#The more I look at it the more I'm fond of it

[tojisun]

I have a feeling gaz would sometimes, whilst face fucking you, hold your nose until tears pour down your face and he lets you go, you gasping for air head dizzy and hhhhhhh

I STARTED YELLING!!! OH MY GODDD!!!! absolutely. 100%. no lies detected; as far as i'm concerned (which is very because this is so personal to me) this is canon mhmm mhmm

he lets you start, his eyes crinkled in gentle delight when you slither between his legs, nosing over his crotch. you're already so whimper-y, breaths ragged as you stare up at him, pouting. kyle huffs a fond laugh and unbuckles his jeans for you.

you take his cock out with softness, your body thrumming with impatience—reeled in only by the fact that kyle's hand on top of your head is warm. heavy.

a warning.

you swallow him as far as you can, kitten-licks along his slit and over his veins, before choking when the bulbed head of his cock hits the back of your throat. with your gag reflex activated, you move to slip him out, only, you find that you can't.

it seemed that while you were lost in your euphoria, kyle's hand had slid from the top of your head to the base of it, cupping your skull with faux gentleness. mouth full, you stare up at him, the backs of your eyes prickling and your skin racked with goose bumps.

no—

kyle grins, dimples forming in his cheeks, then he pushes you down, forcing his cock into the passage of your throat. you squeak, mind blanking at the confusing tug of both pleasure and pain—"see? my pretty, masochist baby, y'are."—before tears finally trickle from the corners of your eyes.

"shh, love. shh," kyle croons, drumming his fingers against your scalp, his chest heaving with measured breaths. "y've got to learn how to hold me there, sweetheart. s'time f'r you to be good f'me, no?"

you can't even hear him from the sound of blood rushing into your ears, blocking everything of the world that isn't the weight of kyle's cock fucking into your throat, the organ pulsing with every of your choked-up swallow.

it's—

it's so good. so dizzying.

it's grounding, somehow.

you feel your body relaxing, your heaving chest finding its own beat as your breaths begin to pass through your nostrils with ease. your eyes, cloudy with tears, clear up and it is then that you see kyle gazing at you with such a reverent look, it makes you wriggle, shy. he smiles, gentle, and it fills you up with this creeping warmth until you're sagging onto him, comfortable. relaxed.

kyle chuckles, the rumbles of his laughter muffled. he pushes your hair away from your face, murmured coos passing through the fog in your mind, and you warble a response, unable to contain yourself at the weight of kyle's softness.

you want more. you want so much more. you want to show him that you can take whatever it is he'll give you; that you're ready for everything he asks of you. you want him to use you. to manhandle you. to fuck your throat until all you are is his toy. you want—

you want the pain.

kyle's eyes glint like he's got ahold of your dirty, twisted thoughts; gentle smile twisting into something mean. he doesn't even ask anymore, but he doesn't need to, and it makes you throb with such strong need when the hold he has on the back of your head gains strength.

he tugs you back from him, his cock easing out of your throat, leaving it so empty it feels wrong. the head slips until it lays on the flat of your tongue. you lick up, trying to get a taste of his pre, to savour it, but before you could kyle is already pushing your head back down again, smothering the ample amount of air in your lungs into nothingness as he fills you up again.

you squirm, choking, the gargled sounds of your words rumble from your chest, unable to actually be sounded out with how he has you stuffed. kyle huffs, overwhelmed himself as he repeats the action, chasing his orgasm from the press of your throat, his cock hitting depths that has you wailing, your eyes tearing up—

a heavy hand falls on your face, pinching your nose. instinctively, you try breathing in, mind overwhelmed at the sudden threat, but it only makes blood rush to your head, making you heady. making you feel more cornered than you really are.

no.

you’re thrashing, nails biting at his legs as you scramble for purchase. for air. for anything to save you.

you try to slack your jaw, stretching your lips until they go taut in hopes that it’d create a sliver passage way for oxygen, but it’s futile.

nonono—

you are sure hours passed before he removes his hand from your face, trilling praises that you couldn’t even digest. not even with his thumbs swiping just underneath your eyes, a mimicry of all of the times he’s done this to calm you down and comfort you.

but now, crying as you are while your trembling body is still poised for a threat, you see the way kyle is looking at you so adoringly. his eyes are narrowed in that way that lets you know how pleased he truly is, and you understand that this wasn’t a fluke nor a one-time thing.

“breathe, little star,” he murmurs, his palm sliding from your cheek to your throat. he rubs at the stretch of your skin softly, almost humming to himself as he feels the bulge of where his cock starts and where it disappears underneath your muscle and skin.

you sniffle.

“c’mon now,” kyle tuts. “i know you want this.”

you narrow your eyes at him. he just grins, so boyish all of a sudden.

“don’t worry,” he says, his hold around your neck tightening slightly. “i’ll be gentle.”

liar.

anon im staring at you with my mouth agape bc me next !!! (also im sorry its not written well 🥺 i was horny one moment [bc of this] n then angry n betrayed the next [bc of work]. im sorry if it was reflected on the work. i hope u still like this <33 mwah mwah thank u for gibing me it!! i adored it teehee)

[uswntdreamer]

unwelcomed ❥︎ a. putellas & c. graham hansen x reader.

your first three weeks working for barcelona's women's hospital went as smoothly as you'd hope, but you find yourself in the middle of a rivalry between the two top surgeons. prologue of in sickness, in health.

warnings: mentions of workplace harassment.

in all your three weeks of working at barcelona women's hospital, there has never been a non busy day, let alone a non busy hour or minute. you were constantly rushing up and down hallways throughout the medical facility. constantly answering calls from patients and coworkers alike.

it was tiresome, no one ever said being a nurse at one of the top medical institutions for women's health in europe was going to by light work, but you figured that (with all the world class medical professionals around) it wouldn't be as stressful as working at a normal hospital in a decently sized city.

that's when you realize that everyone has to pull their weight, big or small. you often felt bad about your complaints towards your workload considering that it was minor compared to what the surgeons have to do, especially dr. alexia putellas and dr. caroline graham hansen. two of the absolute best.

you've only interacted with dr. putellas, the heart surgeon; she was the head of the surgeon department, so you saw her often. if she wasn't booked with patients, you'd usually see her in the hospital's garden taking a well deserved lunch break.

despite having such an crucial role, she rarely ever talked to anyone, except for dr. guijarro, dr. rolfö, or dr. paredes (who was the hospital's head supervisor, a very important woman). for everyone else, it was the usual head nod or no response at all. she was a 'go to work & go home' type of woman. your interactions with the woman was always short and simple, "hello." "good evening." "goodbye." and nothing more.

you quickly learned from a few of your coworkers that dr. putellas was quite the heartthrob. women would always fond over her and even make unwelcomed advances towards her. all the attention made her uncomfortable and you believe that its what made her so reserved.

"she's a real sweetheart." dr. frido, one of the more vocally welcoming doctors, said to you one day. "she just has a lot of eyes on her, many of them are quite perverted, so she keeps to herself in order to stop all the attention."

you only nodded in agreement because what else could be said? dr. putellas was a professional who was just trying to do her job without being the target of romantic, and even sexual, comments.

dr. frido glanced over to nurse engen with a teasing smile. "ingrid has had similar problems before a certain police officer came into the picture."

nurse engen blushed lightly. "it was hard to do my work when women would comment on my eyes. it's nice at first, but then it gets annoying pretty fast." the norwegian nurse turned her attention to the small police officer who was standing off near the front exit with another police officer a little shorter than her.

the said officer, affectionately named mapi, quickly looked away when she was caught by her lover. engen and frido both laughed at mapi's adorable obession with the nurse. you only smiled, not sure if you were familiar enough with them to laugh along appropriately.

as much as you were curious about dr. putellas, you kept your distance away from her as you didn't want her to assume you were like the women she awfully despised. your efforts seemed to please the older woman as she frequently sent you a small smile whenever you passed by her.

you were a bit more curious about the other famous surgeon, dr. graham hansen. while you knew a few details about dr. putellas, you knew absolutely nothing about dr. graham hansen, the hospital's brain surgeon, and it seemed like no one did. not even her fellow norwegian, nurse engen.

"i know as much about her as you do." ingrid said calmly. "i'm a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people, so i never got the chance to bond with her and i think she might also be shy as well. we do have a reputation for being shy [norwegians]."

"you can always talk to osho." frido cuts in. "i think osho is the only one here that knows anything about caroline."

"osho?" you asked.

"asisat oshoala, but we call her osho." frido informed. "osho works at the front desk in the children's unit. she's also caroline's 'best friend' and i always see those two hanging out together."

ingrid agreed with the swede. "yeah, i'm not sure what brought them together, but they are quite the pairing."

you have yet to meet asisat, but you assumed that she was as reserved as dr. graham hansen. dr. graham hansen always locked herself in her laboratory, she refused to leave the room until her work for the day was absolutely done and even by then she would still work away until the late night, or at least until dr. paredes came to relieve her of her duties.

you only knew what the woman looked like because her face was plastered on newspapers and advertisements around barcelona, but you have yet to see her in person. it makes you wonder what qualities asisat possesses to get to know such a socially off woman like dr. graham hansen. it was only the third week of your employment, so you knew you were bound to meet her eventually.

and by 'eventually', you weren't expecting to meet her now.

"I just need you to work with this young woman for the rest of the operation, which means you'll be working under the supervision of caroline." dr. paredes informed you as she read of a clipboard. "the patient is recovering from a traumatic car collision which brought damage to her..."

you completely blocked out any more words coming from the older woman's mouth. too focused on the fact that dr. graham hansen was now your field supervisor to listen. a few thoughts ran through your head as you struggled to process the given information.

"what if she's strict? what if she's a bitch? does she know that i'm not as experienced in the same field? what if i make a mistake? will she report me? will she berate me? does she even talk? will she just ignore me the entire time?"

"nurse." you hear paredes address you firmly.

you snap out of your thoughts immediately. "yes?"

dr. paredes gives you a pointed look. you feel your insides turn a bit. dr. paredes softens her gaze a bit before gesturing over to graham hansen, who leaned against the door frame of her office, staring down at you like you were a child in need of discipline.

"please sign your name here and follow caroline to operation room 7." she hands out a pen to you. in your perpheral vision, you can see that dr. graham hansen had already made her way down the hall to operation room 7.

you signed your name and quickly followed after the surgeon, not exactly feeling great about how you presented yourself in front of two women who could possibly end your career.

the moment you arrived, you already saw dr. graham hansen hard at work. you applauded her mentally for her dedication to her job. you took a glance over at the victim on the hospital bed; a teenage girl with brown skin and braided hair tied back into a ponytail. you took a closer look at her and saw no significant damages, a few scars and bruises here and there, but nothing that gave a clue that she was in a car crash.

"her vitals have already been checked. go sit in the corner." dr. graham hansen commanded without taking her eyes off the x-ray screen.

your body stilled a bit, but you followed her orders regardless. you watched caroline look through autopsy reports and other medical files, feeling absolutely useless in this whole ordeal.

"vitals have been taken, bloods have been drawn, x-rays have been performed, and a bodily clean up has already been done. why am I here exactly?" you think to yourself. you think a little more before coming to the conclusion that you're an assistant nurse, which means you'll be assisting the surgeon rather than the patient.

this made you furious because you absolutely hated being an assistant nurse. it was an insult to your career and to your image. while you could be doing your actual job, you're sitting in the corner like a child while you wait for someone (who's actually doing their job) to give you an order, like getting her a bottle of water or something.

you were going to speak up, but caroline had reached for the hospital phone and dialed four numbers before turning her back to you. you waited anxiously as the phone rang against caroline's ear. someone eventually picked up.

"asisat, can you bring me a book to 7?" caroline requests as she continued typing away. "bring a self-help book. like one of those 'self-improvement' ones and maybe another one in the feminine literature genre. thank you."

dr. graham hansen set the phone back into the holder then went back to work. you were contemplating asking her if she needed anything, but you didn't want to leave the room before getting to meet asisat. after three minutes of silence (aside from the light taping of the keys), there was a knock at the door.

"enter." dr. graham hansen commanded plainly.

you were hoping to meet osho, but the door opened to reveal dr. putellas. you and dr. graham hansen were perplexed to see the tall woman at the door. dr. putellas looked down at you with a frown before shifting her gaze back to the woman occupied by the screen in front of her.

"you are quite a selfish woman, caroline." dr. putellas spat out nonchalantly. your eyes widened and the typing came to a halt. dr. putellas didn't care whatsoever. "this woman could be doing her job and you're keeping her hostage for the next six hours. you always do that and it's shameful."

dr. graham hansen glared at the latter through her reflection on the computer screen. "i don't always do that. irene grabs random nurses and attaches them to me. i'm completely independent."

"then you should tell irene to stop." dr. putellas responded.

"you think i didn't already?"

"no i don't think you did. you're incapable of basic socialization."

dr. graham hansen growled. "i remember telling asisat to bring the books, not you."

dr. putellas crossed her arms. "you did, but I knew those books weren't for you, but rather one of your hostages."

"so your purpose here is?"

"to confront you, that's all. if you're not going to use her, then let her continue her work."

you were about to jump into the mix, but dr. graham hansen slammed her hand down on the desk.

"then why don't you go complain to irene instead and leave me the hell alone? she's free to walk out of this room whenever she wants. no one but her own consciousness is stopping her." dr. graham hansen snapped and whipped her chair around to face dr. putellas.

"what in the world is going on here?" you hear irene asked from out in the hall. you look out to see her standing alongside dr. frido and a short police officer, who you recognized as mariona.

dr. graham hansen glared at both you and dr. putellas then at paredes. "get this little girl and her white knight away from me."

irene looked between the three of you. she knew that both alexia and caroline had issues with each other, for what reason? she does not know.

she beckoned you out of the room. "frido, please take her to the children's unit and bring osho down." she looked at alexia with a disapproving glare. "ale, my office now."

dr. putellas smirked at you before making her exit. frido and mariona waited for you out in the hall. you looked back at dr. graham hansen and she had the look of murder in her orbs. you quickly left the room.

"what is their problem?" mariona broke the silence after a minute of walking. "this has been happening since caro joined us a few years ago. is ale.... jealous or something?"

frido shrugged. "i'm not sure. i talked to osho and she's not sure what the deal is either. might want to ask patri."

you kept your mouth shut the whole time. there have been major events here and there at the hospital, but this was probably the biggest you've experienced. to be at the center of the issue this time felt so surreal, to have two intelligent women fight 'over' you warmed your insides. it made you feel like you were the main character of a love drama of some sort.

[lovemomhatepolice]

jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Oh, Jude is very adhesive after sex. He likes to cuddle with you until you both fall asleep. He places gentle kisses on your head, shoulders and arms, in fact wherever he can. He always talks to you for a long time, whether everything was okay, how you feel, if you need anything…. Well, Jude is a great guy

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jude is well aware that he is damn handsome. And not since he started being famous, oh no, Jude was already aware of that before. However, what he likes most about himself is his face, I think. He really likes the fact that he is similar with his family, which is so important to him, and he likes his looks. He is very fond of his dark brown eyes and his lips, which, according to him, have the perfect shape (to kiss you!!). As far as you are concerned, I think Jude is definitely an ass man. Of course, he loves your breasts, but your ass is definitely something Jude always looks past when he sees you. He loves to squeeze it, kiss it, everything, really. He always has his hands on her when you're somewhere together, and he's not ashamed to show it. Unfortunately, on the contrary, sometimes you have to correct him so he doesn't get caught up. And besides, he loves your whole face. He thinks everything matches perfectly - your nose size, eye color and lip shape, ay, this boy is drowning.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jude Bellingham looks like a total creampie fan. I think he repeatedly stopped his seed at your entrance to watch it mix with your juices and slowly leave your body. But I also think he's too delicate to let his cum linger on your face, which is why he's not a fan of it. Even if you asked, there's no chance he'll let himself cum in your face

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) I think he likes it when you take the initiative. He often does a lot on his own, but the sight of you having fun with him in a way that no one else has ever done before, god. Jude is already on his knees and begging for more

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Nah, Jude is not very experienced. Well, after all, he's only 21 years old and hasn't scored any major ones on his relationship record. Therefore, everything you experience together is quite new to him. It was with you that he lost his virginity and began to discover what he likes and what he doesn't quite like But nevertheless he is a fast learner, he has become so skilled that if you met him for the first time, you would not be able to say that he is a fresher in these matters

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Jude likes to have you on top. Really, that's why the cowgirl position is just right for him. He likes you to take the initiative, however, alone from below he can also do a lot, especially since compared to him, you are in his hands like a feather. Another option is standing up - as I mentioned before, Jude is a fan of sex in the shower, so the standing option had to be practiced to perfection to make both of you comfortable and perfect

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) It depends on the moment. Jude is hardly a person who is against any jokes in bed or giggles, on the contrary, it even happens to him often. However, when your sex is heavily geared towards romance and the heat rising around your bodies, he rather tries to be serious and committed to the situation

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Jude is not completely shaved, but it is trimmed so that it is neat and not too much. He has dark curly hair, so I'm betting he has that all over his body too, so it might be hard to eliminate it. As for you, I think similarly. Either completely shaved or trimmed so that everything is neat and not too much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Bellingham can be truly romantic. He may not look like it, but he loves to plan your entire evening. First take you out for an expensive dinner with wine, then prepare you a joint bath with petals of your favorite flowers, followed by the intense sex you've both been waiting for all day. And then long conversations in bed and gentle touches...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This often happens to him - mainly due to the fact that you often don't see each other through his constant trips to matches and life in other countries. He's not averse to pornographic movies, but since you've been together, he tends not to watch them. You prefer to connect together on the webcam and experience it from a distance, or he copes by simply thinking about the fact that you could be you next to him…

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Honestly, I can't find any sensible kink to match Jude. He does not seem to be a person who is drawn in any particular direction. Maybe a creampie? Hm, I think he could watch with fascination as your shared juices of fulfillment come out of you…. Oh, and combined it with breeding kink? Well, what? He's young, but he can definitely see you with a pregnant belly in your future home together in Madrid

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Shower. Jude Bellingham shouts shower. Or possibly a bathtub, but definitely something on the toilet. I honestly don't know why, but it's what I associate with so damn much. Sex after the game? In the toilet. Sex with romantic candles and rose petals? In the bathtub. Sex without any occasion? In the shower. Well, don't say no. Jude definitely looks like a man who loves to take a bath together with you, and the opportunity to get close is even better

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) After the match. I don't know why. It's just that after a match, Jude is always, and I mean always, somehow more horny, and that's when you turn him on the most. Whether it's won or lost, Jude just needs to have his girlfriend in his arms after it Or the other option that turns him on is you in mini dresses. Well begging, the boy is already on his knees in front of you (or rather, behind you too)

A/N: next part will be here soon! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

First! Congrats on 3k!!!!!

For the ask game “If you asked me to, I’d give you the moon.”

Love your stuff!!

Thank you my dear! It's been a wild ride so far! Hope you like what I threw together for ya!

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Eddie watched. He observed. That's how he kept himself safe for years, kept himself from getting into physical altercations throughout middle and high school. That's how he managed to survive the city streets between gay bars, alone, trying to find a place he belonged. That's how he found himself in this group of young adults and children, friendship- family- forged from fire and blood.

That's how he recognized what Steve was doing.

He was always in the middle of things, but never the center of attention. Always put himself right on the cusp of being involved, but hung back enough to go unnoticed. He protected, but he stepped away the moment his safety was no longer needed.

He didn't think anyone else seemed to notice.

Steve was just there.

Present and accounted for, but not an active participant in anything.

Like today, this pool party, celebrating Max finally being done with her physical therapy and El finally being able to come out of hiding officially. It was Steve's house, Steve's pool, Steve's food, but Steve wasn't in the pool, or eating the food. He stood by the sliding door to the kitchen, watching with a fond smile.

Eddie walked over to him, poking his shoulder playfully. "You comin' in? I put on this bathing suit for you, least you could do is swim with me."

Steve tried to hide the red flush taking over his cheeks and neck, bowing his head and avoiding eye contact.

"Don't think I'm up for it today, sorry," he said quietly.

The kids yelling, the music blaring, and Robin and Nancy arguing over who had to blow up the float bounced around the large outdoor patio.

"You didn't feel up to it last month either," Eddie tried to get Steve to talk, to be involved in the conversation. "You wanna talk about it?"

Steve shook his head.

"Is it Upside Down related?" Eddie pushed.

Steve nodded once, looking away from everything.

Eddie didn't need to know more, not now or ever if Steve didn't feel like sharing, but he wanted Steve to know he could share.

"If you ever wanna face your fears, you could trust me."

Steve's head shot back towards him. "What do you mean?"

"If you wanted to talk about it. Or if you wanted to try getting in the pool sometime. I can be moral support either way," Eddie laced his fingers with Steve's, ignoring the pull in his stomach that was telling him to either let go or lean in further to kiss him.

"You'd-" Steve flexed his hand, squeezing Eddie's in his. "You would do that? For me?"

"Stevie, if you asked me to, I'd give you the moon," Eddie huffed a small laugh. "Moral support for what's clearly been pretty traumatic for you is kinda the bare minimum."

Eddie was met with silence, but he didn't feel nervous.

He was observant. He knew how Steve felt, even if Steve didn't realize it quite yet himself.

Okay, and maybe Robin had nudged him to make a move, saying there was no way Steve would react poorly. He trusted Robin to know what she was talking about when it came to Steve.

"The kids aren't staying tonight, just the adults. If you wanted to...I dunno. Maybe I could stick my feet in later if you wanted to smoke a bit out here with me?" Steve finally replied.

"Anything, Stevie." Eddie squeezed his hand. "I mean it."

[dduane]

Dear Diane,

if you appreciate cheering-up today, I have another story to offer. Or rather, something I've been meaning to say for some time.

When I got into the Star Trek fandom, your books were to me what fanfic is to new fans today.

At the time, which was in the mid nineties, I was a young German university student with hardly any internet access. (Well, it was possible to log in at the institute to read your email, which was an exciting new way to communicate, but that was it.) But there was a library in town, which held an entire shelf of ST books! Yours were among them - the German translations, of course, which was all we had at the time - but they were so good that I remembered your name.

Today, when getting into new media, the first thing I do is to check out tumblr and AO3. Back then, I didn't even know such a thing as fandom existed. But I had the books! They went beyond the shows and told new stories; they explored the characters in new ways. They showed me that the Star Trek universe was so much larger than I had imagined, and encouraged me to want more of it. I wrote my first little piece of fanfic then, without knowing what fanfic actually was.

Thank you so much for that. It is an honour to be here on tumblr with you.

You're so welcome! And I'm pleased to be here with you too.

I have to say that one of the reasons (among various others) that I'm so fond of the German side of Trek fandom is because that's where I first saw my name on a book on a spinning rack in another language. Naturally it's very nice to be sent authors' copies from Heyne (or whoever) at your home address. But it's something else entirely to see a book with your name on it in a bookstore, or a railway station newsstand, in a different country. And a Star Trek novel at that! You can't beat it. :)

Additionally, our meet-ups with German Trek fans (at FedCons, for example) have always been fantastic. @petermorwood and I both look forward to getting over that way again as soon as we can.

Anyway, thanks for letting me know! :)

[pomefioredove]

Can I make a request for Floyd x reader yuu, where Floyd tries to confess to the reader in every way, even using mer courting methods, but they don't realize that, not that I'm not in love with him, it's just that the reader isn't good at understanding romantic advances? Just a fluffy request :)

this is such a cute prompt!! I got the worst writer's block when I started it, hopefully you're still here anon

summary: floyd confessing to an oblivious reader type of post: headcanons characters: floyd additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu author's note: this totally got me to rewatch the little mermaid, I also tried studying eel mating patterns and apparently scientists don't know how eels mate???

the change is... noticeable, to say the least

Floyd has been humming lately, skipping through the dorm, picking flowers and leaving them around the lounge

Jade finds it amusing, Azul is a little annoyed

after all, he's supposed to be working, not sprinkling little pink flowers all over Azul's desk

it becomes painfully obvious to everyone that Floyd has a thing for you

...everyone except you, that is

you suppose the company is nice

you've even gotten used to the way he hovers around you, watching everything you do as if it's the most interesting thing in the world

maybe you've even grown fond of it

after all, there's never a dull moment with Floyd around. he's as interesting and unpredictable as they come

so, you don't even bat an eye when he starts leaving little trinkets around for you

a fork here, a pair of glasses there, a few gadgets and gizmos...

you can't seem to figure out why, so you just call it Floyd being Floyd and don't read too much into it

one day, you get flowers

...although, when you ask Azul, he just grumbles something about Floyd leaving flowers all over the lounge

you're also not sure why everyone keeps giving the two of you odd looks when you're out together

or why Floyd is suddenly so insistent on being near you all the time

you catch him following you more than once

and he'll take any excuse to put his arm around you

your thought process is mostly sure, why not? whilst everyone else is already rolling their eyes at the PDA

if you ever get the hint, you might ask Azul and Jade if they think Floyd is into you

"Into you???" Azul says. "We thought you were already dating!"

[sky-is-the-limit]

Truth or Dare, Part 1.

P: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

CW: Sexual tension, Alcohol, build-up to smut.

T: Friends to Lovers.

WC: 2,243 words.

NSFW part coming soon..

You breathed a sigh of relief as your friends finally headed out, leaving you and Kyle alone in the living room.

It was a moment you had been waiting for all evening.

Knowing that Kyle had returned safely from his latest mission filled you with a sense of immense relief and you couldn't help but feel a bit selfish in your eagerness to have him all to yourself, but you knew deep down that he wanted this time alone with you just as much as you did.

The fact that you were the first person he sought out upon returning home warmed your heart in a way that words couldn't fully express.

And so you found yourself perched on one edge of the couch, a comfortable distance from your best friend who reclined on the opposite side, his back against the armrest.

Your limbs felt a bit heavier than usual, a lingering effect of the many beers you had indulged in earlier but it was a very much needed break.

With a slight tilt of his head, Kyle brought the rim of the last beer bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip as he watched you with a lighthearted grin.

"Truth or Dare?" He chimed in, his playful tone carrying a hint of the night's lingering intoxication.

Your heart raced as you watched him, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something more, something you couldn't quite name but longed to explore.

"Kyle, come on." You chuckled, your eyes rolling in mock exasperation. Yet, beneath the teasing, there was a warmth in your tone, a fondness you couldn't hide.

That or maybe the smile that couldn't stay hidden as it tugged at your lips. "What are we? Twelve?"

"Go on." Kyle urged, brushing off your question with a gentle poke at your ankle, where it met his knee.

"Truth, I guess."

"Is it true that you and that asshole with the bad haircut had sex?" As Kyle's words tumbled out, the air seemed to thicken.

His smile dissolved into a tight line, his brows furrowing slightly as if the mere thought he uttered soured his mood.

"Kyle!" The exclamation burst from your lips, your eyes widening in surprise at his boldness.

You had hoped that he might've forgotten about it, even though you briefly mentioned it to him through text while he was away. You recalled the casual conversation, how you had mentioned meeting a guy at a bar and going on a few dates, only for it not to work out. As expected.

"What? I'm curious." The Sergeant shrugged casually, his gaze fixed on you with unwavering intensity.

As he leaned back, a picture of ease, his toned arms crossed over his chest, you couldn't help but steal a glance.

You lied to yourself, claiming you didn't mean to stare, but it was impossible not to when his black tight tee hugged his sculpted body so perfectly, accentuating every curve and contour of his muscular frame.

Despite being friends, it was undeniable how ridiculously good looking he was, something that never failed to catch you off guard.

"Plus, you never told me how that went, so.." His tone shifted, less playful now and more edged with something you couldn't quite place.

Perhaps it was the intoxication from the alcohol but his forwardness felt different, almost tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life, Garrick."

It was a feeble attempt to steer the conversation back to safer, more familiar territory, to pretend that this moment wasn't charged with something more than two semi-drunk friends joking around.

"Can't blame a guy for being curious."

"Fine. Yeah, I did." You finally admitted to his question.

Kyle's reaction was immediate, his features tightening almost imperceptibly as he absorbed your words.

For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the soft hum of background music and the faint rustle of fabric as Kyle shifted on the sofa.

There was a flicker in his eyes, a flash of emotion too raw to name, before it was quickly masked by a veil of indifference.

He leaned back further, his arms now behind his head as he got more comfortable on the sofa, his defined muscular biceps hypnotizing you as though he was doing it on purpose, knowing the effect he had on you.

"Yeah, well, we've all made questionable choices." He said finally, his voice casual but tinged with evident bitterness.

"Your turn, pretty boy." With a playful grin, you smoothly transitioned the conversation, addressing Kyle with the familiar nickname you always used ever since you first met.

Kyle Garrick was indeed a masterpiece of nature. He seemed to have been sculpted by the gods themselves, with skin bronzed by the sun's caress, amber eyes that captivated all who met their gaze and a smile so captivating that not even the world's greatest poet could find the right words to describe.

"Dare, obviously." He declared with a grin.

"Ah, such a brave Sergeant." You remarked sarcastically, using his military rank to poke fun at his very predictable choice.

"Hm. I dare you to... Give me your shirt." You continued, your smirk widening as you leaned in closer, your fingers briefly grazing the seams of his black cotton shirt.

Visibly, Kyle tensed under your touch, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes remained glued to your fingers, tracing their every movement whilst they pulled back from the tantalizing proximity to his v-line.

If only you could glimpse what was going on through that pretty head of his. But even the mere thought of delving into the depths of his mind sent a shiver down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Y/N?" Kyle's voice pierced the air, its usual cocky, playful tone replaced by something more serious, low, and gravelly.

It was as if the dare had been set by him, not you, as if he was dangerously close to encaging you like a predator does with its prey.

As the seconds passed, it felt like you were dancing on the edge of a dangerous cliff, a line you were about to cross without second thought.

It wasn't just a playful game anymore, your close friendship hung in the balance, poised to fall into something reckless, a one time thing you could blame on the alcohol and the heat of the moment.

But deep down, you knew that the crack in your friendship would remain. A fracture that no amount of laughter or shared memories could fully mend if he was to touch you the way you always wanted him to.

And yet, despite the consequences of such scenario, the way Kyle manspread on the couch, his defined arms inviting you in and the sinful thoughts were written all over his gaze, convinced you that it'd be worth it.

"You know I've always had my eye on that shirt, Garrick." You said, trying your best to seem nonchalant, to mask the desperation clawing at your insides. "Not everyone wants to fuck you."

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head as if amused by his own unspoken thoughts. "Lying is not part of the game, sweetheart."

The pet name sent a rush through your veins, despite having heard it countless times before. "Truth or Dare, then?"

You intended to say truth, wanted to say truth, but your mouth moved before your brain could catch up. "Dare."

Kyle's eyebrow arched in surprise, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"I dare you to sit here." His voice dropped even lower, filled with implication as he patted the space barely an inch away from his lap, nestled between his spread-open thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand moved, the suddenness of the gesture almost making you choke on your own saliva.

For a moment, you were frozen, unable to even blink. He could have easily asked you to sit on his lap, but this? This was something else entirely. It was a calculated move, designed to test your resolve, to push you to the edge and see just how far you were willing to go.

Kyle wasn't just playing games. He was playing with fire, stoking the flames until they threatened to consume you both. And deep down, you knew that's exactly what he wanted from the start. He wanted to torture you enough to make you realize that you wanted it, to shamelessly admit it out loud.

Timidly, you shifted your body from the end of the couch to move to where he instructed you, every passing second feeling like an eternity as the anticipation coiled tighter in your belly.

You were acutely aware of the wetness between your thighs, the undeniable arousal that pulsed through your veins, making your skin flush with heat with every movement.

As you settled into the space beside him, your hips facing forward to ensure your feet touched the ground, you couldn't help but notice how your body aligned with the front of his crotch as your back touched the inside of his thigh that was relaxed on the sofa.

The material of his jeans brushed against the end of your dress, sending a jolt of heat straight to your throbbing core.

Gathering whatever sanity you had left, you blurted out a fast-paced, "Your turn."

You refused to meet his gaze, the intensity of it feeling like it could burn through your skin.

"Truth."

"Oh? Not so brave now, hm?" With a self-assured expression, your face turned to meet Kyle's eyes, relishing the power you felt rushing through you to this unexpected choice.

"Is it true that you've had at least one wet dream about me, Sergeant?" You inquired, your tone low and sultry.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned back, allowing yourself to get comfortable against his thigh and crossed one leg over the other to apply subtle pressure against your sensitive parts.

"More than one." Kyle confessed casually, his voice steady despite the bombshell he had just dropped and his hand, once resting on his thigh, now reached out to intertwine with one of your locks.

The pulsing between your legs intensified, a relentless throb that demanded attention while your gaze remained locked with his.

''Dare.'' The word escaped your lips almost instinctively, without waiting for him to ask the question or say anything, at all.

It was as though you already surrendered, yearning for the game to end so that the tension between you could finally be unleashed.

"I dare you to sit on my lap." Kyle's chuckle cut through the tension like a knife, his gaze darkening with a predatory gleam as he observed your reaction.

"Kyle.."

With deliberate slowness, Kyle's hand trailed down from your hair to the back of your neck, caressing the skin torturously slow.

"Cowards take a shot, Y/N." His free hand patted on his thigh, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes darted to the table crowded with drinks then back at you.

Every nerve in your body screamed for you to comply and so you did.

"Good thing I'm not one, Kyle." As you closed the distance between you and him, his eyes followed your every move, dark with need.

Taking a deep breath, you shifter your body upward and then lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the heat of his body beneath you.

The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the lingering alcohol enveloped you in an intoxicating haze, unable to form any coherent thoughts that would help your situation.

Beneath you, you could feel him tense, his semi-hardened cock pressing insistently against the fabric of his tight jeans, nestled snugly between your ass globes.

All you could manage was a simple, breathless "So?"

"Dare." Kyle's lips curled into a knowing smile.

As you gathered your courage, thoughts raced through your mind like a thunderstorm, each one more daring than the last.

With a determined breath, you began, "I dare you to..." You wanted him, badly, and now was the moment to make your move.

With a trembling hand, you lifted it to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.

"Tell me what we were doing in those dreams." You dared, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil of all kinds of emotions swirling within you.

Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation but you found nothing but fierce determination mirrored in his gaze.

As Kyle murmured, "Are you sure?" his hand shifted from a gentle caress to a firm grip around your neck as if he couldn't get enough of such a simple touch.

It was a warning, a silent promise of what he might do once given the green light. But you didn't hesitate. You simply nodded in response, granting him permission to cross that line, to take the lead.

Without wasting another second, he leaned in closer.

The warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear sent a tingle down your spine when Kyle finally whispered, "As you wish, love."

And in that moment, you knew that whatever laid ahead, you were ready to surrender to him completely.

[stary-darlin]

I keep thinking of sweetheart!reader who keeps on getting ellie worked up and going insane just thinking about her, how you may ask? Just by smiling to her and giggling at her dad jokes. Both of you are dumb and dumber, and ellie is here for it all <3

Sweetheart!reader who has a whole bag full of emergency kits — that are filled with bandages that have hearts and bears on it that you collected from abandoned nurseries and other necessary stuff — and snacks and cute little weapons that joel says will not do justice when you are in an emergency and two sets of Nintendo switches just for funzies :3

Joel groaned as he felt a sharp nail press against his shoe, causing him to freeze at his place and sit down quietly before taking the shoe off and finding out that it poked his foot's skin to the point it's bleeding.

You quickly came to him and looked at him with your eyes widened, kneeling next to him and getting your emergency kit out while ellie stood by the door to guard you guys from any zombie. Pulling out the bear bandage since joel acts like one and putting it on the wound and patting joel's shoulder lightly, ignoring the fact that he's glaring at you offensively.

"There you go, all good now! Could you walk?" You ask while smiling widely, your dimples making it's presence known. Ellie turning around to see the bear bandage on joel's feet, holding her laugh with all the power that she has, visually shaking.

Joel groaned and sighed, "I'm fine, I could walk."

Later on that day, Ellie kept on calling Joel 'baba bear' which made Tom confused and curious to see why Joel was called that. And god, he joined Ellie in bullying Joel out; making Joel feel more humiliated than he ever did in his whole life.

Sweetheart!reader who straddles ellie's hips while she's lying down and doing her nails and make up, with ellie just looking you starstruck, her eyes turning into hearts as she sees you leaning closer to her body, feels the warmth of your thighs against her hips, craving that body contact of yours with hers.

You hum a song melody that you heard in the bar, tilting your head to the side as you leaned closer to ellie's face, focused on not missing up the thin coating of your cherry lip balm on her lips. Poor ellie, just getting more and more redder as you leaned closer, her hands pressed against on her bed's sheets like she was sewed on it.

"Ellie, could you put your hands on my hips so I dont fall, please?" You ask with your soft voice going through ellie's ears like an on-going melody.

"Mhm–"

She obeys you and lands her trembling hands on your waist, that you soon corrected and lowered them to your hips, freaking ellie out to the point if you look inside her mind you will see her braincells fighting every urge that has to do with you.

Sweetheart!reader who just a ball of sunshine walking around the town, smiling to everyone as if life was nothing but unicorn dust and cotton candy. But hey people in town quite of a fond with it, smiling back to you each time you pass by. You gave them hope of a new future and they loved it, but not ellie, cause she thought alot of creeps are not worth your gorgeous smile to be in their direction even, she would always put her hand on your mouth and snatch you to her with her arm on your shoulder, taking her words to heart.

You walked around with ellie, hands in hands as you waved to joel's friends on the street. Both of you were walking to the bar to have a drink as a prize for finishing 4 commissions in one day, ellie was okay with it until you turned your head to one of the guys that were rumored to be perverts. Pulling you to the other side so the guy doesn't look over at the skin your shorts were showing, and putting your hands down as you were about to wave to him. A dumb act out of you.

You looked up at her with your doe eyes, "Hey, I was–"

"Don't." She warned, "just not for him."

You giggled, tilting you head to the side, "you jealous?"

Ellie glared at you for a moment and closed her eyes, sighing as she nodded to you, "yes, very." Before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

All rights reserved to @stary-darlin , please do not copy, rewrite, translate my works on any other platform.

Requests: open <3

[knavesflames]

🚪 Hey you! 🫵 Yeah, I'm pointing at you!

I, anonymous de anon III, proclaim the need to have another chapter for the childhood friend fanfiction with Arlecchino. The ones with spider and geode, yeah, that one!

Ahem

Shall I have the audacity to reveal myself, naur.

Maybe, when I wake up. ⏰️

I'm just really riding the concept of an insect and geo hyperfixated couple with the angsty reconnection trope, that's so chef's kiss unique 💋 ✨️.

Maybe some smut with some deck 🤔

Well, up to you and your imagination 🌌

Hello! Thank you for liking them :] I didn’t think I’d write for that trope again but as you wish😌 sorry it took some time 💔

This is part one, and this is part two!

Contents: strap on, kissing, reader is very sad, Arlecchino just wants to love her:(

Word count: 3004

Nsft utc!

Your guard is still up. You are wary, and you’re unsure if it’ll ever pass. With you practically giving her no option but to make the first move with everything, whether that’s some sort of safety net that she won’t stand you up, or if it’s reassurance she’s not leaving you again, it’s difficult to tell, you still have yet to come out of your anxious shell. If you both plan to meet at the cafe across the street, you wait until you see her there before you make an appearance. If you both are studying in the library, you wait for her to make eye contact, only for your face to flush pink as you look down. It sows seeds of doubt in Arlecchino‘s mind, what if you don’t actually forgive her? What if you’re playing some cruel joke to make her feel the way she made you feel that day? But she knows your nature is too kind for that, she knows you’re scared, anxious to have a friend and not lose them. She sees you paying just a little too much attention to the way you act, almost making sure you act more ‘normal’. When you take hikes in the mountains to look at insects and rocks together, she sees the way you gaze at a rock you so want to pick up and inspect, the way you restrain your excitement when you see a possible fossil, or a new find to go in the drawer of your desk. She always sees, because she’s always watching you. How could she not? The woman is completely infatuated with you. If she could, if you’d let her, she’d kiss you in the cafe, with that silly chocolate moustache you always have when you drink your mochas. It’s “adult hot chocolate”, you say, to which she can’t help but nod, agreeing with her eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Neither of you want to admit you’ve grown quite fond of each other. Nor do you want to admit you spend most of your time together. Neither of you say anything about what this is becoming, perhaps for fear of shattering what has only just been sculpted. You often watch her murmur to the spiders she catches for you in your dorm room before putting them outside (because, of course, you had to be given the room that every insect loves. You say they’re tormenting you because you’re too weird to have human friends. Arlecchino says it’s a testament to your nature, that small, harmless creatures take cover in your room instead of anyone else’s. It makes you feel better, even if you don’t say it). Arlecchino says she only comes to your dorm because she gets to enjoy the company of the spiders, not you, but one look in her eyes and you’d know she’s lying through her teeth. You’re lying too. You learned to take the spiders away when she first showed you, but you let them stay until Arlecchino comes to take them. You like to watch the small smile grow on her usually stoic face before it fades once more. Seeing you cower away from the insects is the equivalent of seeing a kitten scared of a cucumber, she thinks. So silly, yet so adorable.

But your reconnection isn’t without struggle. You haven’t opened up fully, both of you wonder if you ever will. You clam up even more when her friends appear. Your brain is screaming at you to fix everything to seem more normal, not weird. Straighten your posture, don’t tuck your hair behind your ear, take your hands out of your pockets.. without the pebble. You adjust yourself so much that your intention to appear more normal fails completely. And when you turn to walk away, you grimace, muttering curses to yourself. Arlecchino wishes you would just let people see you for who you are. You are weird, but so is she. She just doesnt care enough to hide it. And now, you both sit on the floor in the middle of the forest, her building a little ant house, you inspecting rocks, mostly in silence, before she does speak up, softly, so she doesn’t disturb the ants.

“What happened today?”

“What?”

“You have been different. You were crying when you came out of your geology class.”

“I was not.”

“Do not start lying to me now.”

You sigh, annoyed at her observation. You didn’t want to speak about it, don’t want to speak about it, but the look in her eyes says you don’t have a choice. She’s concerned, her hand still in the air, holding a small twig as she waits for you to speak.

“It was just someone in my class. They’re friends with someone from school.”

“Okay. Why did that make you sad?”

“They called me weird.”

“Ah.”

There doesn’t need to be anything else said. She knows how her that word has affected you, to the point she knows you used to write it on your mirror, where you whisper it to yourself any time something went even remotely wrong. She found that out when she stayed over one night and went to the bathroom while you were sleeping. The messily, angrily scrawled word written with your favourite lip stick across the mirror shocked her, yet saddened her beyond words. Silently, she wiped it away, despite it being past midnight before padding her way to your desk, stealing a sticky note before sticking it to your mirror, her scrawly yet somehow elegant writing decorating the yellow paper: “Most people consider insects weird, but I’m equally as fascinated by them as I am you.” She said nothing of it until she left, letting you find it on your own. And you did, three hours after she left, your eyes red and glassy from crying once she did depart. You don’t know why you can’t just feel normal, and you even though you try, it just doesn’t seem to work. In your brain, her compassion isn’t warranted. You’re prepared to wake up one day for it all to be some new sick way of tormenting you. It seems to most people like you’re simply being sensitive, by reacting so strongly to that one word, but you’re not. She knows that, too.

So, when she receives a message at 11:48pm from you (you’ve said there’s a spider in your room. You are lying.) after you’ve had a particularly bad day, she’s out of the door before you can even read her response.

You lay under your favourite blanket, huddled in baggy clothes with red eyes and raw skin under your nose with the amount of sniffling you’ve been doing. You can hear her footsteps approach, her usual heels clacking against the wood before slowing, and finally stopping. She doesn’t knock yet, and you look at the door with hopeful eyes, just waiting for her to knock. When she doesn’t, when she stands there motionless outside of your door, your eyes lower, a pit in your stomach forming and an ache in your chest pinning you to your bed as you think the joke is finally coming to an end. Your teeth clench as you suck in a silent breath, your thoughts chanting, “no”, screaming at you to not cry while you can still see her shadow from under the door. Arlecchino, on the other hand, is completely nervous. Why, she doesn’t know, and she probably couldn’t find out. Her hand is raised in a fist, ready to knock, but she can’t bring herself to. She wonders if it’s because she likes you so much, and before she can come back to reality, five minutes have passed and she’s still stood there. She scolds herself mentally before bringing her fist to the door gently, once, then twice, in her signature pattern.

Your eyes lift once again, and you swallow your shaky voice, clearing your throat before you speak. When you do, your voice is quiet, hoarse from the amount of quiet sobbing you’ve been doing into your pillow today.

“It’s open.”

When she steps into the dorm room, which is unusually dimly lit for your tastes, she’s noticed, her eyes scan around, looking for the spider you claim to be terrorising you. She can’t see it, but her eyes land on you, your frame curled into yourself with a puffy face, a couple of tissues by your bed, and your rocks.. on the floor.

“I see the spider has infiltrated your rock display?”

“Yes. Stupid spider.”

“Hey. They have feelings, too. Where is the little guy?”

“I think he ran off.”

You glance back and forth from her face and the rock display, or rather, what’s left of it. It was fine four hours ago, different geodes and fossils placed perfectly with neatly written labels underneath describing what they are and where you found them. Now, the labels are ripped up, scattered on the floor next to the pile of rocks you’ve thrown. Arlecchino’s eyebrow twitches up as she observes the scene around her. Then, it hits her. There was no spider. Something has happened and the only person you could think, or want to tell, was her. Her face softens, even if just a little as she moves to perch on the edge of your bed.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The spider was running everywhere.”

“Spiders can’t rip up paper. Talk to me.”

Your eyes grow misty once more and your voice shakes this time when you speak. One word spills, then more, until you’re rambling about what happened today, your voice hitching as you try to take breaths without breaking out into a sob. How the girls in your one geology class shamed you once more for being so interested in a certain formation that you began excitedly speaking about it at the end of class. How it ended with you being ridiculed and told to shut up and get a life, that nobody will ever want you, and to stop being so weird. You keep rambling and breathing so fast you begin hyperventilating and sobbing at the same time. Your hands are trembling, and in turn, Arlecchino’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a sad, sympathetic frown. And when she realises you’re working yourself up too much, she realises that she has to calm you down. Calling your name doesn’t help, her hand squeezing yours doesn’t help, so, in a moment of slight panic, she gently holds your face between her thumb and forefinger, bringing your lips to hers the way she does every so often.

Your lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss as her thumb moves softly across your cheek. Your breath is stopped for only a second, but it’s long enough for your lungs to regulate the intake of oxygen and stop your hyperventilation. When your lips part, your foreheads touch, her other hand coming up to caress your other cheek as she whispers softly to you, calming you the way it seems only she can.

“Be quiet. None of that is true.”

“It is, you know it is, everyone at this college knows, everyone in school knew, it’s true, nobody does want me—“

“I want you. I like you.”

Your lips meet again, your move this time. It’s become obvious over the months, or year, by this point, that you like each other, with the constant spending time together, the occasional kissing and even the occasional sex that you both think about for days afterwards. Your hands move over her charred ones, your fingers curling over her palms as your lips slowly move, your breath still hitching occasionally, though less so, your breath more even. Your right hand card through her hair, moving into the base of her ponytail, your long nails scratching gently into her scalp the way you know she loves. In turn, her lips move from your lips across your jaw, towards your neck, lips moving slowly, then quickly, then slowly again as she listens to your breath, how it quickens with every touch of her lips against your skin. Her fingers slowly slip under your sweater, tracing the soft skin of your stomach and your ribs as she murmurs against your collarbone.

“I don’t understand why you wear these baggy clothes. You have such a nice body.”

With your sweater raised to your stomach, her hand ever so gently pushes you down onto your bed until your head is on the pillow, your hair splayed out around you. Her lips move to your stomach, kissing over your navel and upwards, lips tracing over each bone of your rib cage, moving upwards until she nips gently, playfully, at your chest. Your grip on her hair pulls her up towards your lips instead, whispering as you close your eyes in embarrassment.

“Why do you always kiss my chest? I hate it.”

“It’s beautiful. I adore it.”

“There’s nothing there, Arlecchino.”

“So you say. I don’t recall saying that I cared about the size of it. I said it’s beautiful, so let me.”

You know if you really didn’t want to, she’d stop, but the way your grip loosens slightly and your head tilts back is a silent confirmation that she can continue, so she does. Her tongue darts out to harden the buds on your chest, smiling into your skin when a sound almost like a moan escapes you, much to your dismay. You sit up, flipping the positions as you repeat her motions, listening to her sped up breath as you suck on the skin of her breasts, leaving small love bites. She would never admit it, but she adores staring at them when she’s alone again, memories of your lips there flashing through her mind. Her back arches, pushing her breasts further into your mouth before she lifts you, moving you back onto the bed before she whispers once more.

“I left it here last time. Did you throw it away or did you keep it?”

“I kept it. It’s under my sweaters in the drawer.”

You don’t need to speak again because she’s already off the bed, rummaging through before she quickly comes back holding a strap on, one of her favourites, actually, and she hasn’t said, but she left it here so she could use it with you again. It isn’t big, but it fits you perfectly, makes you feel good in the best way, and she loves to see your face when you cum on it. You watch hungrily as she attaches it to herself, your previous mood forgotten, the rocks on the floor gone from your mind completely.

“Lift your hips, pretty girl.”

She guides your hips into lifting up just enough so she can slide your panties, now almost transparent from just how soaked you’ve become, down your legs, letting them land quietly on the floor. Her hands pry your thighs open just a little, encouraging you because you always seem to get shy, no matter how much you enjoy it. The silicone, dark red and black, moves between your legs, the tip of it knocking against your clit, causing you to gasp, your hands moving, one clutching her bicep, the other around the back of her neck. She grinds the strap on your clit for a little while, getting you used to the material, getting you excited and wanting more. And she can tell when you’re ready, when you bite your lip and wiggle your hips in a way that tries so hard to get her to slide into you. Her forehead rests on yours, eyes closing as she moves her hips the same time you move yours, your pussy sucking her in like lungs needing air. Both of you groan quietly, and after a few seconds, her hips start slowly pumping into you. Your voice comes out in small, broken moans, your eyes squeezed shut as you nod in approval every so often.

“It’s good?”

“So good.”

“You’re taking it well, sweet girl.”

“God, you’re amazing.”

Usually Arlecchino finds pleasure in teasing you, slowing down just before your orgasm to draw it out, to keep her hand gently squeezed around your throat or to make you cum more than once just to hear your overstimulated whines. Tonight, she will not. Tonight, she will love you silently and give you what you need, make you forget about all the negative things in your brain. Her hands move to the rough patch on your thigh, feeling each scarred bump, silently counting to make sure you haven’t added another to the horrid, horrid collection you’ve acquired. Satisfied, her hand weave into your hair, occasionally tugging to keep you going. Her other hand moves down to your pelvis, her thumb ghosting over your clit in small circles, helping you along as your small moans become louder whimpers.

“Arlecchino, I think—“

“Do it, then. You deserve it. Cum for me, beautiful.”

It’s all the ammunition you need, your back arching, your hips bucking up as she angles the strap perfectly to hit the spongy spot inside of you again and again before you gasp once more, a long, drawn out moan as your body trembles, Arlecchino’s voice whispering lovingly.

“Good girl. Good, that’s good. You did so well.”

Your eyes finally open, your body finally relaxing as she slows to a stop, then pulls out, both of you scoffing with a laugh as the silicone makes a popping sound when it comes out of you. The pillow sinks slightly as her head moves to rest on it next to you, her fingernails gently tracing your arm. She can’t help but notice your eyes moving towards your (now ruined) rock display, and she speaks.

“Shall I help you make a new one?”

“You dont have to.”

“I want to. I was going to ask you, too, there’s a new science museum in the next town over. They have a feature on different bugs and their habitats, and they have a feature on geodes. Would you—“

“Yes.”

[puripurin]

SHOWMANSHIP [🎊🎉770 Followers Special🎉🎊] [PT. 1]

➥ Yan!Ringmaster x Acrobatic!Reader

➥ Summary :- Like always, misfortune almost always has a choke hold on the reader, so you get sold to a circus for the meer sum of 1,250 dollers.

— "IS THAT ALL I'M WORTH TO YOU??" You boomed at your parents, grateful for the bars that so kept you a foot's distance from ripping your parents to shreads.

"Honey, listen -" Your father was brutally cut off by your untamed anger radiating off of the walls, screeching so loud that it made the cell bars vibrate momentarily afterwards. There was no way in hell this man was trying to butter you up after selling you off.

"No. YOU listen to me, you wasteful, unwanted sperm doner. YOU could've worked me to the BONE, and I would have forgiven you because we still need a roof over our heads, but to sell me to some random-ass person who probably smells like your fuckin' toe jam for a mere sum of 1,250 DOLLARS!??? You hurled insults at your parents left and right, only recieving furious stares in return.

"[Y/N]! That is no way to speak to your father! We were low on funds, and our payment was due soon." She stepped forward with a sharp expression engraved in her face.

"LOW ON FUNDS!?!? WAS IT YOUR GRAND PLAN TO SELL ME FOR JUST 1,250 DOLLARS??"

Your intermittent breathing became the only thing that was stopping you from going over the edge of insanity town. Your parents stood without motion, their eyes locked on you as if they weren't the ones who should've been in the cell instead.

"...Don't you want your due payments to disappear? That's rich, how ironic, huh? Or maybe you two were just waiting on an opportunity to make me disappear?!?!"

Without waiting for a response, you slammed your hand on the part of the iron bars closest to their faces, getting surprised fast blinks from your mother. Her pride lasting in all of this was honestly pissing you off.

"YOU FLABBY-ASS-HAVING CUNT! YOU COULD HAVE NEGOTIATED FOR MORE MONEY!! IT'S NO WONDER WHY YOU HAD TO BRING THAT CHEAP-ASS PEARL NECKLACE, BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO NEARSIGHTED TO SEE THAT THE PRICE TAG WAS ONLY FOR 8 DOLLARS. FUCKIN' BRAGGING TO THE BAND OF THE BITCHES HOW YOU WE'RE ABLE TO BUY AN 8K PEARL NECKLACE KNOWING DAMN WELL YOUR ASS IS SO POOR THAT YOU HAD TO ASK ME TO PAY FOR THAT SHIT BECUASE YOU ONLY HAD 2 GODFORSAKEN DOLLARS IN THAT RIP-OFF CHANEL BAG." You sneered at the woman who was shaking in frustration.

"Dear, there is no worry for this... thing anymore. Our twin daughters will pave the way for greatness, bringing wealth and fortune to our name. Their talents and beauty hold no bounds." The woman looked over at her husband as you glared at them before you as if they were brainless, dilapidated creatures.

"Keep on sweet talking to them like that, and they'll end up in jail for homicide." You held up a middle finger and walked to a corner of the cell. You heard them spit in the front of the gate to your cell as they left. Silence then engulfed your surroundings.

No more of your parents' nagging and selfish tendancies. It was because of them that you could never look at your early twenties with fond memories. Looking back, you could have been partying and romancing other people, yet all you were promised was work, work, and more work. The pressure of trying to make money for your teen siblings and parents was exhausting, especially when your mother was spending more than you could make. That was how you got an earful from both your parents and siblings when they found out that the family's credit score was so low that it practically nestled right beside the dogshit on the side of the road.

"Fuck. This fucking sucks..." You couldn't hold back the resentment that forced themselves out your eyes in beads of tears. You were already at 26, with no job, no car, no money, no partner, and worth only 1,250 dollars. The path you walked on was not one adorned for the bunnies and butterflies, but rather, was draped in colourless desperation and pure survival.

"At least an arranged marriage would've given me the things I worked so hard for! But no! They just want me to die miserable and poor!"

"Awe, is my new performer preaching about death? My, a face like yours would be a total waste in a casket." The voice of a man echoed through the cell, almost making you jump out of your skin. He appeared almost instantaneously before your cell gate; he was dressed in an array of red, black, and white with an assortment of ruffles.

"You! YOU SCUMMY BASTARD! JUST WAIT 'TIL I HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A PLATTER TO FEAST ON!" You stormed your way back to the front of your cell and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Ah... I'm sure you would enjoy that, but alas, that mouth of yours is a bit rotten, would some chlorine and a scrub daddy do the trick?" The man's face held no defining emotion that represented what he was saying to you.

"You... YOU--"

"I suggest you quit the smack talk, unless you prefer to continue and be thrown out of my establishment; can't make quality meat without an obedient animal, am I right?" Even if his facial expression didn't change, you could tell that his words were looking to strangle you if you refused to take heed to them.

"Ah, right, before I leave, I have assigned you as an acrobatics trainee; our last acrobat died of... unforseen events." He paused before chuckling and waltzing out of sight. Making you alone in the cell once more.

You just plopped right on the ground in realization. This was your life now. Just a minute ago you got sold to some freak by your idiotic parents, and now, you were going to be one of the acrobatics in a circus that you didn't even know the name of? You could only pity yourself.

It had been a few weeks since you came here, and all you had been doing was practicing acrobatics with the help of the others. Furthermore, since that unfaithful day when you were sold, it was your decision to just stop talking altogether. If no one was hearing your voice, then what was the point?

"Ah, [Y/N]... have you finished up on your practice for today?" A young woman came over to you. It was Ellen, one of the acrobatics that taught you all the basics, from balancing on a beam to how to quickly put on different costumes in between performances.

You acknowledged her for her determination, even after entering into the circus at a young age. Though, what you wish you had was her ability to not complain and take things as they were. Alas, that was something Ellen had shown you that you hadn't observed from a person in ages; endurance.

You gave her a small smile and nodded. She brightened up before motioning you to come over to the schedule, which displayed all the events that were to partake following each day. You noticed that there was no last month performance mentioned on the chart.

Last month's performances were big and grand compared to the regular performances, which had more repetitive and basic performances. With all that in mind, you still couldn't participate in them because you were new, but soon you would participate within the next month or so.

"Ah, the other ringmaster has yet to meet you, by the way. He's been gone for a while now. He's the one who can conduct the monthly performances..." Ellen slowly stopped talking, mentally debating with herself with something before refraining on speaking as her grim face turned into one of happiness.

"Ah, right, it's almost time for the show to start, so I need to go this time. You are responsible for ensuring that the children are safe when they are watching the show." Right, you almost forgot about the children that were here. They were either sold to here or just given to the circus. They either had deformities or just had albinism. In total, there were 8 children that you needed to watch over.

You nodded once more and left to change out of the plain acrobatic suit that you wore for practice. Obviously, you had some different coloured ones, but those were strictly for performances.

Once you stepped into the changing room, you deflated and rubbed your face, which was buring from trying to hold back your tears. You sat there as streaks of tears slid down your face.

It was hard for you to just be happy about the situation. It was a struggle to just even have a neutral look on your face, to seem unbothered, to seem as if you were taking the situation well. The reason you gave for becoming selectively mute was only half of the reason. It was partially because almost every day your throat would tighten up from the never ending fear of living like this.

There were nice people, of course, but was it enough for you to accept this situation? The pain of realizing over and over again that your family betrayed you for such a little amount was painful. Even if they mistreated you, you only want to go back to the times when everything was much simpler.

You sniffled and checked the time and noticed that 10 minutes had passed. That was enough crying time for today because you weren't going to get beaten for not taking care of the children this time. Babysitting children comes first, money is second, and depression is last. That crazy psycho of a manager won't let anything slide under the rug, so you had to be on your tippie toes.

There were a bunch of mini humans wandering about, but not out of your sight, of course. You sat on a wooden bench backstage amongst the junk pile, where all sorts of thrown out props and costumes entangled themselves into one giant monster-like concoction. It was enough to keep the children entertained, and so you had a portion of your job cut out for you.

One of the 8 children was a little, baby boy, the youngest of the batch; he snuggled into your chest, feeling the warmth radiating from you.

"Ah, are you babysitting?" A man, with long hair spoke up from beside you. You hadn't noticed when he sat down. You shook your head in reply, raising an intrigued response from the man.

"Not quite a speaker, are you? I see. You must be [Y/n], then. I am Mathew Alabaster, one of the ringmasters in this lovely establishment." You raised a brow at the 'lovely establishment' part, but Mathew didn't mind, well, more like he didn't have the mind to notice.

You hadn't seen him before, and it seemed as though he shared resemblance with that of the ringmaster you met on your first day in the cell.

"Right, so how well are you fitting into your role? I assume it's daunting because you get to be hung high in the air with nothing but your skills and aura whilst the floor's comfort lulls and beckons you to just... drop." The man smiled at you, but for an odd reason; he had an off-putting look in his eyes...

Pt 1 cus I ain't writing allat rn. Also I'm so so super duper sorry for not posting in decades! (Esp @emptybrain01, it was only recently i saw your comments! Im so so sorry 💀💀💀💀) Obviously I've been on tumblr for a short period of time, but like, I was just lazy on top of me having no time on the weekend because I'm making a cosplay and I have to study during the week, along with upcoming tests and a big exam next year. Basically my hobbies take up more time than I have.

So maybe next year ill disappear for a while cos i hv a shit ton of stuff to do.

But I'll take requests instead of just thinking about a character and making a smol story for them.

Also once more, thank you for following me and getting to 770+ followers (its now 831) even if i don't post much. I would also like to thank my friend Syren, who has access to my account and sees all my shit 💀, for editing this work!

Thank you all!

[scrollonso]

Crazy In Love¹

A Strollonso AU where Fernando succeeds the Spanish throne and makes it his goal as king to make the Prince of France his groom. (3.4k words, dark!nando) [@catboysracing] {l could've made nando a lot worse but I didnt want this to be 10k words 😭 this is a very rushed rough draft so if i make this a series it'll be more drawn out,, or maybe not idek its 02:26 im tired ☠️}

Lawrence stepped out of his carriage, holding his hand out to his wife as she carefully placed a foot on the ground, using Lawrence's shoulder for support as she planted both of her shoes on the stone pathway below them.

Lance peeked his head out before exiting, following his fathers lead in holding out his hand to help his sister, Chloe, out as well. His other siblings had already been married off and attending this ball in the Royal Palace of Madrid was his parents' way of finding their youngest children suitors.

"Very good, my boy" The king praised before the four of them began their walk into the palace. They were shown to the ballroom where most of the guests were straight away. The room was all white with gold detailing, artwork littered on the ceiling as spirals of gold framed the dozens of doors surrounding them

"Pardon me" The queen spoke softly, lightly touching her husbands arm before disappearing through the crowd to make her way to Maria Theresa the Archduchess of Austria.

"Excuse me, Father, Can I go speak with Marie?" Chloe spoke seconds later, her father simply nodding at the girls request. She smiled and muttered a thank you before finding her way to her friend, similarly to her mother.

Lance hated these things. Being in a closed space full of hundreds of people. He couldn't help the sour expression on his face as he looked around the bright room, eyes settling on his half brother Esteban. Lance was more than aware of his fathers infadelity and how he had three children with other women. Lance wasn't too fond of the younger two but he'd grown up close with Esteban and his mother Pauline de Mailly.

"Stop scowling, Lance." Lawrence spoke sternly, greeting his youngest son with a slap to his back

"Sorry, Father." Lance spoke, quick to fix his face as he turned to the king "May I be excused, Father? Esteban is on the other side of the ballroom."

"Go on."

Lance couldn't help but smile as he reached Estebans side, being quick to give him a nod

"Votre Altesse" Esteban hummed, trying to stop himself smiling as his little brother rolled his eyes at the title, he never called Lance Your Majesty unless he was teasing the younger boy "Brother, How are you?"

"I'm well, how long have you been here?"

"Oh, not long. Me and my mother arrived no more than an hour ago." Esteban spoke, Lance nodding at the response

"Have you had any of the food?" Lance asked, hoping his brother would say no so they could eat together

"I have not, shall we go together?" Lance smiled once more, nodding as he followed the older man to the long table of food and refreshments.

Fernando was speaking with Duke Maximilian III Joseph of Bavaria regarding the state of their allies during the ongoing war when he first spotted the French prince, his justaucorps a warm brown embroidered with intricate and colourful flowers. The boys hair was long and wavy, he was constantly brushing it out of his face as he spoke with the slightly older man next to him.

The new king was unsure of who the man next to him was but he was well aware of who Lance was. Fernando had met with Lawrence the second Ferdinand had died, as the new king it was his duty to keep up alliances between the dynasties. With Spain and France being the largest two dynasties as of then, having a relationship with Lawrence was very important to him.

As the conversation came to an end he excused himself to find the Frenchman again, pleased at how easy it was. He was standing off to the side as the man from before spoke with a woman from Sweden, Fernando taking the opprotunity to finally speak to him.

"Monseigneur Lance, it's a pleasure to meet you." Fernando bowed his head, holding a hand out to the shorter prince who's eyes shot up, they were hazel and seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit room.

"Sire," Lance spoke softly, taking Fernandos hand as the Spaniard placed a kiss on his knuckles, the younger boys face flushing pink at the usually meaningless action "the pleasure is all mine."

"I hope your journey here wasn't too strenous, it's a long ride from Versailles." Fernando spoke, letting go of the boys hand then stepping back slightly

"Of course not, I always prefer the carriage rides to the actual balls, anyway" he stated matter-of-factly, only realizing how rude it sounded seconds later. "Apologies, I'm not sure why I said that."

Fernando smiled, covering his mouth to let out a small laugh "There's no need to apologize, I feel the same."

Lance wasn't sure how to respond, all he could do was flash the king a smile, not expecting to relate to him of all people.

"Is it stuffy in here to you?" The Spaniard asked, cocking his head to the side before continuing "Would you like to ride around with me? Get some fresh air."

"I'd love to." The teenager responded with no hesitation, face lighting up at the idea

"Let's go, then. I'll give you a personal tour of my dynasty as long as you'll return the favour." Fernando said, holding his hand out once more, but this time to steal Lance away

Fernando stood beside the door of the carriage, helping the prince get in before getting in himself. It was nice, Lance thought, being treated how princesses are treated. As the carriage began moving he couldn't get the feeling of the Spanish mans lips on his knuckles out of his mind, it was embarrassing just how much he had replayed it already.

"Will your family be staying the night? Most of my guests are but if you're leaving before dawn I'll be sure to return you in time." The king spoke, Lance's eyes focusing on the mans mouth as his lips moved, hardly registering his words.

"I'm sure we will be, my mother and sister prefer to get a decent amount of rest before returning home after balls."

"Perfect, that gives us plenty of time, then." Fernando nodded to himself, moving to sit on the same side as Lance as he pulled back the curtains, the sunset illuminating the streets perfectly.

The smaller boys eyes found their way outside, practically twinkling as he admired just how gorgeous it looked at this time of day

"It's beautiful" He whispered, not bothering to turn and see the older mans reaction

"It is" The Spanish man said quietly, he knew what Lance meant, the landscape was beautiful. Of course Fernando knew that, he lived here, but he only thing he could see was the Prince next to him, he was truly beautiful.

The two continued down the road for a few more minutes before they reached town, Fernando noticing his guards escorting Jesuits from their home right away. He swiftly closed the curtains and began distracting Lance, not wanting the sweet boy to witness the men in black cassocks being pushed and shoved through the streets of the small town they had entered. The new king had made it his first order to expel every resident of the Spanish Empire that was concerningly loyal to the Pope as soon as he had been crowned. He would never admit it as he was too full of pride but he felt threatened by the men devoting themselves to the pope. He was above the pope. He was king. He had power and he was going to make sure every commoner he ruled over was aware of that.

"Hm?" Lance hummed as he noticed the curtains draw shut, turning his body to face the larger man, having not taken in just how drastic their size difference was. Not only was there a difference in power from Spanish King to French Prince but there was also a difference in aura, the mans eyes on him felt intimidating, Lance gazing hesitently at the man as the carriage fell quiet, Fernandos lidded eyes not leaving Lance's for a second

"We're rebuilding in this area, I'd hate for you to see how much of a mess it is right now." He lied, the words slipping off of his tongue as if they were as true as scripture, reciting it as if it was a verse he'd spent weeks remembering.

The credulous boy just nodded, having way too much trust in the man he'd become acquainted with just minutes prior.

"I'm sure it looks fine, every part of your kingdom I've seen so far has been stunning." The Frenchman reassured, wondering if maybe the new King was insecure about the state of his colonies.

"Why, thank you, Monseigneur Lance." Fernando smiled, partially because of the sweet words coming from the boy at his side but also because of just how easy he was to trick "you're too kind."

"No need to be so formal, Your Majesty." Lance scooted back, eyes following Fernando as his arm moved to open the curtains once more, now far enough away from his men to insure Lance saw nothing. "It's just us"

"If I'm to just call you Lance then please, call me Fernando."

"Well, Fernando." Lance started, looking outside of the carriage before turning back to the man "Can you tell me more? About your dynasty. I've only learned what's in the books"

"You've read books about my kingdom?" Fernando laughed dryly, finding it funny how the Prince of France spent his free time reading about the Spanish Empire.

"I've read about many things." Lance nodded, locking his fingers together in his lap "My Father would rather me learn than fight in the war."

"Ah, yes." Fernando nodded, having forgotten about what was currently happening on his allies land. "I understand where he's coming from. I was hesitant to put my sons in command as well."

"How many sons do you have, Fernando?" Lance asked, not having read much about the new kings family

"Three, they're all around your age" Fernando looked outside, smiling to himself as he watched Lance turn to look as well "Carlos is my eldest, then Lando, then my youngest boy Oscar."

"You have only sons?" Lance asked, still looking outside, watching as their surroundings began to get darker and darker

"Yes, just three boys."

"What about their mother? There isn't a queen, is there?"

Fernando shook his head, leaning on the wall behind him before responding, arms crossed over his chest as he watched "Their mother died a few years ago, Tuberculosis they think."

"Oh." He whispered, only now turning to look at the Spaniard, biting his lip slightly in an effort to hide his newfound discomfort "I'm sorry, I- I didn't know."

"Don't apologize." He spoke, harsher than he had before. "Was nothing I could do, the boys are old enough to deal with it and I had more important things to do than wallow in my own self pity."

Lance just nodded, fidgeting with his fingers as he avoided the Spaniards gaze, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up, although a part of him was relieved to find out the King didn't have anyone at his side

The man reached out to grab Lance's hand, quickly letting his coachman know they were getting out and to wait for them.

The naive Prince followed blindly, letting the man ahead of him pull him through unfamiliar land as if they'd known one another all their lives. Fernando couldn't help but take note of everything Lance was so quick to let him do to him, he couldn't help but wonder just how far he could push it.

They eventually reached a short stone pathway and at the end was a small pavillion with a bench nestled towards the back where plants were growing up the wood. By then it'd gotten darker, Fernando glad to have matches on him as he lit the lamps around the wooden structure

"Woah" Lance breathed out, admring the garden he'd found himself in as Fernando dusted off the bench, still holding onto the boys hand as he pulled him to take a seat

"I haven't been here in ages. I figured if I was going to go back it'd be fun to not be alone." Fernando hummed, the last time he was here he'd killed his father.

"Gosh, if I lived closer I'd spend all my time here!" Lance laughed, smiling up at the man who had yet to take a seat

"I used to, when I became King the first time I hardly had time" He spoke, looking around as soon as he finished, eyes falling on the steps in front of him, the place he'd met his father before quite literally stabbing him in the back. It was what the old bastard deserved. Without his actions Ferdinand would've never became king and Fernando would still be stuck in Naples.

"The first time?" Lance hummed, unbuttoning his justacourps and sliding it off before folding it neatly in his lap

"Si." Fernando nodded, finally taking a seat next to the Prince "Before my brother died I was the king of Naples and Sicily. My eldest, Carlos, is taking over as soon as he finishes being stubborn about his knightly duties."

The boy laughed, he'd grown so used to just hearing people around him speak that everything about Fernandos accent made his sarcasm even funnier. "You're very experienced, Fernando"

"I am." He confirmed, meaning it in more ways than the innocent boy could imagine. As a ruler? Yes, of course. Killer? He supposes. Husband? To some extent. Sexually? Very.

"How long did you rule over Naples and Sicily?" He asked, eager to learn more about the mysterious man beside him

"Twenty-four years, I took over when I was eleven so my mother helped me rule until I was married off and began having children."

"Wow, I feel like I haven't done anything as prince" Lance laughed, tracing the neatly done sewing on the cloth he had on his lap "My father took over France at five, his mother helped him until he was thirteen as well, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be king."

"You could be my king." The Spaniard spoke calmly, not sure why Lance began to react the way he did

"Hm?" He questioned, unsure if he was understanding the mans accent correctly

"Be my king. I have no bride, nor do I have a groom." The man shrugged, watching as Lance's facial expression controrted "It is not the 16th century anymore, is normal to have two kings, Lancito."

Lance was aware that it'd become more normalized to see two men ruling side by side, a part of him had always yearned for the connection between a King and his King Consort but until now he'd figured it'd just been out of pure curiosity and a need to figure out the unknown

"Are you asking me to madry you, Fernando?" Lance asked, knowing it seemed obvious enough but he had to be sure, maybe this was just a Spanish thing.

"Consider it." Fernando spoke, holding Lance's hands in his own "Don't say no straight away, this will give us both what we want."

"I'm not sure my father would say yes-" Lance began, eyebrows furrowing as the Spaniard cut him off

"You're father likes me, I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear his son has been proposed to by none other than his greatest allies king."

"I know, I'm just not sure he'll be comfortable with me being so far from home." Lance's voice got quieter as he spoke, not wanting his words to upset the man before him

"I'll take you to visit every chance we get, it'll be like you never left." His voice softened, realizing that if he was to get the French Kings son to marry him he'd have to play nice.

"Well, then.." He dragged out his words, looking at their hands together before responding. There was such a drastic contrast between them, the Spaniards naturally tan and thicker hands making the boys pale and lanky hands seem even smaller. "I suppose" He finished, figuring he wouldn't find anyone better than the Spaniard. He'd seen his siblings get married to ugly and unjust aristocrats that he was relieved someone so kind was asking for his hand in marriage.

The taller mans lips curled, he quickly stood up and pulled Lance to him, the Frenchman leaving his coat on the bench beside where he'd sat before being greeted by the sudden feeling of lips on his.

It was embarrassing to think about how bad of a kisser he had to be. He just tried to follow Fernandos lead, fingers trailing over the gold detailing of his dresscoat as the kiss began to deepen, the kings hands finding their way to the boys waist to pull them even closer, bodies practically connected as Lance settled on the tips of his toes in order to make this easier.

Once Fernando pulled away Lance felt light headed, lips now puffy and red as he breathed harshly, covering his face from the man out of pure embarrassment.

"Do not hide from me, Lancito." He cooed, leaning over to pull the boys hands from his face, thumb brushing over his lips before he spoke again "te ves guapo" the king whispered, Lance unable to hold back a smile as he registered Fernandos words, face flushing a familiar pink as the man called him beautiful.

"We should get back" Lance said softly, face turning to meet the Spaniards gaze as his hands lingered on his chest

"You're right, I should probably ask for your fathers blessing, eh?" They laughed, the prince nodding as the older man grabbed a lantern, calmly finding the way back to the carriage

Fernando couldn't keep his hands off Lance during the short ride back, hand inching further up the boys thigh as his face got hotter, now hidden in the collar of his casaca. It was painfully obvious how inexperienced the boy was, Fernando wasn't sure what he'd done in his past life to deserve such a reward but he was beyond grateful.

It didn't progress past teasing touches, Fernando curious to see just how worked up he could get the boy before he disappeared back into the ballroom to speak to his father.

The answer was very, as they came to a stop outside the palace Lance couldn't hide the look of pure arousal on his face as he felt the Spaniards hands leave, whining at the feeling of his touch fading

"Fer..." He whispered, grabbing weakly onto the mans sleeves as he begged for just a little more

"Patience, let's see what your father says before continuing this, mi rey" Fernando negotiated, kissing the boys jaw softly before exiting the carriage, disappearing inside before Lance had the chance to follow behind.

"How have you been, Your majesty?" The King asked, earning a short response from his ally. "I've come to ask something of you, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead" Lawrence nodded, watching the Spaniard with curiousity

"I'd like to ask for your blessing, King Lawrence." He stated plainly, looking the man in front of him in the eyes "I'd like to make your son my King Consort."

Lawrence nodded right away, arm moving to pat the tanned mans back, smiling similarly to Lance "I'd love to give you my son, I'm shocked you felt the need to ask, Sire."

They both laughed, Lawrence's practically coming from his stomach as he closed his eyes, Fernando returning a short, knowing, and dry laugh.

Lance wandered back into the ballroom, greeted with a light hug from his mother, it wasn't normal in his family for her to show affection to him like this so he was almost worried something had gone wrong but as soon as he saw Lawrence and Fernando side by side he knew what'd happened, he was now set to marry the King of Spain.

[chiikasevennn]

𝐓𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬?

Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader

A/N: INSPIRED BY @jinwoosungs !!! I love their stories so much 🫶🏻. I cry tears of joy whenever I get a notification from her blog. Go off, your majesty. Also, this is not proofread! Done purely because I was hungry ^⁠_⁠^ pls comment hehe!

(⁠*⁠_⁠*⁠)

Maybe some old saying was true; to love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved, that's everything.

Jinwoo had thought of his relationship with yours was led by unimaginable magic—came out of left field and meant to end like a shooting star, breathtaking but brief.

When you confessed to him, he didn't know whether to be enraptured or embarrassed, because he felt both.

A girl? A girl—a beautiful one at that—told him that she liked him more than just a mere companion? That was difficult to believe.

(He half guessed it, but he was Sung Jinwoo, the weakest hunter of all mankind. What was he going to offer to someone like you who had a lot of opportunities ahead of her?)

He liked how you were a bashful bunny towards him, but a genuine person despite that. The raven head was always observant of your tendency to steal glances when he wasn't looking and how you instinctively withdrew your hand when it accidentally brushed against his.

He never realized you had a thing for him and only him until he found you in front of a flower shop's clear glass, observing and admiring a bouquet of tulips through the flawless window.

Why? Because Jinwoo told you that he liked tulips after you asked if he had any likes towards flowers.

He didn't even hold any specific preference for tulips. It wasn't that he disliked them, but it was just that he had no time to think of a favorite flower. Tulips only crossed his mind when you asked because of his sister and his mother; they both liked tulips.

He remembered how your face lit up like a Christmas tree adorned with beautiful decorations when he answered that. He could only smile that day as he felt like seeing a starlit path leading to you.

You were a lifeline in the tumultuous waters of life, and he followed you and clinged to you because you were everything.

Jinwoo might have not noticed right away, but the burdens felt a little lighter whenever you were around. You could just be standing there and he'd be delighted on the inside.

Because of all this, he ended up admiring you even before your confession. The changes began, of course—from how he started caring about what you might think of his appearance on a typical day to adopting certain mannerisms from you, like fixing his front hair every hour or two. He also began talking about you with Jinah so frequently that she eventually questioned your role in his life, as she became more familiar with the woman her oppa was fond of through words.

"For you!"

Jinwoo blinked. Two blinks, then three.

A bouquet of tulips in your hold, extending it towards him. It was akin to seeing a gem. The tulips were categorized into three shades—purple, ruby, and pink.

He was happy, absolutely thrilled and delighted, but a deep sense of him felt bad... Or ashamed? He didn't think you'd buy him something as extravagant as this.

"It's pretty obvious from what you're seeing," raising the tulips a little higher, your head cowered behind it. A meek voice followed.

"I love—LIKE"—you suddenly lifted the bouquet up to his face, basically almost pressing the thing in front of him—"being around you. I like it when you're happy or smiling. I like your face, even when you look stupid sometimes."

With the tone of your choice, Jinwoo knew you were about to explode.

"... You don't have to accept right away that I adore you to this extent. Knowing you, you don't need to pay me back or anything. I'm doing this because I like, like you. I wanted to give you flowers because it feels suffocating to bottle what I have for you."

He couldn't respond. Even if he did open his mouth, he doubted anything coherent would come out. Jinwoo's mind was blank, but upon seeing you about to say speak again, he realized immediately that he had to say something because he might fuck up and never get this chance again.

"Dinner."

"Huh?"

"Thank you." He smiled. "In return... Will you allow me to take you to dinner?

He anticipated your relationship with him to be brief, having a thought that you'd get tired of him eventually.

You didn't.

The relationship went on even after four years passed, the dates you and him planned together fought to longevity. It remained steadfast, every obstacle encountered was overcome through your mutual determination, despite the difficulties that emerged, as there was no way you would let go.

When you got upset, Jinwoo would hug you. When he got stressed, you'd play with his scalp and hug him to sleep. When sometimes you got hungry in the middle of the night, he'd join you on your late night cravings. Everything was vice versa.

Jinwoo planned for this relationship to never end, not when the commitment in mind to marry you was there, alive and present.

The raven head smiled slightly as he gazed upon a picture of you in a picture frame, depicting your smile amidst the severe, frosty weather of the previous year—a pleasant contrast.

He recollected distinctly how, on every occasion, you had showered him with a variety of flowers—roses, lilies, and an assortment of blooms filled his recollection, but Jinwoo remembered how tulips were number one of the things you've gifted him.

Thinking back on the casual act of giving him flowers, he remembered his endeavor to match your floral gifts, he supposed you've taken it as a competition and bought him a lot and more bigger than what he'd given.

Since you liked giving him flowers, he indulged you and let you to be the extreme gift giver.

But of course, he was still Jinwoo, and he wanted to treasure you with equal measure, and maybe more than that, so he still did things for you, despite how busy everything was.

So, when his position and financial standing rose, he showered you not only with the handmade and modest gifts but also with extravagant gestures such as furnitures, hair decorations, skincare products, and the list continued. It went on and on until you had to stop him because he might drain his bank account, but Jinwoo didn't really care.

Jinwoo took another clear look at your image and began to daydream into his memories again. He recalled, remembered, and reminisced until he found himself reliving moments that had already come to pass.

One look in his imagination of you had his vision blurry once he opened his eyes. He pressed a trembling hand against her lips on the photograph in a futile attempt to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.

The corners of his mouth trembled as his hearts felt like being clawed open. He tried to blink away the tears, but they flowed freely down his cheeks, leaving a trail of glistening tracks in their wake.

Jinwoo wiped his tears away, looking up in hopes to reduce of his fragile moment. As he slowly returned his gaze forward after regaining his composure, he was met with the box containing most the items he had gifted you, carefully safeguarded to maintain their pristine condition.

Everything reminded you of him.

And he loved and hated it.

did you expect that? lmao you should've took notice of the vibe of the first pic HAYAHAHAHAH happy reading! ᕦ⁠[⁠ ⁠◑⁠ ⁠□⁠ ⁠◑⁠ ⁠]⁠ᕤ

[sleeplesssmoll]

Revisiting this poem about Sonetto

This poem is placed after Vertin is placed in a coma after the Tear Gas incident and before Sonetto gives Vertin her notebook.

I think the first paragraph is how Vertin perceives Sonetto. A loyal and sincere little puppy.

The second one sounds like the puppy choosing the Foundation. Licking white marble, climbing like a pious believer, and most importantly, forgetting the frogs, pebbles, and stinky socks in the attic. In other words, perhaps Vertin felt like Sonetto chose the Foundation over her and this fiasco was going to be the last straw. Sonetto has overcome all the hardships (climbing and pious) and has left Vertin behind to go to a place Vertin can't follow (untrackable breeze). Sonetto is at the "closest place" but she's further away than ever.

But the moist eyes and nose? Puppies have wet noses, but I think this is referring to Sonetto crying for Vertin. From our POV Vertin went down hard. I'm not sure if she managed to stay conscious long enough to see Sonetto cry. But in a more metaphorical sense the stone gate could be the separation between them. Vertin isn't looking for Sonetto, but Sonetto is looking for Vertin through the gaps while being "safe" on the other side.

But Vertin couldn't bare to face her.

Despite their differences, Vertin always speaks well of Sonetto in these snippets. Even in this one where she is "forgotten" she looks upon the puppy with fondness or admiration (thats how i interpret the verbiage used to describe Sonetto. She describes Schneider like this as well except as a frail dove instead of a determined puppy)

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

What kind of desert do you think Kurt would like? Is there any German deserts in particular he would like?

This is an interesting questions, thank you. So...

We don't really know a lot of what he likes in canon, however I seem to remember to have read that he is fond of chocolate and biscuits, which means I'm going from there.

I'd like to think, that Kurt is something we call a "Naschkatze" where I'm from. Don't know if it's used in other parts as well, but it's quite common from where I'm from. It's basically someone who loves to nibble on sweets as often as they can. Literally translate to "snacking cat" or "nibbeling cat"

He's got a sweet tooth, you could say. So, going from there:

He loves pastry. Doesn't matter if it's cake or cookies or cupakes, he loves it. If it got chocolate? He's in heaven. So, it's good that he's from Germany because we've got some really good cakes, if I may say so:

Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte: This is one of the most stereotypical cakes that you can find when looking up "German Cakes" but it's really good. It traditionally consists of several layers of chocolate sponge cake, cherries, cherry liqueur, whipped cream and chocolate rasps. It named after the "Schwarzwald" which is a region in Baden-Wüttenberg, the "neighbour" of Bavaria. It's really tasty and I'd like to think that he would love that.

Baumkuchen: Literellay means "tree cake", originating from it's looks. It consists of several layers of dough when baking it, making it look like the age rings of a tree. It's art to explain, but it's really good, one of my favourites actually.

Kalter Hund: Literally "Cold dog", also referred to as "Kalte Schnauze" or "Kalter Platt". I think this would be one of his all-time favourites because it not only consists of chocolate but also of biscuits. It is made from layers of chocolate cookies and a cream of chocolate and coconut oil. There are different variations of it, which can differ in the ingredients used. It's a little harder to make, at least in my experience, but it's really worth it.

Pudding: Kurt is in love with this stuff, especially chocolate, however only when it's hommade. The incredibly overly sweet stuff from the stores does not taste good in his opinion, so he refuses to eat it. He may have a sweet tooth but not that sweet.

Spekulatius: Another typical german sweet, that's an alltime favourite among Germans. It's usually just sold during Christmas time, due to the different spices that are used for it.

Mousse au Chocolat: Of course he's not restricted to German desserts only. It's a french dessert and since France is a neighbour of Germany it's not that far-feched that he loved it growing up. It's fluffy, it's chocolate... What more could he ask for?

Grießbrei mit Roter Grütze: "Semolina porridge with red fruit jelly" It's not really a dessert but it's quite famous and I personally know many many Germans who love it, me included.

Germknödel mit Vanillesoße: Germknödel are a traditional specialty of Austrian and Bavarian cuisine and are also popular in other regions of the Alpine countries. They are steamed yeast dumplings filled with a plum jam filling (Zwetschgenröster). Although the classic version is filled with plum jam, there are also variations of yeast dumplings with other fillings such as poppy seeds, apricots or curd cheese. Personally, I have always loved the fruit filling. Top it with vanilla sauce and poppy seed sugar and it's perfect.

Pictures in order

It's a bit much, but there are so many good desserts. In general I think he loves anything with chocolate in it, as long as it's real chocolate and not some fake stuff from the industries. He prefers usually darker chocolate but especially in cake she doesn't mind so much. He also likes a bit more heavy desserts such as Germknödel or Grießbrei, especially since he's from Bavaria where such desserts are more common, from my experience. You are welcome to correct me though.

Hope this was helpful :)

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Five things Porsche learns about Kim lets gooooo

This actually started as a prompt from @shubaka forever ago (before we were friends 🥺) and I decided to torture myself by turning it into a 5+1 fic! But then I stalled out bc I didn't know what to add for the other parts klasjdhgf. It's actually still floating somewhere around here in my writing tag!

In it, Porsche is trying to befriend Kim, and Kim is horribly resistant to it. Porsche steals Chay's phone since Kim won't answer him, only for Kim to hang up as soon as he speaks, it's a whole thing. Basically Kim being forced to bond with his future brother in law <3

The first thing Porsche learns about Kim is that he's a squirrely little bastard. He weasels his phone number out of Chay - after finding out that Kinn didn't have it saved in his own phone, which will be a conversation for later - but Kim doesn't any answer any of the flurry of phone calls and texts that Porsche hurls his own way. Apparently, according to Porchay, Kim has memorized all the numbers of everyone important enough to be worth his time, and doesn't bother with anyone else.

What if someone has to borrow a phone? Porsche had asked. Sucks to be them, Chay replied, with a silly smile that might mean he's kidding, or it might mean he knows exactly how ridiculous Kim is being, but still somehow likes him anyway. Porsche would prefer the former but he's almost certain it's the latter, and he's trying to figure out exactly why Chay would like him so much. Because as far as Porsche can tell? Kim is more akin to a feral cat than anything else. Keeps his distance, sullenly watches Porsche anytime they happen to be in the same room, looking away only to scan for the nearest exit - which he takes at the earliest opportunity - and Porsche is certain Kim has actually hissed at him once. Probably not. Since Kim won't answer unknown numbers, Porsche is forced to stoop to his level. Kinn's phone is of course out of the question, which only leaves one other person, at least only one Porsche can easily access, guaranteed to have it. He's holding a struggling Porchay in a headlock while the phone dials. It only rings once. "Hello, love," Kim greets, his voice warm and syrupy and so, so fond that Porsche has to gag, just to see the way his brother flushes. "I'm sorry, Kim!" Porchay shouts. He's still struggling, digging his hands into Porsche's sides. "I tried to stop him!" "Porsche." And there it is, that flat tone Porsche is used to. "Hi, Kim, how's it going?" he asks casually. "Goodbye. "Wait, wait, wait!" It's no use. The line is already dead. Porsche releases his brother with a groan, and doesn't fight it when Chay snatches back his phone. "Why does he have to be so difficult?" "Kim doesn't like being cornered, hia," Chay scolds him. "If you just talked to him like a normal person-" "He won't let me! He keeps running!" "You're intimidating!" Porsche doesn't believe that for a second. If Kinn wasn't intimated by him, no way his feral, murderous little brother was. "Maybe you're coming on too strong? He probably think you're gonna kill him for, y'know..." "No, I don't know." Porsche side-eyes Chay, who's no longer making eye contact. "Do I need to kill him?" "No!" "Should I want to?" "Hia, No!" Chay throws his hands up. "See! This is why he won't talk to you! You're embarrassing." "Good. Also, I don't care. I want to talk to him, and unless he wants me to lock you in your room and forbit you from seeing each other for the rest of your life, he better cooperate." Chay lets out a sigh like the weight of all the world is bearing down on him. "I'll talk to him," he mumbles, sullen. 

[icyfox17]

The demons got to me... Anyways here's the first snipp of a 911 x Psych crossover lmfao

"A psychic detective?" Eddie's unconvinced voice rings out in the station's kitchen. "Yeah!" Buck replies, chipper as ever as he puts together a PBJ sandwich. "The amount of cases he's solved is crazy. And—! He even uncovered a dinosaur skeleton. I've been meaning to drive to Santa Barbara to see it. Maybe I'll take Christopher—” "A psychic detective," Eddie repeats, having barely processed anything else Buck had said. He chuckles. “You can't—you can't seriously think this is real.” “Eddie, he's been working with the SBPD for years. Don't you think if he was a fake they would've found out by now?” Buck asks, and his voice sounds so genuine Eddie kind of wants to cry. “Buck. Buck. Magic isn't real. There is no way that he's actually psychic. It's a publicity stunt! Makes the SBPD stand out or something.” “Just you wait and see Eds. Once you meet him, you'll have to believe it.” Buck says, pointing at Eddie with the most obnoxious grin on his face. Eddie can't help but feel fond at the sight of it. Sure Buck’s an idiot, but at least he's a cute one. Eddie gives up on having this argument with him. No matter what Buck says, he won't be convinced. They couldn't convince him with the jinxes (although some small part of him is still slightly freaked out about that) and they won't convince him with this psychic detective, not even if he's the most sophisticated all-knowing person ever. ~*~ “Gus, how many burritos do you think I can fit in my mouth? My money's on six, but maybe if I shove them in horizontally…” He reaches over to grab the cooler from beside Gus in the back seat, but Jules slaps his hand away. “Shawn, seriously? Those burritos are for everyone.” Shawn huffs, crossing his arms with a pout. “Yeah well, we've been in this car for hours, and I'm starving to death.” “It's been an hour Shawn,” Gus’ voice pops up from the backseat and Shawn shoots him a betrayed look. “Whose side are you on?!” Gus tilts his head. “The side that makes sure that I still have some burritos for myself.” He then opens up the same cooler that Shawn was just trying to reach into, and pulls out a perfectly tinfoil wrapped burrito that he delicately peels away. His eyes are alight with glee as he unhinges his jaw and prepares to take the biggest bite known to man, when Shawn twists around in his seat and grips Gus’ arm, pulling it and the burrito away from his mouth. “That burrito is mine sucker!” Shawn calls out, trying to take the burrito for himself. “Oh no you don't, Shawn!!” The two of them struggle back and forth, causing the car to shake slightly, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Gus is a backstabber and Shawn needs his burrito! “Guys!” Jules’ voice calls out sharp, and the two of them freeze—Gus’ left hand smushed into Shawn's face, and Shawn’s free hand gripping Gus’ throat in a chokehold, their other hands wrapped tightly around the burrito in a tug of war. She outstretches her right hand, keeping her left hand on the wheel, and makes a grabbing motion. The two of them dejectedly give the burrito into her palm and she huffs, smiling. “Thank you. We have one more hour to go. You can both eat one burrito, okay? The rest are for when we get there.” She then takes a satisfied chomp of the burrito in her hand.