#this popped in my head and i had to write it

[eff4freddie]

Sittin'

Joel Miller x F!Babysitter Reader No outbreak Joel Miller AU - Words: 10k

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI

You're working your way through medical school, supporting yourself by taking the occasional babysitting gig. One local single Dad needs someone to look after his 10 year old daughter Sarah on nights when he's late back from the jobsite. And it's all fine and good until your neglectful boyfriend decides to crash the party. Warnings: small age gap (Joel is 32, reader is in medical school), reader is babysitting Sarah as a side hustle to support her studies, Sarah is cute, reader has a shit boyfriend, Joel is trying really hard to resist, exhibitionism, thigh-riding, praise, dirty talk, thigh-humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, general defiling of a perfectly good granite countertop, Joel has opinions about how a woman should be treated as is not afraid to demonstrate them.

A/N: My attempts at writing PWP almost always end up like 10k lol. Whatever, I like a good slow burn. If you enjoy, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you - Freddie x

It was a hot night, the latest in a long line. You knew you were lucky getting to spend some of your evenings over at the Millers, simply because it meant you got to sit under Mr Miller’s air conditioner, the box wedged firm into the window in the living room, little droplets of water condensing and running down the pane of glass underneath it. You’d put a dishtowel down to protect the carpet.

You knew you were lucky, too, because once Sarah went off to bed you could spread your books over Mr Miller’s kitchen table, listening to the buzzing of the fridge as you tried to memorise the functions of the lobes in the brain. In class, your biomedicine professor had blown up balloons and handed out sharpies, inviting her students to draw the lobes in the right place, and yours had popped when you pressed too hard on the occipital lobe, and your lab partner had laughed and said that it was ironic, but you couldn’t figure it: the motor cortex would have been ironic, this was just startling.

You cracked your neck, rolling your shoulders and looking over to the clock on the wall. Nearly 10:30 PM. Mr Miller would be coming back soon.

Sarah was a good kid, and some nights she stayed up to ‘help’ you study, mostly by pointing to pictures in your textbooks and asking you to explain them to her. She’d hated the full-page coloured illustration of the eye, but had been fascinated by the heart, trailing her finger along the arteries, into the chambers, tracing the pathway in and out again. You’d make a cardiologist of her, yet.

Tonight, she’d only made it to twenty minutes past eight, her eyes growing heavy as she turned the pages of your book. This one didn’t have as many pictures, and you could sense her fatigue in the stuffy air.

‘What kind of doctor do you want to be?’ she’d asked, and you’d pulled your hair up off your neck to try and get some air on your skin. You weren’t sure how to explain it without sounding gruesome, without giving her nightmares. She was only 10.

‘When people have emergencies and they have to go to the hospital right away, they need to see a doctor to patch them back up again…’ you’d said, and she’d stared at you with a tiresome expression on her face.

‘I’m not a baby,’ she said, disapproving. You smiled at her.

‘Trauma surgeon,’ you replied. She nodded her head, deeming your answer satisfactory, and taking herself up the stairs to bed.

She was one of the easiest kids you’d ever babysat for, and over the years you’d racked up quite a roster. You’d started in high school, first saving up enough for the prom dress right in the storefront window, and then later keeping yourself fed during your undergrad. When you’d moved to Austin you’d rented a studio apartment in the back garden of a little old lady, a woman who had revealed herself to be an excellent cook if militant about her hydrangeas. You’d letterboxed the neighbourhood and picked up a few odd jobs but nothing lasting, until the evening you’d got a call from a very frantic Mr Miller, who was so beside himself he only asked how quick you could get there and didn’t even ask about your rates.

It turned out Mr Miller got caught up at the jobsite some nights, staying back later than he expected with his little brother to finish framing, or guttering, or wiring. He was running out of favours with his neighbours, he’d explained, and Sarah was still too little to feed herself. You hadn’t minded, his deep southern drawl doing something to you even over the phone, such that you found yourself cancelling plans just to go and sit on his couch that very evening, textbook over your knees.

Some nights with Sarah tucked up fast asleep you’d stand and stare at the pictures of the two of them, her holding up a soccer trophy nearly twice her size, him standing with his hand in his pocket, his other over the shoulders of a younger man you assumed was Tommy. If you were feeling particularly bold, or were procrastinating especially hard, you’d extend a finger and run them up and down the strings of Joel’s guitar, resting sentinel against the windowsill. You imagined his fingers pushing into the fretboard, the strings indenting the flesh.

It wasn’t even that he was handsome, although he definitely was. He was a young father, doing it almost entirely alone, and on any other man that would have made for grumpy, for overly tired, for entitled. On Mr Miller it made for kindness, for a nurturing type of strength, corded tight under his skin. For a single dad always thinking about his daughter, only ever wanting the best for her. For a man focussed on doing right for his family, small as it was.

You rolled your shoulders, the pre-frontal cortex just about beating you for the night. Just as you were wondering if the Millers kept any ice cream in the freezer, you heard the key in the front door. You listened as Joel followed the same routine, first toeing off his boots, letting out a little grunt as the second one hit the floor. You heard him huff as he stretched his back, rolling his hips in a little circle to try and get some stretch into them, before dropping his keys on the table and padding, surprisingly light on his socked feet, into the kitchen.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said, his pet name for you emerging on only the second time you’d sat for him and still, even after this many months, causing your stomach to do a little flipper.

‘Evening, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he tutted at you, moving over to the fridge and extracting a beer.

‘Told ya not to call me that,’ he muttered, but you could see the grin behind it. ‘How was my girl tonight?’

‘Perfect, as always,’ you said, smiling at him as he poured you a glass of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge without bothering to ask if you wanted any. You accepted it gratefully, suddenly noticing how dry your throat had become.

‘She’s a good kid,’ he said. He sat down, heavy, in the chair opposite you. The ceiling lamp buzzed above you both, and the light bounced off the fine sheen of sweat accumulating on his arms, on his cheeks. He glowed, even if it was under a layer of exhaustion.

‘You look tired, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he cocked a little grin.

‘You sayin’ I look like shit, Sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘No, never,’ you said, instantly regretting how quickly, how fervently, you had responded. He continued to grin at you, lopsided, the dimple on his right cheek popping out to greet you.

‘What is it tonight?’ he asked, and you held up your book to him. ‘The bio-mech-an-ics-of-thought: phys-ee-ol-o-gee of the brain,’ he intoned, before letting out a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said.

‘It’s interesting,’ you defended, unsure why. ‘So long as there are diagrams,’ you added.

‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ he asked, gesturing to the illustrated image of the brain in the centre of the page you had been working from.

‘This is where thought happens,’ you nodded. ‘Kind of like…where decisions are made.’

‘Must be a woman’s brain,’ Joel deadpanned, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Can guarantee men make their decisions someplace else.’

You caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes as he glanced over you. You blushed, swearing it was just the heat, and furious with yourself. This wasn’t like you; you weren’t some shrinking violet type. You’d had boyfriends, you’d had fun in college. You had no idea what it was about Mr Miller that made you immediately go all giggly, all girly, but whatever it was you wished it would fuck off.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You were used to this from him, the way his mind seemed to drift, the way he seemed content enough to let it. Gently, so as not to jolt him out of his thoughts, you closed your book, gathered your pens together. Everything tucked away in your bag you were surprised when you looked up to see he was watching you.

‘Apparently Sarah’s taken an interest in science,’ he said after a moment, his warm eyes watching yours for a second. You felt a tingle of pride in your chest.

‘Oh yeah?’ you asked.

‘Mmhmm, apparently after she pushed Simon Strzelecki off the monkey bars, she offered to patch him up again.’

You grinned before you were able to catch yourself.

‘That’s…very, umm…’ you trailed off and he huffed out a little laugh.

‘It’s very Sarah,’ he agreed.

‘M’sorry, Mr Miller…’ you started, but Joel stood up, waving you off.

‘Don’t be, Strzelecki’s a little shit’f the highest order,’ he said. ‘You gonna let me give ya a lift this time?’ he asked, and this time you shook your head at him.

‘No, I can walk it.’

‘Y’know I don’t like ya walkin’ around out there on yer’own,’ he grumbled, and you felt the insane urge to reach your hand out to rest on his bicep, to ease his evident discomfort.

‘I can handle it,’ you said, instead.

Something stole over his face for a moment, a sharpness in his eyes. For a moment you gazed up at him, the furrow in his brow deepening, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over your face. Standing this close to him you were reminded how tall, how broad he really was. You dropped your eyes to his arms, crossed over his chest, and imagined him holding you with them, circling them around your back as you leant, safe, into his skin. You blinked yourself back to reality, worried for a second he could read your thoughts.

‘Know you can handle it,’ he said, his voice low, ‘just don’t like it, is all.’

You did this every time, this stand-off. You worried one night you would waver.

‘G’night, Mr Miller,’ you said, over dry lips. He nodded, once, at you, still evidently displeased something dark, something haunted, passing over his features before he brought them back into line.

He stood on the front porch, light still on, until you rounded his driveway and disappeared past the oak tree by the front lawn.

--

Mick was a guy from your Tuesday morning bio class, and you only realised he was your boyfriend when he introduced you to a few of his friends that way. You’d just gone with it, because it had seemed easier, and he was nice if a little full of himself at times. He was the son of the one the big ranching families, had been almost guaranteed a position at whatever college he chose on the day of his birth, hadn’t ever really considered that money was something you saved, something you worked for.

But he would never let you pay for dinner, and often he showed up to class holding a coffee just for you. You’d been on your own for a long time, had been self-sufficient well before you had any business to, and it was kind of nice to let yourself be cared for, if that’s what this was.

On nights when you had to work he would pout and complain, and you told yourself it was because he cared about you, because he wanted you around, even if some part of you knew he just didn’t like to be alone. Every once and while he would ask if he could come with you, ‘feel you up on the couch like it’s eighth grade’, and it made you feel exactly fourteen years old, like this was a summer job you had failed to grow out of. It didn’t help that he more than once referred to your sitting job as ‘cute’. His mother had stayed at home the moment she fell pregnant with Mick’s older brother, and as far as you could tell was yet to leave. You never asked about a future with Mick, terrified of what kind of picture he would paint.

On one such evening, after he’d been particularly insistent that you blow off your job and come and hang out with him and his friends, he’d starting blowing up your phone just as Mr Miller sat down beside you, weary-boned and sleepy-eyed, at his kitchen table.

You ignored the calls, tried to carry on reading even as Mr Miller arched his brow at your insistently vibrating device. You huffed, knowing at some point Mick would get bored.

‘You’re popular tonight?’ Joel prompted after a while, making you lose your place in the paragraph you’d read over at least ten times already.

You huffed out a sigh, reaching out and scrolling through the stream of notifications. He’d started texting, sometimes just sending a single emoji, sometimes entire paragraphs about how badly you were letting him down. You felt an ache bloom behind your right eye socket, and you reached up to your temple to try and massage it away.

‘It’s my boyfriend,’ you told him, and with your eyes still closed you didn’t see him scowl. ‘He wants me to come out to some bar with him and his drunk friends.’

Joel considered this for a long moment. When you opened your eyes they blurred under the sudden light, and you blinked away sleep to see him clearly again.

‘You should be out with your friends, it’s a Friday night…’ he said, almost looking guilty for a moment, and you rushed to reassure him.

‘No, no trust me…this is better. They’re boring when they’re drunk. And also when they’re sober.’

Joel smiled, straining just slightly, at this.

‘He a good man?’ he asked, and you scoffed a little.

‘He’s barely a man at all,’ you said, automatically. Later you’d reflect on this moment, feel it turn you inside out and scold your skin with the heat of your own shame. For now, though, you were too tired, and it was too hot in the kitchen, for you to catch it.

Joel caught it, though. He cleared his throat.

‘We met at college, and he’s…well, he’s kind of set up for life. He doesn’t have to worry about grades, or proving himself. He’s almost guaranteed his residency.’ You were aware you were starting to sound bitter, and maybe you were just a little. Something about Mr Miller, sitting at his kitchen table late in the evening with a beer, muscles wrapped in a plaid, his soft brown eyes watching you carefully, made you think he’d understand.

‘He doesn’t make you feel good enough for him?’ he asked, after a while.

You considered this, eventually shrugging your shoulders. ‘I don’t know if he makes me feel anything,’ you said, truthfully.

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched you, gazed at your face.

‘What do you want him to make you feel?’ he asked.

‘Seen,’ you said, without hesitation.

‘Just seen?’ he asked. His voice was deathly quiet now, almost entirely gravel. His eyes were burning, sharp. You watched as they darkened, stealing your breath out from under you.

‘Desired,’ you almost whispered. He dropped a hand to the table, his fingertips only inches from yours, resting casual on your textbook.

‘What man’s out there runnin’ round this town not desirin’ you?’ he asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it, and you felt scorching heat on your cheeks, rushing down your sternum, pooling heavy in your core.

You blinked, terrified to move in case you broke whatever spell had befallen him. He turned thoughtful, his eyes dropping to the woodgrain of the table.

‘Y’been working a lot here…can’t imagine hanging out with me and a ten-year-old girl is the same as bein’ out there, living your youth…’

You felt something heavy shift in your belly, something essential curdle and erode.

‘I like it here, Mr Miller,’ you said, all big eyes and almost quivering lower lip. Joel moved away, sitting up straight and peeling the label off his beer.

‘Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t be spendin’ all night waitin’ on us,’ he said, almost to himself. You shook your head again, but he was closing off on you, you could see it in the way his shoulders were folding, the way his mouth was tugging down at the corners.

Without even considering it, operating almost entirely on instinct, you reached your hand out to rest on his bicep. You watched as his eyes drifted close, a long exhale through his nose. He grimaced, almost like you were hurting him, until he lifted his hand and held yours fast to him, wrapping his paw around you.

‘I really love spending time with Sarah,’ you said, just over a whisper, as he stared hard at the table. You could sense he was avoiding your gaze, and you wanted to say something to draw him to you, wanted to give him a little nugget of truth that he could take into himself, hold deep and quiet in his depths. ‘I love spending time with you,’ you said.

He raised his eyes to yours. His hand was so warm over yours, your cheeks so pink in the sleepless heat of the late evening. You saw his eyes fall to your lips and you slipped your hand from under his, reaching up to trace the contours of his jaw with your fingertips.

‘Baby…’ he whispered, ‘I been’ resistin’ you so long, don’t know if I can…’ and you pushed a finger to his lips. You didn’t want him to break whatever spell you were both suddenly under. Didn’t want him to take this from you both, whatever it was turning out to be.

‘Don’t argue,’ you instructed, quietly. With brows saddled, he nodded his head.

And he didn’t argue. Not when you moved your finger from his lips and traced it down over the hollow of his neck, over to his pulse where it thundered under your tough.

Didn’t argue when you leant forward, pressing your nose to his, giving him time to pull away, to move from your lips.

Didn’t argue when you pressed them to his, a little soft and quiet thing, earning you a wanting gasp from him, a prize you would hold in the cavity of your chest so long as your heart stayed beating.

Later, when you had gathered yourselves, when he had gazed at you and you had felt the want in him mixing with the regret, with the necessity of the un-having corrupting the want to take and take and take, you had simply gathered your books, tucking them quiet and neat into the bag at your feet. He didn’t argue with you about driving you home that night, suddenly quiet in a way that set your teeth on edge, and you felt an ache in your belly you couldn’t account for when he closed the door. You waited behind the trunk of the tree at the end of his driveway, counting the minutes he left the light on for you after you’d slipped from view, giving up when you got past 15.

--

You were unsettled. Joel hadn’t called for two weeks, and you were starting to worry that you’d ruined things, your silly little kiss bubbling corrosive at the base of your spine. You couldn’t help going over the whole evening again and again in your head.

You should have told him you preferred spending the nights at his house, that the way it smelt like play-dough and sometimes sawdust, sometimes pine, was so unique to the both of them that you felt your nerves settle the moment you stepped over the threshold. That the house was warm and quiet, that you could spread out your books and something essential to you, that in this space with them you felt more yourself than anywhere else on the planet, even locked away in your little studio apartment, even just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You wanted to tell him Sarah was funny, and smart, and kind, and being around her made you nostalgic for the childhood you never had but ached for, that you felt all that time with her she was giving you something precious and absent, something simple and something sweet. That there were nights you weren’t sure who was sitting who.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t expect anything from him, that it didn’t matter to you if nothing ever happened, if he regretted letting you kiss him, if it had just been that it was too awkward in the moment to say no. Just that you wanted to keep sitting for him, just that if all you got was a casual conversation at the end of the evening and an argument about driving home that would be enough for you, because it would have to be, and so you could make it so.

You begged off seeing Mick for the second Friday night in a row, wanting to be available in case Joel called. You felt silly but you could use the cash. Your textbooks were $400 a piece, and next semester you were taking three classes. Just feeding yourself was enough to stop your studies in their tracks.

Two things happened in the span of ten minutes. A knock at your door stirred you from your lecture notes, and your phone rang. By the time you had it in your hand you were holding Mick back from your face, your palm to his chest, as you craned your neck away from him to speak.

‘M’sorry, Sweetheart, it’s just…I know, it’s a Friday…’

‘It’s fine, Mr Miller,’ you said, ignoring the way Mick was making smoochy faces over your shoulder. ‘I don’t have any plans.’

When you got off the phone Mick was pouting again, and you sighed.

‘I thought I was your plans?’ he said, and you shrugged at him.

‘It’s good money for easy work, babe,’ you said, the nickname sitting heavy on your tongue.

‘I can give you money,’ he said, pulling you towards him by your belt loops and nipping at your jaw. You cringed away from him.

‘That would make me your whore, right?’ you said, and he grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘Never seemed to bother you before…’ he said, and you bristled against him.

‘The fuck does that mean?’

“Oh, fuck me, babe, make me yours…” he imitated, his voice high in a general approximation of yours. You blushed, furiously. ‘You think good girls beg like little whores?’ he asked, and you knew he was kidding around, knew that he wasn’t smart enough to do it without outright insulting you, knew that you’d put up with this shit before so there was no reason why he wouldn’t assume he couldn’t get away with it now. You knew the way he spoke to you was basically your fault, and you couldn’t yell at him now that the precedent had been set. You felt yourself crumple, landing with a thump on the edge of your bed.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he was saying, grinning at you like he’d won his prize. ‘You put the kid to bed, and I’ll come by and keep you happy ‘til Dad gets home.’

You hated the idea, the thought of Mick in that space you’d almost come to think of sacred making your stomach churn.

‘No,’ you said, and you watched as he arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t come in…’

‘Say no more,’ he said, grinning again, and for whatever reason, you didn’t.

--

He arrived, just after 9 PM, already drunk. You winced as he parked his car in the driveway, right in Mr Miller’s spot, worried for a moment he was going to swipe the mailbox when he took the angle too fast. He skidded to a stop mere inches from Mr Miller’s garage door and you exhaled, realising you were bracing for the sound of splintering wood. He ambled over to where you stood on the front porch, tugging at your shirt sleeves in the cool night air.

‘Babe!’ he called, and you shushed him almost instantly. He was carrying a sixpack of beers, three of them already gone. His breath reeked and you wrinkled up your nose when he slung his arm over the back of your neck and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

‘This feels like high school,’ he said, and giggled.

‘This is my job, y’know,’ you corrected him, but he wasn’t hearing you, backing you up against the side of the house. You thumped into the brick, wind temporarily knocked from your lungs before he was on you, slipping his entire tongue into your ear in a way that made your skin crawl.

‘Easy…’ you said, and he ignored you, his hand not holding the beers rising up to paw at your breast over your shirt.

‘Mmm…such a tasty little slut,’ he said, and you closed your eyes. ‘Little naughty baby-sitter.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ you stage-whispered, not sure how well your voices wouldn’t carry over the breeze in Mr Miller’s cul-de-sac. He leant down, resting the beers on the front porch so that he could grope you with both hands.

He groaned as he rubbed his cock at your clothed centre. You moved your face to the side, letting your eyes slide closed again.

You tried to think of a romantic movie. Tried to remember some of the fragments of the romance novels your mother had kept stowed under the bed and that you snuck into the den to read to your giggling friends. Tried to imagine a different man, a stranger’s hands on your chest, a stranger’s fingers pinching at your nipples. Tried to imagine what it would feel like if they found the sweet spot, if they sent electric shocks into your belly, into your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the sound of Mick’s heavy breathing out of your mind, focusing instead on rough and calloused fingers, the scruff of a beard teasing along your skin. Heavy accent and sweet pine, a groaned little ‘Sweetheart…’ as he slipped your shirt up over your shoulders.

‘The fuck’s going on here?’ you heard a gruff voice as your eyes sprang open, pushing Mick from you hard enough that he stumbled, backwards, landing on the grass.

‘Mr Miller!’ you exclaimed, shame burning bright on your cheeks as you righted your clothes. ‘M’so sorry, he just dropped by…’ you started but Joel was striding up his driveway, as you realised with a new flash of guilt he’d had to park on the street.

‘Hey, man…’ Mick was saying, his hands up in front of his face. ‘Just checkin’ in on my girl…’

You cringed, this particular pet name always feeling more like ownership when it came from him.

Joel looked up at you, his brows saddled. ‘You OK, Sweetheart?’ he asked you, and you realised for the first time he wasn’t angry but concerned, his fists balled up like he was ready to spring to your defence.

‘It’s Mick,’ you explained, glancing down at him as he tried to climb to his feet, getting as far as his knees and settling there for a second to plan his next move. ‘He…he wanted to…’

‘Yeah, I saw what he wanted to,’ Joel huffed out, reaching down to pull Mick upright by the back of his shirt. ‘Saw the way you were bracing away from it too,’ he said, looking directly into Mick’s grinning face.

‘What else you see, old man?’ he asked, and Joel dropped him back onto his knees.

‘You got your keys?’ he asked him, and waiting for the younger man to root around in his pockets.

‘Don’t steal my ride,’ he said, handing them over and not noticing when Joel slipped them into his pocket.

‘M’going inside, and I’m gonna call you a taxi, and you’re getting in. She can drive your car back to you tomorrow mornin’…if she doesn’t decide to drive it off a cliff,’ he said, abandoning Mick on the front lawn and coming towards you, grabbing your wrist gentle but firm in his hand and pulling you inside. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and you followed, almost entirely on autopilot.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Miller,’ you started but he waved you away, placing a call for the taxi while keeping you fixed in your spot with his glare. When he was done, he rolled his shoulders, sighing.

‘You sit,’ he said, striding into the kitchen and emerging moments later with two glasses of sweet tea. You realised, as you lifted your hands to take your glass from him, that you were shivering.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ you said, and Joel shook his head. You felt the waves of disappointment rolling off him and you worried for a moment you might cry.

‘He always touch ya like that?’ he asked, palming at the back of his neck.

‘Like what?’ you asked, your cheeks burning again.

‘All…clumsy and…disrespectful,’ he said, quiet. He stared at the floor between you while you perched on the edge of the couch.

‘Well…’ you started, but you weren’t sure how you wanted to finish that sentence. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to touch me at all, you thought.

Joel scoffed, his jaw squeezed tight. ‘Guys like that are all the same, Sweetheart, just…selfish. Even in the bedroom. No lady should be touched like she’s a piece of meat.’

You considered, for one crazy moment, if Joel wasn’t so much disappointed in you as he was in Mick’s prowess. Suddenly you had to stifle a giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Joel asked you, surprised.  

‘Just…I mean, they all go to such fancy schools, get all that college for basically free…’ you started, trailing off when you saw him starting to smile. ‘He can’t even boil an egg, and I don’t mean mine,’ you said, and he laughed then, free and loud, and the sound of it made a little fizzle of joy spark up your spine.

This was fun, you realised, shitting on your terrible boyfriend with the most handsome single Dad you’d ever laid your eyes on. This was really, really fun.

‘So, I take it he don’t make you breakfast in the mornin’,’ Joel joked, and you snorted. ‘What you eat for breakfast, anyway?’ he asked, turning to you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You swallowed. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me guess.’ He pretended to look you up and down, his brow arching as he considered. ‘You’re not a waffles kinda girl,’ he said, thoughtfully. You grinned and shook your head. You’d never liked the sponginess. ‘But you’re too fun for plain old oatmeal,’ he said, and you felt a blush crawling across your chest. ‘You’re a pancake princess,’ he decided, finally. ‘Am I right?’

You pretended to consider it for a second before nodding happily at him. ‘Maple syrup and berries,’ you agreed.

‘Maple syrup and berries,’ he said, grinning in his victory. He paused, something passing between you. Suddenly he shifted forward, his knees just barely brushing yours. You found yourself mirroring him, leaning in enough that you had to put your hand out to steady you, landing it on the cushion only inches from his thigh. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he whispered in your ear, ‘tart…but a little bit of sweet for m’sweetheart.’

You felt heat scorch its way up your chest, reduced to kindling beside him.

‘Bet he don’t kiss ya like ya should be,’ he said, and you thought for a second of Mick, grinning and drunk out of his mind on the front lawn. You wondered if the taxi had come for him yet, and had absolutely no interest in going out to check on him.

‘Mr Miller…’ you whispered, and he groaned, then, his eyes rolling back in his head.

‘Please, baby, when you call me that…’ he trailed off, eyes blown wide and you felt, then, the thundering in your chest. From this distance you could see his racing pulse in his neck, the same pace as yours.

‘Mr Miller…’ you said, again, staring now at his lips. You wanted to reach out and just take a little nibble.

And he was on you, grasping the back of your head and bringing it down to him, crashing his lips into yours as you gasped, swallowing the echo down into his throat. His tongue, scorching hot, exploring your mouth as he teased it open, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks.

‘Thought about you…’ you said, without even thinking, and Joel pulled back a second to appraise you; your swollen lips, your doe-eyes gazing up at him.

‘Say that again,’ he mumbled.

‘When he’d take me, I’d think about you,’ you said, and you watched as his eyes fell shut, taking the moment to glance down at his heaving chest, the aching bulge between his legs. ‘Thought about your hands on me, Mr Miller, about your mouth.’

‘Fuck, Sweetheart…’ he said, almost as if it pained him, before his eyes snapped back open to gaze at you.

‘Kiss me?’ you asked, sweet as you could for him while you tried with both hands to hang on to the moment, to stay here in it with him. You would need to remember this, every corner of the room, every detail. Would spend nights reconstructing his face in your mind, the way he was looking at you now, wanting and red-cheeked, dark eyes and a hot little huff as your words landed their blows on him.

‘Canna touch you, baby?’ he asked, and you were nodding, pulling him towards you as he slid his hands over your waist. Threading your hands through his hair he brought you over him, straddling him on the couch as he stared up at you, brows arching high, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You smiled at him, feeling like his prize, as you brought your hips down on him and watched his eyes ease shut, heard his breath stutter. He was big, you could feel it even as the seam of his jeans rubbed at your core. You could feel yourself aching for him, hot and pounding where you ground yourself down.

‘Fuck, Mr Miller…’ you gasped as you felt him push his cock up into you, his hands on your hips and pulling you down.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he whispered, reaching up with one hand to cup your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers that, even through your shirt, shot lightning bolts to your cunt. You gasped, a high-pitched little sound you were sure you’d never made before, and he soaked it down into his skin, kept it held tight and precious in the core of him, to keep him warm on cold evenings.

You felt yourself shivering, even as his warm fingertips dropped to lift the hem of your tee and trace their way back up to your tits along the skin. His enormous hands almost completely captured it, and you felt small, then, and shy, but when you looked down into his warm, brown eyes you saw only safety there, only naked desire for your pleasure.

You let your hips roll, that building ache in your core. You’d only ever felt this alone, had never had another person bring it out of you, and you felt the sharp edges of it as you felt a shard of panic slice through your gut. No one had ever done this for you, before. You weren’t sure if your body would allow it, weren’t sure if you could let go enough to fall.

‘Hey…’ Joel said beneath you, his eyes roaming your face. ‘Relax, Sweetheart,’ he whispered, reaching his hand from your hip to your jaw, pulling you down to rest your forehead on his. ‘Just you n’me, baby,’ he whispered as you rocked on top of him. ‘You can take what you need,’ he promised. ‘I got you.’

‘Joel!’ you gasped, the shiver in your body now ratcheting up your spine, your thighs burning as you rolled your hips on his lap, his cock still tucked away in his jeans. ‘I don’t know if I…’

‘Sssh…’ he cooed, raising a thumb to your lips and slipping it between your teeth. You sucked instinctually, swirling your tongue over the tip and letting your eyes drift closed. ‘Just feel it, baby,’ he said, ‘don’t force it. Let it grow.’

Never in your life had you felt like this. You took his thumb between your teeth as you ground, the spark of fear in your belly engulfed by the roar of your desire. You could feel your hips stuttering, could hear yourself starting to pant.

‘Good girl…’ Joel encouraged, slipping his thumb from your mouth now and smearing it across your lips. ‘Right here for ya, baby,’ he said. ‘Wantchya to feel so good.’

You cried out, smacking your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries. He was going to kill you, and you would let him again and again, let him bring you back to life just to kill you this way all over again. You had no idea bodies were made to feel this good.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, all the warning you could muster as he grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming his bulge up into you as he pulled you down, the seam of his jeans rubbing hard into your clit. ‘Yes!’ you whispered, your body shuddering as you felt yourself crest, the pleasure roaring from your cunt to your chest, exploding out of your skin as you rolled, roiled, boiled on top of Mr Miller.

‘Jesus, there she is…’ he whispered, and you opened your eyes to gaze down at him, your breath still coming in gasps as he watched you, awe and desire on his face. ‘There she is,’ he said again, like a prayer, a benediction.

--

You woke slowly, the dappled light streaming in through the oak tree beside Joel’s window. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to remember that you were in his bed because he’d considered it too late for you to take yourself home, even if you had Mick’s car. Because the pleasure he’d wrung out of you on his couch had left you boneless, because the idea of ripping yourself from his smell, from his heat, was unthinkable in that moment.

You stretched, noting that the other side of the bed remained made, that he had spent the night on the couch. You remembered that you had wanted to ask him to stay, that the words had formed on your lips, and that in that moment you saw the regret on his face, the longing to tuck himself in beside you and pull you into his chest, let the weight of the night take him and you with him, but that he wouldn’t allow it, that he was holding back. You weren’t sure why, but you assumed out of decency, out of respect. Out of some vague employee-boss professionalism you would both cling to in an attempt to paper over the grasping maw of desire opening up between you.

You had wanted him, and you had denied him, allowed him to deny you. You rolled to your back in a frustrated huff, surrounded by the scent of him, of his cologne and the scent of his skin imbued in the sheets beneath you.

After a while you heard noises in the kitchen and you left your cocoon, pulling your clothes on and padding down the stairs constructing a cover story for Sarah as to why you were still there. When you rounded the corner, though, you saw only Joel –in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said casually, as if you hadn’t come on his lap less than twelve hours before, ‘Sarah’s headed off to soccer practice, so you and me’ll have to take care of all these.’

He gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen table, where a stack of cooling pancakes stood proud. You felt a shiver of shock run though you at the sight of them, turning to Joel with the curl of tears tickling the back of your eyes. ‘No berries, sorry darlin’,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But we got enough syrup to make it up to ya, I hope.’

You weren’t sure anyone had ever done anything like this for you. You wanted to sob, wanted to walk over to the table and pick up the pancakes in your fists and mash them into your skin, wanted to drown them in syrup and eat until your belly distended, wanted to force feed them into Joel. Instead, you stepped forward, your arms opening all of their own accord, wrapping yourself around his back like a Koala. He huffed out a surprised laugh, growing serious when he turned you in his arms to face him, seeing the gathering tears at your waterline.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he asked, and you grinned, watery, up at him.

‘No-one has ever…’ you started, catching your words before they spilled too much of the truth. Understanding passed over Joel’s face.

‘Oh, my sweet girl…’ he said, and you glowed for a minute, the words reaching down into your chest and igniting something long extinguished.

He leaned down towards you, pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting gently on yours. You inhaled him, his scent and the sweet smell of the pancakes on the stove, tried to imprint the memory deep in your DNA.

‘What the fuck is this?’ an angry voice sounded from behind you, and you snapped away from Joel, taking several steps back. Mick, still in his same clothes from the night before, stood furious in Joel’s kitchen.

‘The fuck, you let yourself in?’ Joel asked, matching Mick’s anger with his own. ‘This is a private residence, man.’

‘That’s my girlfriend, man,’ Mick spat, his face twisting into an ugly mask you weren’t sure you’d ever noticed on him before. ‘The fuck you doing feeling her up? You stealin’ my car and my girl?’

‘Mick…’ you started but he was ignoring you, advancing on Joel. You stepped towards him, hands up to placate, but Joel was suddenly beside you, tucking you behind him and shielding you with his broad chest.

‘Back up, buddy,’ Joel said, a whispered warning.

‘Me, back up?’ Mick seethed, about to go on before Joel interrupted him.

‘Yeah, you back up. You need to sit your arse down and learn yourself somethin’,’ he said, advancing on Mick so that the younger man took several steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen table. You wondered if anyone had ever actually stood up to him, if usually his wealth was enough to make people cower. He backed into a kitchen chair, slamming down into it with a thud as he stared up at Joel, the older man red faced and pointing a finger at his chest. ‘You think that little display last night was any way to treat a woman?’ he grit out. You watched as Mick shook his head no. ‘You think she enjoyed that, being pawed at in the dark like a fuckin’ street walker?’ he asked.

‘She looked pretty whorish a few seconds ago,’ Mick responded, petulant and stupid. You could see by the way Joel braced his shoulders, his back expanding in resplendent fury, that Mick had made the wrong fucking choice.

‘Ya little shit,’ Joel said, stepping back from Mick and towards you. He held his arm to you, beckoning you into his chest and you went to him, tucking yourself against his side.

‘You have a woman like this, you fuckin’ cherish her,’ Joel muttered, tracing his fingertips along your side and making you shiver. ‘Look at these pretty little tits,’ he said, moving to cup them as you blushed, tucking your face into his neck. You heard Mick’s sharp intake of breath, mirroring your own as Joel rolled your nipples through your shirt. ‘The way you were grabbin’ at ‘em last night, you think that felt good? You make her groan like this?’ he asked, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan from you, unbidden.

‘Listen, man, this is…’ Mick started but Joel cut him off with just a look, stern and disapproving, before his face shifted back to adoration when he turned to you.

‘Let’s show him, baby?’ he asked, his brows saddled high. You knew you were safe with him, that at any moment you could call it off, but you wanted this. You wanted Mick to see what Joel could do to you, the sounds you could make. Wanted him to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a real man, of real pleasure. Wanting him to see what money couldn’t buy.

You nodded your head at Joel and watched as the grin bloomed over his face. ‘M’good girl,’ he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it, and you felt the bolt of want shoot down into your core. Your cunt already aching, already dripping for him.

‘Show me where,’ he said, stepping back as you surveyed the space. You nodded towards the kitchen island, the bench just above your hip height. Joel nodded, lifting you up easily to perch on the edge, your body facing Mick as he sat, frozen, at the table in front of you.

‘Slip these off, baby,’ Joel said, tugging at your sweatpants and you lifted your hips as he slipped them, your panties along with them, out from underneath you. The granite countertop cold on the top of your thighs you revelled in the sensation of it, the hard, cold surface so different to Joel’s hot body as he hovered at your side.

‘Show him,’ he said, tapping you on the knee. You spread your legs, hooking one thigh over the edge of the counter and the other widening out to your side, your cunt unfolding before the two men in front of you. You watched as Mick’s face turned pink, sweat appearing on his brow. You turned to look at Joel, the hunger in his eyes as he devoured every inch of your skin. He reached over, running his fingertips over the inside of your thigh, moving closer to you, leaning over your body to whisper into your ear.

‘You’re dripping onto my countertop, baby,’ he said, and you could hear the glee in it, the wanting.

‘For you, Joel,’ you clarified. ‘Not him.’

‘Nah, never for him, I reckon,’ Joel agreed, his fingers slipping further towards your slit. You felt totally exposed and wanton, whorish, as Mick had put it, and your cunt was pulsing, aching from the desire of it. You felt like a priceless piece of art admired in a big city museum, like a stripper opening up her legs for hoards of braying men, like a girlfriend letting her disappointing boyfriend know in no uncertain terms he would no longer neglect her. You felt power coursing through your veins and into your cunt, your slick pooling on the top of your thighs as the most beautiful man you had ever seen stood beside you and teased the pleasure from every nerve.

‘Fuck…’ you whimpered as Joel’s fingers landed light and dexterous on your clit, the little bundle of nerves sending the pleasure roaring through your core and into your chest. You bucked your hips, nearly slipping from the countertop, Joel coming forward again to brace you against his chest.

‘God, look how much she wants it,’ Joel said over your head to Mick. ‘Bet you’ve never made her jump like that.’ You opened your eyes, not even having realised they’d closed, to watch Mick swallow hard and heavy. You beamed back at Joel, letting the pride in his face radiate warmth down upon you.

‘So good f’me, so good t’me,’ he said, spreading your lips apart with his fingers and pushing a fingertip inside. You gasped, shock on your face at the intensity of the need for him burning where he touched.

‘Please…’ you whimpered, just wanting more and just wanting him to never stop, just wanting him to reach inside you, to wring the pleasure out of you, to make you come so hard you forgot your own name.

‘Sshh…’ he cooed to you, ‘your boyfriend needs to concentrate so he can learn.’

You emitted a squeal of frustration, bucking your hips on his hand to try and draw him in, earning you only a chuckle from Joel.

‘Ok baby, m’sorry. Just like teasin’ ya,’ he grinned at you, before sliding two fat, rough fingers hard into your cunt.

For a second you lost touch with reality, your head flying back to the ceiling as sensations strong enough to take your breath roared from your cunt. The stretch was delicious, the heel of Joel’s hand rubbing hard at your clit as his fingers reached deep inside you, opening you up for him, your slick gathering in his palm.

‘Look how wet she gets,’ Joel noted, over his shoulder to Mick. ‘Such a shiny little cunt when she’s drippin’ like this. You ever work her up like this?’

You heard Mick grunt, a pleading note of displeasure, and you sighed as Joel started pumping, stoking the fire in your cunt that threatened to eviscerate you and everyone within the vicinity.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, rolling your hips again, trying to shove him deeper into your greedy little cunt as it grasped at him.  

‘Could lick ‘er up, whatchyu reckon?’ Joel asked, already getting down on his knees as you groaned, certain now he was going to send you into the stratosphere. ‘Can I, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, frantic, unable to form words.

‘Bet she tastes sweet,’ Joel said to Mick, who was inching closer in his chair, peering over Joel’s shoulder as your cunt swallowed his thick fingers. ‘Like watermelon on a hot summer day. You ever taste her, Mick?’ he asked. You watched as the shame bloomed over Mick’s face. Joel scoffed. ‘Course not, ya fuckin piss weak little prick,’ he spat before turning, diving in to lick a fat stripe at your folds, settling in to lap at your clit as his fingers worked you.

You screamed, sucking in huge lung-fulls of breath just to let them keen out of you, your hips slamming shut on Joel’s head as he sucked at you, every nerve ending screaming now as you felt the blooming heat of release.

‘Oh, he’s gonna make me…’ you said to Mick over Joel’s shoulder, watching you with owlish eyes.

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Joel admonished you, pulling your focus down to him as he perched between your legs, ‘you talk to me,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Mr Miller,’ you said, watching as his eyes rolled shut, a shiver passing over his shoulders.

‘Be the death of me…’ he muttered, returning his attentions to your pulsing cunt. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips on his face and rocking into him, chasing the release now gathering at the base of your spine.

‘Jesus…oh, fuck…’ you cried, trying desperately to warn him, your eyes slamming shut only to open in shock as he found new ways to wring the pleasure from you.

Joel worked you up, his tongue never fatiguing, setting up the perfect rhythm to hold you just on the edge. You could feel your sweat pooling on your skin, the heat in your cunt spreading down your legs, the pull of the knot in your belly.

To your utter dismay Joel stopped, lifting his face to address Mick at his shoulder. ‘You ever make her squirm like this?’ he asked, and you cried for him, then, scrabbling to grip his shoulders, his chin, to push him back to your desperate cunt. He laughed, nipping at your fingertips as they passed by. ‘Look at her graspin’ for me. You seein’ this? This is what real pleasure looks like.’

You cracked open an eye, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain control of your limbs. You saw the look of shame embedded deep into Mick’s face now, the sight of it somehow intensifying your pleasure, the building pressure in your cunt.

‘Fuck me,’ you gasped, turning your attention back to Joel, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Show him how to fuck,’ you groaned, pushing off the countertop and spinning up onto your toes, laying chest down on the granite now hot to the touch from your writhing body on top of it. You spread your legs a little, knowing that your puffy little cunt lips would be revealed to them both, and you heard them both groan, Joel’s chesty moan full of grit, Mick’s high pitched and brimming with regret.

‘Don’t do this, man…’ he pleaded, and you heard Joel’s little scoff.

‘That’s the thing, buddy, the lady always gets what she wants.’

You felt him come to stand behind you, heard the rustle of his sweats as he pulled his cock over the waistband. It took everything in you not to turn and admire it, knowing in that moment you would have plenty of opportunity.

‘Fuck, she’s got me weepin’,’ Joel said, and you heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged. ‘Got me harder than a railroad spike, this little cunt…’ he muttered. You whined, swivelling your hips to try and entice him, begging him to move faster as the walls of your cunt fluttered for him. You heard him sigh, a happy little sound. ‘Ok, baby, I’m here,’ he said, running a hand up your spine to hold you gentle and firm at the back of your neck, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. ‘Gotta be gentle with my sweet little pussy,’ he said to you, leaning over you to place a chaste kiss in the cup of your shoulder blade.

‘Please, let him see it stretch me,’ you said, and you felt Joel shudder, notching himself at your entrance.

‘Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll chain him up in the basement, make him watch me fuck you every day,’ he muttered, pushing gently at first, the tip enough to make you gasp.

He was big, you realised. All of this time working you up he’d been leading to his moment, preparing to tease you open. ‘Oh, shit…’ you gasped as he pushed.

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, pausing until you nodded, frantic, hands gripping at the edge of the counter for purchase as you pushed back into him, sliding in a few extra inches, as Joel moaned.

You were dimly aware that Mick was moving, coming to stand in front of you, a look of sorrow and unabashed heat on his face.

‘Please, can I?’ he asked, rubbing himself through his pants and you swatted him away.

‘No, fuck you,’ you said, emboldened by Joel’s desire for you, by his cock currently splitting your folds. ‘You never get this pussy again,’ you hissed at him, and you felt a bloom of pride at the look of hurt crossing his face just as Joel cheered from behind you.

‘That’s my beautiful girl!’ he gasped, bringing a finger to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it, making you gasp as you let your head fall, resting on the countertop. ‘So good f’me.’

The burn in your cunt from the way he stretched you abated, the pleasure Joel was giving you from your clit causing more slick to gather, your cunt grasping him again, your walls fluttering as you felt the ache turn to sweet pleasure, to a blooming rapture.

You lost touch with the ground, Joel’s harsh thrusts pushing you further up the counter, completely at his mercy as your legs hung useless beneath you, hands braced against the granite to give him purchase. In this moment, spread out on his cock, your cunt open and dripping for him, the pleasure ripping the words from your brain, gasps racking your throat, you felt completely under Joel’s spell, his touch, his heat. Mind-numb, thoroughly fucked out, gripped in this moment between the build up and the threshold of release.

‘Oh, you’re gonna make me…’ you warned but Joel had you, was there already with you.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he grunted between thrusts. ‘Can feel it, can feel that sweet little cunt grippin’ me.’

You cried out, nodding your head furiously, entirely at his mercy now. ‘Yes, yes…Joel, it’s gonna…’

‘Let it go, baby,’ he moaned, and you felt none of the panic, none of the terror at your impending release, wrapped up safe in Joel’s body, in his groans of rapture, in the pull of the knot as it threatened to snap entirely.  

‘Watch me make her come,’ he spat out over your head, and you were only dimly aware of what he was saying as your release sped towards you.

You writhed, your breath stolen from you by the roar of the wildfire across your chest. The push of your orgasm slipping you under, crashing your body into the shore, rolling and quaking underneath it as indescribable lust coursed through your veins.

‘Oh, fuck, there she goes,’ Joel spluttered, his hips stuttering as he started to deepen his thrusts. ‘Gonna fill up ya girl,’ he grit out, his final movements sloppy and desperate as he approached the edge.

‘Do it, baby,’ you whimpered beneath him, words finally able to escape the cage of your throat. ‘Need you.’

He did, then, his come exploding into you and washing you clean, cleansing you of Mick, of all your disappointments, of all your fears. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he crested, his eyebrows saddled and his eyes trained on you, a look of reverence and hunger, of sweet shock, as though he couldn’t believe how good it felt either, as if everything for him was also slotting into place, as if he knew in this moment he would never let anyone separate you, would never let anyone take you from his side, that in his moment you were his just as much as he was yours, that this was a forging of something solid and essential, something vital and something precious, something that was just for you.

--

You didn’t remember Mick leaving. Didn’t care to say goodbye.

Joel had peeled you off the counter and carried you upstairs, drawn you a bath and lowered you gently into the water, sat beside you and washed your body as you lulled in and out of a light sleep.

Drying you off he wrapped you up in his clothes, swamping you in cotton and his scent, before promising to make you a fresh batch of pancakes. You hadn’t let him, whimpering when he tried to leave your side, pulling him down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

Later you would figure out lunch, and then Sarah, and then the rest of your lives. For now, you had each other, and cool sheets, and the light patter of rain as a welcome cool breeze blew new life over the garden beneath Joel’s window.

[night-raven-tattler]

Just... Just Mc asking Jamil, Trey, Idia and Sebek to do the "painting your nails with your s\o eye color"

I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS AND WOULD BE SO CUTE IN YOUR WRITING (。´Д⊂)

-🌙

Hello 🌙! This is an adorable request and Mx Tattly lives for this kind of romantic fluff. Thank you for your request!

Nailing that new look!

Characters: Trey, Jamil, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (romantic, separate)

Warnings: minor chapter 6 spoilers, mentions of food in Trey's part, implied body issues in Idia's part

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Trey was hard at work, his hands kneeding into the dough and his arms flexing with strain

Despite his physical effort, he was in high spirits, smiling to himself as he looked at the dough in his hands- or, better said, his hands in the dough

His nails were, for the first time in his life, adorning nail polish

But not any nail polish, but one the color of your eyes

Cater was there when you showed Trey a thread on Magicam that showed a cute trend, lovers painting their nails with the color of each other's eyes, and how much you seemed to enjoy the idea

But you didn't dare to ask outright - maybe Trey wasn't comfortable with that kind of thing, which you respected

Yet, the moment you were gone, Trey turned towards Cater and asked him to help find nail polish that matched your eyes and his eyes...

Trey's smile grew even fonder at the memory as he finished with the dough, putting it aside to rest

He was working on some rolls he could hopefully greet you with later...

"Someone's been in a good, spoiling mood lately."

Your voice rung pleasantly in the wing and in Trey's mind as you took a bite out of his rolls

"They're my favorite flavor, too. How did you know?"

Trey grinned as he saw you wipe your mouth the cream with a tissue, his eye color complimenting your nails quite nicely

"I guess I was really lucky this time, huh?"

You huffed in amusement at his answer, both of you knowing he was not honest

But he was smiling in content with the way you almost seemed to show off your nails whenever he looked at you

And you also looved very pleased with yourself when he reached to wipe some cream off your face with his thumb, his nails clearly showing off the color of your eyes

Despite it being a trend, it was like a secret between the two of you

A discreet exchange of words of love between the two of you

『••✎••』

The Scarabia boy didn't really keep up with trends, and internet culture memes usually flew over his head

But you never cared about that, and always explained things to Jamil in group settings so he wouldn't feel too out of the loop

Yet, he kept hearing you talk about this one trend with your friends, a trend you yet had to explain to him, which made him curios enough to look it up himself

As he was reading the first article that popped up, a small devious grin started adorning his face

The master of always being one step ahead of you was cooking up a new way to surprise you...

A usual, silent cuddle session in the evening turned into him taking your hand and bringing it to his lip

His lips on your knuckles brought a small stutter to your heart, making it forget how to beat for a second

You could swear Jamil was a cuddlebug the moment every window and door was closed, and he seemed to get high off of the feeling of having you all to himself

"Your hands are very different than mine."

If your entire attention weren't focused on Jamil, you almost would've missed his words

"Really? How so?"

As to show you the differences, Jamil brought your hands in front of you, putting his palm and aligning his fingers to fit yours

His hands were more calloused, his fingers were quite longer, and his nails were well taken care of

"...When did you start painting your nails, love?"

He smiled at your, a mix of affection and mischief

"Only recently. I felt the need to try something new. Something... different."

It was a peculiar color choice for nail polish, and it didn't go with his general aesthetic at all

"Maybe we should paint our nails together. What do you think?"

His question caught you off guard, but you excitedly accepted his offer

Jamil was a very skilled person, and he definitely knew how to do nails properly

Much to your surprise, he simply reached towards his nightstand and took a small bottle out of his drawer

"You have the color picked and everything, huh? You little..."

Your tease died on your throat when you saw the color of the polish, and suddenly it clicked into your mind

You looked at Jamil, affection and admiratyion and amusement all dancing in your eyes together

"How did you know...?"

He only gave you a satisfied grin, making you blush slightly

Jamil has his way of always surprising you, if always catching you off guard in one way or another, but this was beyond what you expected

Jamil was always so thoightful, so careful with you, and it made your heart swell

...and the payback in kisses almost infinite

『••✎••』

The Shroud family was forced to carry a curse, a punishment extending through generations for the mistakes of just one reckless Shroud

The overly fast blot dissolution leads to his trademark fire-like blue hair, and the blue coloration of his lips, his nails and fingertips

Looking down at his hands and seeing that blue can be hard sometimes, seeing that blue and the weight he's been forced to carry

But the first time he looked down and saw a differently color he kind of jumped until he remembered what happened

He saw every single one of the Magicam videos you sent him, and he has been aware of the trend way before you were

"You can't say that this isn't a bit cringe..."

He pouts as his left hand is receiving a much needed manicure from you while he does his dailies on his phone

"Maybe a little bit, but you still agreed to it."

Your smooth hands hold his gently as you apply the nail polish of your eye color, while you already have that golden hue adorning your nails

Idia grumbled to himself a little bit, his hair glowing more pink the longer you held his hand

Once the first hand was done, you let it go and pushed it towards him

"Careful to not smudge it. What do you think?"

Idia took a few moments to examine his newly painted nails, trying to will his brain into not finding it weird to not see his natural, blue tinted nails

Now they carried a color he could only describe as full of life, as full of something other than dread

And, somehow, they made his hands look more... appealing, like he didn't see the same weirdly long, boney fingers attached to a palm way too narrow

Of course the color of you looked weird on his fingers, but it was the kind of weird that was quirky more than anything

He pursed his lips, his hair turning more pink as he struggled to find the words to say

"...This is the kind of cringe I can get behind."

His voice came out as more of a mumble, a small admission instead of his sigh of defeat whenever you got him to do something coupley like this

You offered him a small smile, pulling his phone out of his other hand and resting it on his lap as you worked on his other hand

"Glad to hear that."

『••✎••』

"Why would I want to paint my nails in the color of your eyes?"

His question sounded rude to some, even as if he was questioning why he'd want to indulge in something so silly

But by this point in your relationship you knew Sebek well enough to know he was simply genuinely confused by the trend you just showed him

"It's a form of... showing devotion, I suppose. We paint each other's nails as the color of each other's eyes to show that, no matter what, we carry a small part of the other with us at all times."

Sebek let those words sink in before he nodded

"So this is why you want to do this with me?"

You nodded as both of your cheeks grew rosy at the small proposal

"I also thought it would be really cute, you know..."

You added, and Sebek mumbled something about "not needing to do cute as a guard", but he loved to see you happy, so he relented

The next day, you were in town, shopping for the nail polish

And, to your surprise, you had to help Sebek make the difference between crimson and emerald... huh

Once you picked the colors, you were ready to leave, yet...

Your eyes lingered on a certain color, a shade of lime that came close to yellow, vibrant that reminded you of a certain heir

"Hey, Sebek."

Sebek hummed at you when you caught his attention, looking down at the bottle you picked up

"This shade is close enough to Malleus' eye color, don't you think?"

It took a few moments for him to catch on, and he was... taken aback by your consideration

And the two of you left the shop as he sung your praises for your observation and quick thinking

Sebek was the type of person who enjoyed symmetry, a clean and neat look

Belief that lately has been contradicted by his mismatched nail polish

When anyone asks, he gets slightly embarassed and stuttery, but to him it's a proud display of devotion

The eye color of his liege adorns his left hand, the hand with which he yields his sword, his baton, his magic

And your eye color adorns his right hand, the hand you always hold when he's busy so he isn't preoccupied, the hand he reaches towards you in moments of danger to push you behind him, offering you protection

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Heels ~ Viktor x Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic, romantic feelings, slight enemies to lovers if you unfocus your eyes a bit

General Idea: Viktor used to hate the sound of those damn boots of hers, but now he's grown to find an odd sense of comfort in the noise. Along with... a series of other feelings.

Content Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Viktor being sassy, s1 Viktor, Takes place between S1E3~E4, Viktor's kinda down bad but in a denial way, Viktor also isn't good at realizing he has feelings for the reader, Jayce needs a 32hr nap

A/N: My Viktor headcanons got a LOT more love than I thought they would... so I decided to write some more Viktor XD

(Nobody's POV, but it's mostly told. through Viktor's thoughts)

~☆~

The lab was pretty much silent. The only sounds heard were the sounds of Viktor tinkering with a Hextech device and the occasional flipping of pages as (Y/N) read some notes that Jayce had written. It was late, definetly past midnight as the two worked.

"(Y/N)," Viktor says, breaking the silence. The girl's head pops up at the sound of her name. "Come here for a second? I need a second pair of hands."

"Be right there." She says, finishing the page she was on. She stands up and walks towards him, the sound of her boots hitting the tile as she walks.

Clack

Click

Clack

Viktor used to hate the sound of her boots. "Those damn boots are so annoying," He had complained to Jayce during the first week of (Y/N) working as a part-time assistant. "Click clack click clack, drives me insane!" He had mocked before sighing.

"Viktor... don't both your boots AND your cane make that noise as well?"Jayce had responded, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. This made Viktor at a loss for words.

"Well... It's annoying when she does it!" He had sassed back in response, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

That was 3 years ago. Now, he found a weird sense of comfort in hearing the sound of her boots hit the floor. He couldn't explain why, enjoyment of familiarity maybe?

"What's up?" (Y/N) says, standing behind Viktor. The smell of her perfume was almost overwhelming to him, overloading his senses. Which was weird, seeings as it must've been almost 13 hours since she'd last applied perfume. And that doesn't last long... was he delusional? Or maybe just tired? Whatever. It doesn't matter.

"Yeah, I just need you to hold this in place." Viktor says, not even looking up from what he's doing. He gestures to a little piece of metal he's holding. (Y/N) leans over Viktor and holds the piece in place as requested. The scientist trys his best to ignore the feeling of her closeness and the racing of his heart... holy crap was it warm in here? It must've been. Although it seemed strange to him that it was magically warm in here all of a sudden. This spirals him into a memory, a memory that took place a little less than a week prior to now.

Viktor sat at his desk, for once not to work on Hextech, but to run his hands through his hair and stay deep in thought.

"Viktor?" Jayce asked. "Are you OK? You haven't been as focused as you normally are today. Did something happen?"

"I think... I think there's something genuinely wrong with me." Viktor says. "Like... maybe I'm coming down with something?? I don't know." Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane slightly for support.

"Oh?" Jayce asks, raising an eyebrow. "Could you, uh, possibly elaborate on that?"

"Well, for one everytime Ms.(L/N) comes near me I about have a damn heart attack." Viktor says, his cane clacking softly on the floor as he paces. "Like yesterday, perfect example. She accidently brushed my hand when she was passing me a paper and I actually thought I was dying."

Jayce suppresses a smile, trying not to laugh. Was Viktor really getting THIS worked up... over a little crush? "Oh?" Jayce says, still suppressing a smile. "Is that it?"

"Whenever she's near me, I swear to the gods that I become hyperaware of... like... everything." Viktor says. "Like the room feels warmer, her perfume or her shampoo is ALL I can smell, I'm almost convinced I know every single speckle of color in her eyes... I think I might actually be going crazy." Viktor says, stopping his pacing. "I'm positive. I've actually hit the breaking point and am decending into insanity."

Jayce now can't help but laugh. Maybe it was his lack of sleep from working on Hextech for days on end, maybe it was the seriousness in Viktor's voice about his "decent to madness." Jayce's laughter came out as almost wheezes due to how hard he was laughing.

Viktor throws his hands up in exasperatedness. "Jayce!" Viktor scolds. "This ISN'T funny! There's-"

This just makes Jayce laugh more and more. "Yes it is, Viktor." Jayce manages to say through wheezes. He's holding onto the desk for support as he laughs. It gets to the point where passersby become mildly concerned for the scientist's wellbeing. "I assure you you're not decending to madness."

"Then what the hell is going on????" Viktor exclaims, collapsing into his chair.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine." Jayce says, wiping the tears of laughter away as he tries to steady his breathing.

"Viktor?" The sound of his name snaps him out of the memory. "You good? I think I said your name like five times." (Y/N) says with a chuckle. Viktor shakes his head slightly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Viktor says, continuing what he was doing. He tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands, the side of his own hand pressed against Ms. (L/N)'s own hand. When he's done. He about throws the screwdriver down. "Thank you for your assistance." Viktor says, the weight off his shoulders earning a little sigh of relief.

"Was that all you needed?" (Y/N) asks.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Viktor says. (Y/N) hums in response, walking over to her desk. Click, clack, click, clack. Her boots echo in the room. She grabs her coat and walks towards Viktor again.

"I'm gonna head out then." She says. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound of her boots ring in Viktor's head, a haunting sound that he didn't actually mind having on replay in his brain. "You should too soon." She says, her voice kind and soft.

Viktor's stomach feels like it's about to leap out of his body. Even though it was scientifically impossible, he couldn't help but worry about it. "I will soon." He says, the softness in his voice actually shocking him. Normally he'd just lie out his teeth and sleep in the lab, or not sleep at all. However, when he said that he would... he truly meant it. His eyes move away from the project and to (Y/N). "I'm just gonna finish this little bit up."

(Y/N) smiles, it's tired and small, but it's still a smile nonetheless. Seeing her smile along made the corners of his lips feel like they were moving on their own. He suppresses a smile the best he can, but it still shows on his face. "Goodnight, Viktor." She says, her voice still soft. She didn't speak full volume, and that for some reason made Viktor's heart rate skyrocket.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He says, the same tone and volume as (Y/N). She turns and walks out of the room. Click, clack, click, clack. He listens to the sound of her shoes until they completely fade out.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine."

Viktor didn't have a crush on (Y/N)... did he?

~☆~

For more fics: my masterlist

Feel free to request fics!!!

~Squeed

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 2 | l.n

summary: you’re running out of time to start your project and lando’s really trying to get you to agree to his ultimatum, despite your constant disagreeing.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy!lando x sunshine!reader, banter per usual, kind of shitty writing, and some more setting the scene.

series masterlist

the sunlight shone in through the tall windows of the library as you scribbled in your notebook. highlighters and pens scattered across the table, laptop sitting in front of you with a list of assignments you needed to get done this week.

the headphones on your head helped block out any noise from the outside world, free of any distractions from the other students in the upstairs portion of the large building. however, they also drowned out the noise of footsteps approaching behind you.

a tap on your shoulder almost sent you flying out of your seat, turning around and tugging an ear cuff off to be met with green eyes and brown, floppy, messy curls that clearly had endured the wind outside. you immediately sighed, “what do you want, norris?”

��well beings you left me on read,” he wore that stupid, signature smirk that you really just wanted to wipe off his face, “i figured i’d come to you with the proposal in person.”

“has anyone told you how insufferable you are?”

he pulled the chair out from across the table, dropping his backpack to the floor before leaning back in the wooden chair, “no, they’re usually telling me i’m irresistible,”

“their standards must be pretty low.”

he shrugged, watching as you closed the lid of your laptop, placing the pen that once had been in your hand down on the lined paper. if there was one thing you knew about lando norris, other than the fact that he was undoubtedly annoying, he was also stubborn as fuck.

“let me get this right,” you started, “you want to be my model for my project so that in return i help you in econ, right?”

“yeah,” he said, “you scratch-“

“‘i scratch your back, you scratch mine’, yeah, whatever,” you said, “here’s my question, why don’t you just go to the tutoring center for help? like everyone else?”

“because i know you,” he said, “and because there’s a long ass waitlist for a tutor.”

“maybe you should’ve went earlier in the semester,” you shrugged.

“wasn’t failing the course til now,” he had an answer for everything, didn’t he?

“look, you’re running out of time to find someone for your little painting, and i’m one test score away from having to take the class again and miss graduation in the spring. why don’t we just be civil for the next month or so, help each other out, and then we can go back to hating each other as much as you’d like.”

maybe he had a point. you were running out of time to get started and despite your best efforts in not trying to feel bad for him, you kind of did. econ was a hard course, even you had struggled with it last semester. and you really didn’t want to be the reason why he misses graduation if you didn’t help him.

it wasn’t really that bad of an ultimatum, surely it could’ve been worse. it’s not like you were going to fall in love with him or anything.

“alright, fine,” you said, making him smile and cheer silently, “but, we‘re doing things my way.”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “whatever you say,”

you began packing your things into your bag, “can we start tonight?”

“yeah, my last class ends at six. ‘m free after,”

“sounds good,” you said, “i’ll text you which building and floor is mine.”

he nodded, that stupid smirk popping up on his face again, “it’s a date then.”

you scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder before calling over your shoulder, “definitely not!”

you got back to your apartment, throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter before spotting your roommate, lily, on the couch. an episode of the show she had been trying to convince you to watch on the tv, but her head leaned back to smile at you softly.

“how was the library?”

you hummed, rummaging in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle from it, “it was fine until the devil showed up.”

she laughed softly, “‘the devil?’”

“yeah,” you plopped down next to her, “remember the guy i was telling you about the other day? oscar’s roommate who asked me to tutor him in exchange for being my model for the project?”

she hummed, “yeah, what did he just show up?”

“unfortunately. i think oscar must’ve mentioned to him that i go to the library on fridays to work on assignments. the guy literally tracked me down to convince me to agree to his plan in person because i left him on read the other night.”

she laughed softly, “gotta give it to him, at least he’s committed,”

“to getting on my nerves? oh, one hundred percent.”

“i mean, at least he’s offering to help you too,” she said, “plus, is he really all that bad?”

“just wait til you meet him,” you mumbled, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

she looked at the time on her phone, “after this episode i’m gonna start getting ready to head to the cafe. promised someone i’d meet them tonight,”

you wiggled your eyebrows, bumping her shoulder, “ooh, is it that cute guy from your chemistry class who you won’t shut up about?”

“one, i do shut up about him,” she sent you a pointed look but her face broke out into a small smile shortly after, “and two, maybe, who knows?”

“lils this is great!” you smiled, “i told you, he’s definitely into you!”

“i hope so. part of me wants to believe you, but the other part is telling me he just said ‘yes’ out of pity.”

“well then he clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if he did,” you stood from the couch, “wear that black long sleeve you have, you look hot in it.”

“i hate you,” she laughed as you ventured to your room, heading to start setting up the things you needed for tonight.

“no you don’t!” you giggled back.

you made your way into your room and gathered all the supplies you were going to need in order to start your project tonight. humming along to a tune that was stuck in your head, you glanced at the clock and realized that time had passed a little quicker than you had thought.

lando should be here any minute.

and as if right on queue, you heard lily’s voice through the apartment, “y/n, lando’s here!”

you made your way to the living room where he was standing talking to lily, backpack still on his shoulders. he sported a backwards cap over his curls with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants to match. little curls peeked out from underneath the hat and-

why were you subtly checking him out?

“okay well you guys have fun,” lily smiled softly, “i’m heading out. it was nice meeting you, lando! i’ll see you guys later!”

her voice brought you back to the present tense, lando bidding her a soft smile and a wave, “nice meeting you, too!”

“bye! good luck!” you called back, causing her to let out a chuckle and a playful eye-roll as she’ll as she headed out the door.

“so,” he said after a beat of silence, following as you led him to your room, “what is it that you need me to do?”

you grabbed your sketchbook from your desk as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you can do whatever you want as long as you’re still enough for me to be able to come up with a draft.”

“sounds good,”

“good, let’s get this whole thing over with, yeah?”

[mattserenity]

“chris, what the fuck! why are you playing s’bad today? something goin’ on?” matt shouted over the rapid gunfire sounds blasting through their game.

“s—sorry… i’m just a little distracted right now,” chris stammered into the mic, his voice wavering as he struggled to keep his cool. he glanced down, trying to stay composed, but his focus shattered when he met your gaze, filled with lust. your tongue dragged slowly along the length of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

“whatever… jus’ try harder,” matt muttered, clearly unconvinced by chris’s flimsy excuse.

the moment you crawled under his desk, chris knew exactly what you had in mind—and he wasn’t about to stop you. even with thousands of viewers tuned in, none of them had any idea what was really happening beneath the desk.

he quickly muted his mic, releasing a moan he’d been desperately holding back. his head fell back in pleasure before he sat upright again, eyes flicking to the screen. hundreds of comments flooded the chat, asking if he was okay—some even saying that they could already see the edits coming.

“d-don’t stop,” he pleaded, unmuting his mic with shaky hands, his fingers tangling in your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. the mic barely missed the lewd sounds of you taking him deeper, the wet noises just out of reach but dangerously close to being heard.

"fuck!" he groaned, a bit too loud, quickly running his fingers through his hair to play it off as casual. you teased him mercilessly, flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip, sending a shudder through him. the chat immediately lit up with comments: “pause,” and “what was that noise, chris???” flooding the screen as he struggled to keep his composure.

“chris, what the fuck are you doin’?” matt asked, frustration creeping into his voice as the game slipped further out of focus.

“uh, i just hit my hand on the desk, sorry,” chris lied, his voice strained. his stomach tightened, the familiar coil of pleasure building as he edged closer and closer to his climax, trying to keep it together.

you continued your work beneath the table, determined to push him over the edge. pulling your mouth off with a soft pop, chris groaned at the sudden loss of contact. not wanting to leave him waiting too long, you wrapped your hand around him, pumping his cock a few times before focusing solely on his tip. you suckled on it, teasing your tongue over his sensitive slit, driving him closer to his breaking point.

“mmph—!” chris whimpered as warm ropes of come shot down your throat without warning, nearly making you choke. you swallowed it all, careful not to let any slip past your lips.

quietly, you crawled out from under the desk, making sure no one in the chat caught a glimpse of you.

“hi, everyone!” you said with an innocent smile, stepping into view of chris’s camera and waving. the chat immediately lit up with greetings, comments flooding in about how much they’d missed you. not a single person had any idea what had just happened moments before.

© mattserenity. please don’t repost, copy or steal my work without asking for permission or credits.

based off this post ✉️ @xxotothedeathx

[bestreadfanfic]

Landscapes

Summary: Johnny and Simon are both done with their military service and now live in the English countryside. However, Johnny's time in the military left him disabled and with a lot of unresolved issues. You and your boyfriend moved into their sleepy town and Johnny just knows you need saving.

Pairings: Ghoap x reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, Soap has PTSD, Violence

A/N: So, I was supposed to writing part two on my other story, but I got writer's block. This just popped up in my head.

Johnny wasn’t a creep. Majority of people that came across him would describe him as a good guy that's just a bit intense. In fact, Johnny was such a good person that he risked and was willing to sacrifice his life for his country. While his time in the military didn’t kill him, although sometimes he wished it did, he did lose a leg and got some brain damage. The point is that Johnny sacrificed enough to indulge himself once in a while.

It’s not like he was causing you any harm. No, he was just keeping an eye on you. Despite the fact that he’s only ever really seen you from afar and never even spoke to you he felt this overwhelming protectiveness over you. He knew that your boyfriend was no good. 

Boyfriend

Not your husband. Neither of you two wore a ring. Not to mention that when the two of you moved into the small house down the road and Johnny and Simon went to introduce themselves he very pointedly said that his girlfriend lives with him as well. Johnny didn’t have the chance to speak to you then. It’s not like he really wanted anyway. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t a very pleasant person to be around. It only worsened when he found out that Johnny and Simon were in a relationship. Johnny figured that only a woman that was as unpleasant as him was able to put up with. But they say that opposite attracts. 

It was nearly a month after meeting your boyfriend that Johnny finally saw you. In that month Johnny had plenty of interactions with your boyfriend. None of them that Johnny enjoyed. 

Every morning Johnny would go for a walk. At first Simon would walk with him, but Johnny needed to go alone. It’s not that he didn’t love Simon. He did with all his heart. But he needed the freedom. Needed to prove that he was capable. Even if that meant going for a walk by himself.  

Johnny knew that the only reason Simon allowed him to go on these walks was because they lived in the British countryside. Crime rarely ever happened in their small town. Johnny also knew that despite being in such a safe town Simon would follow him on these little walks. Of course when he first figured this out he was furious, but Johnny had lost the will to fight over most things. He needed these walks for his sanity. If the price to pay was having Simon follow him from afar he would gladly take it. Besides he sacrificed way bigger things before.  

He often zoned out of these walks. That’s probably why he didn’t notice you at first. It was your sobs that brought him out of his daydreams. You were sitting on the side of the road in front of your house just bawling your eyes out. It took him a while to register that you were that asshole’s girlfriend. 

By the time that his foot started to move towards you the front door to your house swung open. The loud noise caused him to stop in his tracks. He hated loud noises now. It caused him to freeze and retreat back inside of his head. His comfort space. He could still see and hear what’s going on around him. He just couldn’t process it. 

He saw your boyfriend stomping outside of the house right up to the two of you. He heard your boyfriend yelling at you and then at him. But he couldn’t understand the words that were spewing out of his mouth. He couldn’t move his foot. His crutches seemed to be buried into the ground keeping him glued to the spot. He wanted to move so bad. Or at least tell him to stop. But he couldn’t. 

His unresponsiveness only seemed to make your boyfriend madder. So mad that he came up to Johnny chest to chest. Johnny was taller but he was in no shape to fight. When your boyfriend lightly shoved Johnny's chest he toppled over like a domino. 

Although that only served further paralyzed Johnny it put you into motion. You put yourself in between Johnny and your boyfriend begging. Johnny couldn't understand what you were saying but did understand that you were attempting to defend him. 

It wasn’t needed however, because in the next 30 seconds your boyfriend was flat on the ground with Simon on top of him pounding his face in. You knew better than to get in between Simon and your boyfriend so you just stood to the side begging him to stop. 

Simon turned his head toward you and for a second Johnny was sure that you were next. But he knew that Simon wasn’t one to hit women. Instead you and Simon exchange a few words. Johnny didn’t understand he could see your mouth move and hear the words, but his brain refused to translate the words.  

Johnny groaned in frustration causing the two of you to snap your heads towards him. The rest was a blur. When Johnny came again he was in his bed. The whole ordeal was a mess but Johnny came out of it with a strange fascination with you. 

He was more aware of you. For someone that he’s never seen around before you seemed to be in a lot of places. He never approached you though. Simon had warned him to avoid both you and your boyfriend at all costs. 

However, Simon never said anything about watching you. It’s not like he was stalking you. No, it just so happens that the two of you rarely had anywhere to go and often enjoyed taking walks through the English countryside.

[tubatwo]

once more to see you - huening kai

summary: where meeting TXT Bank’s new intern makes y/n come up with any excuse to see him

pairing: gn reader x huening kai

genre: fluff; 2.1k words

a/n: I don’t even know what this bank thing is for yet I just saw this pic and immediately had to write. also this is literally not how bank visits go but LMAO. aren’t silly stories just perfect!!! nothing makes sense!!!

working in food service in one of the busiest cities meant that each night would end in tips galore. thankfully, your regular checks were enough to pay the bills, so you usually stuck with depositing cash tips at least once a month.

this was a regular routine that worked for you. walk into TXT Bank, talk to the strict bankteller whose name was apparently taehyun, show your ID, hand money over, boom. done.

but one day, this routine ended up falling apart. you walked in, and instead of taehyun, you were met with the face of the adorable new intern.

kai was deeply focused on the computer in front of him, desperately trying to figure out the client case taehyun showed him earlier. his cat-like manager’s instructions kinda went in one ear and out of the other, so it was crucial to figure things out as soon as possible if he wanted to secure his full-time position. that is, until he noticed your figure approaching with his peripheral vision.

the two of you locked eyes, eyes sparkling as if you each had just spotted an adorable puppy. kai’s cheeks grew red and your ears started to feel hot as you walked closer to him.

“hi, excuse me? i’m here to deposit cash to one of my accounts.” you look down and start to play with the zipper of the bag holding your tips, the eye contact from before making you overwhelmed as your brain practically malfunctions. where the hell is taehyun? and did he have to leave someone so cute in charge?

kai clears his throat before putting on his best customer service voice, “of course! i’d be more than happy to help you, ma’am.”

you look up and see his name tag: ‘KAI HUENING - INTERN’ the word ‘intern’ snapping you out of your temporary trance from before.

“oh um, is this the right desk? i noticed your tag says intern…” the furrow of your brows and confusion all over your face makes it near impossible for kai to hold back his smile as he responds. “no worries! i’m in the midst of receiving a full-time position here. i may be an intern, but i can assure you that i’m approved to work on deposits. we’re just a bit short-staffed at the moment.”

kai’s warm, gentle gaze washes over you, so much that even if he was straight up lying, you wouldn’t even blink an eye. his brown eyes were slightly hidden by the strands of hair falling over his face, which also happened to be decorated with soft moles all around. his mullet-like haircut also complimented his button-up, making him look like the lead singer of an old pop-rock band.

“ma’am?” kai’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, making you flinch a little. “oh, i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

you wave your hands and apologize, “i’m sorry! i suppose i started drifting off a bit. here is everything you need.” you pull your ID and the cash out of your pouch, handing it to the intern and trying to calm your heart after your fingers brush against each other. after everything is finalized, kai hands your ID back to you. “alright, everything is set!”

you look at his nametag once again, “thank you um… kai?, i really appreciate it.” kai’s cheeks grow red again at your voice saying his name so sweetly. he chuckles nervously and scratches his head. “yep, that’s me! well, did you need anything else?”

you try to rack your brain for any possible thing that could extend your stay, but nothing comes to mind. “no, that’s all! thank you again.” you say, slightly disappointed. kai smiles. “it was my pleasure, make sure to visit us again!”

and you did. many times. like waaaay too many times.

after meeting kai, you couldn’t help but want to see him more. your usual monthly trips to the bank turned into weekly, and then almost daily. every time you collected your tips for the night, you made sure to visit the bank again in the morning.

as you visit more frequently, you and kai’s interactions start to become playful, and you become a bit more closer. you both still get shy as you lock eyes, but jokes are often thrown in here and there. kai found himself taking extra time to count your money when you came in, desperate trying to hold onto every second of your presence.

“hey!” you try to hold in your laugh, “as the intern, shouldn’t you be learning to count faster not slower?” you joke. kai’s hearty laugh fills the room before he pretends to look offended. “excuse me? it’s only natural that I get a little distracted when a pretty person enters the room”. his words make your entire body grow warm, and you can’t help but try to shift the focus away from you. “o-oh? I don’t think that line was part of your training.” you giggle.

kai giggles with you before thinking of a rebuttal, “you’re right actually. our handbook specifically says to not flirt with customers... buuut i’ve never been great with remembering the rules.”

“well, if you’re gonna be a bankteller then you should probably start studying before you end up in jail for fraud or something.”

the two of you burst out laughing, failing miserably when it comes to keeping quiet. you let out a few giggles again before you’re left in a comfortable silence. “I guess you got me there, but seriously y/n, i’m happy I can always help you.”

after a few months of visiting kai (and seeing the bank more than your own family), you wake up one day to head over before realizing that you don’t have any tips to deposit. “shit.” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes in frustration. you had the day off yesterday and don’t go back to work until tomorrow. you were left with a completely free day to do whatever you wanted.

any normal person would have taken the chance to relax, maybe get some chores done, even some shopping? but the only thing you cared about was hearing kai’s laugh again. there had to be more reasons to visit the bank, right? yeah! you could come up with something…

after cleaning yourself up and getting ready, you felt slightly embarrassed at how much effort you put into your appearance. were you trying too hard? would kai get the wrong idea and think you were meeting with someone? by the time you had answered your own questions, you were already at the front door of the building. you took a deep breath and headed inside, expecting brown eyes to meet yours again.

well, they did. but they weren’t the ones you were looking for.

“how can I help you?” kang taehyun asks after seeing you walk in. his eyes go back to his computer, and he begins typing something up. you’re so caught off guard that you can’t even come up with a response. you already didn’t know what to come here for, and now that taehyun is in front of you, you feel stupid for even showing up.

“I want to… um…” you trail off, causing taehyun to pause his work and stare at you, waiting for an answer. you look around nervously before quicking spewing out, “open a bank account! yes! I um, want to open a new account.”

taehyun goes back to type some things into his computer. “ID?”

“huh?”

“ID. I need your ID to confirm your identity, ma’am.”

you suddenly realize what you’re doing and awkwardly feel around in your purse, looking for your wallet.

well shit.

“s-sorry, it’s uh… it’s gotta be in here somewhere.” you stall. as taehyun pinches the bridge of his eyebrows, a familiar figure exits from one of the staff rooms.

“hey taehyu-” kai notices you in front of him, a worried look etched across your face as you dig through your bag. taehyun motions kai over, “come watch, kai. you can see how we deal with customers who clearly show up unprepared.”

kai’s voice and the mention of his name immediately make your head shoot up. you look at him embarrassed, desperately wishing you could go back in time to when you were still in your bed. you feel frozen as the two men stare at you, waiting for you to do something.

“hey,” kai reaches out to lightly touch your arm, “are you okay? do you need help?”

you brush him off, not wanting to worry him. “no, i’m okay hyuka, i’m sorry.”

before kai could react to you apologizing to him (for what seemed like no reason), taehyun eyes the two of you suspiciously. “do you two know each other?” he asks. kai looks over and nods before speaking, “yeah, we’re uh… friends…?” he looks over at you with a mix of hope and hesitation in his eyes, not sure if you felt the same way.

“oh!” your eyes widen, “yes! we’re friends. i’m sorry, i’m just so used to running into him here now.”

kai feels relieved hearing you agree, and his heart beats faster at the thought of being somewhat of a constant in your life, even if it’s just to deposit cash into a bank account. he quickly brushes off his thoughts before coming to your defense. “see? everything’s okay. they’re just a regular customer, that’s all. you don’t have to scare them to death.” he jokes.

“no! it’s my fault,” you admit, “I don’t need to do anything actually… I even forgot my ID on the way here, i’m really sorry for bothering you guys.”

kai looks at you confused. he doesn’t know why you keep apologizing, and he really doesn’t know why you showed up if you didn’t have any requests to make. taehyun, however, is able to read between the lines. “i’ll leave the two of you alone.”

kai doesn’t even glance at taehyun as he walks off. his only focus is you and making sure that you’re okay in this moment. “you’re never bothering us, but is something wrong? what’s the matter?”

you let out a deep breath and decide to be brave. you can do it. just tell him. if nothing works out, you can always just deposit in the future through an ATM or something…or maybe get a new bank.

“okay well, this is super embarrassing but I didn’t have a reason to visit today, kai,” you pause, looking him in the eyes, “I just really wanted to see you...” you trail off, feeling even more embarrassed than you did before.

kai laughs softly at this while you continue to ramble, “which technically is a reason! y’know?”, he takes your hands in his, causing your brain to malfunction like the first time you ever saw him.

“did you really come all the way for me? even without needing a deposit?”

you laugh to yourself and how lame the two of you sound, probably something straight out of a nerd fantasy book. “yeah, even without the deposit.” you smile, squeezing his hands lightly. kai blushes and smiles to himself, trying to come up with a joke to mask his sudden shyness. “are you sure it was worth it? i mean, taehyun’s pretty scary.”

you smile and nod your head, “you’re here in front of me, right? i’d say it was pretty worth it.” you and kai both look around the building only to find that there’s no one else here. just the two of you.

you look back at each other, eyes drifting down to each other’s lips as you gravitate closer. before your lips meet, kai whispers.

“can I kiss you?”

you nod and press your lips against his. one of his hands come up to hold your cheek as if it were made of glass, and you allow your arms to wrap around his waist. as the kiss continues, you chuckle, making him pull away, wanting to see your smile once more.

“can I take you on a date? after I get off of work?” he asks, lips suddenly feeling cold after pulling away. “I would love that, kai.” you smile as you hug him. “it’s a date then! I promise i’ll finish work as fast as I can.”

“oh, no you won’t, I need you to focus instead of rushing.” a certain voice interrupts the two of you.

you look over to see taehyun smirking with his arms folded, almost as if he was silently taking credit for getting the two of you together. kai rolls his eyes playfully at taehyun, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t mean it literally!”

taehyun looks over at you with an apologetic look in his eyes. “i’m sorry for my bluntness earlier. it gets pretty stressful around here, but i shouldn’t have taken it out on a regular customer. I don’t know how kai keeps his composure sometimes.”

“I get to see y/n almost every day, how could I not love every second of it?

[naffeclipse]

Taste Test

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back once more for a lovely little request from @counterbalance who wanted Y/N and Mer Eclipse to play a little game involving food, taste buds, and guessing! This was a sweet little treat to write, ah! Eclipse loves his yummy fish and deep sea delicaties but Y/N has a few tasty morsels from on land to try and stump Eclipse with.

———

The sea is gentle with its waves. Softly lapping against the side of the Rustbucket II, the water holds still and calm. The late evening light burns golden over your boat. Looking out the small window of the cabin, you watch the glittering shards of light dance over the smallest stirrings of the ocean. 

A small shiver comes over you. Tucking your thick wool coat tighter around your sweater and overalls, you sit at the humble wooden table slotted into the narrow space. Your fishing boat is far from glamorous, but it has always served you well. 

A familiar, kind pulse fills the space of your ribcage, and you smile.

“Hey, big guy.”

The resounding swell within you answers, and you nearly close your eyes to soak in the vivid desire he holds to scoop you up in his palm and gently nuzzle your face.

But not right now. You two are playing a game. The leviathan has tucked himself away in his cavern so there is no chance of cheating—not that he would. It’s just that his big eyes tend to stray over to whatever you’ve prepared for the game when he’s lingering along the surface, and you can’t help but turn your head towards whatever catch he has thrashing in the water.

Now that you’ve learned just how acutely you can share things over the magical bond of your soul connection, you’ve developed a guessing game.

Four bowls spread over the tabletop before you. One holds small bites of beef jerky, another salty nuts, the next some dry fruits, and lastly, a bowl of ice cream that’s beginning to melt. 

“Are you ready?” you whisper to the air, concentrating on the great warmth in your middle. 

A resounding heat rolls through you. You feel the splashing excitement beginning to surge through him, and then a wayward thought of what meals he’s chosen before he cuts those off from your presence.

“Nothing is spicy, I promise,” you say quickly.

A pouty swell moves through you. Of course, you don’t eat spice often simply do not torment Eclipse with the wicked heat on your tongue. But you will warn him whenever you’re about to enjoy a meal with a kick to it. 

The first time you had unknowingly subjected him to such an experience, he had been confounded by your willingness to subject yourself to such painful torment as cayenne pepper. 

You first.

Eclipse nudges you gently, and you sit up straighter in your seat. You pluck a bit of beef jerky. It’s a bit more expensive than you’ll usually splurge on, but you want to feel his reaction to a lump of meat that is not fish. 

Popping it in your mouth, you begin chewing. You throw all your concentration into the flavor filling your mouth, savory and rich. You chew and chew, your molars working on the tough and dried meat. 

You feel Eclipse in the distance. His jaw unconsciously works with yours. You keep your thoughts close to him as if you drew a curtain around your mind, but he feels the sensation in your mouth all the same. 

He knows that you don’t have it a lot. It is saved for only rare occasions.

Something once alive.

“Correct,” you say around your morsel.

You feel his mind working, jumping from textures of fish he’s caught from a large, elderly whale to an armor-crusted deep sea creature you have no name for. 

His guess jumps into you. The latter fish he thought of. 

“Sorry, that’s not it.” You swallow the bite with a grin. “It’s beef jerky. It comes from a cow.”

He pouts, a lighthearted tide touching against you. It’s not meant to be easy, but the point is to feel each other’s thought process while taking from their own experiences and trying to decipher something the other has never tried.

My turn.

“Go ahead, big guy.” You sit back in your chair. Closing your eyes, you focus on the inner tugs of your soul. 

Eclipse lifts something to his mouth. He takes one big bite, and you frown at the texture. You feel it slipping over his tongue as if it were your own. You’ve sensed such a sensation before. 

Oh, this is easy.

“Squid,” you point your finger upwards in an ‘ah ha’ moment. 

A pleasurable flow moves through you. It would have been sad had you gotten that wrong, considering that it’s one of his favorites. Not that you can imagine eating squid in such a fashion.

In-kind, you move on to the salty nut. Tossing a handful into your mouth, you hardly have a second to chew before Eclipse correctly guesses the food. It’s a favored snack of yours. 

Too easy.

You huff out a breath at him before he dines on something else. Something new. You frown at the unique texture. It’s supple but rich in flavor. Lean and strong. Eclipse chews it with delight before swallowing it down.

“I… I don’t know,” you manage, stumped. “What is it?”

You are impressed upon with visions deep in the blue sea. Then there are silverfish. Large compared to you, but bite size for Eclipse. The long, flattened bills give away what they are.

“Swordfish.” You never would have guessed.

Eclipse rumbles in delight though admits he doesn’t usually eat them. They’re too much of a pain to catch, but he wanted to win you on something. 

You laugh.

“Cheater.”

He rebuffs you with a promise that he would never, and you reassure him that you’re well aware. You just wanted to pull his leg—or tail.

You taste the dry fruits next. The natural sweetness bursts over your tongue though kept contained without the juices. Eclipse makes a face, finding it leathery and strange.

He has no answer until you reveal it to him. 

The last food from Eclipse has him buzzing. You stir with his energy as he sets something in his mouth, and it crunches. You almost flinch from the great sound. It’s meaty as well. 

“Clams?” you ask, though you’re grasping at straws. “Mussels?”

Eclipse trills inwardly. Wrong. Wrong.

Then he gives you an impression of a crab, a great deep sea one that almost looks too alien to walk this earth. 

He got you again.

You straighten and grab a spoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

Eclipse immediately stills, his curiosity piqued while you spoon up a small bite of chocolate ice cream. It begins to pool the bowl, but it retains its cool richness. 

You take the bite and slowly swirl the ice cream around with your tongue. The sweet treat immediately sends a shiver down your back.

You feel Eclipse shudder with the sensation, but his frills pick up and his presence burns within you in delight.

He loves it, though not any brain freezes that might come with it

Ice cream.

“It sure is, big guy,” you grin. “Do you want to share some more?”

His resounding answer makes you laugh softly.

[v1sexual]

always forever , vi (arcane)

a collection of (modern) domestic life activities with vi ! college au , modern au , self indulgent

part one , part two , part three soon !

note : this one sucks lol , i literally made this at work a couple of days ago and didn’t have the willpower to write a new one. anyways, hope u guys like it !

drabble two : its mariah carey season

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who was ecstatic when you suggested to decorate the flat for christmas. she and her family are not religious at all, but christmas is something that they celebrate every year without fail.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who went all out and spent around $500-$600 on christmas decorations and around $1000 for christmas gifts. (she bought like five different types of christmas lights, a 6 foot christmas three, and a lot of stuff she definitely didn’t need)

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d show off by carrying all the shopping bags in one go and would not let you help. “just doing my job shortcake,” she’d say as she opened the front door for you, her pinky visibly shaking as two heavy shopping bags hang off it.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d stop to look and admire you as you two decorated the christmas three. she watched, as you strategically placed the blue, green, and red baubles in a pattern so that they’re even distributed. it’s been a couple of days since you two kissed, an unofficial confession to how the two of you felt for each other. after that night you’ve shared countless of kisses (and a little bit of heaving petting here and there). but you guys haven’t really addressed what you two are, if this is a start of a relationship or just something casual (her bet is on the former though).

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who excused herself and told you she needed to go to the washroom but in reality she just needed an excuse to sneak off and set-up a mistletoe under your door, her door, and the bathroom door.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who basically barricaded the hallway to that leads to her and your room. she literally hung a white sheet in front of the hallway to hide what she’s planning.

“vi you’ve been there for two hours!” you whined, hand resting on your stomach. “i literally need to shit!”

vi popped her head out from behind the white sheet, “give me two minutes baby i’m almost finished.” she said then popped her head back in.

as much as you’d love to cuss out vi right now, you just couldn’t ignore the way your belly does flip flops the second she called you ‘baby’ (also the fact that it somehow made you no longer wanna shit).

approximately two minutes later vi popped her head out again, “close your eyes for me shortcake.” you sighed but closed your eyes anyways.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who quietly turned off the light. she intertwined her fingers with yours as she held the white sheet open and leads you towards the hallway.

“okay shortcake, open your eyes.”

a gasp left your lips as you opened your eyes. the hallway was illuminated in nothing but white christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, it looked like something out of a pinterest board. personalized wreaths hung outside your rooms (yours had books, a guitar, and all your favorite little things. then vi’s had a hockey stick, a rugby ball, and a pair of boxing gloves).

“do you like it?” vi asked quietly.

you didn’t say anything, eyes still focused on the hallway.

“i-i can take it down if you-“

you cut her off by basically jumping into her arms, you wrapped around her in a tight hug burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“i love it,” you whispered against her skin. vi smiled down on you, her hands situated under your legs to support your weight.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! whose face you showered in kisses when you broke free from the hug.

a dopey smile played on vi’s lips as she leaned against your palm, eyes fluttered shut as your lips met hers. she sighed contently, her hands rest on your hips her as her thumb rub circles against your clothed skin.

vi has never felt so happy, so content. she felt as though her heart would burst from how hard it pounded against her chest.

“i love you,” she said. “i don’t know if it’s too early to tell you, but i love you. i have for a while now, and i understand if-“

you cut her off by shortly pressing your lips against hers. “i love you too, violet.”

ꕀ extra !

“oh. my. god.” powder exclaimed. she gripped her phone tightly, re-reading the text her sister sent her.

ekko raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend, placing his guitar in it’s stand before walking towards his bed and plopping down next to her. “everything alright pow?”

powder didn’t say anything, instead she shoved her phone in ekko’s face. it took him a second to read the text but judging by the photo vi sent powder, he already knew what was up.

“can’t believe it took them this long to be honest.”

“cut them some slack little man,” powder rolled her eyes playfully before shooting vi a quick text. “it’s not like you’re any better.” she teased which made ekko roll his eyes.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he replied, pressing a kiss to powder’s cheek.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day! ☀️

I saw that your requests were open (Hope I got the time right...) and I wanted to request a Kimi Raikkönen one-shot during the time where he and Sebastian were still in Ferrari, for plot reasons.

So, imagine this: You're one of the beloved drivers on the grid – who is close to the Ferrari duo – known for their love of nature, especially flowers.

One day flowers kept appearing in your locker room (?) and it kept going for months. At the end of every race when you went to change there were different flowers but no info about the sender. Naturally, you suspected Sebastian because that man is mother nature himself. After learning he's not the culprit you try to find out who's been sending you flowers. (Spoiler Alert: It's the Ice Man himself.)

Sorry if the ask was long... Have a good day and remember to drink water! ☀️

I need me an ice man also I’m sorry this took forever to write literally forever like since June forever 😭😭

A Silent Bloom — Kimi Raikkonen x fem!reader

Word count — 675

Fluff

The soft fragrance of freesia lingered in your office, mingling with the faint smell of coffee and grease from the garage. You studied the bouquet in front of you—an artful arrangement of freesia, sweet peas, and delicate eucalyptus leaves. It was stunning, like all the others that had appeared after races for the past few months.

This one was no different: no note, no clue, just flowers left in places only someone close to you could access.

At first, you thought it was a mistake—some mix-up with deliveries—but as the bouquets kept appearing, you couldn’t ignore the growing mystery. Someone was sending these flowers on purpose, and they clearly knew about your deep love for nature.

The grid wasn’t short of suspects, but your first and most obvious guess had been Sebastian Vettel. Who else had such a deep appreciation for the environment?

“Seb, I know it’s you,” you said confidently one evening in the paddock.

Seb, in the middle of peeling an orange, looked up in surprise. “What’s me?”

“The flowers,” you said, crossing your arms. “I keep finding them in my office and locker after races. You’re the eco-warrior; it has to be you.”

He blinked at you, then smiled, shaking his head. “I’d love to take credit, but it’s not me,” he said, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. “Though, whoever it is has great taste. Very thoughtful.”

You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “Seb, don’t lie.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I swear on all the bees in the world, it’s not me.”

That should have been the end of it, but of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you about your “secret admirer” for the rest of the weekend.

If it wasn’t Seb, though, who else could it be?

Your next suspect was Fernando Alonso. After all, Fernando had been known to stop and smell flowers during track walks, and he had a certain flair for surprising people.

During the Canadian Grand Prix weekend, you decided to confront him. As you approached, Fernando was casually leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, Nando,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I need to ask you something.” You hesitated, then dove in. “Are you the one leaving flowers in my office and locker?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, then his lips twitched into a smirk. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like flowers,” you said bluntly. “And you have a weird way of surprising people.”

He let out a low laugh. “I like flowers, sí, but I don’t sneak into lockers like some secret admirer. Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

That thought stayed with you, even after Fernando walked away chuckling.

The answer came at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

It had been a grueling weekend, with a tough battle for points leaving you mentally and physically drained. When you opened your locker to change, you found a new bouquet waiting for you—this time, tulips and white roses. A small piece of folded paper sat between the flowers.

Your breath caught as you picked up the note, unfolding it with shaky hands.

“Nature deserves to be appreciated. So do you. – Kimi”

Kimi? The Ice Man?

You stared at the flowers, your mind reeling. Kimi wasn’t exactly known for grand gestures—or any gestures, for that matter. Yet here he was, revealing himself as the mysterious sender who had brightened your post-race weekends for months.

You found him later that evening in the quiet of the motorhome area. “Kimi,” you said, holding the note and bouquet.

He didn’t even look surprised. “You found the note.”

“Why?” you asked, struggling to understand.

“You like flowers,” he said simply, his tone as steady and unreadable as ever. “It made sense.”

“That’s it?”

He met your eyes then, something softer in his gaze. “You look happy when you see them. That’s enough.”

For a man of so few words, he somehow managed to leave you utterly speechless.

[konuxkii]

RAN HAITANI – DRABBLE

🍥 ₊‧ A planned night of fun takes a turn when Ran’s love for sleep takes over, but that’s not an issue for either of you. 

WARNINGS : None really– excessive fluff, light teasing from Ran PAIRINGS : ran haitani x gn!reader WORDCOUNT : 552 m.list

The clock on your living room wall ticked steadily, the hands inching closer to 9:30PM. You sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a cozy arrangement of pillows, blankets, and snacks. A rom-com played on the television, though neither you nor Ran Haitani were paying much attention to the characters on the screen.

Ran lounged beside you, propped up by an array of pillows. His long legs stretched out comfortably, his eyelids drooping as he absentmindedly munched on a piece of popcorn. His hair was slightly mussed, giving him a softer look.

“This is nice,” he murmured, his deep voice breaking the comfortable silence. He turned his head lazily to glance at you, his violet eyes glinting with something warm. “But, babe, I gotta ask—do you really need this many blankets? Feels like I’m sitting in a textile shop.”

You rolled your eyes, chucking a piece of popcorn at him. “It’s called ambiance, Ran. A sleepover date isn’t complete without a fort of blankets.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, catching the popcorn effortlessly and popping it into his mouth. “And what’s the plan after this? Stay up all night talking about our feelings?”

You smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You promised we’d do ‘couple things,’ remember? I was thinking we could bake something, or maybe play a few rounds of that cheesy board game I bought last week.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, his grin turning teasing. “You sure you can handle that? Don’t want you getting embarrassed if you lose y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, giving him a playful shove. “Big words for someone who can barely keep his eyes open right now.”

“Not true,” he protested, though the way he stifled a yawn immediately after undermined his words. “I’m just… conserving energy. Long day, you know?”

You tilted your head, feigning suspicion. “Ran, are you seriously about to fall asleep on me? On our sleepover date?”

He chuckled, the sound low and lazy, as he stretched out fully and rested his head on a pillow. “Not my fault you made this place so damn comfortable. It’s like a trap.”

Before you could retort, Ran tugged on the blanket draped over your lap, pulling it over both of you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you down beside him as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, his voice soft and almost pleading. “Just a quick nap. We’ll do all the cute couple stuff tomorrow, I promise.”

You sighed, knowing it was a losing battle. Ran had always been a master of getting his way, and the warmth of his embrace combined with the soothing sound of his breathing made it hard to argue.

“You better not back out..” you muttered, your words muffled against his chest.

“Never,” he said, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. “Anything you want, baby. Just let me sleep first.” Within minutes, his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening slightly as he drifted off. You glanced at the clock one last time—9:32 PM. 'Typical Ran', you thought with a fond smile, letting your eyes close as you gave in to the comfortable drowsiness that had crept over you.

You didn’t mind this at all, he would make up for it tomorrow anyway, he always does.

@konuxkii 2024

kalli notes : (for @atticoratticus) Domestic moments with Ran? I think so. Thank you Atti for giving me this idea ur a saint as always. DID I COOK,,,,this is my first time actually writing something proper for Ran

[sebstanaddict]

Code Daddy Supreme

Sebastian Stan x Reader Unhinged One Shot

Summary : Sebastian is reader's adorkable, chaotic yet cute boyfriend. One day when reader is struggling to fix broken code in her web application project, Sebastian offered to help but instead of helping he is making things worse.. or is he..?

A/N: This is just something I wrote out of a fever dream while being in a sleep deprived, stress induced state as I try to finish my web application project (yes, I don't just write fanfics, I write code full time XD) . It's based on my life as a web developer so excuse me if I include some codes here. But I promise they're human readable ;) Seb here is a funny, adorkable, chaotic mess of a boyfriend but we love him anyway ;) Enjoy and please vote and comment, I would really appreciate it. Thank you!

Warning: none at all, just an all out funny, unhinged and ridiculous story, somewhat like a sitcom XD

Word count: 944 words

Read more Sebastian and Bucky one shots here

---

It was supposed to be a quiet Sunday. Y/N was curled up on the couch, tackling a web development project that was due the next day. She was in the zone—until, of course, the code rebelled.  

“WHY?!” she shouted at her laptop, yanking her headphones off. “Why won’t you just WORK?”  

From the other room, Sebastian burst in wearing pajama pants, no shirt, and wielding a spatula like a sword. “Who dares disturb my pancake zen?”  

“This stupid project!” Y/N growled, gesturing wildly at her laptop. “Every time I try to fix one thing, another error pops up! It’s like Whack-a-Mole, but with coding and existential dread!”  

Sebastian leaned casually against the couch. “Want me to fix it?”  

She blinked at him. “No.”  

“Yes.”  

“No, Seb. The last time you ‘helped,’ my laptop shut down and played a MIDI version of “Highway to Hell” on repeat.”  

“And did it sound amazing?” he asked, grinning.  

“That’s not the point!”  

But it was too late—Sebastian had already plopped down beside her, cracking his knuckles with the bravado of someone who doesn’t know what an IDE is but thinks they could totally rebuild Google.  

“Alright,” he said. “Time for me to hack the planet.”  

Y/N groaned. “Seb, no..”  

“Seb, YES!”

He grabbed her laptop and began typing with the unhinged enthusiasm of a mad scientist who’d just discovered how to turn broccoli into candy. His first move? Replacing all her variable names with things like `CaptainFixThis`, `ErrorWho?`, and `TotallyNotABug`.  

“Sebastian,” she said, rubbing her temples. “What are you doing?”  

“Rebranding,” he said, as if it were obvious.  

“You can’t just rename everything and hope for the best!”  

“Oh, can’t I?” he shot back, now aggressively typing.  

He added emojis to every line of code:  

```  

function saveTheDay() { 💪🔥  

    console.log("Sebastian is here to fix it! 😎✨");  

    return true;  

}  

```  

“SEBASTIAN. WHY ARE THERE EMOJIS IN MY CODE?”  

“Because the code needs to feel appreciated,” he said, completely serious, adding even more lines:

```

// You’re doing amazing, sweetie  

function runCode() {  

    console.log("You’re the best, code! You can do it!");  

}  

```

“Seb, stop typing compliments!” Y/N shrieked.

“This is important!” he shouted back. “The code needs to feel supported!”

She couldn’t help but facepalm.

At one point, he opened a separate file titled `BackupPlan` and wrote this:  

```  

if (everythingFails) {  

    summonTheAvengers();  

}  

```  

“Seb, that’s not even real code!”  

“It is now,” he said, smirking like he’d just reinvented the wheel.  

He then proceeded to write what he called "the ultimate fix." : 

```  

while(true) {  

    console.log("Just vibe and it’ll work.");  

    everythingIsFine = true;  

}  

```  

“That’s an infinite loop!” Y/N screeched.  

“Exactly,” he said. “Infinite solutions for infinite problems.”  

She lunged for the laptop, but he was too quick. He held the laptop above his head while somehow still typing.

“SEBASTIAN, GIVE IT BACK!”  

“NOT UNTIL I FINISH!” he yelled, putting the laptop on his lap and turned his back on her. “TRUST THE CHAOS!”  

“I definitely do NOT trust the chaos!” she protested as she peeked over his shoulder, trying to see what he was doing all the while her stomach was filled with dread.

Then came the pièce de résistance. He opened Google, typed “how to fix broken code,” ignored all the actual solutions, and clicked on a forum post titled: “Sacrifice to the Debugging Gods.”

“Uh… what are you doing?” she asked nervously.  

“Something foolproof,” he said, grabbing a nearby candle.  

“Seb, no—”  

But he was already chanting nonsense in a deep, dramatic voice. “O GREAT SPIRIT OF JAVASCRIPT.. I OFFER THIS SACRED WAX STICK IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR MERCY!”  

Before she could stop him, he blew out the candle, slammed her laptop shut, and whispered, “It is done.”  

“Sebastian, I SWEAR TO—”  

“Wait for it.”  

With a flourish, he reopened the laptop and hit “run.”

And then… everything broke.  

Her once-polished website now looked like a clown vomited onto a computer screen. Bright neon colors, text bouncing like a screensaver from the ‘90s, and a random image of Sebastian flexing in a Captain America hoodie plastered across the footer.  

“What…What the actual.. WHAT DID YOU DO?!”  

“Relax,” he said, unbothered. “This is just step one.”  

“Step one of what?!”  

“Recalibrating the space-time continuum,” he said, completely deadpan.  

At that exact moment, her apartment lights flickered, her phone started playing the “Avengers” theme unprompted, and—somehow—her toaster beeped, despite not being plugged in.  

“Sebastian,” she whispered, wide-eyed, “I think you actually broke reality.”  

He looked smug. “Told you I was good.”  

Before she could yell, her laptop chimed cheerfully. The browser opened, and her website was… perfect. No bugs, no errors. Everything worked.  

She stared at the screen. Then at Sebastian. Then back at the screen. “HOW?!”  

He shrugged, grabbing the spatula again. “Sometimes, babe, you just have to trust the chaos.”  

“But—Seb—this makes NO SENSE!”  

“Neither does Bucky surviving a fall off a mountain, but here we are,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish my pancakes. You’re welcome.”  

She sat there, frozen, as her laptop hummed happily like nothing had happened. The lights stopped flickering, the toaster went silent, and the “Avengers” theme faded into nothingness.  

She stared after him, still holding the now-functional laptop. “I live with an actual lunatic.”  

From the kitchen, Sebastian’s voice rang out. “You live with a genius! Love you!”  

For the rest of the day, she tried to figure out Sebastian’s chaotic “fix.” Meanwhile, he strutted around the apartment wearing sunglasses and calling himself “Code Daddy Supreme.”  

The kicker? She later discovered the reason the code worked was because Sebastian had accidentally deleted an entire block of problematic logic while trying to format a smiley face.  

As for the weird flickering of lights, the “Avengers” theme playing from her phone and the beep from her toaster? Well, not everything can be explained and she thought maybe, just maybe, Sebastian really did recalibrate the space-time continuum.

[about-faces]

“The idea just popped into my head, fully formed,” he explained. “I sent an email to my City of Madness editor, and it snowballed from there. This wasn’t part of DC’s roadmap — it was an idea that just had to be told.”

Ward envisions Harvey in a role we’ve never truly seen before: as the lynchpin of Gotham’s criminal justice system, a man on both sides of the law. Acting as both prosecutor and defense attorney in a courtroom run by Gotham’s underworld, Two-Face seeks to impose order within the chaos of the city’s criminal ecosystem.

… At its heart, though, Two-Face is about Harvey’s internal struggle. Ward likens him to a mix of Perry Mason, Hannibal Lecter, and Bruce Banner, emphasizing the tension between Harvey’s two warring personas.

“Half of him wants to be good, and half doesn’t,” said Ward. “The series dives into why that is and what happens when both sides lose control. There’s a system in place, with the coin playing a role in deciding who takes charge, but systems only work when both parties are calm. What happens when they aren’t?”

This duality resonates personally for Ward, whose past work often grapples with questions of morality and identity.

“A lot of my work deals with what makes someone good, especially when they’re on a darker path,” said Ward. “With Harvey, the tension between good and bad and the idea that we’ve all got a little darkness in us makes him so compelling. He’s trying to tip the scales toward redemption, but that’s no easy task.”

… Looking ahead, Ward is optimistic about the series’ future.

“We’ve got six issues confirmed, but I’d love to see it go to 12. The second arc is even wilder than the first,” said Ward. “There are some big swings that I never thought DC would approve, but they did. If readers embrace this new Harvey, there’s so much more story to tell.”

For Ward, this project is a dream come true.

“I’ve been handed the keys to one of Gotham’s most iconic characters. It’s such an honor,” Ward said. “I’m writing this series from a place of love and respect for Harvey, and I think readers will feel that. I can’t wait for them to be surprised, moved, and maybe even shed a tear or two.”

[yelenasdiary]

I usually stay up late (right now is 3 am and I still have things to do) programming and doing stuff.

I thought about this fic idea and you popped into my mind.

How about we mostly work in IT for SHIELD/the avengers so we mostly stay with computers or we are in workshops. The thing is we are with yelena and in general we get along with everyone. Lately yelena has noticed that we are more tired than usual, because us being a workaholic person can’t just stop working. One night yelena finds us sleeping on our computer while we were programming/hacking, she tries to gets us to sleep and we try to deny it. Next day yelena has some words with nick fury.

This is probably bad written but right now my brain is not braining sorry

Workaholic

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic that doesn’t realise how drained you can get. 

Fluff & Tiny Angst

Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know. | 1.7K

Translations: Detka (baby)

AC: Thank you for sending this! I know it has taken me FOREVER & I do apologise for that. I hope you enjoy this! x

She watched in silence every morning when you would drag yourself out of bed to the kitchen for breakfast before leaving for work and she would watch again when you would finally come home late at night, hair slightly a mess before you’d take a shower and crash almost instantly the minute you sat down on the bed. She didn’t know what was going on at work, but she knew it was draining any energy you had left. 

Anytime she would meet you for lunch or when she would see you for the short period of time before and after work, you were just tired. Conversations were flat and short; you began to work later than usual which led to you going to work earlier than normal.

At first, Yelena just assumed it was something really important that Nick Fury, your boss, needed you to get done but when she found you one night, asleep at your desk, it raised more concern and worry for you.

Yelena sighed lightly to herself as she leant against the doorframe of your office, her brows frowning with concern at the sight of you slumped over your desk, the blue light from the monitors didn’t seem to wake you, your fingers still lightly pressed on the last letters you had pressed before resting your head. Lines of coding ran across the multiple screen system surrounding you, these were things she knew she would never truly understand how they worked. 

“Detka” she said softly, attempting to wake you. You stirred slightly, giving her a light groan but no real signs of opening your tired eyes. “Let me take you home so you can get some real sleep” you heard her Russian accent ever so softly speak. Unintentionally, you groaned once more, this time your eyes flickering open, the brightness of your screen making them sting. 

“I..I’m fine” you mumbled, sitting up straight, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Detka, you can’t keep doing this. What is so important to Fury that has you falling asleep at your desk?” Yelena asked, her brows frowned with worry. 

“I just need like 5 more minutes, I promise” you replied in your groggy state.

“More like another 5 hours” Your girlfriend muttered before she reached for your computer mouse before you could even string together where things were. “I’m not letting you make yourself sick for whatever this is” Yelena added, her voice low but firm, “you need sleep. No more hacking for tonight” she said as you watched the little arrow on your screen close down your opened tabs. 

“Yelena!” You spat, “I can’t! I have too much do to and you just shut it down?!” You added, annoyed by your girlfriends actions as you looked up at her. Yelena shook her head, “if you write another line of coding, you’re going to become the damn coding!” 

“You don’t get it, I need to get this done!” You frowned. 

“And you get do it tomorrow” Your girlfriend said, crossing her arms over her chest. Your eyes dropped slightly, there was no fighting her one this, not even you felt your eyes grow heavy once more. 

“Fine” you sighed, tiredly, “just let me close everything down properly before we go home” you added. 

----

The next morning, you woke up in a panic. The sun light creeping in through the crack of the curtains, you reached for your phone to find out your alarm had been switched off. You sighed before throwing your head back down on the pillow before covering your face with both of your hands. 

Yelena was giving her daggers a sharpen when you asked her why she had turned your alarm off. 

“Because, detka, you needed a real sleep” she said, not batting and eye at you. 

“Yelena, you made me late for work! I don’t even know what to tell Nick when I get there” you argued. 

“I already told him you’d be running late today” Your loving girlfriend replied, looking up at you, “I’m worried about you” she added. One look into her green eyes and you were reminded of the worried look she had on her face late last night when she found you at your desk, asleep. 

“You’re working yourself too hard, you come home and have a re-heated meal then shower and go to bed for a few short hours. Natasha and Wanda both said that you don’t even leave the compound for lunch, not even to get some fresh air. You are consistently at that desk working until early hours of the morning” Yelena said in a soft but firm tone. 

“Baby, it’s my job” you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Yes, it is but your job isn’t 16 hours a day” 

Your eyes dropped to your feet, “I know, I just….i just want to make sure I’m doing the best I can for Fury. All the coding and hacking I do, it’s not easy. It’s time consuming and I need ot be on top of my game all the time” you explained in hopes it would help Yelena understand. 

“You’re not going to be on top of your game if you’re falling asleep at your desk and barely function outside of work. Detka, I hate to say it, but you’re a workaholic” Yelena replied. You cocked a brow at the blonde, “I am not” you said, making Yelena chuckle. 

“You are detka, a hard, smart working workaholic” she teased, causing you to playful roll your eyes. “Think whatever you want Lena, I’m going to go get ready for work”

“I’m taking you today” Yelena said just before you pushed yourself off the doorframe, “and I’m picking you up at 5pm” she added. 

“Lena, you can trust me to come home at the end of my shift today” 

“I know, but Nat is dragging me in to help her with some training thing so why not carpool?” She replied with a rather proud grin on her lips. You playfully shook your head at her before making your way to the bathroom to get ready for work. 

----

You and Yelena walked into the compound, hand in hand before Yelena placed a soft kiss on your cheek and wished you a good day as you both parted ways, she waited until you were inside the elevator before she turned on her heels and headed towards Nick’s office. 

Nick, busy as usual was sitting at his desk with a stack of paperwork beside him. His focus so deep on the document in front of him he didn’t even hear the knock on his door. 

“Fury” Yelena said lightly, her accent coming in thick. 

Nick looked up before leaning back in his chair, “Belova” he acknowledged with a raised eyebrow. 

“I need to talk to you, it’s important” Yelena began, “it’s about Y/n” she added. Fury nodded, “come on, take a seat” he replied. Yelena closed the large wooden door behind her before she took a head on the typical office style chair. “What can I help you with?” The head of S.H.I.E.L.D asked. 

“They’re pushing themselves too hard for whatever it is you have them working on. This is shield, right? Not some tech startup company. They need a break” Yelena said firmly. 

“Right” Nick nodded, “and you think that I’ve been keeping them prisoner to their desk?” He added as he stood up from behind his desk and wandered over to Yelena, taking a the empty chair next to her, “Y/n is one of my hardest working IT employees, they are dedicated to their job, I admire it, I will all my IT employees would put in half the effort Y/n does. This job isn’t easy, there isn’t a real shift time start or end. We may need them at 4am if a mission goes south and they know that” he explains. 

“But they are here early every day, and they leave later than anybody else. You can’t tell me that every mission over the last month has gone to shit” Yelena argued.

“No, but, like I said they are dedicated to their job. Look, I’ll have a look at the clock ins and outs. If Y/n is doing too much unneeded overtime, I will have a word to them but if they aren’t, I’m not going to get in the way of somebody who has a drive to work” 

Yelena sighed lightly, “have you even seen them lately? They are exhausted, last night when they didn’t come home, I came here and found them asleep! At their desk! I’m not asking you to check their clock ins and outs, I am asking you to give them the break they deserve and need” Yelena said firmly, not backing down. “You can go a few days without them here. A few days is worth it then not having them at all” she added. 

Fury remained silent for a moment, contemplating Yelena’s request. He knew Yelena was right; losing a little of something is better than not having it at all. “Okay” he said, finally breaking the silence, “I will speak to them on their lunch break” he added. 

“Thank you” Yelena said, giving him a polite nod. 

“You’re just like your sister, stubborn” Nick muttered with a cocked brow. 

“I am when I need to be” Yelena teasingly grinned. 

----

When 5pm came, you didn’t want to keep Yelena waiting, you shut down your computer and made sure your desk was tidy for tomorrow morning before you wandered the main hall of the compound. You smiled softly when you locked eyes on her leaning against her blue pick-up truck talking to Natasha, Bucky and Sam. 

“What’s the gossip today guys?” You asked with a light chuckle. 

Natasha was the first to turn and smile at you, “hold on a moment, are you unwell?” She asked, jokingly. 

“Ha, Ha, very funny” you replied, playfully rolling your eyes as you stood next to Yelena, leaning your head on her shoulder. “Somebody couldn’t help themselves and spoke to Fury today” you added. 

“Ohhh! Yelena went to the big dogs!” Sam laughed. 

“She did and honestly, thank you” you said, looking up at Yelena. 

“You’re welcome” she smiled softly.

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[midnight-raven]

Been wanting to make an 911/Demigods AU but haven’t really gotten around to it.

This scene kept popping up in my head so I had to write it out.

AU Drabble: Buck as the Son of Poseidon

Pushing his body against the raging winds, Buck stumbled his way towards the edge of the pier. From behind, he could barely hear Eddie’s voice over the howling winds.

The man was multitasking between protecting his son from the storm and yelling for his boyfriend to come back to safety.

Nearly slipping on a puddle, Buck caught himself against the railings. Breathing deeply, Buck looked out towards the raging sea

“T-That’s enough,”

The man’s voice was drowned out by the winds of the storm. The clouds of the sky only darkened as lightning clashed against the sea.

Narrowing his eyes, Buck spotted a building wave rushing straight towards him.

Clenching his fists, Buck raised his voice, “Enough!”

Eddie shielded Christopher as the winds blew stronger and harsher, almost in an angry manner.

“Buck! Get out of there!”

Bucks only glared at the growing wave yet he didn’t falter.

“That’s Enough!”

The wave towered over the pier, threatening the man before them with its immense power and size.

“Buck!”

“FATHER!”

As Bucks final scream echoed in the air… a sudden calm swept over the pier. The rain and winds all came to sudden halt.

Blinking away the raindrops in his eyes, Eddie looked up to see the massive wave that towered over Buck.

However, the wave didn’t look like a normal wave… it looked like a horse. With dark eyes staring straight down at Buck.

[ghouljams]

how does one become free of insecurity? i’m already doing therapy but i feel i’ve only moved away from hating myself so much i want to d*e into just thinking everyone’s better than me

It's a long journey, but well worth it.

I don't think anyone is ever truly free of insecurity, but I think there's also a lot that is unpacked simply through the language we use to describe ourselves and the jokes we allow other people to make at our expense.

Therapy is great at helping you deal with the big feelings, but sometimes little things get caught in your head and it's hard to shake them. Here are some things that I do to keep myself feeling good, and also some things that I'm working on:

No suicide jokes. I make it a point never to joke about "oh I'll just kill myself" or anything like that because ultimately it just makes me feel worse and nobody finds it funny. It's also a good way to change your thinking and direct your solution brain away from "I'll just end things when shit gets hard." This one is a constant battle.

I compliment myself whenever I have the chance. I take every compliment someone gives me. I pretend to be vapid and self-absorbed. I make kissy faces at myself in the mirror. I tell other people how pretty I am, and I don't fucking care if they think I'm a stupid bimbo because I'm trying to love myself and that's more important.

Being kinder to my younger self. This one feels weird but I found myself being mean to little Ghoul when I was really sad. It feels easy to take out your anger on a kid that didn't know any better, and it doesn't guilt you because that's you that you're hating. But look. You were just a kid. You weren't stupid or ugly or unlovable or evil, you were a kid. I just caught myself calling my teenage self ugly the other day on my way to visit my mom and I had to stop and go "why am I saying this? I was just a kid." And it made me cry a li'l bit ngl, but if felt... idk it felt good in a way.

Don't let fucking anyone tell you, you're not worth it. Does your friend make jokes about how dumb you are? Or how you're so cringey? Or so embarrassing or bad at something or forgetful or WHATEVER? Yeah, fuck that noise. Tell them to stop doing that. Tell them it hurts your feelings and if they still don't stop they aren't your friend, they're your bully. I fucking hate bullies. Don't let anyone talk down to you, I don't care if it was a joke at first, it's not funny anymore. Fuck them.

This is something I'm working on, but when you start fixing one insecurity another will probably pop up. I've been working for a long time on liking how I look, and it's gone really well. But now I'm insecure about my intelligence. So I have to stop myself from calling myself stupid or not answering questions. I just fucking rocked my work trivia party, and Mr. Ghoul thinks I'm smart, so I just gotta keep track of my wins. Sometimes you realize that making yourself secure in one thing makes you insecure about another, but that's ok! There's a learning curve to all of this.

Everyone thinks everyone else is better than them. You don't have to be the best at everything, you don't even have to be the best at one thing! What's important is that you're doing your best. People notice when you're working hard, even if you're not churning out the best product because it means you care about it. Which brings me to

Done is better than perfect. Sure it would be great if you were God's most specialist soldier, but think about how much work that would be! Ok so you're not the world's best knitter, but the scarf you made your friend is their favorite scarf anyway because you made it. So you're not a world class writer, but you had a story in your head and you wrote it down. That's better than it never being written at all. Also just because you think it's bad doesn't mean other people won't think it's a masterpiece. Hell, half of the fics I wrote when I first started this blog I could write better now but that doesn't make them bad, it just means I've gotten better.

We as humans are constantly improving and evolving. Don't let who you are no stop you from striving towards who you'll be in the future. Taking one step down the path towards loving yourself is better than giving up and hating yourself forever. It's slow going, but man I've been doing this shit for a decade and I'm so much happier than I was at 18.

You might think that the more you improve the harder and faller you'll fall back to the bottom, but the lows don't get that low again. You're doing great. I'm proud of you.