#you can tell which ones are my favorite by the length of each set of headcannons asjhjji

[hischierhoney]

I KNOW

Nico Hischier x Hughes sister!reader

• Off Limits Pt 2 • 6.2k words

Summary: Things between you and Nico are going well, but the two of you might not be as sneaky as you think.

Warnings: mild sexually suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

You don’t think he’s noticed yet. In all fairness, he’s pretty used to seeing you in a Devils jersey. It’s what you’d been wearing when the two of your first met, and most times you saw each other after that. Especially now that two of your brothers are on the team, you’re almost always wearing some form of NJD gear. This jersey is different, though.

Nico’s been at practice for most of the day. When you met him at his apartment, you'd taken the liberty of grabbing one of his jerseys from his closet and slid it over your head, and for good measure, ditched your pants, too. You’re waiting on the couch in nothing but the jersey, which he probably would’ve realized if he wasn’t so busy organizing all his gear, and telling you about the practice, and trying to eat a bit of the pasta you’d brought him all in the middle of it.

You see it when he notices, and you hear it, too. His talking stops, and his gaze freezes on you, on where you sit on the couch, bare legs crossed over each other. He blinks a couple times, and then his eyes grow even wider.

“Nice jersey,” he says, voice suddenly an octave lower.

You crane your neck to look down at the number 13 emblazoned across the shoulder and the captain’s C on the chest. “Oh. Had to rep my favorite player, you know.”

He nods, makes a sort of low humming noise. You just smile up at him, watching the way his cheeks flush. If you’d known it would have this effect on him, you’d have gotten yourself one of his jerseys a long time ago. Maybe before he even rescued you from that bar.

His gaze drags up and down your body. “Schatz.”

You cock your head and blink softly. “Yeah, Nico?”

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. It’s still half full of pasta. You watch him with soft eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, lips barely parted. He beckons you towards him with two bent fingers. You go without even thinking twice, up off the couch in seconds, the jersey falling to your mid thigh.

When you’re within arm’s reach, his hands come up to hold your shoulders, rubbing up and down gently. His eyes are all over you.

“Did you steal this from my closet?” He asks.

You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nico rumbles out a laugh. He shakes his head, and then he brushes his lips against your temple, down the crest of your cheek, and against your jaw. He takes a couple steps, turns slightly, and then spins you around in his grip, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back tight against his front. You gasp at the maneuver, and your eyes flicker up to his reflection in the floor length mirror in front of you.

He’s not looking at you. Instead, his eyes are on your upper back- his last name, across your shoulders, you realize.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is hot, the rest of your skin getting there, too. There’s a look on his face- a mix of awe and affection and attraction. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear and takes a deep breath.

“It’s more than okay,” he says. One of his hands slips down to your bare thigh, toying with the hem of the jersey. “You should keep it on.”

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah?”

He nods, and his hand slips up your thigh so he can squeeze your bare hip. He raises his eyebrows when he finds nothing there- no fabric, no underwear. You raise your eyebrows right back.

“But you’d better find some pants,” he says, nipping lightly at your jaw, “‘cause we’re going on a date.”

He’s gone within seconds, leaving you reeling. Your heart is racing, chest heaving, and he’s just- gone. You look at your reflection in bewilderment.

“What?” You call after him, turning around. “Nico, where are you going? What are-“

He pops his head out from around the hallway corner, and his cheeks are red and rosy. You almost stumble towards him, but something makes you stay planted there. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re coming on too strong.

“We’re going on a date,” he repeats. “Keep the jersey, find some pants. I’m taking a quick shower.”

You blink at him. “You just showered. Your hair is wet. You’re being weird.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yes. I’m taking a cold shower. The jersey worked, schatz, but I have a date planned for us.”

Then he disappears. You hear the shower kick on a few seconds later, and the shocked yelp that follows. You turn back to the mirror and laugh at your reflection.

20 minutes later, you’re in his car. He’s freshly showered, and you’re wearing his jersey and a pair of leggings. He has his hand on your thigh, like he always does any chance he gets, away from prying eyes. You rest your hand on top of his and run your fingers over the veins. Five minutes out from your very secretive date- he hasn’t given you any details- he tells you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, it’s a surprise,” he says, squeezing your leg.

“But Nico-“

He laughs and lifts his hand, placing it over your eyes. You squeal and try to pull it away, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, keeps your vision covered. You whine about it the whole way, but he just teases you the entire time.

When the car rolls to a stop, he leans close and whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes closed for me?”

You squeeze them shut tighter than you ever have before. He opens his door and shuts it, then opens your door and pulls you out of the car. You laugh the entire walk, as he keeps his hands on your hips and leads you in. There’s a squeaky, heavy sounding door, echoing footsteps on tile floors, and nothing but the darkness of your eyelids. And then- cold.

“Are we at the rink?” You ask, stopping in your tracks.

He groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

You laugh and reach blindly for his face, pinching his cheek lightly. “Nico, all of my brothers play hockey. I know ice rinks.”

He sighs heavily. You turn around in his arms and open your eyes, face to face with him. His gaze is soft and warm even though he’s pouting.

“Why are we here?” You ask.

He shrugs. “You said… after the family skate you mentioned how you wished we could’ve skated together. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So. I thought we could have our own skate.”

You swear you melt into a puddle, right there at his feet. “Oh. Wow. That’s-“

You lose the ability to say anything other than the words that have been stuck on your tongue for weeks now- I love you. He just kisses your cheek and drags you away to the locker room. Within a few minutes, you’re stepping out into the arena as he turns the lights on. They shine down on the empty rink. You’ve almost never been in here when it’s empty like this. It feels strange. You’re used to being a part of the roaring crowd, used to cheering on the team from the sidelines.

Nico helps you lace up your skates, and then he walks you out to the ice, so carefully it makes your chest feel tight.

“I know how to skate,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple.

Despite that, he keeps his hands on you when you get out on the ice. You know it’s not about making sure you don’t fall, and you think back to dates when you were a teenager, boys suggesting ice skating because they thought it’d be an easy excuse to hold your hand. You’d skated circles around all of them. But Nico’s a professional hockey player, and you want to hold his hand, so you let him take both of yours in his, facing each other, and you smile when he starts to skate backwards and pulls you along.

He’s so at home here. You’ve seen it when you watch the games, but it’s more obvious now, watching the way his face lights up as he skates. It’s so endearing, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. This is his thing, and you get to share it with him, at least for a little while.

He spins the both of you in a circle and glides to a stop. You bump into his chest and laugh, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his middle. He laughs, too, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“This is nice,” you say. “You know, when I was a kid, the boys made me be the goalie.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Were you any good?”

You shake your head and sigh. “They’d put me in a fucking dirtbike helmet, and I was too small for any of the pads and they smelled bad, so they’d tie pillows around me, and… yeah. I was a bad goalie.”

“Why’d you let them?” He asks, sounding mildly concerned.

You shrug. “I was being a supportive sister.”

He laughs and pulls away just slightly, holding you at arms length. His hands slip from your sides and come up to cup your face, and then he kisses you, warm and sweet and gentle, like he always is at first with you. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and pressing against yours. Suddenly, despite the ice and the cold, you’re burning up. He tends to have that effect.

He pulls away sooner than you’d really want him to, but you let him go. There’s plenty of time for more of that. He pulls away fully and stands next to you on the ice, looking down the rink.

“Race me?” He asks.

“That’s so not fair,” you grumble.

“I’ll give you a head start,” he suggests.

You narrow your eyes at him, and then without even thinking, you take off across the ice. He’s hot on your heels within seconds, but the quick takeoff is enough to buy you a few precious seconds. You only lose by a couple feet when both of you slide to a stop at the other end of the rink, laughing so hard neither of you can stand up straight. He skates towards you and sweeps you up off the ice, wrapping his arms around your middle and spinning as you cling onto him and laugh even harder.

The happiness is bubbling up in your chest, and it feels nearly overwhelming. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone who makes you feel like this- happy and carefree and fun, and like you can be all those things without worrying about what he’s going to think. He sets you down carefully on the ice and pulls your back to his front, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He points up into the stands, at a row of seats that looks familiar. “There’s your seat,” he says, the words washing over the skin of your neck.

Your breath catches in your chest. Your seat isn’t a front row one- it’s pretty far up in the arena. From the ice, it looks far away and tiny. You’re not sure you’d be able to spot yourself all the way up there, let alone when it’s crowded with people and the ice is busy, when there are so many people clamoring for attention.

“You know my seat?” You mumble, pressing one of your hands over his.

“Mhm,” he says. He takes your hand in his, raises it and points towards the seat. “Right there, right? Under the screen. I always wave.”

He does. And not just since you started dating- you can remember your second ever Devil’s game, watching him glide around on the ice, and the way he paused in your corner and waved. The same spot, every game you’re at.

You nod. “Yeah. I just. I thought that was just you saying hi to the crowd.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck softly. “Next time, I’ll blow you a kiss or something so you know it’s for you. Maybe flip you off. Stick my tongue out. You’ll know it when you see it.”

You nod in agreement and turn around to face him. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you hear it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out.

Nico swears in German under his breath and then pulls you close, until you’re right against him, your face hidden against his shoulder. For a moment, you panic- you’re wearing your jersey, whoever it is will see your last name- except it’s not your jersey, it’s Nico’s.

Nico swears again, then calls out, “Just me, Jesper!”

“Nico?” Jesper calls back, sounding confused.

You hear footsteps, and Nico sighs. He keeps your face pressed into his chest, one hand on the back of your head. You’re fighting hard not to laugh. The footsteps slow, then stop, and Nico lifts one hand from your shoulder to wave.

“Oh, Hischier, you’re in trouble,” his teammate teases, whistling lowly.

“What, you gonna tattle on me for sneaking into the rink when you’re doing the same exact thing?” He asks.

“I’m not sneaking in, I saw your car outside and came to check on you,” his teammate says. “And I know a Hughes when I see one.”

You feel the rumble of Nico’s groan in his chest, and a giggle slips past your lips. You try to pull away, but he holds you tightly to his chest. You’re the one grumbling now.

“Lemme go, he already knows,” you huff.

“He has no proof, baby,” he says.

“Don’t need proof,” Jesper calls out.

“Shut up!” Nico calls back.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll call Jack!” He says back. You groan. “Or! You know what, I think I’ve got Quinn’s number-“

“No!” Both you and Nico yell, as he finally lets you go and you both spin to face Jesper.

Jesper laughs, doubling over on the edge of the rink, shaking his head. You falter a bit on your skates, and quick as a whip, Nico slips his arms under yours to hold you up. You grumble, but you’d rather not faceplant on the ice, so you let it go.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Jesper says, still laughing.

“Which one?” Nico asks.

“All three,” he responds, finally standing up to look at the two of you. “Team effort, probably.”

You sigh, though you know it’s probably true. Nico squeezes your side affectionately. You wonder what the look on his face is right now. You turn over your shoulder and you’re met with nothing but affection, even in the face of his teammate’s threats.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper says. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em.”

You hold your breath. Behind you, Nico’s doing the same.

“He’s had a crush on you for ages,” Jesper says, and Nico groans, loudly, and buries his face against your shoulder blade. “I’m proud, honestly. Never thought he’d get the balls. And maybe this means you’ll finally stop third wheeling my dates, huh?”

“Okay, goodbye,” Nico says, as he starts to skate backwards and pulls you with him. “We’re having a date, you know.”

Jesper makes a face at him. You know Nico’s making one back. He waves, though, and walks away, headed for the exit. Nico sighs happily and pulls you closer to himself. In the empty arena, your heart feels full.

…..

Nico leaves for a road game the next week, and you whine about it the whole time he’s packing. He whines right back, about how your whining makes it harder to leave, which you remind him is sort of the point.

“You’re supposed to be a supportive girlfriend,” he says, teasingly.

You pout. “I’m very supportive. I go to all your games. So really, it’s about time you missed one to support me.”

It’s not the first away game he’s had, nor will it be the last. It’s just hitting you hard this time. You think it has something to do with the way you look at him and think, oh, I love you, every time. It’s making your chest ache.

He rolls his eyes playfully and juts his lower lip out. “Oh yeah? Should I put in a text to the team group chat? Sorry boys, can’t go, my girlfriend is pouting. And then they’ll say, ‘you have a girlfriend?’ and-“

“Obviously I don’t mean it,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

He leans over the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, hands braced on either side of your hips. He’s suddenly so close, and your breath catches in your chest. He smirks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He lifts a hand to your side and pushes- you fall back against the bed easily. You’d had your legs crossed, but they unravel and fall to either side of his hips as if on reflex as he looms over you. He rubs his large hands smoothly up your thighs, over your sides, and then he rests them on the bed, on either side of your head, caging you in. You’re warm all over, suddenly.

“You’re not done packing,” you whisper, tugging a stray t-shirt from under your head.

He leans close, runs his nose along your jaw, and sighs. “Mm. Packing can wait.”

You frown. “You said-“ you’re interrupted when he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then nips at the same spot with his teeth. You reach up and tangle your hand in his messy hair. “-said you wanted to pack early-“

“Yeah, that was stupid,” he grumbled. “How the fuck am I expected to pack when you’re sitting so pretty right here?”

You scoff. “Nico-“

He lets out a noise of dissent, reaches down, and takes both of your hands in one of his. Then he pins them above your head, squeezing softly. You choke on your breath. He pulls away, warm brown eyes on yours, and you swear you’re melting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, quietly.

“Please?” You answer, voice cracking on the word.

He laughs and ducks his head back to your neck. “That’s my girl.”

An hour later, he’s less packed than he was when he started, because he’s gone digging through his suitcase to find you a hoodie to wear after he took your clothes off of you. You tell him he’s being ridiculous. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his arms. You fall asleep with the suitcase still on the bed.

…..

He calls you from the hotel the first night he’s there, after he gets off the plane and has dinner with the team and gets settled. You’re definitely not sitting in bed, staring at your phone, waiting eagerly. Well. Not as far as he knows. When it buzzes on the comforter, screen lit up with his face, you let it ring three times before swiping to answer so you don’t seem crazy. You’re so casual about this.

“Hi,” you breathe, and you know you’ve failed miserably at casual with just one syllable.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs down the line. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

Warmth curls through you, and you snuggle farther into the blankets. “How was the trip?”

He launches into a story about TSA and the plane ride. You’re happy just to listen to him talk. His voice is warm and affectionate, even as he describes all the frustrating parts of travel. You can’t help but think that he has such a nice voice. He’s so nice to listen to- you’d let him just talk for hours, if you could. You love to hear him tell you stories, mumble things in your ear while you’re watching movies on the couch, love listening to the inflection of his words when he reads you a recipe for whatever the two of you are making for dinner. You love him. As he starts talking about the stupid decision his coach has made, your mind drifts further, to thoughts of his lips against your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him, how good you feel, how-

“Schatz,” he says, almost teasingly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You ask.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. The tone he takes makes your spine tingle. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You try to take a silent, deep breath. “Yeah, just… you know. I’m fine. Just miss you.”

You almost hope he’ll drop it, because you’re slightly embarrassed, really. He’ll probably think you’re crazy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “now tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Nico,” you hum, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

He clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you say my name like that?”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sharp intake of air. He lets out a rumble of a laugh, one that carries over the phone and washes down your spine, leaving you buzzing. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’re caught now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

You melt further back into the bed and close your eyes. “You just. You have a nice voice. I like your voice.”

“Not as nice as yours,” he says. Your skin grows hotter. “You sound so pretty. So sweet.”

With nothing but the backs of your eyelids in your vision, surrounded by soft blankets and sheets and the sound of his voice, you start to feel like you’re floating. “Nico,” you repeat. He laughs.

“You nice and cozy, baby?” He asks, voice dropping an octave and lighting up your every nerve. “Bet you’re all curled up in bed in your shorts and a hoodie, huh?”

You nod before you remember he can’t see you. “Mhm.”

“Fuck, I miss you,” he says. “It’s only been a day and I miss it. If I was there, I’d-“

He pauses, or cuts himself off, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re waiting with bated breath, chest tight, burning up with your eyes squeezed shut. You turn your head and breathe in, deep. The smell of him is still stuck to your sheets. You could cry.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks. “I’ll help you, alright, honey? You just be good for me.”

You nod frantically, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, Nico. I’ll be good.”

“I know,” he says. His voice drops another octave when he says, “what hoodie are you wearing?”

“Yours,” you whine.

He rumbles out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Leave it on, but take the shorts off. Underwear, too. Gonna make yourself feel good for me.”

You shove the aforementioned pieces of clothing off, almost frantically. When you’re done following his instructions, you catch the hint of a familiar sound. His hand, slick and wet, moving over himself. Stars are already dancing behind your eyelids at the thought of it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take much more.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

I love you, you think. You wonder if he’s thinking it too.

You fall asleep afterwards with the phone call still going, and his soft snores soundtrack your dreams.

…..

When he calls the next night, the conversation is starkly different.

“Jack’s mad at me,” he says.

You frown, pausing your kitchen counter scrubbing. “Why d’you think that?”

Nico sighs. “Because he’s hasn’t talked to me for a whole day. And during practice he checked me into the wall.”

“I mean, maybe he’s not mad at you, maybe he’s just mad in general,” you suggest.

You can almost see the look on his face when he groans. It’s a bit scary that you know him so well, that you can picture the furrow in his brows and the soft pout of his lips.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You ask. “I can see what’s going on.”

“If you ask why he’s mad at me he’ll know I told you,” Nico points out. “Which would be suspicious.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess. It’s Jack, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s just a brat sometimes.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Must run in the family.”

You try to act mad, grumbling into the phone, but you can’t help but laugh. He follows suit. You love the sound of his laugh more than nearly anything in the world, you’ve found. It’s a terrifying, exciting feeling.

…..

A few nights later, you’re in your car, parked down the street from the rink. You have the lights off, and you’re ducked low behind the dash, praying nobody looks your way. You’d picked your parking spot specifically based on avoiding the route Jack and Luke always take to get home, and you’re praying they don’t notice your car.

Other cars start to roll out of the parking lot. You watch carefully, peeking over the hood and looking in your mirrors. You have an excuse, if they catch you, but it’s not foolproof, and there’s the added worry that one of their teammates will spot you and ask them about it. It’s risky. But…

Nico’s been gone for what feels like forever, even if it was only a few days. You’ve missed him terribly. So you offered to pick him up, and when he agreed without question and told you how much he’d missed you, too, you’d set the plan into motion. Now you’re here, so focused on the exit from the rink parking lot that you don’t notice the guy next to your car until he knocks on your window.

You scream, then immediately slap your hand over your mouth. It’s Jesper, again, of course it is- he’s leaning on the window and grinning like he’s entertained by it all, and you groan.

You roll the window down and hiss, “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He says, still smiling.

“S’fine,” you grumble. “If you saw me then my brothers will too, I should probably move.”

“No, that’s why I came to get you. I knew you’d be here, Nico mentioned it,” He explains. “He is arguing with your brothers in the locker room. Mostly Jack.”

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel. “Of course he is.”

Jesper lets you into the building, and you wander the halls until you make it to the locker room. You can hear them arguing before you get to the door- clipped words and snappy tones. Whatever Jack’s been mad at Nico about must’ve boiled over. You decide to break in before you overhear too much, worried about hearing something you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” You call out from the doorway.

Nico turns to look at you, and your brothers follow suit. They’re scattered through the locker room- Nico’s standing in the middle, Jack’s in front of his cubby on the bench, Luke is standing in a corner. You make eye contact with all of them separately- Luke looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Jack is so angry his cheeks are flaming up, and Nico…

Nico meets your eyes and smiles, soft and warm, and if either of your brothers even spared a glance at him, you think they’d know. Or maybe, this is just how he’s always looked at you. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you want nothing more than to run over and throw yourself into his arms. You stay put, even as he looks you up and down. Suddenly, you wish you were wearing his jersey instead of your normal Hughes one, just to see his eyes light up.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, gently.

He’s being nice. Almost too nice. Jack is almost never unkind to you, but he’s your brother- annoying most times, a pest all the time. The tone he’s taking with you is abnormal- he shouldn’t be so nice about you showing up here.

“Oh. I, uh, was gonna surprise you guys and see if you wanted to grab dinner or something,” you say, shrugging. “And then Jesper found me in my car and said you guys were arguing, and that maybe I should break it up.”

Jack huffs and whirls back around to glare at Nico. “You’ve got Bratter covering for you?”

You look at your brother with wide eyed confusion. Luke groans and drags a hand down his face. Nico, for his part, also looks confused.

“Jack, I-“ he tries.

“No,” Jack interrupts. He turns back to you and points. “You, me and Luke will go out for dinner. Okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Jack-“ Nico tries again.

“Shut up,” Jack snaps.

You need information. You need the full story. And when that’s what you’re looking for, you look to Luke. He’s the youngest, and he’s a tattletale.

“Lukey,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jack opens his mouth. You hold your hand up to him. He groans, but he stays quiet. Nico’s staring at you, entranced. Jack has always been so overprotective, and Luke, too, that you’re sure sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re actually their older sister. That is, until now.

Luke sighs, heavily. “You and Nico are dating.” You raise your brows and gesture for him to continue. “And. Um. He had a girl in his room Tuesday night.”

Part of this makes sense. Of course they’re upset with Nico. They’ve figured out that the two of you are together, which Jack had explicitly said was not allowed. However, you’d always sort of figured that when they found out, they’d drop the overprotective act. They both love Nico, and they both want to see you happy, right?

Then you realize what the second half of what Luke said means- they think Nico cheated on you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, already knowing it’s not true for a variety of reasons, most important of all the fact that you were on the phone with him on Tuesday night. He’s giving you a pleading look, like he’s trying to convince you it’s not true, even though you didn’t believe it for a second.

You blink, then frown, then tilt your head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jack pipes up, shoulders drooping. “Someone said they heard… noises. Of a sexual variety.”

Nico groans and buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, you start to laugh, unable to help it now. Jack makes a noise of confusion.

“Jack,” you say, between giggles. “There are other things people can do, rather than just straight up sex, like maybe talking over the phone…”

Your brothers are silent for a moment. Then Luke groans, loudly, and covers his ears. He swings around and looks at Nico with wide eyes, then closes his eyes tightly. Jack, meanwhile, flops backwards against the wall and covers his face in his hands. Nico’s face is red. It’s not exactly how you would’ve chosen to tell them, but… it gets the point across.

“Please never say that to me again,” Jack says. “Actually, if you never say the word sex in my presence I’ll be happy.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Nico, shrugging lightly. Despite all of it, he’s still smiling at you. He looks so soft, in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, hair an unbelievable mess. You have a strong urge to run your fingers through it. Jack lets out another noise of distress, and you turn back to him.

“You asked,” you tell your brother.

“No, I did not!” He snaps. “Excuse me for being worried, I thought you were being cheated on.”

“You really think that little of me?” Nico finally pipes in, looking at his friend.

Jack pulls his hands from his face and turns to look at Nico. He sighs heavily, frowning. Nico keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“No. I don’t know. I…” he sighs again. “At worst, I really thought maybe you guys just weren’t exclusive, and that was…” he turns to look at you, and jerks his head in a little nod. “Jesus, you’ve had a crush on him for forever, we all knew it, and I told him you were off limits, so then I was worried that I was the reason he was maybe seeing someone else, too, and…”

You see Nico relax at that, shoulders loosening. You’re sure it must’ve been a tough feeling, to have one of his good friends assume something like that. You’re a bit relieved, too.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I heard. How about we agree no more of you deciding things like my dating life for me?”

Jack nods solemnly. Nico raises his hand.

“But you are officially off limits,” he says. You smirk and roll your eyes, and he smiles brightly at you. “Right?”

“Right,” you agree. “But by my own choice.”

He grins at you, and your heart skips a beat again.

“Can we buy you guys dinner to apologize?” Jack asks.

You shrug. “Maybe another day. We have plans.”

Nico nods and stands up, headed for you. He turns to his teammates. “We good?”

“Yeah, man,” Jack says. He narrows his eyes, and you fight not to roll yours, because you know what’s coming next. “But if you hurt her-“

“I know,” Nico says, warmly.

Jack nods. Behind him, Luke raises his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“So. When do we tell Quinn?” He asks.

You, Nico, and Jack exchange a look.

“Maybe never,” Jack says.

“I’m fine with that,” Nico winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to know basis.”

Nico follows you out of the room and down the hall. He slips his hand into yours as soon as you’re out of sight of your brothers. You could remind him he doesn’t have to wait now, that he doesn’t have to hide it, but you think maybe it’s for the best until things settle down. The two of you are quiet as you walk out to the car, and you huddle close to him at the chill of the night air. The car isn’t far, and the parking lot is empty. He reaches into your jacket pocket and snags your keys- you’ve learned that he hates to let you drive, not because he thinks you’re bad at it, but because he likes driving you around. It’s quite sweet, really, so you let him get in the driver’s seat as you climb into the car.

He pauses once he’s turned it on, and he looks over at you. “You said we have plans? Are we going somewhere?”

You laugh and reach up to cup the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch.

“Wherever you want,” you say, quietly. “Just wanted it to be me and you.”

He smiles slowly. It spreads across his face like molasses. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“You know I love you?” He says, like it’s so, so obvious. Like he’s just checking, just to make sure.

You nod, because you think you did know, that maybe you’ve known it since you started feeling it too. “Yeah. I know. I love you, too.”

…

You're on the phone with Quinn, nearly a week later, when you slip up. He asks what you’ve been up to, what you did the past week, if your brothers are giving you trouble.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you tell him. “But Nico and I went to a really cute restaurant last night. I had the best seafood pasta.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve just said. You just wait for Quinn to answer, and you’re met with silence. He coughs, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” He asks, and your stomach drops.

“Fuck!”

Quinn laughs down the line, and your face grows warm. You’d forgotten- Luke and Jack know now, so it feels less like something you need to hide. But Quinn didn’t know, and Quinn is overprotective, and shit, fuck-

“I already knew. I’ve known since your first date,” he admits, and you feel your own face morph into confusion.

“How?”

“I never reveal my sources,” he answers. “But I knew something was up when he took you home from the bar and had you stay the night.”

“You’re all such gossips,” you grumble. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Honestly, it’s been fun to watch all of you dance around it. Once I figured out that Jack also knew, I figured he was keeping an eye on it close enough. Also… he seems like a good enough guy. Of all the hockey guys you could’ve picked, he’s up there, you know?”

You smile softly. “I really love him, Quinn.”

“Gross,” Quinn says. “But I’m happy for you.”

You look over to the front door, where Nico’s just walked in. “Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta go.”

Your older brother sighs heavily. “Tell Hischier I said hi,” he grumbles. “And that if he hurts you-“

“He knows,” you say.

Across the kitchen, Nico smiles softly. You hang up the phone and melt into his arms.

“Bad day,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “Missed you too.”

a:/n: thanks for reading! also happy b-day cece!!

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst

Series masterlist

The afternoon sun filtered through the living room window and cast a swath of gold over Noah's house. You were sitting crossed-legged on the couch, watching Luna play silently, her small hands precisely set her favorite toys in a small, neat row, where Mr. Flop, her favorite bunny, had proudly taken the central point, guiding whatever game was in her head.

You smiled at her concentration, something warm blooming in your chest.

She was a perfect blend of Noah's features, a mirror image of him in her own way. She had his warm, deep brown eyes with his same subtle almond shape, dark hair, with a way chubbier face.

Noah leaned against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. Some brown locks fell over his eyes as they darted between you and his daughter in quiet contemplation and hesitation.

You could tell something was on his mind. It had been incredible between you and Noah in the past few months, but there was one part of his life he'd held carefully at arm's length: Luna.

That wasn't because he didn't trust you, you knew that. It was deeper than that, more complicated. He was protective of her in a way hard to explain unless you knew the full story, which he had only recently begun sharing with you.

It had been late one night, just the two of you curled up on his couch after Luna had gone to bed, when Noah first opened up about the relationship with his ex. In the beginning, it had been passionate-whirlwind-type love, felt like the kind that could move mountains.

But once Luna was born, everything shifted. She was never ready for the reality of being a mother, and slowly but surely, it dawned on him that with each passing day, she actually resented it. Noah tried to understand her, tried to support her in whatever way he could, but nothing seemed to help. The more he tried, the more she pulled away.

One night, Noah had come home to an empty house. No note, no explanation, just Luna, not even a year old yet, lying in her crib, and complete silence in every room. His ex was gone, had walked out on both of them, and though Noah tried to reach out, tried to get her to come back, she never did.

From that moment on, he'd vowed to protect Luna from anything or anyone that might hurt her. Or perhaps that was his way to protect himself, too.

You both were up late, the only sound in his living room coming from a small lamp in the corner of the room, its dim light.

Noah was sitting next to you on the couch, his back hunched and his elbows to his knees as he stared into the floor for thought collection. You knew he had been carrying something heavy in his head for quite some time.

"I never thought that I'd ever be a single parent," he said gruffly, as though the words hurt him to utter. "But then again, after what happened …I don't really see my life in any other way anymore. She is everything to me."

He stopped, rubbing a hand over his face, and in those eyes you could almost see his tiredness, not physical, but an emotional toll, when one carries so much on his shoulders alone. You said nothing, just let him work through the words at his own pace. You could feel his vulnerability hang between you like some fragile thing he was just willing to show you.

"I didn't have time to process what happened," Noah whispered. "One day I'm in this relationship and we're trying to make it work for Luna, and the next… she's gone. Just like that. I came home and she'd left. No explanation. No good-bye."

Your heart ached with the pain in his tone, even now raw with emotion.

“I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,”, he admitted, shaking his head. Just like that, it was him and Luna against the world.

"I was fucking terrified" he said, the corner of his lip curling up in a self-deprecating smile. "I had to figure out how to be a dad by myself, how to balance that with the band, how to be there for her when I was barely holding it together myself."

He glanced up at you then, his eyes warm with appreciation and a little fear. "She's the reason I'm so careful, you know? With relationships, with people in general. I don't ever want to bring someone into her life unless I am really sure."

He paused, his throat swallowing hard as his eyes drop once again to the floor. You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but it was hard for him to speak.

"I'm scared that…," he started, then had to force himself to continue, his voice faltering. "I'm scared that you're mad at me. Or disappointed, maybe. That I'm taking things too slow with you. That I haven't fully… let you in yet. It's not because I don't care about you, because I do. A lot. It's just—"

"Noah," you said softly, leaning in closer to him. "I'm not mad. I'm not disappointed. I get it, why you want to be careful. It's okay."

His eyes finally met yours, surprise flickering in them. He had been so consumed by his fear of messing things up that it hadn't occurred to him you might actually understand where he was coming from.

"You've been through much," you went on, your voice soft but clear. "And I get why you'd want to protect Luna. I'd be more concerned if you were being anything less than careful, honestly. It says how much you love her, and how much you want to do right by her. And I respect that, Noah. I'm not going anywhere."

He blinked, like he was trying to absorb what you were saying, his shoulders loosening as your words soaked in. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His hand closed around yours, clasping at it like he was holding onto something solid for the first time in a long while.

"I can wait," you said with an even voice. "You need more time, I'm waiting. I do care for you, for both of you. And I don't want to make anything if you are not ready yet. What matters to me is that we're moving forward, even if it's slow."

Noah's breath slightly caught, emotion swelling up in his eyes as he continued to carry that weight for such a long time, terrified that by taking things slow, he was pushing you away, when all you wanted was to meet him where he was.

"I don't know how to do that," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so scared of screwing this up, of screwing us up. But you… you've just been there."

You smiled softly and squeezed his hand. "You've been hurt, Noah. And it takes time to heal from that. I'm not here to hurry you or push you into something that you're not ready for. I am here because I care about you. And I care about Luna. I want you only to know that I'm in this for the long haul whenever you're ready."

He breathed shakily, his forehead leaning forward to rest against yours while his hand remained tightly wrapped around yours. You could feel the tension start to seep from him, replaced by a silent sort of relief that he didn't have to bear the burden of his fears alone anymore.

"Thank you." he whispered, his voice full of gratitude. "For understanding. For being… you."

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, silently communicating that he had nothing to thank you for, that this was where you wished to be.

You saw Noah in all his completeness: a good father, a man who had been wounded but kept trying, learning how to trust once more. You were more than ready to wait for him to fully open up that part of his heart.

You sat in that silence, the weight of the past there still, yet lighter now. You knew Noah still had a really long way to go before letting go of all the pain he had been carrying with him, but you knew he was on his way. You would be here every step of the way, to build something real, something lasting, with him and with Luna.

Now, months after you and Noah had started dating, you were sitting in the middle of that guarded space he had created around her.

Now you knew why he was being so careful, why he had not pushed for more interaction between you and Luna.

She meant the world to him, and after all she had been through, he would never risk anything that could disrupt her life. But still, you waited. You had cared for Noah, and by that extension already cared for Luna, too. So you gave him the time he needed to let you in.

Today, though, there was something different in the air, something to let you know Noah was about to take a step forward.

"Hey," Noah finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had overcome the room. He set his coffee cup down and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous quirk you'd come to know well. "Can I ask you a favor?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What's up?"

He turned to Luna, still deep in her toys, and back to you again. He paused a beat, you basically saw the cogs turning as he picked his words with all care.

"The band's got a thing later today, just some planning stuff for the new album. I was supposed to go meet the guys, but…" He trailed off, gesturing toward Luna with a helpless look. "Usually, I ask one of them, but they are all busy today."

You chuckled softly at that, imagining Luna in the hands of Noah’s bandmates. As much as they loved her, you knew they weren’t exactly all equipped for child care even if you were sure they all deeply cared about her.

"So… you want me to stay with her?"

Noah nodded, his expression softening as he met your gaze. "Yeah. If you're okay with it. I mean, I know it's last minute and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, but—"

"Noah," you interrupted softly, standing up and walking over to him. You reached out, resting your hand on his arm. "It's okay. I'd love to stay with her."

He exhaled, the relief washing over his features, but there was still that damned hesitation in his eyes. You knew how big of a deal this was for him, trusting someone with Luna, especially after everything he'd been through.

"Are you sure?" he asked more quietly now. "I mean, she's really shy, with most people and with you too, and I don't want any of you to feel uncomfortable."

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine. She just needs time, that's all. And I think she got her shyness from her dad."

Noah closed his eyes for a second, his head slightly leaned into your touch before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes were different, warm and a deep well of silent appreciation.

"Thank you," he whispered. "This… this means so much."

Now, you were sitting on the floor, after Noah had gone off to his band meeting. At first, Luna had been quiet, keeping to herself to play with her toys, but bit by bit, she'd started to warm up toward you, like you'd wanted.

You leaned forward for Mr. Flop, the stuffed bunny, and held him out to her with a playing grin. "You think Mr. Flop needs some tea?"

Luna's eyes sparkled, a shy smile overspreading her face as she nodded vigorously. "Yes! He is very thirsty."

You laughed softly, watching her scurry over to her tiny plastic tea set. She first poured an imaginary cup of tea for Mr. Flop and then one for you. As she handed you the pretend tea, your heart swelled with affection for this little girl who was letting you into her world slowly, piece by piece.

"Thanks, Luna," he said, making a big show of taking a sip. "This is the best tea I've ever had."

She giggled, her cheeks blushing with pride. For several moments, the two of you played in comfortable silence, with her showing you through the rules of the tea party.

"You think Mr. Flop would like to go on an adventure?" you asked after some time, breaking the silence as Luna finished pouring more imaginary tea.

With eyes aglow with excitement, she said, "Yes! He loves adventures!"

"Okay, where shall we go?" you asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Luna tapped her chin, and then a huge grin spread over her face. "The jungle! I love jungle! Dad loves jungle too! We have to find the lost treasure!"

You gasped melodramatically. "The jungle? Wait. Noah made you listen...nevermind. That does sound dangerous! You think we can make it?"

She laughed again, her head bobbing up and down quickly. "We can do it! Mr. Flop is very brave."

And then you both launched into your make-believe jungle adventure. The shyness had left Luna by now, replaced by a bubbly, fearless energy that took your heart soaring.

The front door creaked open a couple of hours later when Noah returned home, but you didn't notice him first, too caught up in the game with Luna sitting next to you on the floor.

Noah stood in the doorway, watching the both of you, and his heart swelled in his chest. He had always known you were special, knew from the moment he met you that there was something different about you, but seeing you now, playing with Luna, made him feel something he hadn't felt in years.

Love, not just for you, but for the idea of you becoming a part of him and Luna's lives in a deeper way.

When you finally saw him standing there, you smiled. "Hey, you're back!" you said. Noah nodded, stepping closer, his eyes soft. "Yeah, I'm back."

Luna ran to him and wrapped her arms around his legs as he scooped her up, holding her close to his chest for a moment before turning back to you. "You two seemed to have fun."

Noah had Luna in his arms, babbly excitedly about some "jungle adventure" and lost treasure. He listened intently, though his eyes never left you. There was something there in his gaze, something so raw and deep, that made your heart go racing. It wasn't the usual softness, the usual affection, it was heavier, like something nestled between you when nothing was said.

"We did," you said, smiling at Luna as she continued her excited recount of the day. "We found the lost treasure, and Mr. Flop was the hero of the day."

Luna giggled, snuggling into Noah's chest as she added her own details. "We were very brave, Daddy! Mr. Flop was so good at being quiet, and we didn't get eaten!"

Noah chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Sounds like you had quite the adventure."

"Yes! We had a lot of fun. And your friend is amazing. I want to play with her again. I think she is my friend too now."

Noah smiled, his brown eyes full of affection for the both of you. "I'm glad you made a new friend. We'll ask her again, okay?"

Luna nodded, her eyelids drooping as the excitement of the day finally started to catch up with her and she rested her head against the soft fabric of his dad's hoodie. Noah glanced at you over her head, a soft smile tugging at his lips once again.

"Would you like to help me get her ready for bed?" he whispered, and with Luna nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder, half-asleep.

You nodded, and your heart fluttered with the thought. This felt like some sort of minor but meaningful step in being included in the nighttime routine, part of something as personal and intimate as this.

All three went into Luna's room together. It was not a big room, but it was cozy with soft toys, bookshelves, and a little carpet that glittered from strings of tiny fairy lights.

Noah was soon to gently lay Luna down into her bed, and you sat down beside him, watching as he tucked her in, his hands moving with the sort of practiced ease that came from more than two years of being a single parent. You leaned over, setting Mr. Flop down beside Luna, who smiled sleepily as she cuddled the bunny close.

Noah leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss against her forehead with tenderness that would ache your chest. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Goodnight, daddy," she muttered the tone in her voice drowsy. Then her tiny eyes flickered open just enough to glance at you. "Goodnight Y/N."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling in the simplest of words. "Goodnight, Luna."

After several minutes of quiet whispers and soothing reassurances, she fell asleep, her breathing evening into the quiet rhythm of her sleep. Noah leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to her forehead before he eased himself up, motioning you to follow him from the room.

As the door is shut quietly behind you, he let out a very, very long breath, running his hand through his hair, leaning against the wall.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "For sticking with her. For being so… incredible with her."

You shrugged. "She's a pretty amazing kid. It wasn't hard."

Noah turned fully toward you now, his eyes searching yours with a sort of intensity that hitched your breath. His hand rose and delicately swept a strand of hair back behind your ear, where it lingered on the side of your face. His thumb tracing the line of your jaw sent you leaning into his touch, your heart beating with each passed second a little faster.

"I never knew whether I would find anybody that could fit in this part of my life," he whispered, his voice not a decibel over a whisper. "With Luna, after what happened… I felt I needed to keep her world small, you know? Keep it safe. I didn't want to bring someone in that might hurt her."

His eyes welled with that same vulnerability you had seen before, and you knew how hard this was for him, to open up, to let you into this part of his life he had guarded so much.

"You don't have to worry about that," you said softly, laying your hand over his. "I would never hurt her. Or you."

Noe's thumb stroked over your cheek, his eyes sealing to yours in an tight seriousness, as if you were the only person existing. "I know. That's why I love you."

The words hung between you and him, heavy with tension. You couldn't breathe for a second, heart pounding in your chest as you tried processing what he just said. He loved you.

You hadn't expected it, not so soon, not in that moment, but the way he looked at you, the way he had been with Luna, it made sense. It wasn't just the two of them anymore; it was all three, the small family that had formed.

A soft smile overspreads your face as you looked up at him, your hand clenching a little tighter around his. "I love you too, Noah."

The relief in his expression was genuine, and for him at least, it was as though the weight had finally been pulled off his shoulders. He pulled you into his arms, and you wrapped yours around him, holding close as he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And for a long time, neither of them said anything. They only stood there with each other, wrapped in their own warmth, and the silence just told it all.

Then Noah leaned back, just a little, just enough to look down at you. And then his eyes were deeper and surer.

"I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met you," he whispered huskily. "I don't think I even knew how much I needed someone like you, not just for me but for Luna, too."

You reached up and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "You're an amazing dad, Noah. You've done everything right for her. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."

He closed his eyes, like almost to let your words sink in. Opening them a second later, there was something soft, something vulnerable, that made you want to pull him closer still.

"I don't want to do it alone anymore," he whispered with his forehead against yours. "I want this. Us. You and me, and Luna. I want a family."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "Me too."

Noah's arms tugged closer, his lips finding yours in a gentle unhurried kiss that felt almost like a vow, like a start, the type of kiss that spoke of love, of trust, of a future that finally was starting to feel real.

He drew back and his eyes shone bright now with a happiness in them that hadn't been there before. He reached down, took your hand in his, and guided you back onto the couch. You sat together in the quiet glow of the livingroom.

You knew you would have one of those movie nights where you definitely fall asleep in his arms on the couch.

Noah for once in a long while felt something he hadn't dared to believe in, peace. Peace in knowing that he didn't have to protect himself and Luna anymore. Peace in knowing he was finally able to let you in, fully without any fear.

You sat there, his arm around you, knowing this was only the beginning of something beautiful: a life no more his or yours, but one which both of you had started building together.

hello friends in my phone! would you like more parts of this? (｡◕‿◕｡)

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe

[kisseobie]

more thoughts on the size training PLEASE

p1harmony and size training

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni), slight dacryphilia, tummy bulge

a/n: vivienne bff ilysm and i have seen u so many times in my inbox and coincedentally haven’t gotten to any of them except this one yet .. i promise i will answer those i’m not ignoring u i just take a while to get to everything 😭 anyways here u are 🤭

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ keeho

lovesss working out just to send you “progress photos”, which are actually just thirst traps of him that he knows rile you up every time without fail. you’ve never been quiet about how much you love when kyo shows off his muscles and just how big he is compared to you. when the two of you are intimate, he can never fit himself inside you without prepping you an hour beforehand with his fingers and tongue. the sight of kyo, hunched over and pumping three fingers into your heat to get you ready for him is certainly a pretty one. his favorite part of size training his girl is how you dig your fingernails into his bicep when he’s first sliding his length in, leaving bruised crescent moons on his skin as you try to breathe and take his entire girth, inch by inch. praises you for being such a good girl, for fitting his big cock into your tiny cunny, it comes off so condescending though that you can’t help but tear up in humiliation :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ theo

is aware that he’s much taller than you, but doesn’t full process how that’ll affect your dynamic in the bedroom until you’re actually naked in front of him, looking a bit overwhelmed by the size of the head of his dick alone. size training with yangie is so sweet and gentle, he’s reassuring you each and every time that he doesn’t have to fuck you if you aren’t comfortable, that he can pleasure you in other ways, but you’re always determined to take him in entirely. definitely eats you out a few times before he even attempts to thrust into you, gets you relaxed and dumbs you out with his tongue so you’ll take him easier. is obsessed with teasing you, rubs his cockhead up and down your folds without putting it in, and only gives in when you’re pleading for it with fat tears and loud whines. despite his teasing, he’s the most gentle, always sets a pretty pillow underneath your hips to keep you comfy <3

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jiung

gets such an ego boost when you tell him it won’t fit. lovessss fingering you relentlessly while reassuring you, “see? don’t worry angel, it’ll fit” as you start to melt into his fingers. he manhandles you with ease, lets you lay across your sheets like the perfect pillow princess you are as he works his tip into your heat. fucks you with just the tip for a while, wanting to hear you beg for him to go all the way in. when you get impatient, he shuts you up by filling you all the way up, cocky smile adorning his face as he pumps into you. doesn’t verbally praise, but he holds your hand and kisses your cheeks as he continues his pace, loving the little hitches in your breaths as a result. i think ji is also very adamant on using safe words, especially when he knows it’s a bit difficult to fit himself in your heat. just wants his girl to be comfortable, cares a lot more about your pleasure than his at the end of the day :P

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ intak

has a big dick and doesn’t know it! doesn’t even really get it when he’s pouncing on you for the first time, wants to slam home as soon as he possibly can but then you gently remind him that he has to prep you first, and of course he’s giving you those puppy eyes and allowing you to guide him in doing so. fingers you so carefully, is afraid you’ll shatter like a porcelain doll hitting concrete. always has this cute focused expression on his face, almost as if you’re training him instead. once you give him the green light to fuck you, he’s constantly asking you “s this okay?”, and his genuine concern makes you swoon. once he finally sheathes his cock inside your gummy walls, he’s trembling with pleasure, but holds back until you give him the signal that he can start to move his hips. just so careful each and every time :(

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ soul

god i just know shota has the prettiest dick, so thick and veiny that it makes you salivate each time you see it. every time the pair of you fuck, you’re always left sore in the morning.. something your boyfriend makes up for with sweet kisses and hushed praises. size training with sho would be heavenly. he’s magic with his fingers, always knows when to add another digit, how quick to pump, when to circle your clit. soul would be very thorough in terms of foreplay, mostly because he loves to see you fall apart just with his hands. eventually, your boyfriend manages to fit his cock into your cunny, thrusting just slightly enough to stimulate you both, but not enough to pain you. just like intak, you would have to be the one to convince him to move, to which soul eagerly complies.

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ jongseob

ugh i can’t stop thinking about the recent photobook shoot with nerdy seob and his glasses :( can you imagine your boyfriend jongseob trying to work up the courage to ask you, his pretty girlfriend, to have sex with him? he’d even lamely tell you he did his research, read a lot of articles written by women on how to properly pleasure a girl. you’d tease him for it, sure, but when he’d drop his pants you’d be rendered speechless, shamefully ogling his dick, oozing with precum and standing tall at your attention. jongseob would be so selfless too, would ignore his painful hard on to prod at your hole with his tongue, eating you out for what seems like hours on end, proving that his “research” was in fact, very successful. when he finally starts to ease himself into you, your eyes are rolling back to your skull at the welcomed stretch, and it definitely inflates his ego a bit. fucks into you so deeply that you can see the bulge of his length pressing against your tummy :(

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

₊˚𓂃ᡴꪫ

[depravitycentral]

Just a few small nsfw thoughts about the yandere haikyuu cast

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual photography/involvement in masurbation, foot stuff in Noya's, spitting, overall just real unfortunate habits they have

Thinking about Daichi Sawamura who is the natural option for you to run to when mysterious packages start showing up at your door. It’s all sorts of intimate items – pretty lingerie that somehow fits you perfectly, all in your favorite colors (and his, too, of course). Then it shifts towards just single items, no longer the pretty babydoll sets – silk thongs with an initial stitched in, collars with your name engraved in the metal tag, vibrators that slowly get longer and thicker. It’s only when one comes that’s much too realistic, leaning slightly to the left and with veins lining the top that you finally confide in Daichi. It all comes tumbling out, and it’s only when you show him the handwritten note with the most recent dildo – reading it’s modeled after my own, let me know how it fits - that Daichi softly sighs, throwing you a look and telling you that you know there’s nothing we can do about it. Creeps like that always get away with it, unfortunately. Just ignore the way his uniform pants are straining at seeing you all teary-eyed and dependent on him – cute. Maybe you’d like another gag – he’s noticed you haven’t used the last one yet.

Thinking about Koushi Sugawara who feels bad about installing the bug on your phone, but not bad enough to disconnect it. It’s not visual, is what he tells himself – it’s not creepy if it’s not looking at you, after all. It only picks up on sound when he activates it – which has let him into a whole other side of you. You bring your phone with you everywhere, he’s realized, and he’s always keeping his headphones on at any given time, playing the live feed and letting his cheeks turn red and his pants grow tight at the sound of you. Your voice, your laugh, your humming, your moans and whimpers and hell, even the sound of you peeing is enough to make him feel light-headed, connected to you in a way that gets his heart racing and his cock swelling. Maybe one day he’ll install the visual one, too, but for now the sound is enough – the audio recordings he takes of you is more than enough fodder should he ever need it.

Thinking about Asahi Azumane, whose apartment is basically your second home. You come over and spend the night often – often enough to have your own toothbrush permanently living at his place, set off to the side and out of the mainly used area of the bathroom counter. It’s a common brand, one that Asahi can find at the corner market – which he does, keeping a constant supply around so that he can replace it each time you use it. He keeps them all stacked nicely in a Ziploc bag, dating each in permanent marker so he can recount and remember all the times you’ve slept under the same roof as him, only a room away. And of course, this makes it much easier to slip the it between his lips and against his tongue, teeth grinding down against the bristles and his eyes fluttering closed because it just feels so very intimate. It’s embarrassing and he keeps everything well hidden from you, but the way he stares as he brushes his teeth beside you is a bit of a give-away that there’s something going on.

Thinking about Ryunosuke Tanaka who keeps a running list of the insults you throw at him. They’re never truly mean, always just jokes or digs at some niche thing about him and his Loverboy attitude, but Ryunosuke notices. He’s transcribing them into his Notes app on his phone, and when he gets home each evening he repeats the insult to himself out loud, saying the word over and over in a mimic of your own voice, letting his hands run down the length of his body as he closes his eyes and melts into memories of your expression, your tone, the way you’d been looking at him. He’s got something of a degradation kink, and he’s training himself to become aroused at the mere mention of a derogatory nickname – it's for the future, he’ll tell himself, so that when he’s got you straddling him, tying him up and keeping him pinned underneath you, he can preform exactly how you want him to. He’ll be good for you – just call him a freak again, please.

Thinking about Yuu Nishinoya always making jokes about feet because he knows it makes you squirm in discomfort, but soon it stops being a joke. He’s always tickling your feet, making exaggerating sucking sounds when you slip your shoes off, even snatching your socks and running around with them, the adrenaline of you chasing him and yelling his name and looking at him him him making him giddy. But then he’s managing to keep the sock one day, curiously rubbing a finger over it as he palms himself, running his leaking, bright red tip against the material and cursing. He’ll wind up using it as a sort of cocksleeve, fucking into it and leaving it so riddled with cum that it’s hard, and suddenly the next time he jokes about you letting him give just one suck, c’mon is less teasing and much more serious.

Thinking of Shoyou Hinata who doesn’t understand why you get so angry when he suggests switching underwear. He thinks it’s sweet – a sign of love and comfort with each other, really. He’ll step into the cute, flimsy panties he buys for you, pulling them up and face twisting up slightly as he adjusts himself, trying his best to get the thong to hold as much of his cock and balls as he can. He feels naughty, wearing them under his shorts when he runs to the store to pick up groceries, and with each step he can feel the lacey material – the very material he’d forced you to strip out of that morning, the material still warm. And of course, you were forced into his boxers – the same ones he'd slept in, smelling musky and feeling wet with something you don’t want to name.

Thinking about Tobio Kageyama who has a full body reaction when he hears you say his name. It’s not subtle, either – he’s going stiff as a board, eyes blowing wide and pupils dilating, visible goosebumps erupting all over his skin. His breathing gets a bit heavier, and every muscle in his body is flexed, clenched so tightly that he can hardly move. He’ll stare at you, lips focused entirely on your lips, murmurs leaving his own that sound vaguely like your name, vaguely like fuck. You’ll have to pull him out of the moment yourself, with a touch to his shoulder or waving your hand in front of his face, and it’s only then that he’ll clear his throat, shifting in his pants and realizing much too late that he’s visibly hard, a bit of sweat visibly staining his exercise shirt under the armpits. He’ll make some lame excuse and run away, but as he fists his cock and replays the moment over in his head, he’ll be whining your name and your name only.

Thinking about Kei Tsukishima who feels so, so very stupid but can’t help but bite his lip as he scrolls through Spotify. There’s a separate, private folder of playlists he’s curated, each lasting easily two hours, all with different, single word titles. Doggy, cowgirl, lotus, 69. There’s ten or so, and they get updated at least once a day. It’s music that he can almost too easily imagine touching you to – slowed, passionate, your favorite songs, almost all of them coming from recommendations you yourself gave him. He just can’t help the mental imagery that fills him the moment he hears the chords and the singer’s voice – immediately you’re perched in his lap, tits pressed against his own chest and grinding on him so slowly that he’s near tears, desperation filling him and suddenly his finger’s tapping before he knows it, the little ‘saved to edging’ notification popping up at the bottom of his screen. It’s mortifying, really, but so is the silence only interrupted by the bassy thump thump that would otherwise fill up his bedroom every night.

Thinking about Tadashi Yamaguchi who splurges for his birthday and buys himself a customized life-sized body pillow with you printed on it. He’d been bright red the whole time he’d been ordering, the prized photo of you – scantily clad in your cute, revealing pajamas with your breasts just barely contained by the top – uploaded to the cute little Etsy shop. The package had arrived not soon enough, and he’s both flushed and breathing erratically the moment he rips open the packaging, wide eyes nearly tearing up at the sight of you – well, almost you. He’d paid extra to have the little audio insert sent alongside it, and as he records an audio he’d saved of you teasingly telling him goodnight ‘Dashi, love you, he’s shivering in excitement. It’s a shame that he stains the fabric with cum the first night, but a quick wash leaves it good as new – leaves you good as new.

Thinking about Tooru Oikawa and the pretty dildo he’s got buried away in his closet. It’s smooth, a pale pink color that reminds him of Sakura blossoms – that reminds him of you. He doesn’t use it often; only when he’s been on long, long stints away from home, tournaments and games making his muscles sore, his eyes sag, his heart ache in his chest. But as he sprits your perfume on it and whines your name as he sits down on it, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he remembers how he snatched this from your own closet after having watched you fuck yourself on it through your bedroom window.  

Thinking about Hajime Iwaizumi who absolutely loves the big, pretty mirror you have in your bedroom. It’s the first thing he notices when he walks in for the first time, and it’s also the first thing he looks up when he gets home that night. And when he’s got you spread out on his cock a few months later, the locks on the doors numerous with passcodes he’ll never tell you, he’s sure you’ll be a bit relieved to see something familiar on your new bedroom’s walls. And he’ll tell you as much, gruff voice in your ear as he bounces you in his lap like some kind of toy, telling you to look at the mirror, baby, lookin’ so pretty… And when you cry he’ll wince, but the way his cock throbs inside you is telling.

Thinking about Kotarou Bokuto who calls you when he’s touching himself, narrating to you exactly what he’s doing. Of course, it’s not from his own phone – he likes to think it’s more exciting if it’s an unknown number. Maybe he’s seen too many TikTok thirsts about men in masks and Scream, but he thinks you’ll like the mystery. So when you stop picking up, he’ll just leave voicemails – always groaning and moaning your name, putting the microphone on the phone right up next to his fist, the wet schlock schlock sounds loud and clear. It’s risky and dirty, and when you bring it up the next time he sees you, complaining and confiding in him that some fucking creep is leaving horrible messages for you, he’ll only play along, convinced you’re hiding your true feelings to avoid looking like a pervert. But that’s okay, he likes that you’re a pervert! So pick up next time, yeah?

Thinking about Keiji Akaashi who, when the late hours and pages upon pages of editing the same manga get to him, will switch over to edit the more lewd, more explicit series he’d recently been assigned. Yeah, maybe it’s illegal to be photocopying the pages when there’s particular scenes that appeal to him, and maybe there’s something ever so slightly creepy about printing your photos and cutting out your face, pasting them onto the hentai’s protagonist and doing the same with his own photos, but it’s not a big deal. At least, it’s not a big deal until you find the volumes upon volumes of different almost collaged panels with your photos, all strung together in Keiji’s own personal fantasies of exactly what he wants to do to you, fit with his own handwriting covering the neatly White-outted text bubbles.

Thinking about Tetsurou Kuroo who purposefully gets a desk at work that can be raised to standing height. It’s not often, but when his mind is wandering and he can’t sit still while thoughts of you become unbearable, he’ll bring the desk up slightly. Standing up, he’ll align the wood right below his groin, shuffling forward and gently resting his clothed erection against the surface, sighing and rolling his head back as he lightly thrusts forwards and back. The fantasy of having you bent over the desk is too strong to ignore, and when you – his oh so sexy little assistant – come knocking at his door, he’s thanking anything that’s listening that you can’t see the way wet spreads across the front of his slacks.

Thinking about Kenma Kozume who only plays Sims because he has characters for the two of you. There’s no other avatars, solely and only the two of you. He’s curated your character to have your hair, your eyes, your body proportions, even buying special packages and programming his own mods to make it happen. The house you’re both living in is, he’ll admit, a bit excessive – there’s beds in every room, and the very first thing he’ll do each time he opens the game is immediately press the WooHoo button, zooming in on the monitor to get as close to your pixelated forms as possible. He’ll gulp and palm himself, eyes unblinking and repeating the command until he’s panting and gasping and staring at the sticky mess he’s left behind.

Thinking about Lev Haiba who’s not good at the up-skirt photos he tries to take. He’s not subtle, the camera flash going off and making you stiffen up. It’s easy to brush off with him though, his little laugh and scratching the back of his neck, telling you that he’s just supposed to be taking ‘candid photos of myself, something my new agency’s been wanting! Hey, look at that bird over there, so cute right?’ The flash as you turn around is less noticeable, but the way he audibly groans at the sight of your pretty panties certainly isn’t.

Thinking of Wakatoshi Ushijima who can’t quite understand why you’re uncomfortable when he stands so close to you. He’s always creeping up behind you, unnaturally quiet for someone so large, and suddenly you’ll feel this looming, overwhelming presence behind you, his breath hitting the crown of your head and making your hair tickle your neck and throat. He’s standing nearly flush with you, his cock mere centimeters from your ass, the smell of his cologne invading every one of your senses. He’ll only stare, stonefaced when you yelp and whirl around, only swallowing when you lightly swat his chest, irritation rippling through your tone when you tell him don’t sneak up on me like that! He doesn’t mean to scare you, really, but there’s something about being so close to you that makes his heart race, and he’s heard from all his teammates in the locker rooms about how women ‘love it from behind’, and he can only assume this is what they mean. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s convinced that with enough time, you’ll grow to enjoy him standing behind you like a shadow, breathing down your neck and audibly inhaling at the juncture of your neck – television tells him as much, so why do you always shy away when he tells you that you smell heavenly?

Thinking of Eita Semi who, despite his best efforts, can’t find it in himself to reject a band admirer when she approaches him after a show. It’s not you and he’s not initially interested in her at all, but as she stays persistent and his numerous texts to you remain unanswered, Eita finds himself noticing that you have similar lips, similar hair, similar hips. It’s not actually cheating if he pretends it’s you, right? It feels sacrilegious to touch another woman, sure, but he’s actively moaning out your name, telling her to shut up when she says something he doesn’t think you would. And it starts a troubling pattern – you won’t sleep with him and he doesn’t want to pressure you, but the sexual frustration of desperately wanting to touch you and being unable to makes him crazy, willing to do anything to get even a phantom taste of you. He’ll apologize profusely if you ever find out, getting to his knees and begging you to forgive him, claiming he did it for you, but it’s a temporary solution for now. Just until you give him a taste of what he’s been dreaming of for months.

Thinking of Satori Tendou who picked up photography as a hobby once his feelings for you formed. He’s still a bit unsure about photographing you without your consent, but then you go and do something that makes his throat dry up, his fingers unable to stay still because you’re just so damn cute and he can���t help himself. He keeps all the photos in a special box, placed neatly and gently in the corner of his closet. They’re all labeled on the back with the date, time, and location, even a few jots of what he was thinking at the time of the photo capture. They’re by and large mostly innocent, but there’s a few that he’d been rash with, snapping the photo and feeling guilt away at him. Writing down the fantasies he’d had with each time he uses the photo to masturbate had been embarrassing at first, but each time he rifles through the photos – which are perfectly pristine, not a drop of cum or even spit anywhere to be seen – he’s poring through his notes, biting his lip and curling his toes as he remembers particularly vivid fantasies, all driven forward by your smiling face or your unaware figure. And while he’ll never offer to show them to you, should you ask he’d reluctantly agree, watching with baited breath to see which ones you like – which fantasies you want to try out.

Thinking of Tsutomu Goshiki who still, even as a young adult, finds himself getting flustered when he watches porn. He’s consuming as many videos as he can find, but he often finds himself clicking off of the video almost as soon as the actual sex starts – he’s interested in the lead up, rather than the act itself. He’s diligently studying the scripts, the scenarios placed forward, the way the women seem to go crazy for a few common, simple lines. He’s noting everything down and practicing the lines, looking at himself in the mirror and adding in your name just to get used to saying it without blushing. He’s convinced that because the women in porn would like these lines, so would you – of course, you would not enjoy being told that he’s the delivery pizza guy and that you’ll need to pay with your body, but Tsutomu doesn’t quite understand that. Surely it’s real – it’s porn, and he’s sure that he’ll be able to fuck you just the way he sees on his screen. He’ll make you scream just like all the women do – he promises.

Thinking of Shinsuke Kita who will let you bathe on your own, but never alone. He’s pulling up a stool beside the bathtub before you can protest, those eyes unblinking as he gets nice and settled in. He’s smiling gently at you, asking you if the water is the right temperature, if you’d like to a use a bathbomb, if you want any help shampooing or scrubbing your body. It’s unnerving if only because the nonchalance is infuriating, but his hands stay perfectly still on his lap, palms flat against the material of his trousers. He’s visibly growing hard as you quickly wash your body, still staring, but he makes no move to act on it. It’s only once he’s watched you settle into bed, promising he’ll be up soon, that he makes his move. The water’s cold by now, but he still sinks into the porcelain with a stifled grown, letting the bath water slip past his lips and cover his face, enjoying every bit of residue of you.

Thinking of Atsumu Miya who’s notorious for PDA with you long before you’ve accepted your fate. He’s always inviting you to his games, getting you special seating so that you’re as close to the court as possible, and after each win he’s pulling you into a searing, bruising, loud kiss. It’s dramatic and it’s entirely too much, but the cameras flash and the headlines spur with details of his supposed relationship with you. It’s all for publicity, he’ll tell you, apologizing but telling you that y’understand, right? It’s for his career, he promises, to make himself look better for the media, but the way he’ll slowly pull away and whimper your name so that only you can hear isn’t quite as publicity-driven as he claims. At least, when he groans and lets his eyes flutter closed afterwards, it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Thinking of Osamu Miya who, of course, has a rather nasty habit of infusing his cooking for you with something salty, bitter, and off-white, but he’s got yet another secret hidden up his sleeve. It takes him a while to work up to coming in your food, desperation driving him mad with the urge to somehow stake a claim on you, but letting his lips pucker and spitting into the frying, sizzling meal he’s whipping up for you? Well, that’s much less sinister, isn’t it? It’s less creepy, he thinks, and it’s easier – he can spit once, twice, five times in a single dish, watching with hawk eyes when you groan and praise his cooking after the first bite. It’s a secret, and the only tell he has is that he’ll bite his lips, Adam’s apple harshly bobbing, his fist clenching and his pants getting tight because oh, you think it tastes good?

[voxceleste]

hiiiii you’re one of my favorite fic writers ever and i admire you so much. i wondered if you had any advice for other writers of how to improve? especially for someone who has been writing for years but feels like they’ve hit a point of stagnation/knows they’re “good” at writing but feels like they’re just not hitting their full potential. also, if you had any advice for the differences in working on shorter pieces vs longfics, any guidance or methods that worked for you would be so appreciated!! your work has been very genuinely inspirational to me and i hope you have a great day <3

thank you for your kind words! <3

mileage varies more with regards to writing advice than maybe anything else, so it's possible none of this will work for you.

a common framework in education theory/neurobiology/psychology/etc is that there's a goldilocks zone between comfort and frustration wherein most learning happens. games studies has a similar idea, that a game has to be mentally engaging enough to keep the player invested without making it so punishingly hard that they quit.

writing is pretty much free. unlike most other creative mediums, the scope of a project has no relationship to the value of the materials or tools needed to produce it. you're only limited by your own energy, time, and effort--which can be formidable restrictions, to be fair, but it's not like being a filmmaker, where good-quality equipment and collaborators simply take more resources to afford. writers should take advantage of this. we're really lucky in this way.

the best thing you can do to improve your writing is to attempt projects that feel a little too big for you, or that you're not confident you can pull off. it doesn't have to be "big" in terms of length; a short piece could qualify if the style, tone, structure, subject matter, etc is outside of your comfort zone, but in my experience this has often looked like longer and more complex projects. then again, i love writing long stuff, so take it with a grain of salt--some people just don't, but you mention wanting to try your hand at longfic, so i assume it's relevant. the point is that in order to grow your skills, you have to stretch them.

past fic projects that stick out in my mind for having pushed me to grow as a writer:

story with 4 POV characters, alternating POVs at a regular cadence, where goings-on in each section would affect the other chapters

story with a real-world historical setting that required research wrt material culture as well as timeline/"who was where when"

story that blended a codified and formulaic genre template (het romance novel) with seemingly incongruous story elements (protag being a passively suicidal closeted trans woman and ex-evil mastermind)

the common denominator is having a very specific story i wanted to tell about these specific characters, and digging my teeth into how to do that in a way that felt specific and not just a recycling of common fanficisms… though in all cases, there were at least one or two other fics i looked at for inspiration, if only in a distant way. (those fics, in turn, are often what i'd consider examples of "fanfic that is also just good, ambitious writing," whether or not they would stand alone as original fiction--but that's a different post that's already been made by others.) (they are also full of tropes and are very fanficcy in their own ways!) i had to put a lot of thought into how to approach them in a way that was most true to what they wanted to be in my heart, and usually had one or two specific touchpoints of non-fanfic media that i used to get my bearings, which is a good habit to get into whether or not you're interested in branching out into original fiction writing.

with regards to the transition into longfic writing… writing processes are idiosyncratic and whatever advice i give you has a good chance of being totally useless. it'll probably involve a lot of trial and error, unfortunately. some tidbits:

the worst thing a story can be is boring and this is doubly true for long stuff. i would always rather an author turn the dial a little too far than not far enough to be impactful

can't overstate the utility of a good beta reader as well as a good cheerleader or two to whom you can dump your 2am story thoughts and troubleshoot your plot issues

start the story at the latest possible point in time; many a longfic idea dies on the vine because the author thinks they have to do way more setup than is actually required. this doesn't mean you have to open in medias res with an action sequence, but if you're opening on something more quiet or "expositiony," you should know *why* you're starting there, and should be able to draw up that scene vividly and characterfully

putting a little bit of effort into fleshing out your setting and side characters can help you a ton if you write yourself into a corner. if you're stuck, it's hard to come up with a story element from nothing when your story revolves around two floating heads in featureless rooms

the period between being 1/3-2/3 done is the actual fucking worst. it's miserable every time. the story is no longer a beautiful shining thing in your head, it's an ugly blob of misshapen clay, and you haven't seen it all start to come together yet. it's not you or your project, it just sucks and there's no way out but through

trust your idea! trust your own ability! trust the magic that can be worked in the edit!

if you bite off more than you can chew with a project and aren't able to finish it, or you're disappointed by how it turns out, that's really disappointing and difficult, which i don't want to downplay. but it's not wasted time, even if no one else sees the results of your work. that effort and experience will make you a better writer.

other advice that may or may not work for you:

read a lot of fiction; read fiction that is not fanfiction, especially; read outside of your usual genres/favourite authors; read authors who are known for unusual or singular styles. challenge yourself to write something imitating one of their styles, even for a page or two. what are the characteristics of a paragraph by octavia butler? how does she approach sentences? how is that different from a similar length of text by victor hugo?

read about writing craft, not from bloggers but via well-regarded books. even if you don't agree with all the advice (which you probably won't) or it's not all directly relevant to you, these texts will address fundamentals that apply to almost all kinds of prose and prompt you to develop unglamorous good habits. steering the craft by ursula k. le guin spends each chapter on an element of writing, such as sound & rhythm or punctuation, and includes exercises to put her principles into practice. on writing well by william zinsser is a classic--its focus is nonfiction, but much of the advice is widely applicable. both of these texts are full of example excerpts from great english prose stylists. books like this aren't likely to introduce groundbreaking new ideas so much as train you to become more consciously aware of elements of style you may be less attentive to than you could be.

your only hard limitation as a writer is your own creativity; drive your stories like cars in GTA. you're here for a wild time, not a long time, and if it blows up you can just get a new one.

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Rose Sutherland

Rose Sutherland @rosesutherlandwrites is a Toronto-based writer who grew up a voracious reader with an overactive imagination in Nova Scotia (where she once fell off a roof trying to re-enact Anne of Green Gables!). She's been to theatre school in NYC, apprenticed at a pâtisserie in rural France, and currently moonlights as an usher and bartender—in between writing queer folktales, practicing yoga, dancing, singing, searching out amazing coffee and croissants, and making niche jokes about Victor Hugo on the internet. She's mildly obsessed with the idea of one day owning a large dog, several chickens, and maybe a goat. A Sweet Sting of Salt is her debut novel.

Keep reading for more about character arcs in A Sweet Sting of Salt, Rose's favorite fanfic tropes, and some excellent reading recs 👀

Can you tell us about A Sweet Sting of Salt and how you came to write it?

A Sweet Sting of Salt is a queer (f/f) historical reimagining of the classic folktale of the selkie wife, set in 1830’s Nova Scotia. I call it a “reimagining” because while it draws on the folktale, it’s not a retelling of that tale so much as a story playing out in relation to that mythology. I’d wanted to write something centering a love story between two women for a while, but the initial spark came from a Tumblr post! It suggested the idea of selkies testifying before the UN as victims of human trafficking, which reminded me of all the things I disliked about the original folktale and its inherent darkness that is generally glossed over, starting me down the rabbit hole toward finding my own story.

How did you approach research for A Sweet Sting of Salt, and what is a favorite historical fact you learned?

I joke that I did a lot of research by osmosis: I already had a lot of base knowledge about the location, having grown up in Nova Scotia, and then set the story in a period that I’ve been absorbing information about in a low-key way for ages—1832 is also the year of the student rebellion in Les Mis, so I’ve been gleaning tidbits about this era since I first got into the musical and book back in high school. However, I had to do more specific research into things like British divorce law, period midwifery, and animal husbandry. I also visited some small, hyper-local museums on the South Shore that gave me an invaluable glimpse into daily life. I also did some fun practical research into things like “How long does it take to walk from x to y?” and “How cold IS a plunge into this body of water in March?” (Spoiler: Very.) 

A fact that fascinated me but didn’t make it into the book was that some early European settlers in the area were granted lands by luck of the draw, pulling from a deck of playing cards: Each card was assigned to a specific 50-acre lot, and whatever you pulled, you were stuck with it.

When we meet them, Jean and Muirin are isolated for different reasons. What do you hope readers still searching for their people take away from A Sweet Sting of Salt?

That there’s always hope. It’s valuable and important to keep reaching out to the world around you, to be open, and not cut yourself off—the biggest reason for Jean’s loneliness at the beginning of this story is the way she has come to keep everyone around her at arm’s length, shutting herself away out of fear, and refusing to let anyone truly get to know her because she thinks that’s the best way to protect herself from being hurt again. Reaching out to others can take a real act of courage, especially if you’ve had bad experiences in the past, but “your people” will reach back to you.

Found family elements play a strong role throughout the novel, within supernatural and mundane settings and across species. Was this something you intended from the beginning, or did this grow out of writing the relationship between Jean and Muirin?

I always intended for Jean to have a found family of this type, which is something that a lot of queer people identify with, but those bonds also got stronger and more meaningful as I wrote, especially once Jean and Muirin began growing into their own family unit—their new relationship and the real danger that comes along with it put pressures on Jean’s other relationships that I hadn’t originally considered. Disagreements with Anneke and Laurie over Jean’s choices arise from their deep concern and love for her, and her own love and care for them, reflected in her responses, is a big part of what made them feel like a real family, for me. Jean and Laurie always having each other’s backs while also being the first to call one another out on their bullshit ended up being one of my favourite dynamics in the whole book.

The selkie myth carries an inherent element of transformation. What is a character transformation you most enjoyed writing, and why?

On a character level, the change in Jean’s worldview following a conversation with her childhood sweetheart meant a lot to me—it heals an old wound for her. I love how grounded and self-assured she is afterward, in spite of the daunting task still ahead of her. But my favourite transformation to write was the antagonist’s mask-off moment, where they directly threaten Jean for the first time. It’s so sly and coded so that only she will understand the menace behind it, a real dun-duh-dunnn moment, which was a lot of fun for me—I also enjoy the foreshadowing elements in that exchange.

This is your debut novel. Did anything surprise you about getting it from manuscript to published book?

Oh my gosh, how LONG it took! After I finished the original draft and decided it was worth attempting to publish, I spent over a year revising based on my own thoughts, input from beta readers, critique partners, and my mentor, Maureen Marshall (whom I connected with through the now defunct Author Mentor Match program, and whose book, The Paris Affair—about a young gay engineer attempting to help Gustave Eiffel secure the funding to build a certain celebrated Parisian landmark— is coming out in May). After that came a full year of querying agents and getting rejected. A lot. People loved Salty but weren’t quite sure what to do with her or where the book would fit in “the market,” which was hard to deal with at the time but is hilarious in retrospect: Salty was snapped up less than a month after she finally went out on submission! But that was back in 2022, and the book is only coming out now. Publishing can be painfully slow.

You’ve written fanfic in the past—do you have a favorite fanfic trope?

I’m not sure either of these counts as a trope, but I adore a character that’s “pure of heart, dumb of ass”, and love a truly unhinged Fanon Explanation For Canon Object. As a longtime Les Mis stan, I ship Tholomyes/Getting Punched. If you know, you know.

Do you have any favorite queer retellings of folktales you can recommend?

Right here on Tumblr, I’m a huge fan of @laurasimonsdaughter, who writes delightful riffs on classic folktales, truly inventive urban fantasy spins on old lore, and her own original folktales. 

I’m currently reading Spear, an amazing queer, gender-bent, Arthurian novella by Nicola Griffiths. Anna Burke’s books Thorn and Nottingham are up next on my TBR. Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of brilliant queer historicals that aren’t retellings (I recently loved Suzette Meyr’s The Sleeping Car Porter and Heather O’Neil’s When We Lost Our Heads) and wonderful historical retellings that aren’t queer (I highly recommend Molly Greeley’s beautiful, heartbreaking Marvelous, about the real-life couple that inspired Beauty and the Beast). Queer, historical retellings aimed at adults seem to be considered quite niche, still, and can take some digging to find! So, throwing this out to Tumblr: Do you have recommendations for me?

Do you have a writing routine? Is there a place/state of being/playlist you find most conducive to your writing practice?

My routine is chaotic at best, but I find I do my best work earlier in the day, so I usually scribble in my journal while I have breakfast, and then progress to working on my current project as I drink my second cup of coffee. I’m lucky—my day job is an evening gig, which mostly allows me to write on my preferred schedule… but I’ve also been known to have a bolt of inspiration strike at 10pm and dash home to write until well past midnight on occasion. Nothing quite like the hyperfocus zone!

What’s next for you? Are you working on anything you can tell us about?

No official news yet, but I’m currently working on a story set in 18th-century provincial France based on a true unsolved mystery of the past. It has me delving into a very specific branch of French folklore, and I hope future readers will pick up on common threads with one popular fairytale in particular. I’m really excited about where this one is headed, but keeping the details close to my chest for now!

Thank you Rose for taking the time to answer our questions! If you love queer fantasy and old folktales, grab yourself a copy of A Sweet Sting of Salt, and be sure to share your queer folktale reading recs with Rose on @rosesutherlandwrites!

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You keep yourself as busy as you can with your friends while your husband is away. Bradley starts to learn that this top secret special mission comes with a very specific set of risks and very few details. But the details he does have make it clear that he's never faced anything like this before.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, masturbation, fluff, mentions of hostages

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You sat in the driver's seat of the Bronco until Bradley's transport was completely out of sight, and you were just squinting into the brightening sky. It was getting late, and you needed to head to work, but the weird mix of emotions inside you was making it hard to even reach for the keys in the ignition and start the engine. 

Bradley was excited about his mission; you knew that for a fact. He couldn't hide it from you when he talked about it, and you wouldn't even want him to. If this is what it was going to take for him to get back into a confident groove at work, then you were happy to send him off into the sky. But it was still impossible not to worry about him. 

You made the trip back home and got yourself dressed in your uniform after you took Tylenol for your cramps. You kissed Tramp and said, "When I get home later, we can watch a movie." Then you took your little red car to work and walked up to your office. 

While Bradley was away, you planned on using this time to catch up with your friends a little bit more. Maria and Cam were the best kinds of friends who could just tell when you needed to focus on your marriage instead of them, but you were really missing those lazy brunches and avocado toast. But Jake was the one you really wanted to have lunch with.

"Sorry, Cat," you murmured to yourself as you walked to the lab. You were ready to force Jake to sit down with you and you alone one day this week, even if that meant asking her nicely to sit at a different table. You still had in the back of your mind the fact that he had other women texting his phone, and you wanted to know what that was all about. 

Cat was the first person you saw when you entered your lab, and while you wanted to talk to her, she was wearing the expensive headphones with her eyes glued to her computer screen, and you knew better than to interrupt. So you waited and texted Jake to see if he was going to be on the ground at lunchtime today. But as soon as Cat removed her headphones, you were there.

"Hey," you said, and she jumped a bit in her seat. 

"Hi," she replied, eyeing you a little suspiciously. "It's pretty early on a Monday morning to be scaring people."

You took a deep breath. "Sorry. Bradley left a few hours ago, and I'm still riding the adrenaline rush."

Her face softened. "That's right. Any idea how long he'll be gone?"

"No clue. But I can already tell he's going to miss his birthday, which is now my favorite day of the year."

She laughed. "That's sweet. Jeremiah's birthday is my favorite day."

You paused and studied her face. "And Jake's birthday? You like that day, too?"

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Seeing as that's not until October, I haven't had a chance to experience that with him yet."

You wrung your hands together. "Do you think you and he will be experiencing it? Together?"

Cat stood and shook her head at you. "If you're trying to ask me what's going on with Jake, then just ask me what's going on with Jake. You and I can't cut the bullshit with each other now."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you asked, "Did you ask him about the text messages?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. "At first he pretended not to know what I was talking about, and I promptly grabbed my bag and walked out his front door."

"No," you gasped, your hands curling into angry fists. "He didn't."

"He did," she said calmly, nodding. "I made it all the way out to Uncle Bernie's SUV before he chased me down. I told him to remember that I'm not some twenty one year old he met at the bar, and he told me he's an idiot. So I left."

"When was this?" you asked, completely shocked by Jake. 

"Saturday night." Cat was as calm as anything, and you kind of envied her for it.

"What are you going to do?"

She shrugged, and you saw the facade crack the tiniest bit. "Jer is already attached to him. So... that sucks, I guess. I haven't answered Jake's calls, and I haven't decided if I will or not. I needed time to think. I'm honestly a little surprised and annoyed that he isn't in here right now looking for me." Her expression just seemed sad now, and you really wanted to hug her. But Bickel walked in looking for Macy so you decided to just accost Jake yourself when you saw him.

The opportunity arose at lunchtime. "Seresin!" you called out once you had your burrito bowl and hot sauce in your hands. He turned around cautiously as you stormed in his direction. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He smirked. "You'll need to be more specific, Angel."

You glared. "Cut the shit and give me your phone." You set your lunch on an empty table before taking his sandwich container out of his hand. You held out your palm expectantly, and a few seconds later, he handed it to you. When you unlocked his phone and opened his messaging app, you were appalled. Most of the texts were from random numbers, and at least he hadn't responded to any of them, but you were still annoyed. "Why didn't you delete any of these messages?"

Now he was kind of in your face as he hissed, "What's the fucking point? It's not going to make them stop. It'll just make me feel worse when I get more."

You held up his phone. "One girl texted asking if you could come over at three in the morning. Three in the morning, Jake!"

"I know," he said, wrenching his phone back out of your hand. "It was when I was asleep in bed with Cat at Hondo's place. I snuck in the window around midnight just so I could see her, and I read the message when I woke up. It made me want to vomit."

"Well how do you think Cat feels?!" you replied in an outraged whisper. 

"Probably like an idiot," he said with a shrug. "But I'm not doing anything behind her back."

You sighed deeply. "I think she knows that, but you need to make it stop."

"I literally emailed your husband on Sunday night for advice," Jake said, plopping down into a seat at the table and running his fingers through his hair. "He managed to pull you, so he's got to know what he's doing and how I can fix this."

You rolled your eyes and took the seat across from him. "Well if he writes back, take it with a grain of salt. Bradley hardly gives his phone number out to anyone."

"He did write back. He told me after you and he traded numbers, he blocked and deleted everyone else's."

A soft smile found its way to your lips as you thought about Bradley holding his phone the night after you and he first kissed. The idea of him deleting other numbers while he was texting you made butterflies erupt inside you. "Well, you could try doing that," you told Jake. "Either that or get a new phone number. I think that would send the right signal to Cat. If you're still serious."

Jake poked at his sandwich for a few seconds with a scowl on his face, and then he stood, sending the chair screeching a few feet behind him. You watched him walk out of the cafeteria, and when he didn't return, you ate his sandwich and saved your burrito bowl for your dinner instead. You'd eat it at home while you emailed the photographer in Oceanside.

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

Bradley was usually able to get some sleep on the comanche transports, but this time it was too loud and uncomfortable, even with his earplugs. Exhaustion was finally overtaking him as they started to near the US base in South Korea. A nervous energy was thrumming through him. But he did feel more confident knowing that Cyclone and Warlock were running the mission this time, and while he didn't know many of the other aviators personally, he'd heard of all of them. The fact that several of them had been called in from the Atlantic fleet was a little bit alarming and also intriguing to him. 

He quickly learned that the woman sitting across from him was Daphne 'Bluebird' Blue from Lemoore, the pilot he'd filled in for once previously when she'd been injured in a training exercise. Of course that was the same mission Bradley had been lucky to return home from outside of a body bag. Countless stitches, broken bones and lacerations later, you'd nursed him back to health. He wondered briefly if something similar would have happened to Bluebird if she'd flown instead of him. Maybe they were both alive today simply because Bradley had gone in her place. 

The current mission felt like a way for him to bring his confidence fully back. As he walked out of the comanche and then right into a smaller helicopter that was waiting to take them to the aircraft carrier, Bradley ended up sitting next to Bluebird this time. He knew there would be time to meet everyone aboard the carrier, but she had a friendly demeanor. He really wasn't here to make friends though, so he closed his eyes, and luckily this time he was able to fall asleep.

"Rooster." He woke up to Bluebird shaking his arm. "Wake up."

He'd been having the most incredible dream about you, one where you were standing in the backyard singing really badly. Tramp was running around in excited circles and the sun was shining, and when he called out your name, you turned to face him. And you had an adorable baby in your arms. When he looked up at Bluebird with her hand on his arm, he was almost confused. 

"We're on the carrier," she informed him, patting his shoulder before walking out the back of the helicopter. He was alone now, and it was almost quiet, so he took a minute to let his head rest on the nylon netting behind him. The dream felt real to the point that being on the carrier felt foreign now. He rubbed his hands across his face and stood, looking around for his duffle before he walked outside. 

Cyclone was handing out bunk assignments, and thanks to Bluebird, there was an uneven number of males. Bradley got his own bunk. "Get some food, and get some rest," Warlock told the group. "We'll meet tomorrow morning at 0900 to start talking about some mission options."

Bradley's brow scrunched as he followed the labyrinth of hallways in search of his bunk. That was such an odd way to phrase it: start talking about some mission options. It struck him that perhaps he was finally, officially sitting at the proverbial big kids' table. But now he was also a little afraid of exactly what was going to unfold here.

He quickly unpacked his bag and reached for his new notebook, deciding to forego dinner in favor of some quiet and a bigger breakfast in the morning. His thoughts were swirling. He scribbled down a paragraph about Admiral Dean and Slayer, trying to empty his brain of everything negative. He wrote down his feelings about the current mission, and then he paused. 

As he glanced over the page, he realized this notebook wasn't going to be quite like the last one. While he wouldn't hide it from you, it just felt a little different. Then he wrote down the dream he had. This was his notebook, and he wasn't going to change his tactics now. He wrote down everything in as much detail as he could remember. He wrote down the way the sliding glass door felt against his hand and exactly which song the dream version of you had been singing. 

And then he dropped the notebook and pen onto the floor and fell asleep without getting changed. When he woke up, he felt better. The jetlag had confused his body, but luckily he had plenty of time to get himself ready for the day. He ate breakfast alone after a long shower, and then he headed for the classroom. Everyone else seemed a little tense, and Bradley tried to chalk it up to the fact that only the admirals knew what was going on. But frankly they seemed tense as well. 

"Good morning," Warlock greeted everyone with a stern face and a deep voice. The room was absolutely silent for him. "Welcome aboard the USS Nimitz. I'm Admiral Bates, and this is Admiral Simpson. The seven of you have been selected to be here today, simply because you've consistently shown three qualities in your career: you can make good decisions under pressure, you treat your teammates with respect, and you come highly recommended by your superiors. You'll need to employ every bit of your knowledge and skill to make this mission successful. And it is of the utmost importance that we are successful." He paused, and when he spoke again, he was looking directly at Bradley. "Welcome to Operation Loophole."

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

You hadn't heard another word from Jake after lunch on Monday. You'd gone home to Tramp and eaten your burrito bowl before falling asleep on the couch while you tried to watch a movie. Your cramps were so bad, you could barely function, and Bradley wasn't even home to run around and get everything for you. 

"Come on," you said to Tramp as you stood and stretched around midnight. You let him outside and then took your phone to your bedroom while he trotted along behind you. Then you got yourself ready for bed and emailed the photographer who had helped you make Bradley's birthday present last year. She promised she would fit you in again, and you hoped she could take some photos of you this weekend when your period was over and you weren't so bloated.

You curled up in bed after turning the lamp off, and you thought about Bradley. You didn't even know where he was right now. The base in South Korea could be a jumping off point for pretty much anything, and all you could do now was wait and hope for a facetime call. 

After turning your ringer up louder, you eventually fell asleep with Tramp. When you woke up for work, you took your phone everywhere with you. It joined you on the bath mat when you took a shower, and you had it in your pocket as you ate breakfast. You weren't going to miss a call from Bradley this time. 

When you strolled into your lab right on time, Cat was already working, and she had the headphones on again. You tried to settle in to check some code so you could get your submissions out before your deadlines when Jake walked in.

"Angel," he said quietly, and he looked a lot calmer today. His gaze shifted to Cat, and you noticed he had a piece of paper in his hand. He hesitated, but then she carefully slid the headphones off and set them down next to her keyboard. Jake took a deep breath, and you tried to be discreet as you watched him walk over to her. 

She was looking up at him from her seat, and her expression gave nothing away. Jake said a few words and then handed her the paper before turning and walking away. Now he looked a little apprehensive as Cat read the note over a few times. She jumped up from her seat, and the paper sailed to the floor, landing close to your boot. You picked it up and read it as Cat called out to him and reached for his hand to stop him.

I don't want you to give up on me. 

It was followed by a phone number. Jake's new phone number. You smiled as you watched the two of them kissing out in the hallway. When Cat eventually walked back in, trying her best to contain her smile, she looked around a bit frantically for the note. 

"Here you go," you told her, holding it out. She snatched it from you with a grin and then sat down without a word. 

But a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket with a text from that new number. Angel, come have lunch with Bob, Nat and I today.

You couldn't turn down the invitation. At 12:30, you found yourself holding a lunch tray and sliding into the seat next to Jake as the three of them continued with their discussion as if you'd always been there. 

"I don't want to move to Poway," Bob said as he poked at his salad with his fork. "It will take me forever to get to work, and there's nothing up there anyway. Then you guys will forget about me and stop inviting me to things."

"I never invite any of you to anything," Nat interjected before biting into her cheeseburger. "You all just show up regardless."

"Well, what do you think, Angel?" Jake asked, eating a duplicate of the sandwich you enjoyed yesterday. 

"I'm sorry, but what are we talking about here?" you asked, turning your attention back to Bob when he sighed.

"My landlord is raising my rent," Bob replied. "I'm seriously considering a new place instead of renewing my lease, but nothing I've found seems suitable. And Nat and Jake are very little help."

Nat nodded in agreement, and Jake rolled his eyes. His phone was sitting on his tray, and you saw it light up with a text from Cat. When you met his eyes, he was smiling. 

"Well, Bob," you said, returning your attention to the man across from you, "I will definitely ask around and let you know if I hear of anything that might work out for you. And we could never forget to invite you to things. You're too sweet for that to happen."

"Thank you," he murmured, blushing a bit as he ate a bite of salad. You felt like you owed him a little bit since he'd kept Bradley so calm during that last, painful deployment. He'd given your husband a blank notebook and had taken the time to meditate with him. "How's Rooster's special detachment?"

You shrugged. "No idea. He just left yesterday. I'll be lucky to hear from him at all."

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

The training routine every day for the first week was rigorous, but the really crazy thing was the fact that the admirals still hadn't provided any real details about Operation Loophole. Bradley and the others were in the air working through exercises all morning every morning, and then they were all in the small classroom below deck until late. Oftentimes Admiral Simpson had food delivered to the room as he went over scenarios that didn't quite make sense without all of the information. 

They just kept going over three different scenarios: Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Bradley knew them by heart, and he was sure the others did as well. But they weren't being told which one they would be flying for the mission. They were only being told they needed to be able to perform any of the three flawlessly.

On Friday morning at breakfast, Bradley decided to sit with Bluebird. It hadn't escaped him that the seven pilots all gave each other a bit of a wide berth during any sort of free time. He was left to assume that none of them had ever worked together before. He knew he hadn't worked with any of them. Bluebird was from Lemoore, but none of the others were stationed in California at all. Havoc was from Whidbey Island. Jackal was from Key West. Richmond was from Great Lakes. Wilbur was from Norfolk. Dugout was from Pensacola. 

"Are you starting to get the feeling they're withholding information from us?" Bradley asked as he took a seat. 

Bluebird looked up from her book and laughed. "Are you starting to get the feeling we might never know what's really going on?"

"Shit," Bradley muttered, dousing his eggs in hot sauce just like you would. "If they don't say something soon, I'm going to start begging for information. At first it was exciting to be part of this whole thing, but now, I'm not so sure."

"I completely agree," she said, her voice laced with frustration. "Maybe the seven of us can pull together and riot."

She and Bradley walked side by side down the long corridor to the classroom without speaking, but it wasn't unpleasant. He didn't mind being alone with his thoughts right now, but it was especially nice to know he wasn't the only one who was frustrated here. 

"Close the door behind you," Cyclone barked at Bradley. Everyone else was already seated as the door clicked shut, and Bradley found a seat as well. "Since you've proven you can fly the Alpha, Beta and Gamma scenarios to the highest level of perfection, let's talk a little more about Operation Loophole."

Bradley leaned forward a bit in his seat as Warlock turned off the lights, and the projector at the back of the room lit up the front wall. 

"While giving you the barest amount of information possible," Cyclone started, "I'd like you to memorize what you see here."

Bradley looked at the aerial view of a city and the suburbs beyond. Then the image zoomed in on a small cluster of buildings before zooming further to one building with a dark green roof. He tried to take in every detail of where it looked like the front door opened up directly onto the sidewalk and the fact that there didn't appear to be any other buildings connected to it. The more he examined things, an uneasy feeling started to fill him up. And then he realized that he was looking at a live satellite feed as a motorbike rode past the building.

"This structure is currently housing five hostages. One is American. The other four are from allied countries. As far as our intelligence shows, they've been inside for fifty eight days."

Bradley had to fight the desire to look around the room as dread settled into his stomach. They were going to aid in a hostage extraction. He already knew what this meant. How dangerous it was going to be. 

"Six of you will be chosen. One of you will remain on standby. There is no margin for error. You will be flying unmarked jets. You will be wearing unmarked flight suits. Communication with the carrier will be at short range only. Communication with each other will be through code only. Nobody can know who we are or where we came from or what our country of origin is. You will not fire a single weapon. You will not take a single hit. You will be perfect."

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

Early on Saturday morning, you left your house with your hair and makeup looking flawless. There was literally a suitcase full of your clothing and lingerie in the back of the Bronco as you drove it along the coastal highway, and you were singing along loudly to one of Bradley's playlists. His birthday was next weekend, but you hadn't heard a word from him since he left. You couldn't hold out too much hope that he'd be back in time, because you didn't want to be disappointed later. At least his birthday present would be ready for him whenever he got home.

This year you decided to incorporate Bradley's beloved Bronco into his birthday calendar. Yesterday after work, you spent hours washing and cleaning it up so the blue paint absolutely shined. The idea of becoming a pinup model for the second year in a row was making you antsy to get the photo shoot over with, but he'd told you explicitly how much he wanted another calendar. And you often caught him flipping through the one you made last year when he was supposed to be working out in the garage.

You were smiling by the time you arrived at the rocky overlook a few miles outside of Oceanside, and Flora, the photographer you met last year, was already there. "You look like you're ready for the spotlight," she said as she shook your hand.

"I'm nervous," you told her with a shrug.

"You were nervous last year, and the calendar turned out perfectly. And this time, we've got gorgeous weather and a natural backdrop. It'll be great."

You took a deep breath and got to work. She had you pose all around and inside the Bronco, and she had you move it a few times so it was facing different directions. Once again you brought Bradley's aviators, and they made it into a few photos. Flora helped you discreetly get changed into different outfits even though there was nobody around to see. She took photos of you in your honeymoon bikini leaning back against the hood as well as some in your denim shorts and red bra while you sat on the tailgate. So many poses, you couldn't keep track.

As she scrolled through the photos, examining the screen on her camera in the sunlight, she casually asked, "How do you feel about going topless?"

You pressed your lips together. If you did, Bradley was going to have to make sure nobody else saw it. But you already knew he would lose his shit. In a good way. "Okay, but you'll have to make next June the topless month."

"Sure," she replied as you looked around in every direction before unclasping your bra.

A few hours later, you were dressed in a simple sundress and walking into the usual restaurant for a late brunch. You slid into the booth next to Cam and across from Maria, and you were thankful there was already a mimosa waiting for you. Flora insisted the photos looked perfect, but you were still a little antsy over the state of the calendar.

"I'm starving," Cam whined, signaling for the waitress to come back. "Do you know what you want?"

"I literally just got here," you told him as you sipped your drink.

"You always get the same thing anyway," he murmured. "Both of you do." You could tell he was getting hangry by the way he ordered for all three of you when the waitress came back. "One French toast with berries. One avocado toast with bacon. One western omelette with extra hashbrowns." Then he aggressively bit into a piece of the cinnamon toast that the waitress left on the table. 

"You're in a snippy mood," you told him, and then you realized that Maria was staring at her phone. "What's your problem?" 

Cam sighed and chewed up the rest of the toast. "I'm starving, first of all. Second, I think my boss is going to promote me next cycle, which is great, but I also feel like a dick, because I kind of want to switch labs. And third, Maria won't stop whining."

"I'm not whining!" she whined, rolling her eyes. 

Great. You had to be the parent today. "Well, congratulations?" you said to Cam and he just ate more toast in response. Then you looked at Maria and asked, "What's got you so upset?"

She set her phone down, and you could tell she was apartment hunting. "Rochelle is moving out. Her boyfriend got a bigger place, and she's moving in with him. She pulled a you."

You grimaced and muttered, "Sorry." 

She waved you off. "It's fine. She wasn't that great anyway. But I can't afford two bedrooms alone when everyone else around me is getting married and getting promotions and raises except me," she said blandly, rubbing her hands over her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cam downed his mimosa in one go, but you were still looking at Maria. "Hey... you remember Bob Floyd? Phoenix's backseater?"

"Lieutenant Commander Mustache and his parade of hot friends," Cam mumbled, and you elbowed him to be quiet.

Maria had a faraway look in her eyes now. "Bob Floyd. He always smells nice."

Cam nodded in agreement. And you nodded in agreement as well. "He does always smell nice," you whispered, thinking about the last time you hugged Bob. 

"Anyway, what about Bob?" Maria asked, still fidgeting with her phone. 

You smiled. "He's looking for a new place."

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

Bradley was in his bunk, getting undressed after dinner when there was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he asked, opening it up to reveal a petty officer. 

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?" Bradley repeated, buttoning his shirt up again.

"If you want to make a call, there are some free iPads in the communication room. I saw your name on the list."

"Oh," he murmured, quickly tucking in his shirt again and following him out the door. "Thanks."

Bradley's heart was pounding erratically. After you missed his call last deployment, he had gotten so frustrated, and you'd gone to talk to Dr. Genevieve. He was trying to do some quick math to determine what time it was back home, but he was already in the room. He felt flustered as he was given a tablet and a private spot to sit. As quickly as he could, he entered your number, hoping to have as much time to talk to you as he could. 

Just a few seconds later, you answered with a loud, "Roo!" Bradley saw your face for a few seconds before you dropped your phone. Then there was a string of curse words before you picked it up again. "Bradley?!" you asked in a panicked voice.

"I'm here, Baby Girl."

You squealed with delight, and Bradley realized you were standing halfway in and halfway out of the shower. You were completely naked, and you looked like perfection as you asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, knowing there was no way he could share any classified details about his mission with you. He was going to have to keep you talking about yourself as much as possible. "I miss you so much. How are you? How's Tramp?"

"Good!" you gushed, moving under the shower spray and holding your phone out away from you as you rinsed off. Bradley was completely distracted by your wet tits as you said, "I had brunch with Cam and Maria on Saturday, and Nat and I got our nails done. But I miss you. Did you fly yet?"

"Not yet," he rasped as you stood in the far corner of the steamy shower and smiled at your phone. "God, you look good."

Your smile grew as you leaned against the tile wall, bringing your free hand up to touch your breasts, and he could see his wedding ring on your necklace chain. "Do you know when you'll be home? Can you tell me about your mission?" you asked softly as the sound of the shower somehow calmed Bradley's nerves as you wound him up a little bit.

He just grunted. "I'd rather watch you, Sweetheart."

And you fucking let him. Your fingers with your pretty manicured nails brushed along your nipples as you sighed his name. He had no idea how he's gotten this lucky in life, as you treated him to those pretty fingers on your clit and slipping inside your pussy just for him. He watched you masturbate, and he turned the volume down when you got loud. His hand was resting on his cock as he grew harder for you, the sounds you made echoing through the shower enclosure. 

"Baby Girl," he groaned softly as he watched your face on the screen as you came. Perfect. You looked perfect. His mind flashed back to the dream he had as he looked at your face, relaxed and sated. 

"Tell me how much you miss me, Roo," you whispered breathlessly. So Bradley waxed poetic about your body and your voice and how he couldn't get comfortable in bed without you. He made you laugh, and his cock stayed hard as you licked your lips. 

And then he was told he had a minute left. "Hey, listen," he told you softly. "Time's almost up. I don't know when I'll be flying or when I'll be home, but I think this is going to be a crazy one, okay?"

"Okay," you said, apprehension creeping into your voice. 

"But I'm doing great here. I'm ready for anything. So there's no need to worry. I'll be home soon."

"I love you, Bradley."

"I love you so much, Sweetheart."

Bradley felt like he was still in a bit of a daze as he returned to his bunk. He thought about jerking off to the videos you and he made on his phone, but he barely had his shirt off when there was another sharp knock on his door. He answered in just his uniform pants. It was Bluebird, and the sight of her wearing her unmarked, black flight suit added to the adrenaline already coursing through his body. 

"Get changed into your black suit. It's time to go."

She moved down the hallway, knocking on another door, and it took Bradley a few seconds to pull his thoughts together. It was mission time. It must be dark out on deck now. He would be flying at night. He took a minute to breathe deeply the way Bob taught him, and then he got changed. 

He was the last one to walk into the classroom, and it felt so strange to have no identifying clothing or patches on his person at all, especially when the admirals were dressed for a normal day. "Have a seat," Warlock announced, and then he turned the lights out, leaving the room in pitch darkness. "You'll be flying tonight in these conditions. Your eyesight will do little to help you beyond seeing what's on your radar readouts. Rely on your teammates and your instincts instead."

Then the projector clicked on while Bradley's heart pounded. Cyclone was at the front of the room, signaling for the satellite image to be zoomed in further and further. "Our sources on the ground relayed useful intelligence in the last hour. The hostages are most likely being transported around midnight, potentially to an execution site. SEAL Team 7 is ready just off the coast aboard the USS Charleston. You will provide a distraction for the SEAL team, enabling them to penetrate the building and perform an extraction before the hostages can be moved. Two of you will protect a comanche helicopter crew providing imaging for the SEAL team. Four of you will lure enemy aircrafts out over the water and away from the military base located here." 

The image on the wall zoomed out and back in on an airstrip located not too far away from the hostages. Bradley listened as Cyclone told them their current coordinates, the coordinates of the base, and the coordinates of the hostages. "You need to keep the enemy aircrafts away from the Charleston and keep the comanche crew out of danger. Bluebird, you're the team leader for the comanche protection. Wilbur, you fly with Bluebird." Cyclone turned to look at Bradley as he said, "And Rooster, you'll lead the team composed of Havoc, Richmond and Dugout to lure the enemy jets out over the water. Any questions?"

Cyclone nodded at Richmond when he raised his hand, "Sir, are we following flight plan Alpha, Beta or Gamma?"

Cyclone shook his head. "None of the above. You'll be flying flight plan Omega, and we're going to make it up right now."

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

Bradley is out there on the mission of a lifetime. More action coming soon. Thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[indie-ttrpg-of-the-week]

Thirsty Sword Lesbians

Anyone here ever play Get in the Car Loser? anyways

Touchstones: Queer fanfic and media, Premade settings have many different touchstones

Genre: Swashbuckling action, can vary from group to group

What is this game?:  Thirsty Sword Lesbians is a game about being swashbuckling queers of all colors and sizes, it's got a very generic setting, as long as your setting has combat, queer romance, and evil to be defeated, TSL can run your setting

How's the gameplay?: TSL is a powered by the apocalypse game, primarily based on the classic Monsterhearts, with its Strings mechanics being outright named after the mechanic of the same name from it. It's a classic PBTA (which you can read more about here) system with the core difference being the game's mechanics, which encourage the players to do things that are not the healthiest, or to fall fall in love with the other PCs or NPCs. For example when a character falls in love, they may ask a question about that person according to your playbook, this is your trait of heart, and when trying to figure someone out mid-fight you may ask one extra question from your playbook, this is your trait of blade! and this mechanic exemplifies what everything the gameplay in TSL wishes to lead to: Heart (falling in love) and Blade (Combat)

What's the setting (If any) like?: TSL at first seems like it doesn't have a setting, and it kinda doesn't, while there are many, many, many very fun premade settings within the book, the average TSL setting only has to have 3 things: Combat, Romance, and 2 Toxic Powers, toxic powers being two entities within the universe (be it a faction, religion, power, etc) that may not Necessarily oppose the players, but are definitely a bad thing.

What's the tone?:  Tone is generally decided by the players, but there will always be two universal things: Queer Rebellion via community and people trying to put down this rebellion.

Session length: Very very variable, but usually speaking you can do a lot in the plotline in 3 hours, though at minimum I think it'd be an hour long each session

Number of Players: TSL can be run with very few players, 3-6 is preferred but there's rules for solo or even two player play

Malleability: TSL is designed to be malleable, not really having a  defined setting, its themes are designed around lesbian romance, but the game itself has MLM rep and explicitly states that trans stories can also be run within this.

Resources: TSL has free playbooks, organization sheets, a google sheet that's pretty good, and a pretty decent amount of homebrew, most of it is fanmade but its there

TSL's my favorite tabletop game. While not doing too much new, it polishes what was already established in prior games to a very very high quality extreme, it's a great time, even if you're not a lesbian.

remember to kiss girls, inject estradiol, and have homoerotic swordfights with people whose worldview and/or neuroses are injected within the fight itself!

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Ok so like I’m exhausted- and I just really need to get this idea off my chest.

But a streamer au. Obviously modern, where Steve can’t hear anything because he accidentally dropped his hearing aids in the toilet. (Something real goofy and stupid) and he’s friends with popular streamer Dustin Henderson (who plays all sorts of games) not only is Steve friends with him but he’s friends with a few other streamers. Though they all want to include Steve in on their Minecraft server, because they know that when he has his hearing back he’ll be on there all the time talking to them. That and he also enjoys building things with Robin and just wander around the world. So they all get this server set up and start streaming. Some newer streamers join as well that Steve doesn’t know but the others know, and Steve has quickly become a fan favorite.

They are roleplaying a DnD campaign in Minecraft, when Steve’s character just pops out of no where doing the randomest things, at this point he even has lore. He’s a mute character who can only talk through messages. Everyone just loves Steve. He’s made numerous friends, and has helped build a lot of things. And no one in chat as ever seen or heard him. Though he is always in Eddie Munson’s streams constantly. Eddie is a older streamer, but wasn’t in on the fact that Steve can hear he just needs hearing aids. So when Steve explains he’s mostly deaf he just goes on about his day like normal. Though now typing book length messages to Steve. (Every streamer can see these messages, Eddie enjoys talking there so his chat can see what Steve’s saying and it’s easier to read off the same screen instead of having to constantly switch to discord) at this point Steve and Eddie are thick as thief’s.

Eddie’s the chaotic one and Steve is the tame one, and their videos together are hilarious. Though when Steve finally gets his hearing aids he’s excited to finally be able to talk to his new friend. He clicks in and joins the voice chat where you can only hear each other when you are actually close to each other in game. (Proximity) so when Eddie comes on and finds Steve he’s talking to his chat, not really caring about muting his mic because Steve can’t hear it. And he doesn’t stream.

And Steve his beaming and happy because he can finally hear Eddie’s voice. His hearing aids are a lot better then the last ones and he isn’t as muffled anymore. He stays silent, because he’s shy. And he tags along with Eddie. Who’s now changing his skin back and forth and talking to chat still. Steve hasn’t said anything. He’s waiting.

“Alright fine fine, I’ll ask Steve if he likes the maid out fit or the bunny suit.” Is heard right before aggressive typing begins.

Steve answers without thinking, and sounds really soft. “Maid Outfit.”

And his first words spoken to Eddie are maid outfit. And the timing is hilarious because he’s pretty sure Eddie has flat lined.

“Also, meant to ask why are our beds pushed together?” Steve asks.

Just I want a really cute au like this. And not weird.

Or instead of the maid outfit, chat is telling Eddie to give Steve his daily kiss. (It’s not he just moves forward and hits Steve’s Minecraft character) which has always confused steve until he hears. “Fine daily smooch for the Stevie boo” (Eddie has given him nicknames?) and just smacks Steve’s character making him loose a heart.

“Ow. That’s why you keep hitting me? For kisses? Eddie I gave you cake, we share a house together and you decided smacking my character upside the head was the equivalent to kissing? You could have just given me flowers dude!”

(Like all of the possibilities are endless)

[lovelykil]

Dude you gotta make a Kyle version of him with a horny reader 🤭🤭 I was blushing the whole time reading the Kenny one

I couldn't decide on a song so you have both 💁🏾‍♀️

─Headcanons─

kyle x reader older ver.

hc; horny reader dating Kyle

cw; nsfw :33

note; I was thinking abt making one for him after Kenny cs yes. I feel like I kinda got carried away with this 😭 but anyway ⤵

How the hell did he even managed to bag such a horny mf, while him, himself isn't really a horny guy 😭?

Okay well it sorta went like this

Before dating you guys were close friends (yes I always do the friend thing cs I can, u can't stop me)

You two were always together, he liked being around you so much Stan took notice, he got very jealous for a few weeks till he realized Kyle was crushing HARD on you so he had no other choice but to get over his childish behavior and root for his best friend

Now you on the other hand were also crushing hard on this dork, you found him funny, cute, silly, tall.. very tall oh lord

He's a whooping 6'1 or 6'2, he towers you. And god did that do it for you.

You liked looking up at him whenever he'd talk, listening to his (somewhat) deep voice (he has like a high pitched voice but still has a deep voice😭) while fantasizing about him pinning your small figure down to the sheets of your bed.

His slightly large slender pale hands traveling to your thighs, caressing them slowly as he goes down to look into your eyes, he gives you a warm smile before making contact with your lips he looks back at you for some consent. Once you nod your head he connects his cherry flavored lips with yours, holding your face carefully whilst he's in between your legs.

"And then– Y/n? Are you listening? Y/n!"

"Huh?? Oh what- what did you say? Sorry.."

You are not sorry. You want him to top your small body, hovering ontop of you and thrust his length deep inside you as he praises you for taking him so good.

uhhmm anyway 😋..

Long story short one day you got the balls to ask him out, ask your bestfriend out.

At FIRST you were going confess to him over text.. but then you didn't wanna be a pussy, he was special, too special to send a lousy confession text to. You wanted him to see your genuine feelings for him in person, so that's exactly what you did.

After like 10+ failed attempts to tell him cause you were too nervous.

You fantasize about him fucking you but can't tell the man you LIKE him?

Oh my god

Literally after school came and you were just going to give up when he approached you, his shakey hands latching onto your shoulders in a nervous mess.

"Uhh Kyle are you okay?"

"Look I LIKE you, I like you alot, and I- uhm- I.."

"Oh my gosh- I like you too, please just shut up and kiss me now, like.. right NOW."

he took a moment to process before kissing you.

He's so CUTEE, his lips did infact take like cherry lip balm.

Now you two were together.. all the things you imagined with him...

Kyle did not know what he got himself into LMAO

It's cause you never mentioned any sexual stuff before well I mean sometimes you did, laughed and shit but it wasn't something he wouldn't think much of. Until now.

Oh wow you were now so uncontrollably horny around him, asking for a kiss 24/7 putting his hand in between your legs whenever you guys sat next to each other, whispering nasty stuff into his ear that made his face red as tomato.

It drives him CRAZY, (the good and bad mostly good or..)

There was this one time you sent him something very questionable, which meant something likeee nudes.

You sent him nudes.

It was just for funnsiez 🤷🏾‍♀️

He was all excited that you texted him back too then all of a sudden he opens his phone to see a very explicit picture of yourself in your favorite lingerie or something, he'd never turned red so fast setting his phone down in a HEART BEAT.

btw he was eating dinner with his family.

"Kyle, What'd I say about phones at the table."

"Sorry mom- I..uhm Y/n texted me."

"Oh! What'd she sa-"

"Nothing- she sent nothing. Anyway, this food is REALLY good ma, like woww."

Bro was PANICKING. 😞

Just know Kyle called you later and scolded you well tired he just ended up growing a boner mid-argument when he thought about the picture.

Speaking of boners

He never knew he could get so horny so much around you, just listening to your voice gets him turned on. When he feels it he gets so embarrassed, and guilty.

He loves you for youu but hormones are wild sometimes.

Your hormones on the other hand are insane, you're always horny for him and not afraid to tell him or even show him. You love him for him of course but GOD you just want his slender fingers inside you.

One day you two were watching a movie together in Kyle's room, with the exception of the door being opened by at least 3 inches.

Shelia doesn't mind your company she's grown a liking to you, but leave 2 teenagers alone in a bedroom and.. yeah so there was no arguing about that

But do you really think 3 INCHES was going to stop you?

No.

:3

During the movie your mind was else where, thinking about the most erotic scenarios with your boyfriend as possible, you could feel your pussy throb in your clothed panties. Your breath grew hot, as you leaned on Kyle your thighs rubbed against each other trying to relieve yourself a little but it wasn't enough.

Kyle took notice of your constant squirming, his hands finding its way around your waist slowly he then asked what was wrong in a low concerned whisper.

Once his hands found your waist it was all over from there, the gut wrecking butterflies flew into your stomach fluttering their way downward. You sat up and turned your body around to face him.

"I need to suck your dick right now."

"🧍"

"🧍🏾‍♀️"

"Turn around and watch the movie"

"Kyle- PLEASE"

"No."

"WHY"

"Well one the door is OPEN, two my MOTHER, and three NOOOO"

You took his hand and held it with yours, begging him, he looked at you like you were damn crazy, but blushing like crazy cause what the hell 😭

"Please I swear I'll be fast, I just desperately need you right now Kyle.."

Oh wow that did it for him, your whines and pleas for him made him hard.

He looked at you then at the door, his head screamed no but his body ached for your touch. He looked at you and sighed he held onto your hand pulling you toward him.

He neared your ear going in to whisper something.

"Alright, be a good girl and get on your knees for me, okay?" He leaned away, still holding onto your hand once he saw your face he slightly smirked, even though he was actually dying from embarrassment inside he knew it worked when he saw the flushed and yet shocked expression on your face when he pulled away.

"Woah- how'd you.. like-"

"You liked that didn't you?" He leaned close to you, growing slightly more confident.

You giggled stupidly, getting lost in his voice you loved, moving in.

"Yeah a bit, do it againn."

"Be a good girl and kiss me, yeah?"

"Okay yeahh." Kyle chuckled his smile going into the kiss, you smiled as well but soon stopping from the now serious make-out session starting. He let you lay him down slowly onto the pillows, your hand finding his face for the kiss to deepen.

A muffled moan escaped from your mouth right before you pulled away for air, your tounge no longer in touch with his. You panted, sitting on his lap he huffed slowly looking at you in the semi dark room. The only light source was the TV behind you.

"You ready?" You asked, at last catching your breath. He simply nodded, his face a tint pink. You smiled and kissed his nose lastly before going down on him.

Kyle checked the door once more then slipped off his sweat pants, you helping him underneath the blanket. When you came in contact with his boxers you slowly pulled them off and out sprung his member, hard just for you.

You slipped out underneath the blanket with a giggle "You're hard as fuck Ky, you reallyy must want me." You teased.

Kyle looked away with a flushed expression, he shoved you lightly back under the blanket.

"You're the one who got me like this.. asshole."

"You're so cutee."

You lightly tapped on his cock watching it twitch before tucking some hair behind your ear and taking him in. Once you had him in your mouth you bopped your head at a slow pace, your eyes closing. The ginger bit his lip down, his eyes closing on their own from the pleasure he was in.

His hands gripped his sheets when you picked up the pace, he let out a faint moan trying not to make any noise. If you could see his face he looked so cute, his eyes half-lided, mouth slightly agape with hot air escaping from it and some tears stinging his eyes.

He shifted some bit when you took him in whole, your tongue sliding against his dick in such a magnificent way that he couldn't help but whine loud. He held his mouth with his hand quickly after, but still failling to keep his voice down.

He threw his head back, his eyes rolling back he wanted to moan out loud so bad but he couldn't all he could do was try to hold in his pathetic whines from his mom so she wouldn't come into the room.

From below you could hear his muffled moans and whines you could feel yourself burn in heat, your cunt almost dripping. You rubbed yourself to his moans, feeling the euphoria flow inside you as you fingered yourself through your clothed temple.

You continued to suck him off wanting to hear him more even if he had his hand covering his mouth, this whole situation of trying to do sexual acts while his parents are around and trying not to get caught made you excited and hot inside.

As you made your way up and down his dick you felt his hand make its way ontop of your head, he lightly ran his fingers throughout your hair or kept it there hearing him whisper something.

"Oh.. shit you're doing so good y/n.. please keep going baby.." (oh my god)

Once you heard that sentence come from his mouth you blushed hard.. picking the pace up about ready to make this man cum inside your mouth, you wanted to swallow his warm seed and show him just to tell you what a good girl you were for doing so.

But we all can't get what we want now can we?

Some creak foot steps neared towards the door after a few minutes passed by from what Kyle last said that made you explode with butterflies. Despite Kyle being in such immense pleasure to the point his mouth was watering and his eyes tearing up he still kept alert and once he heard that creak he whispered yelled to you to get the HELL up QUICK.

"Y/n HURRY get UP FAST FAST FAST–"

"Whwat? why?" You replied, his dick still in your mouth.

"My MOM"

You suddenly stopped, peeking out of the blanket. "Oh shit."

You immediately rushed out from under the blanket almost falling ontop of Kyle to sit next to him, Kyle pulled up his boxers then his sweats quickly and grabbed his remote to the TV. You hurriedly sat beside him at a reasonable distance watching the TV with Kyle.

Just right when the door opened you had to wipe some spit off your face before setting your hand down fast as Kyle's mom came in, doing the parent check in.

She flipped on the light switch, and saw the two of you sitting next to each other innocently watching TV, acting like you weren't just having her son whine and moan.

"You guys okay here?" She asked, squinting hard at you two. Kyle could practically feel his heart trying to escape from his chest he was so anxious all he could do was give her a thumbs up with a nervous smile. You also gave her a thumbs up, your smile not so nervous but somewhat kinda jumpy.

Shelia nodded her head slowly in approval, "Bedtime is at 10 Kyle, night you two." She stated before turning off the light and closing the door shut. You and Kyle listened to her foot steps slowly fade away before sighing a big relief.

You laughed from being slightly nervous, nudging him in the arm.

"That was close wasn't it?" You joked, feeling your heart race. Kyle just sided eyed you.

"Alright nevermind then.."

You two sat in silence for a second.. like a long second but eventually you heard him sigh, he went underneath the blanket seemingly like he was crawling towards you. You watched in confusion before he peeked out from the blanket in between your legs. His big curly hair getting all messy.

You pulled away the blanket off him to see him clearly.

"What are you doing?" You asked, feeling a smile creep on your face. "I wanna make you feel good now, can I?" He sat up and leaned into you he held your hip with one hand and the other your cheek.

"But I didn't finish-"

"It's okay don't worry about it, I just.. wanna hear you moan from my doing this time." He shyly looked away, he put his hand down.

You felt your heart melt and your pussy throb, damn he could do BOTH.

"Okay whatever you want Ky." You pecked his cheek that brought his attention back to you. He smiled, kissing you quickly then going underneath the sheets. You helped him pull off your pj pants and let him slowly pull of your panties.

"You ready?" He asked you, laying a soft kiss on your stomach.

You nodded your head with a butterfly sick smile.

"I'm readyy."

Most times he deals with your horny self cause it's now normal to him, it makes him blush all the time but he still somehow puts up with it.

Other times he physically ends up putting up with it 🤨

Let's just say this other time.. at a restaurant.

You were sitting by him, doing your usual teasing saying stuff like

"You look soo hot right now, I want your dick in my mouth."

He gives the craziest side eye, his face already red. You giggle to yourself and look through the menu infront of you. You two were waiting for Stan and Wendy to come since it was going to be a double date (Wendy's idea, she thought it would be cute)

Once they came you and Kyle greeted them, you smiled innocently ignoring the obscure thing you just said to Kyle a few minutes ago.

"Hey guys! Glad you came!" Wendy exclaimed, sitting her self down next to Stan. "Babe they were practically forced by you to com–"

"ANYWAY- have you guys ordered yet?" Wendy cut Stan off to which he zipped his mouth with a huff. You shook your head, setting down your menu for a second then putting it back up.

"No we were waiting for you guys so I guess we can order now." Kyle said, going to look at his menu. Wendy nodded her head she then grabbed a menu and shared it with Stan, the both looked at the menu together, distracted.

You decided to make another move, you put your hand on Kyle's thigh soon rubbing it up high to his crotch. Kyle's eyes widen but his eyes still remained on the menu. You snickered, leaning over towards him.

"I want youuu Kylee." You muttered into his ear behind the menu, Kyle closed his eyes as his cheeks redden he was growing extremely nervous and trying to remain calm but holy shit you were making it very.. hard for him.

Suddenly in his last moments were he was about to loose it he had an idea. He looked at you and grinned, leaning down some to tell you something.

"Keep up and watch what happens Y/n." His words sent a shiver down your spine considering how kinda serious and hot he sounded, you were both intrigued and nervous to what he meant you just looked at him a little surprised his eyes went back to his menu, not paying attention to you.

You scoffed, looking at your menu.

What could he possibly do in such a place?

The answer was going to revealed very soon and it was the LEAST thing you expected Kyle to do.

A few minutes went by and everyone had an idea to what their order was, there was small table chat happening you talked a little but soon you tuned out to think about.. other things. As Kyle and Stan laughed you thought about Kyle's hand tracing over your bare stomach making his way downward, he licked the both of his middle and ring finger, slowly sliding them into your temple he leaned into your face and kissed you passionately to block your moans from getting out.

You felt your region throb in your seat, you ached for it to be touched but it would have to wait till later.

You just had to fantasize about something erotic 😒..

You cursed to yourself, stopping your brain from making anymore scenarios. You sighed watching the 3 of them talk and laugh. You looked over at Kyle he seemed to be settling down his laughs, he took a sip from his drink.

Wait when the hell did the drinks get here?

Nevermind anyway, you thought about what he said but soon stopped you just shrugged it off and proceeded to mess with him. You scotted closer towards him, putting your leg over his.

You waited for his reaction but he gave you nothing, you frowned trying something else. An that's when an amazing idea popped in your head (the WORST idea you ever had)

You mindlessly slipped your hand underneath his shirt, rubbing his bare skin. Now he reacted to this. He almost spat out his drink and looked at you stunned.

You looked at him, quickly removing your hand. You shot an innocent smile to him and pretend like nothing happened.

"What?" You asked, knowing damn well what you were doing. Kyle kept a keen eye on you, un amongst to you what he was planning on doing now. He sighed taking his finger towards your region.

You watched in puzzlement to what he was going to do but quickly you knew what he was doing when he started to rub your clit on the outside of whatever you are wearing, it was already wet to the touch when he rubbed it.

He let out a slight snicker to that as you began to mumble words under your breath.

"What.. the fuck.. are you doing Kyle?"

"I told you if you did something, watch what happens. You need to listen." He whispered, his finger hitting your clit hard. You nearly gasped, gripping your menu.

"Hey Kyle you alright?" Stan asked his friend, grabbing his drink. Kyle turned his attention towards him, he then smiled sweetly "Yeah I'm fine anyway what were we talking about?" He said casually, un amongst to the two of them on the other side he was rubbing his girlfriends cunt making you slowly pant in your seat.

"Oh yeah so what are your plans for summer! It's right around the corner. What about you Y/n?" The girl in her purple hat asked you.

Must she had asked you at such a horrible time??

You looked at Kyle he had a smug look, still using two fingers to massage your pussy. You thought he stop, I guess not.

You breathed in trying to act normal, "I uhm I don't- er I don't know-! Maybe.. like.. uhh.. -uhm watching movies or like.. something?? Oh fucking shit." You told her, hoping you came off as normal as possible. You also gave her a wide smile despite her not knowing you were being played with under the table.

You twitched, as she looked at you weird. "Are you okay? You look all twitchy.." Wendy asked, her voice worried. Your fingers tapped on the table quickly, swallowing a large amount of saliva as Kyle's fingers began rub your clit fast, he looked at you with a sly smirk.

"Yeah are you okay Y/n?" Now it was you giving him the side eye.

"Yes.. im.. fine. Mmh.."

You thought you would be enjoying this but god it felt like torture, but it felt so good at the same time.

Now this one of the few ways he puts up with you 😊.

[stygiusfic]

kicked off 2025 by watching my favorite ghibli movie again, Porco Rosso, and I'm full of feelings about it

it is a movie that says as much through images/dialogue as it says by omission. the friend i watched it with (who was seeing it for the first time) was confused by the ending. 'wait, so does he turn back into a human, or doesn't he?'

I said 'well... we don't know!' which she found too vague, but there is a longer version of that answer, the reason why that apparent vagueness is actually a better fit for the story.

i like that we don't get visual confirmation of the outcome of the curse at the end. we do get Curtis taken aback and yelling at Porco to let him see his face, which seems to point to Porco having regained his human self as Marco; but it's hard to be certain, since earlier in the movie, when Fio can't sleep at night, we see a glimpse of human Marco that then goes away. that seeds the possibility that Curtis' glimpse at the end may also have been temporary or imagined. but Marco's story was never about a desire to be free of his pig form; in fact, when Fio questions him about how it happened or how to fix it, he shrugs it off. he has bigger things to worry about—but even if unrelated to his goals, his appearance is undeniably an expression of the movie's theme.

Marco tells Fio in that scene about a near-death experience he had, when all his fellow pilots were shot out of the sky in the war, until only he was left. his plane flew "on its own" up above the clouds, and he saw up in the distance a long line of pilots on their planes, forever flying out of reach, and he watched his friends who just died fly up to join them. he tried to go in the stead of Gina's new husband, but couldn't. he thinks what he saw was not pilot heaven, but hell.

Fio tells him the fact that he couldn't take his friend's place means that "god was telling you it wasn't your time yet" (loosely quoted from Japanese, I don't know the English line). but Marco replies that he always saw it as god telling him to "fly alone for the rest of your life"

this isn't the story of how he became a pig that Fio asked about, but it might as well be. Marco is someone dead set on going it alone. he has left the army, he won't ally with any other force, he is the last one left of Gina's friends. the fact that he looks like a pig only reflects how alone he stands: he is very visibly set apart from every other character because of the way he looks. there are 'people' and then there is him, 'the pig'. he refers to this directly when refusing Ferrari's urging to return to army: "I'd rather be a pig (ie alone, but he doesn't say that word) than a fascist". his convictions aside, he takes pride in being different, even visibly so.

he says to Fio, someone that he tried to keep at arm's length the moment he met her, who then grew on him, that looking at her makes him feel like 'there's still hope for the human race'. notably, it is during that same scene (though at the start) when we see our first and only glimpse of human Marco in the present day.

and though Fio has her own ideas about curing him with a kiss like a frog prince, and we do see her kiss him before that final image when Curtis' reaction implies he might be human again, it's not about the kiss at all.

it's about connection, about the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, about how human it is to seek companionship in each other even through the worst times.

Marco's "curse" is none other than a mix of survivor's guilt and a stubborn resolve to remain alone as he thought he must, after that vision of his fellow pilots in the sky. he sets himself aside from other people to the point that he stops being human at all. it is only in the moments when he allows himself to see the good in the human world around him, and be a part of it (having opened up to Fio and watching over her at the hideout, then at the end apologized to Gina and thus acknowledged the context between them) that he can, even if for a moment, be a person again.

[lavendermin]

Please share your professor Welt Yang thoughts, I've brought snacks for us!!! ☺️🍉🍫🧁🍙🍓

(I fear this will awaken something in me)

- 🍪

took 3-5 business days to arrange my thoughts since it was just feral babbling in my melted brain. But!!! We are ready now ☝️

suggestive toward the end, what can I say. I want to get in his professor pants sorry

Professor Welt Yang who is obviously the crush of quite a few university students, though I’d think he would be the oblivious type who just thinks of it as silly faculty gossip. His lectures are always very popular and at full capacity each semester.

Of course you aren’t immune to his serious yet gentle charm either. And while working on grad school you go to him for certain advice and pointers for your thesis. It becomes a more and more frequent thing, so much that you have his office hours memorized at this point.

Conversation is easy with him. And you’ll admit sometimes you go and start a random topic off with a broad question just to hear Welt talk in that deep voice of his. You could hear him talk for hours if he’d let you.

Of course this man is dense and dumb as rocks when it comes to even taking the hint that you are down so bad for him. Just have some patience with him.

You’ll catch him at the university’s cafe grabbing a quick lunch and coffee which turns into effortless conversation just to stay with him a little longer. At your one-on-ones you’ll even bring him a coffee when you stop by. Kind gesture or wiggling your way into his mind? You would never reveal.

There are little things here and there that you start to do that will leave you on his mind more often.

It’ll start with visits for advice on your material and projects. You are easy to get along with and even have some insightful commentary on the topics he speaks about.

Then come the complimentary coffees you bring— sometimes even some suggestions you bring to mix it up. He always enjoys them and thanks you for going out of your way to bring him the most delicate blends and flavors.

Then come the few invites to lunch. First at the university’s cafe to continue the conversations. After a few weeks you offer lunch at nearby places just outside campus. “It’ll make a nice change of scenery and the weather is lovely for a walk today, don’t you think, Professor Yang?” you’ll suggest oh so sweetly. And with that kind and genuine smile you give, how could he refuse? There are some subconscious thoughts that go through his mind wondering if you’re his favorite student. A strange one indeed given you took his lecture last semester and others a few years while you worked on your bachelor’s, but aren’t a student of his currently.

Your meetings during his office hours continue— a bit more scattered throughout the week and with more days in between. Welt starts to look forward to seeing you in his office, two coffees in hand. Lately he’s all you can think about. It becomes more of a frequent guilty pleasure as you show up in tight pencil skirts and button up blouses that reveal a lacy set underneath if his eyes linger too long. You apologize for constant formal attire, throwing in some excuse about recent project presentations and an internship you began. His eyes follow you when you move to leave his office, eyes glued to the way the pencil skirt hugs all your curves in ways that have him a little dazed with new thoughts.

You start showing up on Fridays and later than usual to his office, skirt length just a little higher sometimes and giving him a tease with how your stockings complement your plush thighs so well. You apologize deeply for catching him at the end of his office hours— and before the weekend, no less. The campus is mostly empty with majority of students having left and only a few faculty still around. Your professor, being the kind soul he is, of course tells you it’s always a pleasure to have you in his office. And your attire today certainly is… special.

“Apologies, professor, I have a dinner later with some friends and don’t have time to go home and change,” you explain as you head toward his desk in practiced motions. Your weekly routines. Welt shuts the door, assuring you it’s no issue.

But it is an issue. His heart hammers rapidly in his chest as his eyes take in your attire against their will. How could a simple black dress hug your body in such a sinful way? Or was it just his mind?

His heart is swaying and his feelings will go through some internal turmoil as he begins to realize that his feelings are something more.

Still, ever the professional, he takes a seat at his desk and offers you the one in front of him. Same routine. Just another meeting.

And you break routine. Or break him.

His eyes follow your every move and gesture as you begin explaining some issues you’ve had with your thesis edits and research. Being so close to him, he can catch the subtle scent of your perfume. A warm and subtle citrus.

You apologize briefly, telling him you have to leave soon but needed his advice to get some edits done over the weekend. No need to apologize of course. His eyes follow your every move as you apply some lipstick on while he looks over your file that you emailed over. His heart beats louder and there are some images that come forth in his mind that he has to will away. He has long succumbed to these… questionable thoughts. And that’s putting it lightly.

“Professor?”

Oh. He had been staring idly, not even realizing you were so close to him now. Damn, he hasn’t even looked over the file yet.

Your sultry voice still rings like blaring alarms in his brain. He clears his throat and says he will look the files over more thoroughly and send you an email so you’re not late to your dinner.

Your laugh is heavenly as you point to something on the screen of note on the file. Something he doesn’t even register as his eyes immediately fall to the way your chest is mere inches from his face as you bend near him. The revealing low cut of your dress leaves little to the imagination.

“Professor Yang.” Your voice is just above a whisper, pulling his attention once more.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask simply, hand on his shoulder making the skin under his dress shirt feel like it’s on fire.

Heat spreads to his entire body, mind blank. His eyes dart to your lips and linger there as he gulps. Hard.

With a chuckle, you lean down to press a kiss to his neck. An action he feels has an effect on him ten times more severe than if you were to kiss his cheek. It’s deliberate. It’s planned. And he wants more.

You tilt his chin up with a delicate hand. Welt is at your mercy, not making any indication of wanting these advances to stop. His eyes are on your lips again as you lean closer, and tilt your head with a sly smile.

“Seems this lipstick really is smudge-proof,” you say, examining the area where you placed your lips. Your eyes go back to his and suddenly his breath hitches in anticipation. “Professor.”

Welt shudders at the way the word rolls of your tongue. There’s jolts of electricity that run through his spine and spread through him in an addictive rush just from your voice. You have him inevitably wrapped around your finger.

“Again,” Welt says with a clear of his throat.

You climb onto his lap, checking his expression in case there was any indication he didn’t want your advances. The hardness painfully confined in his slacks says otherwise.

And you indulge him with a kiss on the lips. One you smile into as he goes in for another like a man starved. Welts rough hands grab at your soft thighs, pulling you closer against him. It’s like he can’t stop now that he’s started. He pushes the thought of someone walking into his office and being discovered engaging in these scandalous activities with a former student far back in his mind, like a fleeting thought he can’t be bothered to think of. Not right now, not when you’re mischievously tugging at his belt buckle. The serious gentleman everyone knows is quickly dissolving before you.

Several months of pleasantries and exchanges and patience finally leading up to exactly what you wanted. You can’t help but grin against his lips for your little victory.

[insteading]

TAG GAME: List six of your favorite holiday movies in a poll so your followers can pick which movie they think best fits your vibe!

Because you might not know some of mine, and I want to increase the chances you'll be interested enough to watch them, I'm annotating below!

Christmas Eve on Sesame Street (1978, hourlong). Oscar tells Big Bird if he doesn't solve the mystery of how Santa Claus gets down a skinny NYC chimney, no one will get any presents. Bert and Ernie act out The Gift of the Magi. Cookie Monster tries to contact Santa to ask for cookies. Cute and surprisingly high-stakes, eminently quotable. (I can tell when my brother is watching it because he starts texting me lines.) And the song "True Blue Miracle" still slaps.

Desk Set, I have enthused about at length elsewhere. This is my favorite pairing of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy because it's the one where the script agrees that Kate is perfect to begin with and doesn't need her edges taken off. Not technically a holiday movie, but the office holiday party is the most memorable scene of the film.

The Lion in Winter! Eleanor of Acquitaine is out of jail for Christmas and no one in the palace is having a good time. Katharine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole chew up the scenery and each other. Young Anthony Hopkins and Timothy Dalton are devastating. The script (in pentameter!) is a.ma.zing. The music is iconic in an of-its-era way. The acting is gorgeous. And you might feel better about your own dysfunctional family after.

There are so many iterations of A Christmas Carol! All appreciation to the Muppets, but my favorite is a made-for-TV 1984 film where George C. Scott plays Scrooge. Why? The Ghost of Christmas Present scenes! This adaptation turns on a dime from the party (Roger Rees playing Scrooge's nephew!) to the graveyard, in a way I've never found as chilling in any other adaptation. I won't spoil the details, but it still scares me.

Everyone's got a problematic fave, right? Heyyyy Auntie Mame. There are some scenes that haven't aged well. But also I would watch Rosalind Russell dramatically read the phone book while wearing a gown and a snappy hat. While only one scene is set at the winter holidays, the general tone of this movie is a holiday: it believes fervently in abundance and is generous at heart.

You've probably seen It's a Wonderful Life, you've probably read thinkpieces about it. You've maybe written them. Do I have notes? I do! (If the worst thing that could happen to me is that I am single and a librarian, I think that would be winning at life.) But I love that collective effort and community care win out over greed and malice.

Thanks to @roxyrondell for the invite! No pressure tags to @flameintobeing @some-anonymity-preferred @marbledwings @epersonae @as-a-creww @finethingswellworn and anyone else who would find it fun!

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 1 WEAKNESS vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for WEAKNESS:

"This is definitely more of a personal anecdote. However, I’m neurodivergent (like Haruka) and struggle with knowing it causes quite a bit of disappointment for my mother. I cry about it a lot. But I find that putting on Weakness is soothing for me. Knowing that there’s a character out there with the same issues…. I don’t know. Just my experience."

---

"why weakness should win over umbilical: - THE SINGING THE HIGH NOTES - this song set the tone to what to expect for the trial songs to come (or what we expected) - the part where the song gets all slow paced and then picks up louder at the end it just done beautifully - it's haruka. - the singing sounds like a mix between of course singing and crying. the 'AHahA' sounds like manic laughing until the end when he's crying and it almost feels like he's sobbing while laughing. - the guitar and the drums complement his soft/sad-ish voice perfectly, especially at the beginning - very emotional, even if you didn't see the music video you can tell he's crying and mentally unwell I'm bad a propaganda, but vote for WEAKNESS!!!!"

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy. 

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

[laylaisthename]

ILW // Here they are! All 7 different end cards you can get in the many many more variations of the niche endings available in the game.

Google Drive Link to the cgs here

I am beyond honored to have been allowed to leave my own mark in the game like this, and honestly never in a million years expected to actually become involved with the game.

Everyone is fine to use these as phone backgrounds but if you do youre legally required to tell me which one is your favorite.

Putting it under the cut for length, but here's a breakdown of each card;

Starting with the Evil!MC end cards, that are lovingly dubbed Judas' Kiss if you stayed with Matty, or Scorched Earth for MC's solo end.

The images really mostly speaks for themselves; the flaming heart, hand in atrocious hand if you chose to share the power with Matthias, but then when you put it next to the solo end is where it got fun for me. The heart is broken, its just you now, but the glowing eyes are smiling. My first time testing the judas kiss route I did not hestiate for a second to hit "kill him"

Next is the death card

I really liked the idea of (if your mc wasnt a huge dick anyway) that they give you a grave outside the cave, something for people to leave Rowan flowers and gifts. A classic grave didnt quite feel like it fit so I settled on a cairn. It felt very fitting with the Power being a respect for nature and such. I set it to be at night, with moonlight streaming down on the grave to give it a melancholic sort of feeling, with the sun charm sunny gives you strung off it, and then placed flowers at the grave to kinda show that people have come by because they care about Rowan. Meanings for the flowers are below and while not canon, I like to think each of the LI's left behind one of them; red roses from Abel, blue violets from Amalia, sunflowers from Lincoln and the marigolds from Joss, though really they were all chosen more generally.

Onto the blood end card! Which I named New Horizons, and not because of animal crossing. A winding road in the mountains at sunset; the road has been long, it has been hard and now youre choosing to move on. Symbolically what i wanted this card to be is that feeling of leaving everything behind. The sun is setting on your old life as you go to embrace the normal life that Blood MC wants so much. Youre on the top road moving around the bend, not sure where life will take you but that's alright, you have the rest of your life to look forward to figure out where you'll go.

Onto my own canon end; the Mixed end!

Lovingly called "Best of Both Worlds" because mixed rowan is playing that hannah montanna life. More seriously; this card in contrast to the blood end is not about leaving everything behind, but embracing what you are. The card itself is set at dawn to contrast this; soft yellows and pinks, morning dew and fog clinging to the forest floor with a streak of Power playfully dancing among the trees. Its the dawn of a new day, seeing everything in new light after the darkness of the past weeks/years rowan spent trying to understand themselves. It's my personal favorite end even if my mc and Linc gotta do long distance for a while. But to me its about accepting yourself; moving on from the grief of losing your family without alienating yourself from your memories of them and embracing that Power side of yourself without being changed by it. The life you built after being ressurected is your own and no one can take that from you.

Next up my almost canon end, that does live rent free in my mind because I love angst.

Closed gate shadow end, Far, Far away (yes this is a shrek/starwars/nerd refrence); its a fairly straight forward card, thought it does have one of my personal favorite little details. This is the second draft I made of it after this scene from Lincoln's shadow goodbye stuck with me; looking up through the trees at the night sky.

I really wanted to hide an eye shaped constellation in the stars but couldnt make it look good sadly :sob: But my favorite little detail are the fireflies and how some of them are cyan; touched by the power Rowan is now again a part of. Not canon, but I like to think these little cyan fireflies come to sit on the LI's heads next they wander too close to the woods (Fireflies by Owl City starts playing).

Shadow end is just. Its so beautiful really. From sharing your experiences with the wisps, how Rowan's wisp has been changed by their time as a person, how despite their grief they are not sad or unhappy, melancholic yes but this is where you want to be. Its a cosmic love, the joy of having lived, coming inside on a cold winter day to find your home warm and inviting, your family waiting for you to tell them about your day. The card itself is a little whimsical, hopeful despite the closed gate that the power will forever be part of the world, even if its been cut off. And this brings us to the other shadow ending card; the flower

Eternal Bloom, a ghostly hand reaching out to hand this flower over to the world, a final gift, a final goodbye. Maybe a promise of "I'll see you soon" but first and foremost, it is a promise of love.

Thats right babes. Its all about Love. Unfading Love.

symbolically there isnt anything hidden in the card, but thats also in part of it at face value telling you all you need to know; its about love! its a gift, for you, to remember me by. You have not forgotten me, and even changed as I am, I have not forgotten you. Rowan's change in personality after merging shadow was sooooo heart breaking tbh but ITS SO GOOD. You found joy in what you were, but its time to come home, take off your coat, hang it up, take off your shoes.

And it is all about love! All these cards (well, not all of them) were for me made from the heart, trying to keep in line for the different themes each end resolves to give the players something to remember each route by.

To anyone that made it this far, let me know which one is your canon card/which card you like best! And im kissing you on the lips I love rambling about my thoughts and if you got to here then you deserve a reward. So.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: take me as your wife

You reached for my glass to pour me some wine, and in doing so, brushed my hand for a half-second with your ring finger. Only, it was not the back of my palm that you brushed, but my sloping knuckles; this is when I knew that it was the cut of my jaw you really wanted to touch, that you had chosen to indicate you wanted it with the finger used by many to display the glinting vow of marriage. You poured, and I watched, and the tranquil waters of your eyes stilled their rippling before me, and you were swiftly and silently taking me as your wife. At long last and yet far too soon, only for tonight and yet once and for all, in a century which was at once so impatiently modern and so soothingly traditional. Or: In the 1750s, Crowley stumbles upon Aziraphale at a country inn, away from the hustle and bustle and the prying eyes of London town. The most romantic of afternoons ensues.

Length: 1,931 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, After Dark, Romance

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

*Minor Spoilers* So I knew Sam was writing a fic for my birthday, but I didn't expect to end up sobbing once I had read it. I couldn't compose myself for an embarrassingly long time afterward. I am so touched and grateful for this new friendship, and I felt a little overwhelmed by the love and quality of this piece.

Please, before you read this, set the stage with the recording I prompted for this fic. It's a piece by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, read by Michael Sheen, reminiscing about a past meeting. Sam took this prompt and soared. It perfectly captures the atmosphere, the longing, the desire, and the intimacy of the reading.

We join Crowley as she (can be read as either male or female presenting Crowley, but I'll use she/her pronouns here) recounts a night spent at an inn with Aziraphale. To me, it feels as though I am reading a letter or diary entry by Crowley, as she speaks directly to Aziraphale, telling him her thoughts and desires. Her longing is so intense that she imagines herself as part of every morsel he consumes, envisioning it’s her body he’s touching, not merely the napkins; it's her thighs he’s parting, not just a soft loaf of bread. Crowley (like with the ox ribs) finds her desire in watching Aziraphale’s indulgent consumption, her need for release growing unbearable and distracting. But this is not just Crowley being turned on by innocent actions. She is reacting to Aziraphale’s intentional signals. It is an unspoken conversation, a promise of what’s to come. He tells her with the barest of touches, and slightest subtext, that she is his. Finally, when she assumes that the night will soon be over, she is instead handed a key. "A key to a room downstairs." Barriers and doors unlocked, they will consummate their unspoken vow to each other. Their need and devotion temporarily greater than the threat of Heaven, Hell, or God herself.

This story is not only erotic but gorgeous. One of my favorite qualities of Sam's writing is how he gives us languorous poetry then snaps back into unabashed smut, like a kiss that suddenly bites. This is vivid imagery and prose, yet still has a dreamy haze to it. Like a romanticized version of Crowley's memory. A friend described it to me as a hot summer’s night, the smell of grass and rain, a restless yearning. It’s a memory that craves. Longing for the moment they will reunite. And of course they will, they’ll always belong to one other. I love this story so much. And sure, I may be very biased because I love Sam. But I truly and genuinely believe in this story. And because it's my birthday fic you all should read this. Birthday girl rules sorry. Thank you Sam, you are such a talented writer, and a wonderful person. I'm so honored to receive this gift.

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy