. The table commences their dinner feast, laughing and sharing stories from their day.

"I swear to you, I was practically horizontal reeling this bad boy in!" Usopp already exaggerating the story of his 'great catch'. "You know me though, I couldn't let the beast get away! I reeled and tugged and reeeeeellled and tugged," His movements are dramatic like that of a children's theatre play, "and BOOM that monster was flying through the air! I had to beat it into submission ya know? Really had to teach it a lesson after making the God Usopp work so hard- I mean it wasn't hard work at all it was s-super easy bringing him aboard!" He rubs his finger under his nose to hide his nervous laughter.

You giggle at the long-nosed man's clear cover up for his struggle of tugging the fish out of the water. Your day was generally uneventful compared to the rest of the crew's. The only thing of substance was sparing Zoro. Nothing crazy happened during that either, he was mainly just re-going over basic stances to maximize defense.

Dinner does look delicious, you can't deny that Sanji's cooking always looked so appetizing. No matter the beauty of the dishes he creates, you can't bring yourself the do more than push around the contents of your plate. Listening to how active the rest of the crew is you start to wonder if you deserve the meals prepared for you. You weren't studying like Robin, Nami, or Chopper. You didn't benefit the ship by fixing things like Franky or Usopp. You didn't entertain the others like Luffy or Brooke. What were you doing to help? These thoughts have been plaguing your brain recently, unable to make them stop.

Sanji watches the crew dive into his master piece, smiling at the happy faces and bellies he creates with his meal. He grabs the wine bottle from the table and starts making the rounds to refill the glasses of those who wished to partake in the delectable pairing he chose. He slowly makes his way over to you and notices not only was your wine glass untouched, so was your food.

Leaning down to your ear he whispers, "Did you not want fish, y/n-swan? I can make you something else for you if you'd like."

You were pulled out of your trance of over-thinking by his smooth voice. "Oh, no, it's alright Sanji. I think I'm just not very hungry tonight. I'm sorry."

"Please, don't apologies. Don't force yourself to eat on my behalf." The blonde smiles down at you, his hand laid softly on your shoulder. "If you get hungry later I can warm this up for you or make you something else, okay?"

"That would be nice of you, thank you." You give the chef a small nod.

"Anything for you, y/n-swan~." His smile warms your heart, but did you deserve such kindness?

You excuse yourself from the table and make your way to the main deck. The rambunctious crew still able to be heard. Leaning down on the railing you stare out to the sea. Your mind still reeling with the same worries. You didn't deserve the food served to you without hesitation. You don't deserve to eat with the crew that grinds tooth and nail to keep the group afloat. You don't deserve to eat. You aren't worth the love and effort put into the dishes made for the people who put their hearts and souls into everything they did. Your eyes start to burn with tears, trying to choke back sobs so you don't disturb the merry making happening behind you. Your head falls to the rail you were leaning on, hands grasping your hair.

"Y/n." A voice calls out to you, quiet enough that you almost miss it over your own sobs. Quickly you wipe your eyes and try to slow your breathing. Foot steps slowly approaching you from behind. You turn to see the curly browed man coming over to you.

"Sanji, hello, did you need help with the dishes?" You try to even out your voice as much as possible, small wavers giving away that you weren't okay.

"Chopper told me that you've been giving your plates to Luffy more often recently." The chef states, ignoring your question. "I know it isn't my food, you've taste tested these dishes for me hundreds of times. Please, y/n, tell me what's troubling you." Finally only a foot away from you.

You can't hold back your tears from him anymore. He's so sincere with his plea. "I don't deserve them. I can't accept something I didn't earn." You hide your face in your hands, attempting to hide the shame of your lack luster performance on the team. Quickly arms surround you, the hold is comfortably tight.

"Don't you ever say that again!" Sanji sounds so stern but he means it in the most genuine concern. "You deserve to eat, you work so hard every day. You improve yourself little by little, you may not see it but everyone else can. You give so much of yourself into everything you do."

He grabs your cheeks so he can see your face clearly, wiping away tears with his thumbs. A gentle kiss was placed on your forehead.

"Eating isn't something earned. It's something you deserve. Everyone deserves to eat, even if they aren't working themselves to the bone. Please, never feel like you don't deserve to eat." Sanji rests his forehead on your own. "Now, if you actually aren't hungry I won't make you come back with me. If you are though, please let me make you something to eat. You deserve something special, just for you."