#and somehow manages to take them all down

[strwberri-milk]

Oooh could you give reactions of the LaDS guys when MC rescues them?? I can imagine their stunned faces followed by intense worry for MC

Zayne didn't think that disaster would strike the hospital but here he is using his Evol to try and help patients and their families escape. Anybody who had an offensive Evol was part of this shoddily thrown together front lines, desperately trying to buy time until the authorities arrived.

He thinks he's about to be closed in as the roof comes down, doing his best to try and lessen the damage when he sees you come to the rescue. Somehow you manage to push him out of the way, rolling the two of you to safety as you get up to continue your path. He immediately grabs you by the wrist, wordlessly asking if you're okay. You offer him a quick nod before running off to continue, both of you understanding that time is of the essence.

When he finds you again later he's giving you a full physical, wanting to make sure that you're okay despite the accident. He can only rest once you're safe, holding you close.

If you sustained a life threatening injury he's there the entire time. He's making sure that you're okay, monitoring your progress as much as the doctors will allow him to. They don't want him getting in the way, knowing that he's especially emotional because it's you despite never having seen him like this before. He knows he shouldn't be interfering but honestly, he can't help it. He's worried and he's going to blame himself for the rest of his life if you don't get better.

Xavier lost his mind when he lost sight of you, trying his best to fight while also looking for you everywhere. When he finally sees you after you took out a Wanderer he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly as he asks you if you're alright. He does his best to appraise your current condition, doing whatever he can to mitigate any pain you feel and trying to convince you to rest before things get worse.

The attack doesn't seem to be letting up at all and you know that the two of you have to split up to continue no matter how much he hates it. He decides fuck the orders and follows you anyway, knowing that he won't be able to focus if you're not there with him.

He hears the Wanderer too late - turning around and drawing his sword half a second later than he should when he hears your guns going off. The Wanderer immediately turns to you, giving him an opening to strike back. It's faster than either of you thought it was, the scream he hears from you shutting him down.

He's glad you saved him but not at the cost of your life and he wastes the creature, knowing his body will suffer the consequences from how powerful his attack was but that doesn't matter if it means it saved you. He immediately takes you to get help, refusing to leave your side until you're actually 100%. He promised himself he'd protect you and he's going to be even more protective of you from now on.

Rafayel didn't think that his studio would be ambushed like this but he was more than capable of handling it - or so he thought. He was close to burning down his whole studio if he needed to in order to escape the assailants, surprised when they suddenly start collapsing without him doing anything.

When you emerge with your weapon drawn he's happy to see you but immediately worries about how you got through the other people they said they brought with them. You were able to take them down thankfully but he's not convinced you're alright, securing his studio with you to ensure that the two of you have nothing else to worry about.

If you sustain a life threatening injury he's immediately calling for help but also takes care of you right then and there. He doesn't want to lose any time to waiting for medical staff to arrive or your fellow hunters - he knows how to take care of you and his fire Evol is thankfully good at cauterising wounds despite how awful he feels about you trying to be brave as he burns your skin. The scars that linger upset him deeply because to him, they represent a time he failed you but in spite of them he doesn't let it drag him down. He knows it'd just make you more upset to know that's how he feels so he just focuses on making sure his skills stay sharp enough to protect you.

Sylus doesn't normally get attacked when he goes out on a job but this was a first. He was a little underprepared, thinking he'd have a quiet evening but the fight wasn't too rough, thankfully. He turns, preparing to leave without realising that there was another figure hidden in the shadows, ready to strike him down when he hears someone fall behind him. You stand over their unconscious body, a little worse for wear but nothing some TLC couldn't solve.

Sylus insists on taking you home, knowing that while you look fine there was always a slight chance that something was being overlooked and he did not want to be negligent in your care. He doesn't like the fact that you got attacked most likely because of your association with him, telling you that you need to be more careful to avoid things like that happening.

When you do get attacked because of your connection with him he has no reservations killing the person who had the audacity to hurt you. He takes you back home, patching you up and making sure you're okay in the comfort of his house. You have round the clock care and you think that Sylus isn't too shaken about your near death experience until you realise his sleep is even lighter one night. He can't sleep properly and probably won't for a while. He'll always be even more alert, constantly having either Mephisto or himself on your trail to ensure that nothing like that happens again.

[matrixbearer2024]

Imagine Ford with baby fever, he isn't really hit with it at the start as you had both just moved to gravity falls at the time. Despite being engaged fresh out of university, he told himself he was going to take his time with you. The both of you were young and ambitious, you both had plenty of time left.

Compared to him, you were pretty touchy and cuddly since coming to gravity falls. Ford supposed it had a lot to do with the engagement, which you were both still running a high from. It was difficult for him to completely focus on his research when you would randomly butt into his mind, his journals would have drawings or entries on you scattered about and you found that adorable.

You were more excited than him to plan your wedding, but Ford was the one more obsessed over it happening at all. He didn't think he would get to this point, much less with someone to have and hold; cherish through joy and sorrow for the rest of his days.

During one of your little expeditions through the forest(you were collecting fungal specimens to study while your lover was doing who knows what-) you both stumbled across a little kid crying in a clearing. The toddler was most likely only a couple years old and wailing for their parents.

Predictably, your fiancé stood there scratching the back of his neck awkwardly not entirely knowing what to do. Even if he was an older brother, it was only by a short while to a twin. So you figured it made sense that he didn't know what he was doing. Even so, Stanford rarely talked about his brother happily- more like somber or spiteful so you rarely brought it up when talking about relatives.

You weren't so fond of your family yourself, born to a house of multiples on multiples of children- your father's plan was to simply marry you off to someone old and wealthy to leech off that. You already knew how that ended up with your sisters and didn't want to fall into the same situation.

So you studied your ass off, but because your old man didn't want to support you through university- you ended up grasping at straws but at Backupsmore where you met the man who promised you forever. Somehow you felt like it was likely a better outcome than even if things went as planned.

Sure, he was kind of an asshole at the start as your academic rival- but you both learned to get along after a while. Acquaintances became friends and that friendship bloomed into romance, the rest is history.

Imagine the adoring look in Ford's eyes when you managed to gently comfort the child and calm them down. Apparently they had wandered too far from a nearby campsite and got lost, it didn't take long for the both of you to return the toddler to their parents and you ended up with a marigold in your hair as thanks.

It was that moment seeing you with the kid in your arms that Stanford's thoughts suddenly crashed to the side with a loud and adamant needwish to have a family with you. Which just as immediately both flustered and terrified him, most of the developments in your relationship with him happen this way. It's kind of as if this man is hilariously allergic to anything new.

Since that day he started being equally as clingy with you. From hugging you from behind as you cooked the both of you breakfast to practically developing a sixth sense to when you pull away from him in your shared bed. Having a living space heater for a partner was great in the cold months, but during the warmer months you sometimes wanted to kick Stanford out of the bed since you were baking from his warmth.

Sometimes he would catch you staring at some baby items when you both went to the store and that just worsened his already crippling yearning. Unintentionally he ended up making more rooms in the cabin than needed, you were surprised by the amount of space, not to mention you and Ford weren't exactly sure at the time what to use the rooms for. Partially you wondered how Ford was able to build the shack in such a way that the inside seemed much larger than the outside.

He went into a full blown infodump about a time-space anomaly on the land that he kind of abused Dr. Who style to actually make the inside of the house bigger than it actually is.

The touchiness festered and grew over the couple months towards the date of your planned wedding to make things official. It wasn't to say that you both haven't ever had sex, but there was something different about the hunger and electric desire that crackled between the both of you building up to that day.

The couple times you joked about having kids with your fiancé had him stuck between looking worried and turned on. Good thing you were both at home since you didn't exactly know what to make of it before he kissed the daylights out of you.

The wedding was small and quaint, neither of you had ever been one to flamboyantly show off anyway so it was just a ceremony to finalize things, you both opted to just remain in gravity falls for your honeymoon as well since it was just more convenient.

It was mostly friends who came to celebrate, the two of you opting not to invite your families given the less than savory situations you had with them. It really was the best day of your lives, you also had the photographer to thank for capturing the memories so well.

Stanford couldn't even keep his hands off you during the party, always having a hand on the small of your back or around your waist. Likewise, you couldn't stop leaning on him or hanging off his arm. Even during Fiddleford's best man speech, you'd met the man back in BMU and to say he and your fiancé/now husband got along like peas in a pod was an understatement.

You were barely listening to whatever was said though, far too entranced in the man who you were married to as he laughed or grew bashful of the things said about him. Stanford almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the intensity of the desire in your eyes, a flame to light fireworks and you were both sure come midnight explosions were sure to set off.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone that after a couple weeks you were sick as a dog, puking and getting random bouts of dizziness that had Stanford in a panic since he couldn't pinpoint why. A quick trip to the hospital later and then came the news, you weren't poisoned, injured or dying, you were just pregnant!

Ford immediately fainted upon hearing those words, you still have no idea if it was the overwhelming shock or the joy.

[slutspinks]

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[canthelpit0]

Acrylics

Pairing: sub!billie x dom!famous!reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Summary: you and your best friend somehow ended up in a position where you’re making out. Billie wants to take the lead, but there isn’t much she can do in bed with her long acrylic nails.

Warnings: wlw , smut, tall!reader, both are 18, use of y/n, begging, pet names (princess, baby), bottom!billie, sub!billie, top!reader, Billie gets head, fingering, singer!reader

It’s 2020. Billie’s hair is ever so black, her roots a bright neon green since she just got her dye renewed recently. Her eyes are ever so grey blue, piercing through your soul.

Billie had gone to get her nails done yesterday. Those ridiculously long nails. For some reason them being neon green, “to match the vibe” she’d said.

Too bad. Now Billie kind of regrets having acrylics at all.

She’s clawing at your shirt, pulling you in. Her hands roam all over you. She moves her hand from clinging to your shirt to trailing her hand up your collarbone, to the back of your neck. She tilts her head. The simple touch of your hands on her hips makes her want to melt.

Both of you are barely 18, you’re practically still teens, horny teens at that.

Between kisses you mumble into Billie’s mouth. “Jump.” And so, Billie did. You of course caught her and proceeded to carry her to the bed, all while not breaking the kiss.

This is new, to Billie at least. sure shes kissed girls before (just you), But she thought it was just normal for girls to kiss. “Just to practice, nothing gay about it” That’s what she tells herself while you roughly throw her down onto your bed.

Billie lets out a gasp at the impact. She slightly bounces on the bed due to the rough landing. But as soon as she settles down she lets out a breath. Her piercing eyes stay focused on yours.

You can see the look in her eyes. She wants to take control, she wants to be dominant, but she knows she can’t. Mostly because she has zero experience with women, and also because she has those ridiculously oversized acrylic nails.

“Billie baby.” You let out a breath looking back down at Billie. Before she can blink you’re leaning down crawling on top of her, pushing her down fully.

It’s not dark yet. Not fully anyway. The sun is about to set now.

You make music too. You grew up with Billie and currently you’re both at the rapid rise to fame after dropping both of your debut albums.

“Please oh my god-“ billie lets out a breath before she feels your lips on hers again. “Let me take care of you.” You mumble between kisses.

Billie, at this point resigns to her fate. Her best friend would fuck her and she couldn’t do anything about it. Not that she didn’t want her to, But she was itching to take control.

You pull back, your mouth ghosting over her jaw. You press hot wet kisses down her jaw to her neck while you fiddle with the layers of tops she has on.

It’s ridiculous really. She’s wearing a tight t shirt, and a huge, maybe 4 sizes too big, t shirt over that, one with A simple graphic design on it.

You pull back from her neck where you were roughly sucking at the skin, to pull the baggy t shirt over her head.

Your eyes land on the simple white t shirt. It’s skin tight and actually her size. Your mouth practically waters at the way her top stretches over her full chest, Only a sliver of her collarbones are visible.

Your eyes meet and she gives you that desperate and needy look. Like she really needs you. “Y/n” she says almost demandingly. “Billie” you reply simply.

A moment of pure quiet and tension passes between you, before you let out a breath starting to tug at her sweatpants with renewed favor.

You tug the baggy sweatpants down her legs, Billie lifting her hips slightly to help you with that. When your eyes land on her almost bare body you lick your lips. There she was, your best friend.

You’ve known each other since you were 14, both of you being signed to interscope records, just under different managers.

And now here you were , about to fuck her, four years later.

“Bills.” You let out a harsh breath. Your hands go to the hem of Billie’s tight white shirt. Billie sits up slightly to help you pull them off.

She lets herself fall back in the bed, her chest moving slightly with the impact of her back landing on the bed. Your eyes focus on her chest. It’s a gorgeous sight. The white lacy lingerie. White, something that seems too pure for someone like Billie, but a color that suits her well.

Billie is more bold with colors. She’ll wear crazy clothes, clothes that would look terrible on anyone else. She doesn’t shy away from Neon, bright and flashy. Always adorning chunky jewelry, big chains and chunky rings. Today is no exception, however it’s a far cry from how many she usually has. Just a few necklace chains, not the usual billion she seems to have on.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” You breathe out after your eyes bask in the sight of her body. Your lips attach to her collarbone. You kiss your way down to her full chest, Pulling away slightly, your eyes take in the sight of her plump boobs engulfed in the lacy pretty bra.

Your lips trail kisses down Billie’s body, through the valley of her breast, to her ribs, to her upper midriff. Until you feel her buck her body up slightly.

You pull back, your eyes connecting with Billie’s instantly. She has such a needy look in her eyes. As if she will simply combust if you don’t immediately touch her right now. “So eager damn” you say under your breath, in an almost teasing tone.

“Y/n, dude come on” Billie groans dramatically.

You pause, raising a mocking eyebrow down at Billie. “You can’t call me dude when you’re literally begging me to fuck you Billie”

“Come on. Y/n please, i need it.” Billie whines loudly. So what? Billie is absolutely down bad andThe teasing isn’t helping.

Your eyes rake over her body as if sizing her up. You’re not pleased with her calling you dude, when you’re literally about to fuck the shit out of her- “stop staring at me like some kind of animal and fucking get me off”

Your eyes snap to Billie’s in an instant. Billie is bratty when she gets needy, when she gets frustrated. But you weren’t having it, she should know her place.

You give her an unamused look before your hands further part her thighs. Your hand lingers at the very top of her inner thigh. You lean down again your lips making contact with her chest.

You’re teasing, not really touching her yet, just enough to keep her on edge. You kiss and lick at the exposed skin of her boob, while not doing much to give her any real pleasure beyond that.

Billie lets out a frustrated sigh, her eyes close, she arches her back lightly into your touch, trying to get you to do something more. But you weren’t caving.

“Come on, I’m sorry, please fuck Me?” It wasn’t really a demand anymore. It was a plea. But still it was way too cocky for you.

Her hand finds its way into your hair. She carefully tugs at the roots of your hair as if pleading.

“You’re nasty.” You huff letting Billie pull you up a little. Your hand caressed her thigh, close to her core, but never touching. You lean up and capture her lips in a simple kiss.

When you pull away you give her a look. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” Billie lets out a low whimper. It could be mistaken for her letting a breath out, but you knew better.

Billie hates the pet name “princess”. She despises it. Billie isn’t a princess, she doesn’t look like it, or act like it. But her passionate hatred for the pet name only makes you say it more. She does get bratty sometimes, when she gets frustrated, or annoyed. You don’t even know why you love calling her that, knowing that she hates it, you just think it’s funny to piss her off.

But right now it’s clearly doing the opposite.

By now the sun had set fully, tho your eyes had gotten used to the dark.

“Please.” Billie lets out a breath “I need it”

“How much do you need it?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself. You just can’t help yourself from teasing. Your hand trails closer to her covered pussy. You push her slutty white panties to the side, your fingers trail close to where she wants you the most, but you don’t directly touch it.

“Badly.” Billie replies simply, her eyes half lidded. You pull your hand back. Your hand instead trails up Billie’s body, before snaking to her back. Billie arches her back, while you expertly unclasp her bra. You pull it off slowly, watching her tits bounce into their place once they’re not restricted anymore.

She’s never had sex with a woman. But the way you’re staring at her like you could literally eat her made her feel so wanted and fuzzy.

“Baby, please. Fuck I need it” she begs in a needy tone. She actually begged. Billie can practically fell herself dripping like a faucet.

Your hand quickly move down to pull her panties off completely. Once you’re done you use the palms of your hands again to keep her legs parted before you dive in. Your mouth connects to her cunt within seconds, sucking and slurping up the leaking juices.

Billie lets out a loud noise, something half way between a loud moan and a gasp. Her body arches slightly, and she practically pushes her hips further into your face. You wrap your arms around her thighs pulling them down and keeping them in place.

You hum at the taste, sending tingles through Billie’s limbs. Once you’re satisfied you lick a stripe up to her clit. She gasps at the contact, while you gently flick your tongue.

After a moment you pull back just slightly, so much so that Billie can still feel your hot breath on her clit. “Tell me how good you feel”

And right after you say that your lips connect to Billie’s clit again, sucking and slurping, before flicking your tongue back and forth.

“Uh-huh. Fuck you’re so good” Billie says In a breathy and unsteady tone. Her hand finds its way to the top of your head, simply pushing you down further.

She lets out a loud moan when you shove your two fingers into her cunt. she lets out soft shaky breaths while small praises fall from her lips like a prayer.

“Yeah, like that.” She whines. You keep sucking and slurping on her clit while you move your fingers at a brutal pace. You had teased her enough today, and you want to see her cum. You want to be the one that did it. So you curl your fingers occasionally, pushing your fingers in and out.

“Please- I’m so close” Billie’s moans mix with the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of her heat, and the sound of your heavy breathing while you eat her out. She lets your name fall from her lips over and over again.

She grips onto anything she can get a hold of to steady herself. Billie’s breaths come out short and ragged as she practically grinds her hips against you, trying to get more friction.

And with a skillful flick of your fingers, she comes. Her back arches as her legs tense and shake slightly. You fuck her through it gently, keeping her body steady and in place.

Once she’s calmed down you pull away. You place a soft kiss on her inner thigh. As soon as your eyes lock on her dripping pussy, you can’t help but want to clean her up. So without second thought your tongue connects to her cunt again. You circle her hole with your tongue, and then trail it up to her clit. Billie shudders and whines at the contact, too overstimulated at the moment. Her hands tangle in your hair tugging you away from her sensitive heat.

You simply let it be and trail kisses up her body, before your lips finally meet in a loving kiss. She can practically taste herself on your tongue. She when you pull back you simply sigh and let yourself fall back onto the bed right next to her.

“Next time I wanna fuck you” billies voice rings out through the silence that had called over you two. You look over at Billie who just sighs and stares at the ceiling.

“Not with those acrylics, you won’t.” You roll your eyes. The reply is simple. As long as Billie has those acrylic nails, she will be on the receiving end, because there really isn’t much she can do.

MASTERLIST

A/N: tell me if you wanna be added or taken off the taglist!! Idk abt this one yall, tell me if u like it 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki

[fireya-x]

floral misdelivery

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

Overwhelmed by the task of gifting his mother flowers, John makes a mistake that turns into a chance to show you, his assistant, what you really mean to him.

[2k words]

cw: none

John Price hated staying late at night at his office, but his work was always unpredictable. He was sitting hunched over his desk, hitting keys on your laptop. It was almost as if you were with him in spirit, the digital ghost of your organized world reminding him of your meticulous efficiency. He couldn’t help but smile, noticing the photo you chose as a wallpaper, a group photo of the 141, that you insisted on taking to commemorate the success of your last mission. In it, you were standing next to Price, who had one arm around your shoulder, as you both grinned at the camera. You looked happy, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about you was different when you were around him. You seemed more relaxed, more lively. It was something that kept him calm during even the most stressful times.

Notifications would constantly pop up on your device, supposed to remind you about everything the 141 had to do - reminding John about the tremendous help you provided for them and Kate Laswell. Sometimes he wondered if they put too much work on you, with everything going on, but you never complained when asked about it. Quite the opposite, you would tell John that you loved doing everything you could to just take some work off of their shoulders. 

He admired that about you. Looking for an assistant was something he had reluctantly done, because of all the sensitive information being passed around — but he had grown to being able to trust you with his life, like he did with every member of his team. You proved to be loyal, sometimes too much so. Calls at three in the morning made John feel awful, especially. But you picked up the phone nonetheless, sounding ready for whatever was thrown at you. Even if it was just digging through some files for a report that had to be done in the morning.

John Price's gruff exterior, the one that made him the leader he was, often masked a heart full of gratitude. There were many nights when the weight of his decisions, the burden of leadership, and the relentless fight against shadows made him feel utterly alone. Yet, you were always there, not just as his assistant but as a constant, calming presence. There was a warmth, a comfort he found in your competence, a feeling that whatever storm they were facing, you had their back.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a particular notification caught his eye. And he froze. “Mrs Price's birthday!” was set as a reminder for the next day.

Of course. His mother's birthday also had a calendar entry on his assistant’s laptop. He huffed, then took a deep inhale of his cigar. Did you ever have time for yourself? He mentally made a note to give you time off when this next mission was done.

He sighed. His feelings were uneasy. He’d probably let his mum down again, like the countless birthdays he had missed because he had been busy somewhere fighting. He always made a promise to make it up to her, but still, guilt gnawed at him every time. 

He contemplated his options. Visiting her as soon as he had the time was something he would do, no questions asked. Take her for a nice dinner, even.

But for the special day, he needed something to surprise her. Flowers, chocolates, maybe something expensive? Maybe he could get you to take care of it, you were better at these things anyway.

No. It was his mum. He couldn’t just brush it off.

Desperate to find anything, he looked online for his options. He wasn’t tech-savvy as you were, all he did was write reports, but he somehow managed to find a local florist that shipped pretty flower bouquets. He had no idea about these things. Flowers had to look pretty and make his mother happy, that was the bare minimum.

He ended up ordering what looked like a very opulent bouquet that he could imagine on his mother's dining table, colours fitting and all. It was all that was in his expertise about these things. He tried to think of what his mother liked, but the best he could come up with were lilies, the same flowers he gave his mum every year. It was enough. He hoped. He knew she liked them, and it was his luck, because it was the single sort of flowers he could remember what they looked like.

He sighed and shut the laptop, deciding it was probably time to end the day.

The next morning, John sat at his desk, tapping away at the keyboard, trying to concentrate on the mission briefing in front of him. It just had been a few hours and the day already felt like a mess, his focus a complete disaster.

After several frustrating phone calls with Kate, multiple talks with the boys, he finally finished the report he’d been working on. John could barely get through a sentence without sighing. It was the quiet way he handled stress, a groan here and there and a nice cigar, whenever he was overloaded and unsure how to solve the situation.

Just when he started contemplating sneaking out for some peace and quiet, a smile broke across his face. There you were, strolling through his office door, a coffee mug in each hand.

You always seemed to know when he was about to hit that point of utter exhaustion, the point when he needed that extra boost of energy. You were a master at knowing his needs before he even knew them.

“Didn’t know we were married, Cap.” You entered the office and your grin hit him like a bullet. He couldn't help but notice the way your hair, normally pulled back in a neat ponytail, was now falling loose around your shoulders, making your face look even softer. He noticed how your smile lingered a little longer when your eyes met his.

“Married?” He looked as if he’d been told the most shocking news of his life. He had expected a greeting, but not this sort. It made you giggle, as you walked to his desk to set the mug down. It struck him then - he hadn't ever really looked at you that way before. Was he starting to get feelings he wasn't sure how to handle? He shook it off.

“Thanks for the flowers, John. Though, I prefer hydrangeas to lilies.” The playful tone in your voice made him wonder if you knew how much he loved it when you called him by his name. It always felt a little more intimate than just “Cap.”

He shook his head, as if trying to wake up from a dream, taking the mug to take a sip from the freshly brewed liquid. “Flowers? What do you mean? And I'm certainly not married.”

“Then maybe I need to spend less time in our office because someone certainly thinks I’m your wife.” Your eyes sparkled with a teasing glint, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest, as if the caffeine you poured had an extra kick. He hoped his blush wasn't showing, but with your piercing eyes, there was little hope of concealing anything from you.

“I'm sorry, love, but I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about.” He looked to his papers, then back to you, blinking slowly.

“Flowers delivered to my doorstep with just a tag on them that says ‘Mrs Price’?” You raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

The image of you as his wife flashed through his mind, vivid and surprisingly alluring. He quickly shook it off as well, his cheeks turning pink, the colour matching those very lilies he’d chosen for his mother.

He could slap himself. Exhausted, he’d clicked through the ordering process without checking the address. All he’d managed to do was type in his credit card information, and he thought he was done. You were holding back laughter, and he knew he’d blown it completely. He hated feeling foolish, but seeing how it made your eyes crinkle in amusement despite his stupidity, made the embarrassment almost endearing.

You recognized the look on his face and sighed, putting your hands on your hips. “Don’t tell me those are for your mum, and you just let the autofill handle the address?”

You knew him too well sometimes, it was scary. No wonder you thought someone might have assumed you were actually married.

“I might have.” He murmured. He felt like such a rookie next to you when it came to the simplest things.

Your heart threatened to melt at the way he looked at you just then. He was usually so cool, so in control, but when he was around you, he felt vulnerable. And it was the most captivating thing about him.

You sighed. “Give me your mum’s address, I’ll drop them off for you and get a nice birthday card on the way as well.”

He looked at you, seemingly shocked. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’m your assistant, in case you forgot.” You smiled, the teasing glint in your eyes now replaced with genuine affection. Maybe it would be crazy to admit, but you secretly loved taking care of him. Being able to help when everything felt overwhelming. It made you feel valued.

“Yeah, with missions. Not with my private life.” He grunted, pointing to the countless files you neatly organized on his desk.

You had none of that. “You take your phone and call your mum to wish her a happy birthday, I’ll take care of the flowers. I know you’re busy, so let me help.” You'd rather have it right than have John worry about this any more than he already did. You knew how much he valued his relationship with his mother, and how much he regretted he couldn’t see her sometimes because of work. You had seen the quiet sadness in his eyes whenever they spoke on the phone, and felt a pang in your heart. The last thing he needed was the added stress of failing to properly congratulate her on her birthday.

He nodded, offering you a smile. “Thank you. I’d be lost without you in so many ways.”

The confession caught you off guard. It wasn't the first time he'd expressed his reliance on you, but this time, it felt different. He’d looked directly into your eyes when he said it, holding your gaze for a moment longer than usual. A warmth spread through you, a familiar flutter in your stomach. You hoped it wasn't too obvious, the way you were practically glowing under his intensity. You wanted to say something witty, playful, but instead, you nodded, appreciating his honesty. “That’s nice of you to say.”

As the day wore on, John continued to work diligently, his eyes flickering towards you on the background photo way too often. He didn't want you to know he was thinking about it, because it made him nervous. He didn’t exactly know what he felt for you. He hadn't experienced something like this in a very long time. It made him a bit afraid of what this new sensation meant for him, but certainly he knew he didn’t want to run from it. With a sigh, he opened the internet browser. He wanted to make it up to you for all you did that day.

After delivering the flowers and having a nice chat with John’s mother, who had been very understanding about her son’s work load, you returned to your flat. You turned on the lights and walked into the hallway. There, propped up against the door, was the most exquisite bouquet you had ever seen in your life.

You rolled your eyes, expecting another failed delivery, mentally cursing John for repeating the same mistake. But as you carefully removed the paper, your breath caught in your throat. 

It was hydrangeas.

And when you turned the tag over, your heart melted. “To: Not Mrs Price, but the best assistant someone could ask for. Dinner tomorrow, 7 pm, my place.  John.” 

[myfriendofmiseryyy]

Random 90s Jason newsted HCS!!!

He’s not exactly opposed to settling down,he divorced Judy not to long before you met,but when you do meet OH HE IS DOWN BADDD! He constantly flirts with you and always wants to be around you,if you are a roadie he will always “accidentally do something to his bass” so he can spend time with you,you guys end up talking for hours on end about your music influences and how the other guys kinda get on your nerves.

He won’t ask you out straight away,he will probably wait a few months to figure out the feelings he is feeling for you,weither its lust or he actually likes you,once he does figure it out though…he’s a gentleman,he will take you out to your favourite restaurant and you guys will go on a typical first date followed by either walking around the city for a bit or him taking you up to the edge of the city so you can see the sunset on the skyline,he would actually be so nervous,he’s constantly stuttering over his words and doing that shy smile which you think is adorable! By the end of the night you end up in his arms,he really wants to kiss you there and then but he waits until at least the second date,he manages to sneak in a peak on the lips when saying good night though.

He’s not to much of a big spender,more of a small thoughtful gift kinda guy,he will take mental notes of your favourite food orders and drinks even before you were together,and always brung them to you on a hard day,he also almost every week buys you flowers “because you deserve it” he will make mixtapes of the songs you listened to together,he has about 50 of them in total,all kept safe in a box.

When the time comes where you two get intimate,he can be either quite rough or very very loving and soft…it honestly depends on the situation you guys are in,if he has just come home from a long tour,with the guys constantly bullying and being mean to him,he can sometimes be a bit rough,saying stuff like “your mine,you belong to me and only me” as he sets a rough pace,or he can be the opposite and just want validation of how much you love him,and you spend the whole day under the sheets making sure he knows how much he means to you and how much you love him. On special occasions,he always pulls out the big guns,roses on the bed,candles,bubble baths,you name it he’s probably done it for you at some point.

He always will let you borrow his hoodies (even if they are too small for you) if you are insecure about the fact you are bigger than him he will always find a way to make you not feel insecure about yourself,he loves you and he will constantly tell and show you that.

He will always let you run your fingers through his hair when he had the long hair,he knows how much it grounds and calms you down after a long day

He’s always so goofy,you guys could be having a serious conversation and he will turn it into something funny,and you love that about him,he’s never failed to make you laugh after a hard day,or make you laugh until you are crying over something stupid you both somehow found funny. There has even been times where you had to stop mid sex because he was making it so hard not to laugh…

That’s all I can think of right now 😭 I love him sm

[foundress0fnothing]

leave a kiss but in the cup

Summary: Cassian gets roped into helping organize Rhys and Feyre’s wedding when, on a whim, the two decide to throw it at the winery in the small town where the brothers all grew up. The problem? He has to work with Feyre's older sister, Nesta. And she hates him.

Chapter 1/?: 3.1k words, eventual E rating for smut

For @nessianweek

Another late entry for Nessian Week! This was supposed to be posted on Day 4, but I spent that day in the aforementioned ER, so here it is today. There's not update schedule, and I don't have any of it prewritten.

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

As he stretches out on the pontoon that he chartered for Rhys’ bachelor weekend, drunk on sun and local beer, Cassian can’t think of any place he’d rather be. 

He’s spent time backpacking around the world, seen big cities, and explored natural wonders but still—he’s positive that there’s nowhere better than the lake town where he grew up. There’s something about the water and the slow pace of life and the easy warmth of the people that he hasn’t managed to find anywhere else, and so even though the drive to his hometown takes an ungodly fourteen hours from where he lives now in Philly, he still makes the trip every year. The exhaustion and the stiff back from too-long driving shifts and the fact that he has to put up with Az’s edgelord playlists are worth it every time.

And this year, there’s even more reason to make the drive—his brother is getting married in a week and wanted to spend his last few days as a bachelor in the place they all still called home. 

They all met Feyre six months ago at a restaurant in Fishtown when she was their waitress, and from the moment she called Rhys a prick for ostentatiously flashing an Amex Black Card when it came time to pay, Cassian could tell that his brother had finally met the one. Their love had been a messy whirlwind of drama and passion as they navigated exes and family troubles, but it wasn’t long before Feyre had Rhys’ family ring on her finger and was picking out a wedding dress. Cassian knew that once Rhys found what he wanted, he’d do anything to make it his as soon as possible—Feyre was no exception.

When it came time to plan the bachelor weekend, then, Rhys only had two requests: that it take place in Cherry Hills and that there weren’t any strippers. Cassian had almost laughed out loud when Rhys told him that. Sure, he had his bro-y moments, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that strippers would be the right thing for his brother just before he was getting married.

Plus, the former request precluded the latter—Cherry Hills wasn’t the kind of place he’d find strippers easily. Interested in idyllic boat trips on one of the rivers or lakes? Great. Hoping to spend a few hours outdoors and then end the day with a round of minigolf? Even better. Looking to hire professional entertainment for the evening? Extremely challenging. It was the quintessential Midwestern small summer tourist tour—busy for a few weeks with vacationers and outdoor enthusiasts and day-drunk parents and popsicle-sticky children that then shut down the moment October hit and brought the first snowfalls. Not the ideal place for establishing any kind of nightlife. If you wanted that, it was at least a 45-minute drive south down M22.

And since Rhys only wanted his brothers there anyway, Cassian had planned the weekend to be more of a homage to their high school days than the usual bachelor bacchanalia. They had kayaked on the river where they first learned to swim, hiked the sand dunes where they used to race each other to the top to drink shitty beer and talk about what they’d do when they finally got out of Cherry Hills, and ate in the cash-only restaurant that had been around longer than any of them had been alive. 

They had saved the boat ride around the lake for their last day because somehow, despite doing nothing besides sitting and drinking and eating, it always manages to exhaust them. It’s the good kind of exhaustion, at least, this heaviness that comes with too much sun and too much food—a perfect way to end a perfect bachelor weekend. Not that Cassian is bragging.

But still—he had done a good job.

A voice breaks through his self-congratulatory haze. “So, what’s next?” 

“What do you mean, what’s next?” Cassian sits up to glare at Rhys who has draped himself over a few seats on the opposite side of the boat. Azriel raises an eyebrow at Rhys from where he’s perched in the driver’s seat but doesn’t say anything, apparently content to let his brothers argue it out. Bastard.

Rhys shrugs with all the indolence of a lazy housecat. “The boat’s due back to the rental place in 30 minutes, yeah?” Cassian nods. “So what’re we doing after that?”

Cassian frowns and says, “What else do you want to do?” He’s planned an evening of takeout pizza and video games back at their rental, but he has the sinking feeling that’s not what Rhys has in mind.

“You’re the one in charge. Surprise me.” 

Rhys waves a hand in his direction as he says this, and Cassian thinks, for just a few moments, about how easy it would be to murder his brother and dump his body overboard. The lake is shallow though—too shallow to get away with it—and so he settles for a clipped, “You know this town as well as I do. We’ve done everything there is to do.” Rhys doesn’t answer, and so Cassian tries to remember how much cash he has left and whether it would be enough for a final round of drinks at the Tavern. Probably not, but he resigns himself to paying the $7 surcharge to use the ATM outside of the restaurant. “We could always go to the Tavern—” 

“There’s a new wine tasting room,” Azriel interrupts, and both Cassian and Rhys turn to look at him, the latter pulling his sunglasses up to rest on his head for a moment. Azriel shrugs. “They opened in April apparently.”

“And they’re good?”

“Didn’t have that on the flier in the IGA, sorry.”

Cassian glances at Rhys. “Will that satisfy you, asshole?”

“Yes, I think that’ll do quite nicely, thank you,” Rhys says, slipping his sunglasses back down over his eyes. 

Cassian gives Azriel a long suffering look, but Azriel only snorts and turns the engine back on, signaling the return of the party to dry land and the start of whatever this wine tasting is about to be. Cassian only hopes that it’s cheap and strong.

—----------------------------------------------

The wine tasting room—creatively named Cherry Hill Wines—is situated just off the main road on the first floor of a two-story house that’s been converted into a storefront. Cassian can’t quite see the lake from where he stands on the front porch, but it’s close enough that, in the lulls between children’s shouts and tourists’ conversations, he can just make out the sound of the water. 

The shop itself is busy with people dropping by for happy hour, and Cassian is glad of his extra height as he steps inside and surveys the space from his place at the back of the short line. There’s a small menu on the wall above the bar and a row of fridges lining the sides of the room stocked with ice cream and small, pre-made charcuterie plates. A shelf by the front door has local crafts for sale—candles and coffee mugs and keychains all proudly emblazoned with images of Cherry Hills. There are only a few open seats at the bar, but through the French doors at the back of the room he spies a handful of fire pits with chairs set up around them, cornhole boards and bags, and a wide grassy lawn perfect for picnic blankets or lawn chairs. It’s cozy, Cassian thinks, and clearly something already beloved by the tourists if the number of people packed into the space is any indication. 

And then he sees her. 

She’s standing behind the counter taking orders and pouring glasses of wine while she chats with the customers. Her hair is golden brown and braided into a tight coronet  of her head. Her eyes are a storm of blues and grays, flashing with an inner fire that makes something in Cassian sit up and pay attention, and he wonders how the hell someone who looks like that ended up in Cherry Hills. She sure as hell didn’t grow up there—Cassian would remember her. 

He nudges Azriel with his shoulder to get his attention and nods his head toward the backyard, although his gaze still lingers on the woman behind the counter. “Grab a spot outside. I’ll get the first round.”

Azriel arches his eyebrow, following Cassian’s line of sight to the woman. He snorts and says, “Good luck with that.” Before Cassian can respond, however, he grabs Rhys and steers him outside.

Cassian flips him off behind his back, laughing at Rhys’ confused expression at being ferried outside, and then turns back to the counter to find the woman glaring at him. The line had dissipated more quickly than he expected, and Cassian realizes that she must have been waiting for him to finish goofing off with his brothers.

He puts on his most charming smile, the one that’s gotten him out of trouble ever since he was a little boy. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Brothers, you know?”

If anything, her glare only intensifies, and Cassian almost preens at the challenge it presents. 

Hands on her hips, she asks, “Well? What do you want?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. What’s good?” He leans in and winks. “You?” He half hopes she falls for his charm, half hopes she continues glaring at him. The prospect of either—of her fire, her attention turned on him, no matter the reason—makes him crave more.

Her eyebrow arches, and she ignores his flirtation to answer acerbically, “All that time in line and you couldn’t be bothered to make up your mind? 

“Were you watching me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. It’s hard to miss an oversized brute when he invades my store.”

“Your store? Very impressive, sweetheart—

But she interrupts him, looking behind him and calling out, “Next!

“But—” Cassian starts, but before he can say anything, her voice, flinty and angry, cuts him off again.

“You can go to the back of the line since you need more time to make up your mind.” She glares at him again as she says this before returning her gaze to whoever is standing behind him.

He blows out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. “Whatever, I’ll just get three glasses—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t hear Mrs. Stephenson’s order.”

Cassian stiffens slightly and turns around to see his former history teacher. The woman had made his high school years absolutely miserable—she was suspicious and shrew-like, always handing out detentions to him for things that no other student—ones with active parents who drove them to school in new cars and came to parent-teacher conferences wearing Rolexes and Birkin bags—got in trouble for. 

She glares up at him. “Still causing trouble, I see

“No, ma’am. Just taking advantage of this lovely lady’s willingness to let me gather my thoughts. Please go ahead.”

A few more tourists had entered while he had been at the bar, and Cassian sighs as he moves to get in line again behind them. If he has to hear shit about taking a long time from Rhys and Azriel, he’ll go home and have pizza and play video games by himself. Fuck it.

The line moves quickly at least as a redhead joins the ice queen at the bar, and it isn’t long before Cassian is once again staring down into the blue-gray eyes of winery nemesis. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

The redhead glances over, clearly confused by the strange stalemate taking place next to her and says, in a voice slightly tinged with exasperation. “Nesta, can you get his order?”

“That depends. Is he able to actually place one this time?”

“He is, Nesta,” he fires back, savoring the feeling of her name on his tongue. “One Pinot Grigio and two Farmstead Reds.”

“Amazing. Commendable work. You made it through a basic human interaction,” she says as she ducks beneath the bar to grab three glasses.”

“All thanks to your outstanding service, Nes.” He watches her nostrils flare at the nickname.

“Nope.” She sets the empty glasses down on the bar with a harsh clink. “I’ll send you to the back of the line again.”

He meets her glare with one of her own, and it is perhaps fortuitous that his brothers choose that moment to make their way back inside. 

“Cassian, what the fuck is taking so long?” Rhys says when he reaches his side.

Azriel is close behind and murmurs to Cassian with a smirk, “He’s only mad because I beat him at cornhole. Twice.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, thinking wistfully of video games and beer and time spent without demanding brothers and snooty women. Another night. Instead, he shrugs. Just took me a while to pick out the right thing for you assholes. That’s all.

There’s a snort from the bar that Cassian pointedly ignores. No use getting into it with the ice queen again in front of the other two. 

But it catches Rhys’ attention, and his gaze lingers on the woman long enough to make Cassian’s hackles raise. It’s not like Rhys to really pay attention to anyone else anymore now that he has Feyre, and Cassian doesn’t like that it’s this woman who’s the object of his attention. Not that Cassian has any claim to it either. And yet.

He doesn’t intervene when Rhys takes a step closer to the bar, his eyes still on Nesta, as asks, “Are you Feyre’s sister?”

And then Cassian can see the resemblance. The hair color and the eyes are almost exactly the same, but where they make Feyre seem alight with youthful energy and warmth, Nesta’s are worn almost like a cold, brutal suit of armor against the world. Or again him, at any rate.

And apparently against Rhys, because she’s glaring at him as she asks, “How do you know Feyre?”

“I’m her fiance.” Rhys smiles. “It’s good to meet someone from her family.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow. “You’re the restaurant asshole she’s marrying? Didn’t you guys just meet?”

He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “When you know…”

Nesta looks at Cassian, who’s just watching the interaction, and rolls her eyes. He snorts quietly, despite himself. Because she’s not wrong. He would agree with her generally—marrying someone after knowing them for only half a year is crazy. 

But he’s seen Rhys and Feyre together, and what they have works for them. Would it be what he’d choose? No. But it seems—good.

Rhys is still talking. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Clearly.”

Another voice, coming from the stockroom, politely expands on Nesta’s brusque answer. “She moved up here with me and another friend after college.”

“Em?” Cassian exclaims. Standing there before him is his old friend, Emerie Alvarez.

Cassian scoops the woman up into a giant bear hug. They haven’t seen each other since he graduated high school. She had been a freshman when he was a senior, but he knew what it was like to have a shitty family in a place  like Cherry Hills, and so he always looked out for her while he was there. The town was small enough after all—with only 20 or so kids in each graduating class, it wasn’t hard to know everybody's business.

He gestures proudly around the shop. “This is yours?”

She nods, clearly pleased. “We—Nesta, Gwyn, and I—bought the winery off my dad three years ago before he moved to Ohio. But it’s a little far out from the tourist scene, so we bought a place here this year to do tastings.”

“Look at you, Em.” He gives her another hug, ruffling her hair in a brotherly fashion until she jams her elbow into his side, hard enough that he winces. He’s pleased—beyond pleased, really—that she managed to shake off her family and do something for herself in the town he knows she loves just as much as he does.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nesta looking at him, but her face has turned contemplative, curious rather than coldly calculating. 

“What brings you all back up here?” Emerie gestures to his brothers. “It’s good to see you, Azriel, Rhys.”

Cassian smiles and steps forward to throw his arm around Rhys’ shoulder. “Rhysie’s getting married and wanted to do his bachelor party here.” His grin turns into a smirk. “And guess whose sister he’s marrying?”

Emerie follows Cassian’s gaze to Nesta, who only shrugs and says, “Apparently.”

Rhys frowns slightly. “You got an invitation. I know Feyre sent one.”

“I’m aware.”

“Nes—” Emerie starts, but Nesta continues on before Emerie says anything else.

“I’m going to the shotgun wedding to support Feyre, don’t worry.”

“It’s not a—”

“Okay, here are your drinks! Please find a spot. Outside.” The redhead—Gwyn—who had been observing the conversation and apparently getting their drinks while Nesta was distracted, intervenes and hands them to Az, cutting Rhys off.

Az smiles at her thankfully and once again herds Rhys out the door. Gwyn, Cassian notices, is blushing slightly.

Before following his brothers, he turns back to Nesta, who still seems to be fuming slightly. He can’t help but stoke the fire of her temper, and so he says, “Aww, Nes, we’re going to be family.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head decisively. “And don’t call me that.” “You’re right.” He nods and then smiles lasciviously. “I’m not sure I’d want to call you my sister.

She catches his meaning and glares. “Pig.”

“You love it.”

Emerie shoves his shoulder. “Stop being an ass. You’re better than that.”

“She brings out the best in me, what can I say?” He quips, shrugging, but something churns within him anyway. Enough. Shaking his head, he takes a step back from the bar. “Em, it was good to see you again. Gwyn, it was good to meet you. And, Nes,” he smiles, “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

—---------------------------------------

The next morning, Cassian wakes early and begins puttering around the rental’s kitchen, gathering trash and cans and bottles as he goes. They have to check out by 10 a.m., and there’s a fair amount they have to do per the house rules: strip the beds, take the trash out, clean the surfaces, run the dishwasher.

Hearing the noise, Rhys saunters out of the bedroom and perches on one of the stools by the kitchen bar. “Why are you doing so much cleaning?”

Cassian blinks and looks at him in confusion. “Because it’s checkout day?”

“Mmmm, not anymore.”

Crossing his arms, Cassian leans against one of the counters. “What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

Rhys brushes some invisible lint off of his plaid pajama bottoms. “I called the owners and extended it.”

“But the wedding—”

“Feyre and I talked about it last night. We don’t want to get married in Philly anymore.”

Cassian closes his eyes, because he knows what’s coming next. 

“We’re getting married here. At Cherry Hills Winery.”

[burning-academia-if]

Has no one sent for anything for ??? yet? Unforgivable.

??? + reward or ??? + sign please?

??? + Sign

TW: blood and death (they've been too normal in these anniversary prompts so far)

Your hands shook, the ringing in your ears not loud enough to drown out the drip, drip, dripping of the blood. The warmth of it trailed down your fingers, burned against your cheek where it had splattered. The knife slid from a ghost-tight grip, clattering to the ground like the sound of a gunshot.

            “You don’t need to look anymore.” A voice whispers, soft against your ear. The presence of them behind you makes you collapse and they catch you seamlessly. They do not shy away from the state of you, arms wrapping tight around your torso. The blood is on them, too. What have you done? Why did you do it? “You did well.”

            A churn of your stomach, and you think you might be sick. Your eyes squeeze shut, as though it will save you from the smell wrapping around you and poisoning the atmosphere. They whisper to you to even your breathing, and somehow you follow them.

            “I…I killed them.”

            “It’s alright.” Murmurs rise around you as the wraiths filter out from their hiding spots. They have yet to let you go, as though aware they are the only thing keeping you on your feet. “Will you finish this, so I may take care of them?”

            The wraiths echo their consent, and they take your hand and guide you away. Through the trees, along dirt and undergrowth, beneath a full moon night. At some point, you’re inside and there is warm water running through your hands. A wash cloth is pressed against your cheek, scrubbing away the blood from your face down your neck.

            “You need to change and shower. Can you do the rest on your own?”

            Although you hear their voice, you don’t process what was said, “…I don’t understand how I did that. They were—their flesh was so—”

            It should not be so easy to kill, you think.

            They cup your face, the matching scars on their hands rough against your skin as they force you to finally look at them, “You did it for me. It was terrible and cruel and you followed through anyway.”

            Yes, for them. For everything ever done to them. It does not make the knowledge easier. It does not free you from your shaking hands and growing sickness. They keep you steady, even now. It is their touch alone that keeps you from falling apart.

            “Can you do the rest on your own?” They repeat, and you finally manage a nod and swallow it all down. They only linger at the door for a moment, watching you to ensure you won’t collapse, before they leave you in the bathroom.

            You sink to your knees and cry.

            The sound is silent, tears pooling down your cheeks as you curl up and let yourself remain there. You aren’t sure how long you stay, body cramping from the position but unable to move, until you hear something shifting in the outside room. The drop in temperature is subtle, but you know it well. The wraiths are back.

            From beyond the door, you hear them, ‘How do you take this? The fact that they slaughtered?’

            “As a gift.” You hear them whisper. “And as a sign of their devotion to me.”

            The tears still drip down your face, but you manage to rise up. A sign of devotion? Of course. What is a greater sign of devotion than the spilling of blood?

[rena-lily]

Guysss I was thinking what if one day Epel invited Sebek back to Harveston just to hang out and Yuu and grim tag along. It’s just the 4 of them, and then when they get there Marja is just like yall should join the competition going on. Epel then remembers there was a talent show that happens around that time. Yuu being the good friend they are suggested that Epel and Sebek should join but they have no idea what to do.

Yuu suddenly suggests for them to sing as a duo. Sebek and Epel are just like ???what why??? And Yuu like No guys listen I know a good song yall can sing!!! And Yuu starts getting a manic look in there eyes and honestly Sebek and Epel are kinda scared to say no to them… Anyways the song ended up being a descendants song (maybe What’s my name???).

Marja desperately wants them to win because well they’re from harveston so THEY BETTER WIN! They happen to meet the Dwarves there again for some reason but this time Neige seems to be with them. Neige immediately recognizes Epel and is like OMGGG you’re Vil’s junior! And then he looks at Sebek and starts to introduce himself. Sebek is lowkey a bit put off by him but he continues to introduce himself as well before Epel pushes him along so they can practice(They cannot STAND RSA students and their little “we wAnT To MaKE EveryONe hapPY!” Ugh DISGUSTING imagine hanging out and being friends🤢)(they act as if they haven’t been laughing and having the best time)(They’re literally best friends🤞 the sooner they accept it, the better).

Anyways on the day of the competition Sebek and Epel manage to somehow beat Neige and his friends??? And they’re so DAMN HAPPY!!! LIKE EPEL IS JUST FULL ON SCREAMING AND TALKING IN HIS COUNTRY TONE WHILE SEBEK IS ALSO SO HAPPY>:3 Epel and Sebek start to hug eachother before they realized that they were acting like “friends” so they immediately separate despite still smiling. Marja and Yuu go over to congratulate them and Neige comes over too. Neige is genuinely so curious on who Sebek is and how he sang so good??? They all ended up taking a group picture with Neige and went back home.

Now what they didn’t know is that Yuu took a video of them and posted it on Magicam and the added picture posted Neige made them legit BLOW UP on magicam. Like everyone is wondering who they are and they’re legit blowing up everywhere! It got to the point where magicam temporarily shut down for a bit! Vil and Cater ended seeing the twos video and Cater is showing EVERYONE! He went to show Adeuce and those two are lowkey offended that Epel and Sebek didn’t tell them where they were going but hey they’re lowkey impressed by their performance! Vil legit dropped his cup from shock, Rook who was also there caught it and they both watched the video. Vil doesn’t even know what to say, obviously he was proud but did it have to be Neige who posted about him. ALSO Vil is completely impressed by Sebek( WHERE WAS HE WHEN VDC WAS HAPPENING???) Vill resolved that he was gonna give the potatoes lessons when they got back(yes Sebek too, he doesn’t care what Sebek thinks about it). Rook is also very impressed by Monsieur Crocodile and Cherry Apple’s performance and he just found his next target to observe!(In Harveston Sebek starts to sneeze vigorously and Epel run to get him earmuffs).

Eventually they got so popular that it spread all over the school. Now everyone’s talking about them. Cater goes to show Lilia and Kalim when he goes to music club and Lilia is genuinely jaw dropped, HE NEVER KNEW HIS STUDENT COULD SING???, and Cater starts asking why Lilia didn’t tell him that Sebek was so good and Lilia just can’t respond cause he didn’t know either???😭 anyways Lilia goes to show Silver and Malleus and they’re all like pointing at eachother and asking if eachother knew Sebek could sing?! They lowkey feel bad that they didn’t know… They ended up resolving that they’d talk and spend more time with Sebek when he came back.

But as the hour passes, more and more keep Sebek and Epel and start expressing their interest in them. Dia 3 are not happy about this(SEBEK IS TOO YOUNG TO DATE! HE NEEDS TO BE ATLEAST 200 y/o BEFORE HE EVEN TJINKS OF DATING)(Silver lowkey thinks they’re overreacting but he also doesn’t want Sebek to date so he agrees with them). At this rate they’re gonna have to beat everyone off with a stick(did Silver and malleus just hear Vil saying he was gonna steal Sebek???)(Suddenly it started thundering outside and Vil ran inside the school)(THERE IS NO WAY HIS GUARD(his brother figure) IS GONNA GET STOLEN AWAY FROM HIM!).

DESPITE THE AMOUNT OF CHAOS GOING ON BACK AT NRC AND ON THE JNTERNET, Epel and Sebek are back at Harveston unaware of the storm that was gonna hit them when they got back to NRC, oh well they’ll just enjoy their time rn!

Yuu is in the corner smirking evilly while laughing by themselves looking at their phone(Grim looks at the human concerned before just inching away from their servant and getting more phone, as long as it as nothing to do with him he’s fine).

LIKE CMON LOOK AT THEM!!! THEY EVEN HAVE MATCHING POSES!!! I NEED THEN TO HAVE MORE INTERACTIONS!!!

[l0stglitch]

A night at the boardwalk

(Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader)

Notes- Sorry this took so long to write! This fic wasn’t supposed to be that dark but then idk I guess I kind of changed my mind towards the end.

Warnings- Neglectful parenting, (They’re all kind of assholes in this but at least Dwayne and Paul try to be nice)

You glared down at the sheet in front of you, hoping that the intensity of your gaze would somehow make it disappear altogether. Algebra had always been a weak spot for you, so being given a sheet full of equations to solve by your tutor had been a very unwelcome surprise.

It was hard to even read the numbers under the dim light of the cave, which only added to your growing frustration.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Your head shot up at the sound of Paul’s voice. Judging by the way his words seemed to almost melt into each other, you came to the conclusion that your father was definitely not sober.

“Hey pa,” You replied as he sat down on the couch beside you.

The man threw his head back with a theatrical groan and rested his arms on the back of the couch.

His eyes remained shut for a moment, before opening and curiously glancing over at you.

“Whatcha got there babe?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the paper absentmindedly.

“School work.”

Paul snorted, “School work! You actually bother with that shit? Y/n you don’t even go to school.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, “Well yeah. Lindsey set it for me- and besides the others would kill me if I didn’t do it.”

He frowned, “Is she setting you too much work? Cause you know we can find you someone else if-”

“No! No! I like her.” You cut in quickly. Lindsey wasn’t your first tutor. You’d had a few before, but they usually didn’t last long. Each one mysteriously disappearing after a few months.

Since you weren’t enrolled in school, your fathers (well, David and Dwayne) had decided that it was important that you were still somewhat educated, and had taken the responsibility of finding tutors for you.

It was risky of course, having outsiders visit the cave to teach you, so it wasn’t surprising that your fathers were extremely careful about who they picked and what information they gave to them.

Lindsey was the best so far, but she had been teaching you for three months by now. You knew it was only a matter of time until they replaced her.

Paul took the work from you and squinted at it.

“You know how much math I do each day?”

You frowned, “Uh- do you even know how to do math?”

He scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it across the room.

“Nope! And I don’t need to- cause it’s all just dumb made up shit.”

He twisted onto his knees and grabbed you by your shoulders.

“Look babe, you should be enjoying life- not wasting it on algebra.”

You laughed dryly, “I would if David hadn’t grounded me.”

Paul sat back with a defeated look on his face, “Well shit. I forgot about that. Wait- what did you do again?”

“Fuck knows.”

He hummed and lit a spliff.

You debated asking for a smoke, but ultimately decided not to.

“Y’know… I think you’re right about me enjoying life.”

Paul quirked a brow, “Well duh. Im always right.”

“Yeah, so I was thinking maybe you could take me to the boardwalk.”

“Take you to the boardwalk…” He repeated under his breath.

“Yep. David said I can’t go alone, so as long as you’re with me..”

Your dad blinked at you, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“So.. so.. you’re grounded- or are you not?”

You smiled innocently and shook your head. “Not grounded.”

“And you want me to take you to the boardwalk?”

“Yeah.”

Paul paused for a second, “Sure, that sounds fun.”

You grinned, delighted by how easy it was to get your way.

“Great! I’ll go grab a jacket.”

He nodded slowly, “Ok I’ll uh- I’m getting the keys then.”

You almost tripped in your haste to get to your room. You grabbed a worn leather jacket from your clothes rack before spinning around and running back to Paul.

Unsurprisingly, you got back before he had managed to find the keys to the bike.

“Pa, they’re in that drawer over there.” You said as you entered the main part of the cave, pointing over to a small, wooden chest of drawers.

He frowned, “Coulda sworn I just checked that one…” you heard him mumble to himself as he lumbered over to where you had directed him.

“Ha! You’re right babe- they were here this whole time. That’s weird.”

You smiled impatiently, “Can we go now?”

“You aren’t gonna put on your jacket?”

You glanced down at the leather tucked under your arm, realising you’d forgotten to put it on in your rush.

“Yes- fine! Can we please go now?”

Paul watched as you quickly shoved your arms into the sleeves with barely concealed frustration. Not that he particularly noticed in his impaired state.

“Cmon then.”

He stood up and held out a hand. Usually you would’ve refused, claiming to be too old for that, but you knew better than to test your limits right now. As long as you got out the cave, that was all that mattered.

Paul spoke to you the whole ride. Or at least, you think he did- it was difficult to hear over the rushing wind and snarling engine.

When you eventually reached the boardwalk, it only took around 5 minutes for your father to get distracted.

You noticed them before he did. A rowdy mix of surf nazis and punks, many of them seeming to recognise Paul. They called him over, flashing their alcohol and weed enticingly at him.

He looked at you, torn between his responsibilities as a father and the desire to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“You stay here, ok? I’ll be five minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded obediently, “Don’t worry Pa, you can trust me.”

He ruffled your hair, “I know.”

You stood there for a moment, watching as he eagerly greeted the group. It saddened you slightly, seeing how he’d rather spend the night with them instead of you, but at least it gave you the opportunity to see your friends.

Once you were sure he wasn’t coming back, you began making your way through the busy crowds. The smell of food stalls, and the sound of people chattering excitedly- you loved it. You loved the boardwalk with your whole heart.

“Y/n! Is that you?”

You turned at the sound of your best friend’s voice. She was hanging out with a group of kids you’d never seen before, a surprised look on her face.

You hurried over, greeting her with a hug.

“I’ve missed you Beth,” you said as you pulled out of the embrace. Your friend smiled and gave your hand a warm squeeze.

“Me too- I kinda thought you were grounded.”

“Yeah I was. I managed to convince Paul to take me out.”

Bethany frowned, “Is he the one who taught you to skateboard?”

You were touched by her effort to try and remember the things you had told her about your dads. “No that’s Dwayne. Paul’s the stoner.”

She nodded, “Ah ok, so that means we won’t have to worry about being caught?”

“Unless one of the others shows up we should be fine.”

“Great! Let’s go do something fun then.”

You frowned, glancing over at the other kids she was with, “You’re just gonna leave them?”

Bethany shrugged, “They’re just school friends. I’d rather hang out with you.”

You smiled, “If you’re sure. What kind of fun did you have in mind?”

She shot you a sly grin, “How about we get our ears pierced?”

“Again?”

“Yeah, we can get our seconds done!”

You hesitated, imagining David or Marko’s reaction to another set of piercings.

“Oh cmon, your dads are punks right? Surely they won’t be that pissed off.”

“Yeah but they’re also total hypocrites and control freaks.”

Bethany gave you a pleading look, and you finally gave in.

“Ok ok, let’s go do it.”

She squealed in excitement and grabbed your hand, “We’re gonna look so cool! Have you eaten yet? We can grab some hotdogs or something after!”

You laughed, “I’m starving! We’ve got like no food at home.”

Beth shot you a sympathetic look, “Aw you poor thing. They starvin you again?”

“Yeah but.. not purposely this time,” you shrugged, trying to downplay it.

“Ok, well we’ll get ya something to eat after.”

You nodded, “That’s the place, right?”

She glanced over to the tattoo parlour you were looking at, “Yeah that’s it. I know a guy whose brother works there.”

You hummed as you both reached the door, “Sometimes it feels like you know the whole of Santa Carla.”

Bethany laughed, “You would too if your dads let you go to school.”

You shrugged, “Maybe one day…”

Your conversation seemed to naturally die as you both walked inside.

The guy Bethany knew was nice enough- he gave you both a 50% discount and told you to come back again should you ever want anything else.

You thanked him and left once you were finished, eager to find something to eat.

“You want any mustard on that?”

You quickly shook your head, “Just ketchup’s fine.”

The guy in the van nodded, squirting red sauce onto your hotdog. He handed you the food in exchange for a couple dollars and you walked back over to Bethany.

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

The blonde girl shrugged, “Me and mum ate earlier.”

You nodded and took a large bite out of the hotdog.

Bethany watched you eat. The way you hungrily tore into your food saddened her- she knew you were being mistreated by your parents. She knew that sometimes you’d go days without food. You claimed it was accidental, and that they would never starve you as a form of punishment, but she wasn’t so sure.

“Y’know, you could always move in with us. My mum wouldn’t mind, and my dad… well he’s been gone for a while now. I doubt he’s gonna come back anytime soon.”

You swallowed your food and shook your head, “Beth I couldn’t do that to you. If my dads found out-”

You stopped yourself before you could say it. If your dads found out that you had moved in with your best friend, then she was as good as dead.

You’d seen what they were capable of. Only once, but that was enough to change the way you saw them. They were predators. They fed off people. People like Bethany. People like you.

“I know I just- I just worry about you.”

You smiled, “You shouldn’t, you got your own shit to deal with.”

She laughed humourlessly, “You mean my dad? He’s long gone, Y/n. I don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

You were about to reply, when a familiar voice suddenly caught your attention.

“Two hours Paul! Two fucking hours and you somehow managed to lose her.”

You stopped in your tracks and grabbed Bethany’s hand. She shot you a questioning look, but you offered no explanation.

“Dude I swear I was only gone for like five minutes! I thought I could trust her.”

“She’s thirteen! In what world is a thirteen year old trustworthy?”

Bethany suddenly seemed to catch on. “Shit! Are those your dads?”

You nodded frantically, “Yeah! They uh- they definitely know I’m here so you gotta get outta here now before they see you.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“I’ll be fine- just go ok?”

Your friend reluctantly turned around, sending you a quick goodbye before disappearing into a crowd.

A moment later, David rounded the corner, followed by Dwayne, Paul and Marko.

“Where the fuck have you been?” David demanded, his icy blue eyes staring threateningly at you.

“I was hungry.” You said, meekly holding up the ketchup stained napkin.

Dwayne took a step closer, eyes full of worry, “Paul forgot to feed you?”

You narrowed your eyes, “I can feed myself- there just wasn’t any food.”

David scoffed, “So you snuck out cause you were hungry?”

You frowned, “I didn’t sneak out- Paul took me!”

“Hey! Don’t blame this on Paul. He brought you here as a kind gesture and you fucking ran off!” Marko interjected.

“He went off to get high! How is that my fault?” You could hear how your voice was getting whinier the more you spoke, desperate and full of frustration.

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but David cut him off. “Enough of this. It’s time to go home.”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from arguing with him, knowing it would only make the situation worse.

Dwayne took your hand and rubbed your knuckles placatingly. “Cmon babe let’s go.”

You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you to where they had parked their bikes.

Dwayne mounted the ride first, before helping you up onto the seat behind. You glanced over and accidentally locked eyes with Paul. He looked slightly apologetic, although it was hard to tell through the darkness.

“Alright let’s go!” David called over the grumble of the engines. You wrapped your arms tightly around Dwayne’s waist as his bike shot forward seconds later.

The cool night air stung your eyes, forcing you to shut them.

Smothered by the howling wind, you could hear laughter and cheering from your fathers. It almost felt like they were taunting you.

They were excited to get back to the cave. Excited to punish you. It made you sick.

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @xjesterxjacksx @simplyreading96 @ursinaw @purple-lemon-8

(This technically isn’t a part 2 of the first fic because I wasn’t really sure what direction to take that one but I do have a few ideas for this so if anyone’s interested in a part 2 of this or just has any suggestions/requests my asks are open!)

[laundrypause]

AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but deigns it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

[basilone]

Can I request Benny x Darlene + ⁸⁴⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards, please? 💕

You most certainly can, thank you so much for sending this! 💙 Fair warning for this one, as it is one that packs a whole punch of feelings in it because it's a Benny/Darlene + post-stalag reunion... Also might give a tiny bit away about the state of another pairing in this particular narrative, but the main focus here very much is these two navigating Benny's homecoming.

Darlene shivers when the bedroom’s chill nips at her skin. It hadn’t been this cold when they’d first arrived – the same room they’d had last time when they were at the coast, the same comfortable bed that would get almost too warm in morning – but she supposes anything will feel colder than the steamed-up bathroom she’s just escaped from.

Escaped.

Her stomach twists at the notion. Feels like it’s sinking all the way down to her feet, plummeting abruptly toward the cold wooden floorboards without so much as a by-your-leave. Her hand shoots out before her next step becomes a stumble. She breathes, sharply, in through her nose and out through her mouth, when her fingers lock around the edge of the dresser beside the door.

Escaped is what the brass had said about Lot and Major Cleven, already back on base before all the rest of them had finally been brought home. Escaped, which Darlene supposes sounds like a prize you can win except for the part where she’s seen Lot’s hand shoot out simply to anchor Major Cleven’s trembling fist. Except for the part where they only sleep when lying together in the belly of their plane, but never in their separate bunks at night. She has seen Major Cleven’s body rest between Lot and everything else, as though their prison had created more shield than man out of him, and Lot’s eyes had followed Darlene’s every move through the plane with all the air of an animal that is not used to freedom.

She’s seen the same look in Ben’s eyes tonight.

Escaped wasn’t what they’d said about him. Liberated had been the term – the news, the joy, the pride – when they’d told her he was coming back to England.

Darlene scoffs to herself as she opens the dresser. She supposes it’s only apt to speak of liberation when you are sitting in some office back home, on some plush chair in the United States, ready to tell the people and the President that the boys are coming home. It’s a word to use in newspaper articles all right, becoming harder to stomach with every byline. Her own tummy roils at the thought of someone else telling her that Ben’s free. Liberated. She’s gonna damn well take a swing at the next fella proclaiming that sort of nonsense.

Her hands lock around the softest towel she can find. It’s softer than her hands, which are calloused and worn. Softer than the bedsheets, even, but Ben had met even those with a wonder he hadn’t…

Her fists tighten around the towel. Darlene swallows back the noise that threatens to claw out of her throat. Bites her tongue to stop it from rising again – halt that fucking wail, that horror of grief – and exhales past her teeth. Brings the towel up to her cheek to halt her lone tear in its tracks before it can multiply.

It’s not the place for tears. Not yet. She scrapes her throat. Blinks at herself in the mirror until her eyes stop blurring her freckles and the white lace of her top. Hold it the fuck together, Dar, she almost says out loud, except he’s in the warm bathroom next door and the walls here are too thin. She’s been telling herself she’ll cry later. Has been digging half-moon reminders of it into the palms of her hands since Lot’d come home and whispered a sorry into Darlene’s collar that had somehow managed to sound like an apology for all the goddamn hurt she’d caused. Has been biting it back since her arms had first locked around Benny – around what them damn Nazis had left of him, all bone and cold – and he’d been wet-cheeked enough for both of them already.

She exhales again. Clicks the dresser shut. Swings the door to the bathroom back open before the tears hit after all, welcoming its heat even though it’s gonna make her hair curl and frizz up to stay in it for long.

“Got ya a nice towel,” she announces needlessly, holding it aloft before dropping it onto the small stool beside the tub. “Knew I’d seen it somewhere in that damn dresser, hidin’ behind all them scratchier towels they want ya to use first.”

“You’re messing with their hotel business plan,” he replies, gaze gliding past the towel and straight back to her face. His mouth quirks a little, as if to signify how broadly he would’ve smiled about teasing her some months ago. “They’re going to make you pay extra for using that one.”

“I’d like to see ’em try,” snorts Darlene, vastly accustomed to all the ways in which people try and scam you out of having a good time. “Didn’t work last time we were here”– when they’d used towels like those for means other than a bath, which still brings color to her cheeks if she dwells on it too long –“and it sure as hell ain’t gon’ work on me now. They should be thankin’ us for comin’ back at all, given the damn sorry state of them pillows.”

Ben’s eyes are still soft when he looks at her. Impossibly soft, with some gentle twinkle of humor locked in them after all this time. He looks at her like he still recognizes her, from the top of her head where she’s piled most of her curls right down to her hands which are drawing small circles of comfort onto his skin. Like he still knows how to map every freckle on her skin – she’s seen his eyes follow familiar patterns, lips moving slightly as though the memory of kissing them is coming back to him the longer he looks at her – and like he remembers every detail of her eyes.

His hand is at her elbow, thumbing its crease. He doesn’t reply to her anymore, already drifting again amid the heat of the water and the touch of her fingertips. She scoots closer, as close as she can get without getting in the tub herself, and presses a close-mouthed kiss to the boniest part of his shoulder. Hears the soft rattle of his exhale. Hears the sniffle that follows it, with her lips still ghosting over his skin, with one of her stray curls tickling his collarbone, and silently blames the steam of the bathroom for misting over her own eyes.

“It’s all right,” she murmurs, summoning her last remaining vestiges what George had called bravery and what she’d dubbed foolishness. “Ben, it’s okay”– it’s not, it’s really not, but what the hell else is she gonna tell him? –“it’s all right, hey,” she hushes, leaning over to kiss the tear that’s slipping down his cheek away, “you’re here with me, all right? You’re home with me. We’re in that hotel ya dragged me to on our first weekend pass, that real long one ya’d wrangled without me even knowin’ it.” She smiles at the memory. Lets her smile rest against his cheek before kissing him again. “Thought it’d do us some good here. Ain’t nobody gon’ clock us getting into the same bed here. No write-ups happenin’. Just you an’ me.”

“Not…”

“Yeah?”

“Not a whole lot of use you’re getting,” he murmurs. “Not with… With this. Me.”

Darlene leans back just so she can fix him with the most beady-eyed stare she can muster. “You’re here, ain’t ya,” she deadpans, not even bothering to make it sound like a question. “I’m gon’ be the judge of use, Ben, Jesus Christ. Bein’ here with ya? Having…” She swallows, blinking, and almost curses as she sees the drip-drop of her own tears in his bathwater. “Having you back? Alive? Bein’ able ta… Goddamn it,” she sniffles, rubbing at her cheeks with a trembling hand, “being able ta hold ya? To kiss your cheek, to breathe ya in, to wake up with your arm around my waist? I dreamed about that the whole damn fucking time you was gone, ya hear? The whole goddamn time them Nazi fucks had ya locked up in there, I was thinkin’ about today. About right now, havin’ ya with me.”

“Dar…”

“Don’t talk to me about use, Ben,” she snaps, furiously blinking to stop herself from blubbering about the whole thing. “I ain’t in this relationship with ya just because the sex blows my fuckin’ mind, all right?” She pokes at his chest, unable to bite back a slight grin now that she’s gone and confessed that, and shakes her head as her fingers meet scar tissue that wasn’t there before. “You’re a goddamn idiot, Bernard DeMarco”– she laments, fingertips slipping beneath the water just so she can memorize that new scar –“if ya haven’t realized by now that I fucking love ya, I’d go fight the whole damn world to get to keep ya,” she whispers, hearing him go quieter than ever, “and I’d say yes to marryin’ ya in a heartbeat.”

It takes less than a heartbeat for his lips to find hers in a kiss that makes everything else go silent.

“Darling,” he murmurs, after, voice almost catching on the ache that resides inside it. “Darlene”– he exhales, breath a mere flutter against her cheek –“darling Darlene.” Ben’s lips find that little freckle, high up on her cheekbone, that he’d once proudly proclaimed was his favorite. “I love you too.”

He makes it sound like freedom.

[blu3-l0v3r]

─୨ৎ Transfer student ୨ৎ─

˙⋆ ✮ Toge Inumaki x reader, fluff, college AU, non-cursed speech AU, friends to lovers, mutual pining, future angst?, Streamer Inumaki ✮˙⋆

prev chapter - next chapter

You were a new student, who had recently transferred to a new college in Tokyo.

Here at your new college, Jujutsu Tokyo Tech, you were going to be a second year, and the class you picked to specialize in filming and camera work.

You had also wanted to get a major in art, but sadly, the class was already full by the time you transferred, what a pain.

But you were NOT about to let this discourage you from letting you thrive into a fresh college year; you were determined to make the best of this transfer decision, and a silly major was not going to make you give up before even getting the chance to start.

This morning, you woke up at 5.30 AM, to get ready for your first lecture at 8.

Everything was planned out: shower at 5.40, getting ready and makeup from 6.00 to 6.15, packing your bag in 5 mnin, and then you would be right out that door.

Now, this plan really was effectual, just not on you!

A sleepy mess, when you wake up you wisely decide to ignore the cute Miffy alarm that was neatly placed on your shelf by pushing it on the ground, muttering a quick and sleepy "fuck off" at the poor bunny shaped object, pathetically groaning when your hand makes contact with the object.

What a lovely start!

Without even knowing, this had just ruined your whole schedule, but you somehow managed to leave your dorm room only 20 minutes late, leaving you still enough time to grab a coffee and walk a bit around campus.

Your mind was teeming with anxious thoughts, all deriving from the fact that you knew absolutely nobody here, and you weren't exactly the most social person around either.

A nervous shiver runs down your spine, jolting you out of your thoughts, as you feel the chilly September around envelope you the second you step out of your building.

You were wearing baggy black jeans that you had recently thrifted, a tight fitting but still very soft and stretchy light grey and light pink tanktop; to elevate your outfit, you had a studded belt you had bought long time ago from Hot Topic, and your copious jewellery around your wrists and neck.

You didn't wanna seem basic, but you didn't want to scare people away by having them think your style was weird or even too strong; who knows how people here think and perceive others?

-1 hour later-

6000 steps around campus later, you're standing infront of your class, photography and camera work.

You had picked this course as your main one without thinking twice; you had always had a connection with photography, you felt as if filming and capturing images and colors was one of the best way to express yourself.

You could tell stories through colors, textures and capture small moments, feelings sigilled in a single frame picture, to be remembered forever.

You take a deep breath, fixing your black braided hair again, for the thousandth time, and finally take a step inside the dimly lit class.

Hey guys!

This is the first chapter, leaving y'all on a cliffhanger, hehe.

Tell me if you liked this, or if you wanna be added to a taglist. I'm a new writer here on Tumblr, so this is not the best yet, but I'm learning!

Luv y'all

[not-pollux]

ℌ𝖆𝖎𝖗 ℌ𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 ⋆

╭ ・── ・ ꒰ ☆ ꒱ ・ ── ・ ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ ˑ ࣪  ⊹

  ˚   ₊˚ˑ  💙💜❤️🧡 ‧ ₊ ༄ ROTTMNT

༶•┈┈┈┈୨☆୧┈┈┈┈•༶

Warnings: None!

Leo

He's such a blonde.

Like is this even a question? Its basically canon atp 

He would either bleach his hair, or it would be naturally blonde (albinism)

Whether he's albino or not, he's going to be chronically light skinned regardless.

His brothers stole all his melanin 

I like the albinism headcanon because it makes him stand out even more (we love a boy who loves to be the center of attention)

Also plays into the fact that he is intuitive, and therefore wouldn't need great vision to perform exceptionally in battle

Also explains why he likes sunglasses, he's got sensitive eyes

Speaking of eyes, they're blueish if he's albino. Otherwise they're dark brown.

Waist length dreads/locs

His hair needs to be as extravagant as him

100% puts charms in his hair

I'm the least picky regarding Leo’s hair style, anything over the top works. I'm just being indulgent here. I love long hair Leo.

Afrolatino Blasian

4a hair

༶•┈┈┈┈୨☆୧┈┈┈┈•༶

Donnie

I'm kind of torn on his hair colour

I know he loves purple and would logically dye his hair purple…

But this boy is also a smart fashion mf. He knows that too much of one color drowns you and contrast is important

But then again… he’s the type to know this shit and just fucking ignore it anyways.

It's either purple or he's leaving it black.

THIS👏🏿BOY👏🏿IS👏🏿DARK👏🏿SKINNED👏🏿

I take no criticism on this. He is.

He has a twin brother who is pale as shit. The melanin had to go somewhere

Compulsory dark brown eyes with his melanin and all

Unpopular opinion but... Donnie would totally have his hair in cornrows

He prioritizes comfort over style, and cornrows are low maintenance for this busy boy and good looking too

Fun fact, he’s actually the only one of his brothers who never wears a wig or obtains hair somehow at any point in the show. 

He’s extra bald.

African Blasian

4c hair (coily coily)

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Raph

The only one that for sure won't dye his hair

I just don't think he has a reason to tbh

He's not quite light skinned but he's definitely lighter than Donnie and Mikey.

He has tons of birthmarks, large ones too. Big ol' one on his neck and smaller ones down onto his shoulders.

Again, compulsory dark brown eyes

My boy has a buzz.

I honestly considered giving him waves but they're a bit too high maintenance to make sense with his personality and habits.

He prefers low maintenance and easy to manage, unlike Leo's hair

He HATES how Leo's hair gets in the way of training and fights, and has concluded he just doesn't want that problem

Durag Raph.

African Blasian

4b hair

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Mikey

Dyes his hair too often to be considered even remotely healthy

orange tips are a frequent choice, but he also loves doing all his siblings' colors (Red for Raph, Green for April, etc)

The other sibling with melanin

Him and Donnie are the Darkskin Duo

He's not as dark as Donnie, but pretty close. He's darker than Raph.

I like to headcanon him with vitiligo, to replicate his spots and on his hands/fingertips as well.

Im being indulgent here lmao

Again, compulsory dark brown eyes

Mikey sports his natural curls.

I don't have a concrete reason for this, other than the fact that I headcanon Mikey with severe hair damage which results in him losing his curls in the bad future. (I took that little swoop in his hair and RAN WITH IT.) Because of this, i also headcanon him with loose curls to make this make more sense lmao

His baby curls wouldn't do too well in most protective styles so he just doesn't wear them.

Afrolatino Blasian

3a hair

My first little drabble :)

[bmpmp3]

based off this video. i think teto is a union man