#but im calling it his quilt

[kasaneteto]

i cant stop thinking about burning man’s soul

[recallback-art]

Spits this up. I made a proper reference for my new boy, but he's D&D this time because I'm way too optimistic about having the chance to play him one day.

[fanaticsnail]

Lathered Up

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,600+

Synopsis: After spending far too long at sea in the Polar Tang, all you wanted was a shower. Your two lovers join you in ridding their bodies of grime while enjoying ridding you of your stress.

Warnings: smut, Mdni, 18+, throuple dynamic, Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin, shower sex, oral - afab!receiving, soap, water sex, Shachi is a Fishman, Penguin is a soft-dom, semi-sub!reader, established relationship, Premature ejaculations, untouched ejaculations, watersports.

Notes: taking a leaf out of @bby-deerling's book and had a few drinks, here is some throuple smut for two of the Heart-Pirates that @feral-artistry asked for in passing. I blame Aperol Prosecco spritz. Art link.

Tag list: @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @mfreedomstuff

Suds of frothy soap sloshed at your chest, drops of cooling lather clashing with the scorching liquid plummeting harshly on your shoulders. Your head hung limp, hair falling and sticking to your forehead beneath the fresh, warm water.

The day had been exhausting, your body encumbered by the difficulties faced while traveling at sea in the Polar Tang. You loved your crewmates, you loved your job, you loved the sea; but sometimes, all you wanted to love was the hot ripples of pummeling beads between your shoulder blades. As you docked at port, you immediately sprung at the opportunity of taking a lengthy shower.

All of your thoughts were eclipsed by ‘shower.’ The grime sticking to your skin plagued you more so than keening at the prospect of sleeping in a cozy bed, up to your neck in weighted quilts and within the perfect cool temperature of a welcoming room. Sleep? Shower. Food? Shower. Alcohol? Shower.

The one and only thing stronger than your incessant need to rid yourself of traveling grime were the two strong arms lathering your breasts in silken suds. Fingers tweaking your peaked nipples, you lulled your head back to lay atop Penguin’s stooped shoulder within the large shower bay. His toothy grin was occupied by pressing loose kisses against your neck, tongue swirling over your damp flesh.

His dark hair stuck to his forehead beneath the rapid water, his eyes half-lidded and consumed with lust. He was just as far gone as you were, pent up with frustration at traveling without respite for so long.

Although you all traveled together, there was truly little to no time you got to spend within the arms of one another. Your work overtook your duties as a partner, the captainship of Trafalgar Law held higher than your need to give in to your carnal desires.

“Feel good?” he cooed at you, his elbows caging you in a slippery embrace, “You want some more pressure?”

You whined against the circling of his skilled digits against your peaked buds, your body fighting the urge to turn away to press your lips against his. Should you turn your body to face his smiling lips, you would inadvertently be breaking away from the kneeling figure of the redheaded Shachi, skillfully lapping at your glistening cunt. His tongue slid against your pearly clit, sliding down to your slit to collect more of your arousal to spread against your needy pussy.

Shachi moaned against your core, his mouth drooling as he eagerly nodded his face against your quivering clit. Penguin continued to tweak your nipples, only halting to gather more of the frothy bubbles and spread it over your chest.

“Lean into me,” Penguin ordered, hooking his left arm over your torso and supporting your weight, “We've got you.”

“Just relax into it,” Shachi’s muffled voice called to you, lifting your legs over his shoulders and swallowing a gulp of bathwater, “We’ll take care of the rest.”

All you could do was let out a whining hum of affirmation, allowing your two crewmen to manhandle you to gain the best advantage to please you. Shachi continued lapping greedily against your weeping cunt, whispering praises into your core each time he bobbed his face against you.

“There you go,” Penguin’s voice cooed in your ear, flicking his tongue out to tease your lobe, “Ease into us. Good job, let us do the work.”

“W-What ‘bout you?” you huffed. Shachi’s deviant tongue flicking skillfull circles against your clit, his lips hovering over the bud before diving in completely caused you to arch your back and cry out.

“We'll get to us later,” Penguin laughed against your cheek, his right hand tracing over your jaw to turn your head, “Don't worry about it right now. Let us please you.”

“You've been working harder than the both of us combined,” Shachi’s slurred voice muffled between your folds, “More than me, especially. Wanna get you off on my face before we go to bed.”

Shachi’s lips dove against your clit, circling it with his lips, and flicking with his flattened tongue. Penguin drew your face closer to him, taking your full weight against his glistening chest. Collecting your lips against his, water flooded you both over his shoulder. The showerhead continued to pummel it's beaded droplets against you, adding to the moisture and steam between the three of you.

You whined into Penguin's mouth, sucking in a heavy breath through your nose as he flicked his tongue out to meet yours. He pried open your lips, consuming your cries with a ravishing intensity.

Right hand hooking behind his neck, you pulled Penguin in deeper and nudged his jaw with your chin to deepen the kiss. Your left hand balled Shachi’s damp, red locks against the scruff of his neck and held him tightly as he continued to suck your clit.

The familiar coax of your impending unravel stampeded towards you with lightning intensity. Shachi hummed into you, his tongue flicking and lapping at your cunt in a similar motion that Penguin was conducting against your lips. Your brows peaked in the centre, feeling the prod of Shachi’s fingers against your neglected slit.

Just as Shachi intended to add his fingers into you, you were shocked when he circled the weighty girth of Penguin’s aching cock and lined it up with your core. Penguin’s breath hitched, his voice whimpering against your lips as Shachi coaxed his throbbing cock into your slickened walls.

“No, Shach,” Penguin whimpered, “It's been w-way too long,” he grit his teeth when Shachi began pumping his cock while fucking your slit onto Penguin's cock.

“You need it,” Shachi commented, tearing his face away from your core to focus on Penguin’s needy cock, “You both do. So take it.” Shachi guided Penguin's cock to sheathe itself within you, Penguin whimpering a strangled whine as your arousal eased him down to the hilt in a single thrust.

“I-I'm gonna cum quick,” Penguin cried, “I haven't had the time to touch myself in weeks,” his confession had Shachi chuckle, focussing on taking your weight into his shoulders so Penguin could focus on his needy thrusting. 

“S’okay, Pen,” you managed to cry, Shachi’s lips finding your clit once more and romancing it with open-mouth kisses, “M’not gonna last long either.”

“F-Fuck,” Penguin cried, his hips slapping with large gushes of water flicking between your bodies. Shachi licked, sucked, mouthed, and romanced your clit while Penguin railed you from behind.

Penguin's hands hastily anchored his left hand at your right hip, and his right hand needily clutched at your left breast. He rut into you like an animal in heat, greedily chasing his high within your body.

“I-I'm gonna cum?!” Penguin's confusion at the hasty climax had yours begin to unravel, your walls immediately contracting with the white-hot bliss of your eruption.

“C-Cum in me, Pen,” you whined, Shachi's tongue greedily lapping at you while he moaned against your stiffened pearl, “Use me. Take me. Fuck me, Pen-.”

“-Oh fuck, I'm cumming,” Penguin cried, immediately sinking his teeth into your right shoulder as he rammed his girthy cock into your eager cunt, “I'm cumming. I'm cumming s-so fucking hard. Fuck, I'm filling you up. F-Fuck.”

Ribbons of his translucent bliss splashed within your greedy cunt, ushering you closer to your ecstasy. His rhythmless aftershocks of his orgasm shepherded you ever closer to encountering your own.

Growing over confident, Shachi latched fully against your clit and immediately shot an intentional stream of water from his mouth against you. His natural abilities as a Fishman granted him this unusual and unique sensation. Shooting water from his mouth in a rapid-fire jet, you immediately screamed with your orgasm.

Unhooking your arm from Penguins neck, both hands shot out to firmly sink into Shachi’s head; the largest orgasm of your life erupting in gushing streams of release against his face.

“Sh-Shachi, t-too much!” you cried, grinding down against his head as he mouthed at you through your orgasm, “F-Fuck Penguin, don't stop. F-Fuck I'm cumming! Sh-Shit-... nmmghm-... So good.”

Shachi’s eyes rolled into his head, empathetically succumbing to the bliss his two partners were experiencing. His beaded precum glistened amongst the shower water, his cock twitching out an unintentional stream of sticky cum as soon as you gushed against his face. His shock flew from his lips as he cried through his untouched orgasm.

You rode his face through the unravel of your bliss, Penguin's cock sleeved to the hilt within you as he cried out both yours and Shachi’s names. Your lips were agape, wordlessly naming your two lovers as you all rode through your highs.

Shachi’s shock only unravelled the moment he released your clit with a crude ‘pop.’ He never came untouched, always the one that took the longest to reach his peak. He chalked it up to the pent up frustration at sea, and the fact that when he looked up, he saw nothing but eternal bliss depicted on his lovers’ faces.

Upon coming down through your highs, three sets of roaming hands scrubbed at each other's bodies. Ridding yourselves of your prior releases, you shared kisses and intimate touches between you that felt sacred and holy.

No further words were spoken between you, your emotions all depicted in your unconcealed and unshrouded eyes.

After drying off in fluffy towels, you all plopped into the giant mattress and immediately became an amassment of tangled limbs. Legs, arms, torsos and lips all greeted each other in blissful tranquility.

No blessings of ‘sweet dreams,’ nor peaceful promises of ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ were uttered. All of your emotions and feelings were laid out between sweet kisses and gentle embraces, all tucked beneath the weighty duvet you shared between the three of you.

[klttn]

I NEED MORE SOMNOPHILIA WITH ADAM PLEASE 🥺

nonnie i like your thinking, the world is a better place when adam likes to play with you all sleepy and shut eyed <3

— 𝜗𝜚 adam x female reader nsfw. somnophilia. lots of praise. soft!adam. coercion. slight manipulation. dubcon. adam just <3’s your cunt.

adam loves your pussy. needs it. craves it. would be inside it all day if he could. but being an exorcist means long hours and little to no time to have his fingers or his tongue and most importantly his dick nestled into the sweet puffy folds of your cunt.

it didn’t help that you were such a sleepy little girl either. never being awake when he’s home after his long shifts. always too lethargic for him to stuff your pussy full and get you messy. too busy huddled up with adam’s clothes and your blankets, lashes fluttered shut and soft snores falling from your lips. such a precious sight. so he’d leave his girl to get her rest.

instead, he’d be palming his cock next to you quietly, looking at your adorable sleep ridden features and pumping one out to the soft lines of your curves. occasionally daring to peel the covers back, sometimes getting lucky to see your plush tits falling out of your pyjamas, the newly cold air making your nipples peak and look so enticing. of course he’d cum on the spot from that.

but out of all the times he’d done that. he’d never touched you. never slid his hands over your body and claimed it whilst you slept. never had your hole stretching around his girth whilst you let out sleepy little noises in that shared bed of yours. never dared lay a finger on you. but that changed today.

the creaking sound of the door to your bedroom being pushed open reverberated on the walls around you. a frustrated huff leaving adam’s mouth as he stalked his way over to your bed, clothes being discarded as he did so. already hearing your little snores and knowing you’d be sound asleep next to him. “so cute,” he muttered, “but i guess it’s just me and you tonight,” adam sighed, holding his right hand in front of him.

when he was ready to slide in bed next to you, he was left in just his boxers — dick sporting a semi already. peeling back the quilt so he could get under with you, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that he was about to see. “fuck meee,” adam all but groaned.

there you were, on your side, one leg hiked up so your ass and pussy we’re all on display, only covered by the pathetic piece of fabric you called your underwear. one arm lazily draped over your waist and the other cuddling what appeared to be one of adam’s shirts, gripping little crescents into the fabric as you held it. the barely there straps of your top half way down your shoulders, your tits bulging to be free, the tops of your nipples already visible, just begging to be sucked. fuck, it was his own personal wet dream.

skimming his gaze up to your face, he noticed your cheeks flushed such a pretty shade of pink, your fluffy tendrils of hair falling around your face, framing it so perfectly. you were always cute but this was just sinfully so. he didn’t know what about today made it so different, you wore these things all the time, you slept like this so often. maybe it was the way he could see your pussy clench at nothing in the cold air of the night, panties doing little to hide it all, him so badly wishing it was around him instead. or maybe it was the little moans that escaped your lips every time you shifted slightly, imagining all the lewd noises you’d be making if he was having his way with you right. now. or maybe his cock just got harder because he’s a perv and right now, you were his porn. so what if he decided that you’d also be his fleshlight. you didn’t have to know. you were sleepy and dead to the world after all.

“i don’t know if im still gonna be in heaven after this,” adam mumbled, pulling the covers back all the way before leaning to place a kiss to the top of your head, such an innocent thing, and then taking his position beside you. on his knees and his left hand fisting his cock. the right ready to wreak havoc on your body.

adam trailed his calloused hands up the smooth flesh of your body, raking over every detail, loving the way you shiver under his touch. his fingers only stopping to hook under your strappy top and finally free your tits, the hand around his cock tightening at the sight. he groaned louder and traced his hands to your ass, following the curve and looping his fingers under the material of your panties to pull them aside. “shit,” he cursed, his hips instinctively bucking up into his hand causing him to let go. he needed more. needed to touch you more.

one of his hands slipped into your hair, kneading and stroking, keeping you tranquil and out of it as he finally decided to slide his fingers between your cunt. “fuck, baby, so fuckin wet for me and you don’t even know what i’m about to do to you.” he cupped your pussy, holding it and palming it, loving how warm and wet you feel on his hands. “you think you can handle my fingers without waking up, pretty girl?” something about talking to you, asking you questions when he knew you couldnt answer or stop it drove him further, his cock long forgotten now.

his fingers slid over and circled your cunt, grazing over your clit, loving how your little snores were turned to soft pants and hushed, desperate whines and still you weren’t waking up. his finger tips swirled the top of your entrance, coated in the sweet slick you were practically oozing because of his touch. “nice and slow baby, you just keep sleeping,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek, his hands never waving with their gentle strokes to your hair.

adam’s fingers slowly, but surely, bottomed out in your messy cunt, your tight walls squeezing around him so deliciously. imagining that was his dick. “taking my fingers so well, sweetheart.” gradually, he started thrusting, gentle and controlled, nice and slow, careful to keep you just the way you were. asleep and pliant. “such a sleepy little thing, not even waking up to your pervy boyfriends fingers defiling your sweet little hole, you’re just so pretty like this,” he praised, losing himself a bit and thrusting a little bit harder, still barely any force. he just knew all the right spots to have you reeling. “so cute, fuck, if you were awake i know you’d be begging for my cock right now, those pretty eyes looking up at me whilst i paint your insides white.”

it was pathetic really. he was so addicted to your pussy he didn’t care that all he originally wanted to do was cum to staring at your pretty body whilst you slept. god, now all he wanted to do was see if he could make you cum without waking you up.

your panting got a little heavier and the growing pleasure was starting to build up, moans also slipping out, high pitched and whiny even when you’re asleep. the hand in your hair got a little rougher too, still so gentle but gradually fisting your locks and giving the occasional pull when your body would instinctively try to chase his fingers. his thumb now lazily rubbing over your clit. watching you unfold like this was addicting.

he watched as your thighs started to shake, your sign you were ready. “cum for me, fuck, please baby, that’s it, cum for me, cum on my fingers like the messy little thing you are, love watching you like this, cum for me sweetheart,” and as if you could hear him, you did. “good girl, good girl, so good, my adorable sleepy little girl, good girl, so good for me,” he cooed, he’s fingers never ceasing and touching you through it. your whole body twitching softly whilst you bucked against his fingers as you came. “make me so proud, baby, so lucky to have a pretty thing like you.”

your eyes started to flutter, the pleasure dizzying and keeping you confused and out of it. “w-what’s happening?” a sleepy voice questioned immediately stilling his fingers.

“shit,” he muttered, so quiet you could barely hear him, quickly moving the hand on your head to cup your face to rub his thumb in a soothing manner, trying to distract you from what he could feel was your throbbing walls still clenching and spasming after release. “shh shhh, it’s just a dream baby, just go back to sleep, i’ve got you, your safe, i’ll take care of you, no need to panic,” he keened, watching as your lids closed again nodding to yourself, startled look shifting to a placid and fucked out state like it was before. adam now daring to continue to rub your clit again in sync with the one on your face. “that’s it, good girl, go back to sleep, won’t even remember this tomorrow, baby, don’t you worry.”

he stayed like that for a while, making sure his pretty girl was knocked out before continuing. deciding it was too risky to finger you again and instead he would just keep his fingers settled inside, his thumb gracing your clit still but this time his left hand would return to his cock to cum all over your tits. only pulling his fingers out of you to taste your sweet cunt after he painted you so cute with his favourite type of pearl necklace, his own.

of course he would clean off his mess but he would have to think of a way to explain your drippy hole to you though, if you didnt remember waking up that is. maybe he’d tell you that you’re just so silly and such a dirty girl getting all wet like that in your sleep, revelling in your embarrassment and getting to ruin you all over again.

and maybe you’d pretend to be that little bit dumber and let him. it’s not like he’d know you weren’t always asleep. after all how could you when you woke up to that?

[urhoneycombwitch]

im gonna be at work for high night 🙄 so save my self-indulgent idea for later lu

reader who keeps hitting the snooze button on their alarm and groans knowing they need to get up for work but they just really cannot find the motivation to. The bed is warm and they're so comfortable and what's the harm of calling out....

Eddie who notices they're still laying down, eyes closed and in that fighting off being awake state and he knows there's only so many snoozes they can hit before they're definitely going to be running late so he sneaks under the covers....

and he doesn't come back up again until reader is awake, a tired, but satisfied smile on their face as they blink up at the ceiling. He presses some kisses to their lips/cheek/neck, slick and smelling like them, going "Hi, pretty. Ready to get up now?"

nauuurrr anon 😞 we will miss you but hope u see this after ur shift 💖 eeeheeeeheeeheee I’m literally kicking my feet behind my back sleepover-style giggling at this. that ellipses is so sinister I gotta help it out

+18 mdni

cw: R receives oral + fingering while sleeping (has been previously discussed as a 👍), somno, Eddie’s a soft!dom

___

Eddie’s always so attentive to your needs and state of being- he’s naturally super empathetic. by no means a morning person himself, he learns quickly that the rhythm of your day is usually set by how you wake up.

he’s dealt with the consequences of you having been off to a bad start, before- it takes a huge amount of cajoling or kisses or swinging by the diner for waffles to shake you out of a grumpy funk. and based on the way you’ve been tossing and turning this morning, you’re about to have the most miserable work shift ever.

what he doesn’t have this morning, though, is a lot of time- waffles will have to be for another day. he’s got an even better idea for a sweet wakeup.

he moves slow, weight in his hands on either side of your sleeping frame, kissing as he moves down your body. first to your bare shoulder. then to the side of that pretty nightie’s strap. one for your pebble nipple, peaking through the silk.

Eddie trails his kisses down- one on your stomach, one for the bump of your cunt- pulling the sheets away as he goes.

with fingers nimble and dextrous, he feels for the band of your underwear while keeping his eyes on your face, careful to pause if your expression changes. the goal is to keep you pliant, for this next part…

he gets his head under the edge of your nightdress, pussy fully exposed to the eager lappings of his mouth. with one hand on your stomach to keep your center grounded, Eddie slips the middle two fingers of his other hand into your slippery cunt.

a soft shift of your hips, a whimper, and Eddie moves his hands with your pelvis, using the momentum to dip and catch your clit in his mouth.

he follows with his head as your hips sink back down into the mattress, sucking hard on your beating clit as he goes.

you must’ve been having a dirty dream, ‘cuz you’re already so tight around his fingers, slick pooling in his palm. he laps noisily into your cunt, wet squelch of his fingers bringing you to bleary consciousness.

“whuh- uh- oh fuck, Eddie-”

your legs jerk close on impulse, trapping his head between your thighs, and Eddie thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. fully clothed, about to cream his jeans from eating his girl out. sure, he’s down to meet god, but can it wait a second?

“was dreamin’ you- ah, yeah, there- dreamin’ of you doing this to me. fuck…” your voice ends in a hoarse rasp, your hands shooting into Eddie’s hair, tugging at the roots.

he ruts into the mattress, cock leaking steadily into the fabric of his briefs, humming with pleasure against your clit.

your back arches off the mattress, he hears that tell-tale, breathy little gasp, and you’re gone- clenching around his fingers like a vice, flooding against his pistoning fingers.

he’s gone just as soon as you, coming in hot spurts with each upstroke against the quilt below, moaning into your pussy.

he kisses a sticky trail back up your body, sliding your nightie strap into place, loving and firm- “morning, princess. go take a shower, and no complaining. as a thank you for the wake up gift- ‘kay?”

you wouldn’t dream of complaining, nodding easily to his command, sleepy and sated smile on your face. your arms reach to encircle his shoulders, and Eddie leans in for a kiss- he tastes like you.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

after midnight

a/n: dw i still am working on all my wips but i just wanted to show my love for the movie that ruled my childhood! also if there's a certain fairy tale and character you would like me to do i would love to do more of something like this! this is the first part, but the others have been written already, lemme know if y'all would like me to continue posting for this word count: 2.5k warning(s): the evil stepmother is NOT cunty in this guys (rip cate blanchett); the step sisters are definitely not girls girls; everyone is gay; if you know the story you know; but im also going to add aspects from one of the non-disney versions; mentions of blood (small but at the beginning); not an exact retelling, more like cinderella is a blueprint? prompt: you never thought that you would go from cleaning fireplaces and singing to mice to dancing in the royal palace in a magical disguise, meeting the love of your life. or, a cinderella story <3

The needle pricked your finger, sending droplets of blood spilling onto the fine fabric. You watched as the red seeped into the green, mesmerized by how the blood ran quick. How you wished you could be as free, as quick as you ran. But your father built this house, his hopes and dreams were buried deep into the foundations, no matter how much your step-mother tried to erase his memory. She loved his money but cringed at his legacy.

"Y/N? Gods, where is that wretched girl?" Your stepmother's voice echoed up the stairs to the attic where you resided. Quickly, you folded the cloth over, hiding the spot of blood staining the rich emerald fabric. You were mending an evening gown of your stepmother, one she had snagged on a splinter of wood while evading your requests of new fabrics. Your clothes were quickly becoming patchwork quilts and even though you rarely left your attic space, you were desperate to sew a dress that you could feel proud of. Your door burst open, revealing Valentina, the woman who's presence seemed to make your room grow colder. Her eyes narrowed in on the dress in your lap and she scoffed, hand clutching the handle of the attic door tightly, as if speaking to you was a burden.

"Are you still working on that? Whatever, the fireplace needs tending to," She spun around to go back downstairs, obviously signaling you to follow, "Oh, and be mindful, the dressmaker is here, don't get soot on any of her fabrics."

Valentina's tone was haughty, as if even when she couldn't see you, she spoke looking down upon you. You merely nodded, gently folding the dress on your bed and following your step-mother down the stairs. Making sure to keep your head down, you passed Valentina, heading towards the main fire place, where burnt logs sat and ash blanketed the stone like snow. You internally sighed, knowing how this task would end. Grabbing a rag, you sat on your knees as you started gathering the loose ash and kindling, mindful of the sparks that still lingered. The voices of Valentina's daughters wafted into the room like a burnt goose pie, making your stomach uneasy as you braced yourself for the comments they would surely make. Thankfully, you heard the voice of Shuri, the acclaimed dressmaker, mingling with theirs, gently shutting down their absurd ideas. While your curiousity spun around in your mind, furiously wondering why your step-mother had called on Shuri, someone who only made dresses for the most extravagant of occasions. She also had extravagant prices, prices you weren't sure how your step-mother would repay.

"We can do measurments in here, ignore Y/N, she'll be doing her chores." Valentina absentmindedly waved in your direction, sitting on the stool farthest from you. Shuri nodded in hello, giving you a small smile which you returned. The basket she carried was full of fabric samples and measuring strands, grabbing your attention with the expensive items she so leisurley held. As your step-sisters argued, Shuri gave you her attention, her question making you pause as you cleaned the fireplace.

"Are you also going to the ball, Y/N? I'm sure I have the creativity to quickly sketch a fourth dress." Shuri joked, not noticing how your hands shook as you continued your task. There was a ball? And your stepmother was commisioning dresses for herself and her daughters in front of you, flaunting the knowledge you didn't have. While you could care less about a ball, you were bothered by how little you knew of the outside world, of the town you loved so much. Something clicked in your mind as you thought, lifting your head to turn and begin to ask your stepmother a question but her voice cut through the air.

"Unless Y/N somehow cleans the entire house top-to-bottom until it shines and sorts our mixed grain into like piles in time for the royal ball, I don't think she'll be needing your services, Miss Adanna. Besides, the queen is hosting this ball so her daughter may find a spouse, what use would she have of a serving girl?"

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"This isn't a request! You must marry!" Evanora's stern voice echoed through the throne room, practically rattling the armour of her guards. She glared at her daughter who stood before her, hair down and wild from horseback. Agatha stared back, arms crossed and head held defiantly.

"For what reason? The kingdom is prospering, the people are happy and for the most part well fed, and we've no news of our enemies to the south! Why must I marry, Mother?" At the purple wisps gathering at her fingertips, Agatha anticipated her mother's response. The queen bunched her hands into fists, her jaw clenched as she spoke.

"You know the reason, daughter. Your...studies have put you in a very precarious position and the curse will solidify on your next birthday. Plus, it won't hurt to erase the image people have of you, with your escapades and trysts that bring embarassment into my court."

Agatha merely scoffed, uncrossing her arms as she held them out incrediously.

"If you've forgotten, Mother, my birthday is at the end of this month. And the curse you speak of can only be broken by unconditional love, something you wouldn't know about." Agatha spit out her words like venom, hopeful they would affect her mother in any way. But the Queen merely watched her daughter with cold eyes, waving her messanger up to the throne. The man gave a crooked bow to Agatha as he passed her, scroll in hand. Evanora took the scroll with a nod, dismissing the man. He scurried out of the large room, footfalls echoing in the silence. The Queen waved the announcement in the air, almost tauntingly, before she opened and began reading out loud.

"The Crown formally invites you to partake in the debutante ball for Crown Princess and Heir Agatha of House Harkness. Our home will be open for three nights as our beloved Princess searches for a partner to strengthen the bonds of our kingdom."

The Queen put down the scroll, letting it fall to the ground as she smirked at her daughter.

"You'll have three nights to find this unconditional love or the consequences you'll face will doom the lives of everyone you hold dear."

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The thought of leaving the house, if only for a few nights, ate away at your mind, distracting you from your chores. Shuri had long left, your stepmother and stepsisters measurements and requests for last minute additions scribbled on a notepad you were sure she wanted to burn. But before she left, she grabbed a package from her carriage, giving it you once Valentina and her daughters had already gone inside. Inside, you found fabric, soft and beautiful. The shimmering pink shade reminded you of your mother and how she decorated the house before she died.

"I'm sorry it's not much but I've seen your work Y/N, if they won't have me make you a dress, I believe you can bring your own dream to life." Shuri clasped your hands in hers in a goodbye, her kindness overwhelming you, bringing tears to your eyes. However, at the screams of your stepsisters for tea, your bubble was burst and you made your way inside, careful to keep the package out of Valentina's sight, hiding it under a loose floorboard in the kitchen before you started the afternoon tea. Anya, the eldest of the two stepsisters, practiced her dancing, stumbling into the couches and lounge chairs as she held a candlestick in place of the Crown Princess. Damille, the stepsister close to you in age by a few months, scoffed at her sister and mockingly danced, starting a fight between the two sisters. You kept your laughter to yourself, remembering the sting of Valentina's hand when you reacted to her daughters antics the first week after your father's passing. While you waited for the water to boil, you prepared the tea leaves, grabbing a lemon to slice and squeezing the tart juice over the dry leaves. Your mind wandered once again to the idea of going to a ball. A royal ball. While you had never truly seen the royal family, you recalled the portrait of the heir you had once seen in the library of your town. You felt heat rise to your face as you recalled the childlike crush you had on the Crown Princess, shaking your head as you pouring the now boiling water into three teacups, careful to avoid splashing the water onto your skin. Once the liquid turned into a pale yellow-green shade, you strained out the leaves and prepared a tray with the cups, a bowl of sugar cubes, and some milk for Damille, who prefered her tea tart with no sugar. You walked into the sitting room, setting the tea down in front of your stepmother. While you prepared it the way she enjoyed, you attempted to ask her a question.

"Stepmother, may I accompany you to the Royal Ball? It would cost you no expense, I can make my own dress-"

Valentina's laugh cut you off.

"With the scraps you have? I will not be seen in public with someone is a patchwork excuse for a dress, at a royal ball no less. Besides you have chores." Even though she waved her hand through the air, indicating the conversation was over, you continued, feeling slightly desperate at a chance to taste freedom.

"I can get the chores done in time, the house is never truly dirty, and I could wear one of my mother's old-"

It was Valentina's cold stare that stopped you from continuing. Something clicked in her eyes and she brought up her tea to take a sip, reveling in your tense body language. Slowly she set her tea back onto the china plate, the soft clink the only noise as you and her daughters awaited her answer.

"If you can create a dress, a new dress, that isn't embarassing for my family and if you can complete the chore of mucking the stables before the first night of the ball, you may accompany us. But," she held a finger almost accusingly in your face, "You will not speak to anyone of any status while there."

There was something in her tone, something you couldn't quite place but her agreement overshadowed any caution you could've had. You practically danced out of the room, patterns for your dress spinning in your mind.

You didn't notice the look your step-mother shared with her daughters as you left, an evil glint shining in their eyes.

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Agatha walked around the library, absentmindly running her fingers across the spines of every book as she was lost in thought.

The curse was her fault, yes, but she would never admit her mother was right. She would admit, however, that her stunt of gaining power in hope of overthrowing her mother was done in haste. If she had read the fine print maybe she wouldn't be in this position. She silently scolded herself as she saw a slight purple haze cover her vision as magic pooled in her eyes.

She had three nights, three, to find someone who could potential help her break the curse she put upon herself. Blinking away the haze, Agatha looked down at her hands, her black fingertips fading into dark grey veins up to her elbow. The words her mother spoke to her the night the curse was solidified rang in her head as she followed her unearthly veins with her eyes.

How could anyone love someone like her?

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

You leaned against the tree your parents had planted the night of their wedding, tears streaming down your face as you clutched onto the scraps of your dress. You had slaved over this garment, days were spent tending to your stepmothers every word but nights were spent hunched over with a needle as you sewed a dress you had dreamed of. A dream that was nothing now. You were raised to be kind to all but as you recalled the event of this night, you felt hatred bubble in your chest.

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

Excitement was all you could feel as you slipped into your dress, proud of your work. You had finished mucking out the stables hours ago, giving you time to wash the stink away from your skin and hair. Pride welled in you as you smoothed the fabric with your hands, opening your attic door to join your step-mother and step-sisters as they waited for the coach that would take you to the palace.

"Mother, look!" Anya practically shouted as you walked down the stairs, covering her smirking expression with a fan. Valentina spread her arms out in what you would learn to be false affection. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, your step-mother examined your dress, pursing her lips. Quickly, the excitment you felt died like a dwindling fire as your step sisters joined their mother in circling you.

"Oh Y/N, I just don't think this'll work. This design is just...it has too many faults. Here, let us help."

Your confusion was replaced by cold shock as Valentina's hand shot out to rip part of your sleeve off. Anya followed, grabbing part of the skirt to pull on the seams. Damille's was the worst, using both hands to create a distance between the bodice and the top of your skirt. You stood frozen, tears streaming down your face angrily as they continued to destroy your hard work. It was over the second the familiar sound of horses sounded outside.

You don't remember what Valentina said to you before she left, or the snide remarks her daughters added on. All you remember was running, running through the house, running across the backyard into the open land where your parents tree stood proud.

And that's where you found yourself.

"How could you be so stupid?" You muttered to yourself as you wiped away tears, angry for allowing yourself to believe your step-mother could ever show you kindness. In your wallowing, you didn't notice how the ground in front of the tree started to swirl, how the wind changed directions, how a slight humming noise filled the air.

"Now why are you crying when you should be at the ball?" A slightly cocky voice spoke in front of you, unfamiliar yet comforting. Your head shot up and your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. A woman, wearing a sparling cloak stood expectantly, hand on her hip while the other held a wand. Blinking, you stuttered out a response.

"I, I can't go. They ruined my dress and my stepmother would recognize me. I don't want to deal with the aftermath."

The sparkling woman held out her wand, pointing it at you.

"I'm not too fond of this 'can't' business. You have a very obvious fairy godmother standing in front of you, ready to snap her fingers and say a catch phrase I created when I was younger. So tell me, Y/N, do you want to go to the ball?"

Without hesitation, you nodded and your fairy godmother waved her wand.

a/n: whoa cliffhanger, wonder what happens next...but seriously, i love doing AUs like this and I'll focus on getting my other wips out but lemme know if you enjoyed this??

[eiraeths]

do you guys want some of my cod 141 headcanons you’re getting them anyways

SOAP

-puts stuff in his mouth a lot to hold it when he runs out of hands (this includes when he’s making explosives, it stresses everyone out)

-gets cute aggression and bites people

-will also bite in a fight

-has bits and pieces of rubble from explosions that he thought looked pretty

-is feral, like he takes a hit to the face during a spar and grins with blood trickling into his mouth

-had a graffiti phase as a teen that never fully left and because of it he writes in all capital letters. this is great when they need something written down where no one can read it. (the 141 probably had a meeting where they went over how to read his handwriting)

-has dreams so realistic he wakes up confused wondering if it was a memory he forgot about even if it didn’t make sense

-military grade anger issues

-never fully grew out of his punk phase

-his childhood room was full of road signs and traffic cones

-is actually a hardass when it comes to training recruits (i think the proper term for privates in the sas is troopers but im calling them recruits cause that seems to be the term everyone uses)(everyone thought his bright attitude meant that he’s laid back and easygoing. no. he’s not. yall ever seen those videos of drill sergeants coming up with the most creative insults? thats him)

-randomly says “i am normal and can be trusted around military grade weapons”

-his journal from the og games is a must in the remaster sorry i don’t make the rules

GHOST

-can play guitar super fucking well, im talking full on fingerstyle ballads

-major staring problem, if he doesn’t want to talk to someone he’ll stare until they go away. sometimes stares at people for no reason. also stares when he wants something. he’s always watching.

-would be interested in getting into blacksmithing if he didn’t grow up poor and hates spending money on himself that isn’t out of necessity (seriously you need like 30k to start a forge)

-can and will obsess over damascus patterns in blades (i feel like his favorite pattern would be fish bone or those really complicated mosaic patterns. he gets soap into it too by showing him fireball patterns)

-never grew out of echolalia and because of this is amazing at mimicking noises (he mimicks smoke alarm battery low noises and phone chimes to troll people sometimes.)

-road rage, but its quiet fuming comments that make you grip the oh shit handle for dear life (“you better turn off your fucking highbeams or i can’t be blamed for the head on collision that’s about to happen”)(no one can tell if he’s serious or not)

-hates tin foil, hearing it or touching it makes him clench his jaw because it feels like he can feel it in his teeth

-secret sweet tooth, but it comes and goes. sometimes he’s disgusted by anything sweeter than white bread and other times he can fuck up an entire box of lil debbie cakes

-can hand sew efficiently and fast as fuck

-his favorite type of blanket is a heavy quilt

GAZ

-is aggressively hydrated and is one of those people who carry around those big 128 oz water bottles

-gets competitive over karaoke (it took him months to convince everyone to join and he only got the idea after finding out soap wanted to be in a band as a teen and that he spent days learning how to properly vocal fry)

-says WOO! when he’s super fucking excited (will throw his arms up as well if soap is around because the two of them are an echo chamber of emotion)(the WOO! might actually be canon theres a voice line in warzone)

-probably the most up to date on modern fashion trends (get this man a long cashmere coat he deserves it)

-he does own a bedazzled cap he found at a gas station though (it’s hideous)

-elaborate skin care routine (he’s conned everyone to have some sort of routine. especially ghost. he got so concerned when it hit him that ghost was always wearing the eyeblack)

PRICE

-listens to black label society (i won’t budge on this its not even a head canon to me anymore its fact it was revealed to me in a dream)

-plays solitaire (he’s a very high level and it took him less than a year to get there. no one knows where he found the time to play for that long)

-drives a manual and shames people who don’t know how to work a stick

-literature nerd (im talking all the classics and philosophy books this man can get his hands on)

-discovered tennessee moonshine and has thought about it ever since

-smacks people on the back of the head when they’re doing something stupid

-if anyone makes a negative comment on his facial hair he gives them the dirtiest side eye

GEN/MULTI

-gaz and soap carry those big contractor waterproof sharpies and leave gaz was here or soap was here everywhere they go (this stemmed from soap’s graffiti phase and gaz turned it into a competition. they once got into a competition on who could leave the most signs until price called them muppets and confiscated their sharpies)

-ghost put soap in air jail once, it was very effective

-gaz and soap go to the gym together and take photos in the mirrors after they’re done (somewhere there’s a photo of the time they got ghost to join and they even got him to flex an arm)

-ghost and soap are professional assholes to each other.

-none of the 141 are allowed play card games and gamble with each other because they’re all dirty charlatans

-price tried to stop smoking only once and carried around gum and peppermints. ghost stole the peppermints and soap wouldn’t stop asking for gum

-gaz and ghost are the only ones who really try to adhere to the lights out rule. price and soap can be seen drinking coffee throughout the day

-all of them can hold a grudge for life

-ghost clears his throat loudly when any of them smoke by him. or stares. depends on the say

-if any of the smokers see another outside smoking and decides to join them it turns into a drawn out conversation about the most mundane topics

-the 141 can have full conversations of pure sarcasm nons

[luvlylilyz]

relax a bit

w/c: 820, short

note: fluff, fiancé geneticist miguel, nurse reader. he isn’t spiderman in this au. this is my first time writing a fic im so nervous to post this so have some compassion 😭 thx!

Sliding the tray of freshly cubed potatoes into the oven and closing the door with a thud. Wiping the olive oil from your hands onto your floral apron, a job well done.

 Cooking was supposed to be a soothing way to relieve stress. After enduring 10 excruciating hours of dealing with the blatant disrespect and disregard from senior residents at the retirement home. It had left you, emotionally numb, feet sore and bone tired. Fed up with those old hags shoving you around. 

You grudgingly continue to clean up before dinner is done cooking. Placing dishes into the dishwasher and wiping the counters before you had begun sweeping, the front door creaks open. 

The sound of his numerous keys being dropped into the bowl at the front door, a heavy winter coat being hung in the closet, and his beloved brown dress shoes being taken off draws your attention.

 “Hey honey, how was work?” You call out brushing up the mess from the floor. 

Miguel‘s large form is heard approaching before he's seen in the doorway of the kitchen in your shared Nueva York apartment. Being together for five years and living together for two you had become accustomed to his habits, it’s almost second nature. 

He grumbles and groans in response to your question as he encircles his muscular arms around your waist, dwarfing you by comparison and burrowing his face into your neck. 

“Rough day I assume?” You ask in a sympathetic tone. 

He responds “Always,” he replies, “but I can’t complain... I love my job. And I love coming home to the sight of you.” He kisses your shoulder and you reach behind to gently stroke his head.

 “You should go take a shower to relax. Dinner will be done soon”. There's a muffled “Yes ma’am.” You smile as you watch his looming figure, descending down the hall to your shared bedroom. 

A delicious dinner, an amazing conversation and a couple glasses of your favorite wine later. You find your fiancé and yourself curled up on the couch underneath a thick quilt watching a cheesy romance movie. 

You both needed this, your hectic schedules hindering you from spending much needed time together. His job as a full time geneticist at Alchemex and you being a full time nurse at a retirement home made your relationship quite difficult. 

You glance at the ticking clock hung in the hall as it reads 12am. Your heart shatters, knowing that this rare domestic occasion has to come to an abrupt end because your next shift begins in 6 hours. A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. Miguel's attention shifts from the television.

“Something wrong?” He raises a brow in concern and rubs comforting circles into your back.

You rest your head onto his chest looking up at him with saddened tired eyes.

“It’s just that…it’s already late and I have to get up soon….I feel like I never have enough time to spend with you.” A frown forming on your plump lips.

He pulls your body closer and places his chin atop of your head embracing you.

“I know sweetie. Our hours aren’t ideal, I miss spending time with you too.” He replies reassuringly.

A silence falls over you both. The sound of dialogue from the movie and the ticking of the clock blending in with the noises of the city that never sleeps. You break the silence first.

“Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?” Your best attempt at using your sad eyes to sway his decision.

“You know I’m the head geneticist. My team wouldn’t know what to do without me.” He chuckles.

“They can figure it out. Don’t you think I need you more than them.”

He looks down at you “Aren’t you needed at work as well? I’m sure they need their hardest working employee.” 

"Screw them; they can figure it out. I need a break, and I know you do, too. He scratches his neck, exhaustion visible on his mature features; a strand of his salt and pepper hair, which you adore, falls forward on his forehead, wrinkled in thought.

“It’s just one day.” He mumbles. You give your widest most convincing smile. “Exactly, just one day, they’ll survive without us won’t they.” Your tone takes a bit of a joyful tone.

He smiles gingerly “Okay, I’ll call out tomorrow.” A small cheer is heard from you. “But don’t think giving me those sad puppy dog eyes is going to work in your favor every time.” He says sarcastically. You kiss him on the lips

“Well it’s never not worked for me.” You reply.

You can feel the stress, anxiety and tension from the day leave your body as you lean further into the loving warmth radiating from the giant man. 

“I love you.” He says. “I love you, too.” 

You both eventually fall into a much needed deep sleep soothed by each other's embrace.

a/n: thx for readinggg <3

[unicyclehippo]

flew for the first time in a very long time, since well before covid started, & oh i missed it so much. first, how remarkable an invention a plane is, how clever, how world changing!! it can seem so normal but actually we are FLYING. i looked down on the clouds that look down on me. the sun rose & everything was brilliantly incandescently white. i stared out the window for the entirety of the admittedly too-short flight & cloud spotted—i saw lions & palaces of cloud & a fleet of dolphins breaking out of the waves. mostly it looked like quilting wadding. i love to fly. i love to people watch, i love to cloud watch, i love the clouds, i love the captains & the cabin crew. when i fly i feel like i will never run out of things to love about humans

a short list of things i loved about the two flights i took:

- special shoutout to the cabin crew, ground crew, they’re incredible. literally all the crew i interacted with had the biggest smiles & were so so friendly & helpful. if ur a crew member out there, i love you. huge shout out to the mid 50s (?) hostess on my first flight—short, super sharply put together in the “im a modern witch” kinda way—who had a quip for almost every comment directed her way. the only one i rmbr was when an elderly passenger called her love she replied “how’d you know my name is love? you must be a psychic!”

- all the passengers i saw were calm & unruffled at the least & sometimes very nice! all around me i could hear people meeting & passing with those small human courtesies repeated & repeated—pardon me, d’you mind if i duck past, hey do you need help with your bag, oh mind their head there, where are you headed, can you get by do you need some room, thank you, thank you, thank you, can i help you, can i help you, can i help you

- special shoutout to the passenger w the crying baby. he was such an upset baby & the only thing that calmed him was being walked up & down the aisle over & over. every time he came down the aisle, i saw heads turn toward him & people smiling their baby smiles—exaggerated, kind, often accompanied by a scrunch of the nose or a tiny wave. ‘he doesn’t sound happy poor thing,’ i heard a lot, or things like it, as his dad bounced him in his arms, & then, invariably, help was offered. ‘my mother swears by this trick‘ — ‘my husband does this to calm our kids” — ‘my wife always does this’. the flight was delayed by nearly fifty minutes. no one was allowed out of their seat as we idled on the tarmac except for this unhappy baby & his dad, walking up & down the aisle.

- special shoutout to my seat buddy, who had a wonderful bright yellow backpack with rainbow straps. i have a matching one & told her so. she said it was a whim, on account of the yellow & rainbow. i told her it’s a very durable bag & one of my favourites. there’s a softening that comes with a compliment, a small comment when we meet—it’s an invitation from then on to say whatever little something pops into our heads. are you listening to music? what book are you reading - oh it’s a library book! good on you mate! we gotta use them more. do you know how to get the headphones working—ooh i figured it out. mind if i use your charger, mines not working. hey the refreshments are headed this way did you want anything? are you headed home? my family is in the row in front & she smiles every time they twist uncomfortably to chat through the gaps in the seats. later, as we are waiting to disembark, she confesses she was on the flight before but it was cancelled . you mean i could’ve had more space, i teased. she laughed, apologises. i could have had far worse company…but not by much, i teased a little more, & she laughed harder. get home safe, we say to each other—i don’t know her name, she knows mine just because my mother whispered it through the seats (are you too hot back there? do you have enough leg room? i can’t move the seat but - oh your sister wants me to recline my seat onto you, im going to squish you!). get home safe, i hear echoed by ten more people to their seat buddies as i hurry off the plane. the last is from a smiling crew member (refer back to my first point. i love you crew members).

- a turbaned man held his baby up at the huge windows looking out to the planes. she clung to him for a minute then tried to dive out of his arms, her own spread wide like the wings of a plane, laughing.

- the women having dinner in the food court as we waited for our plane. i was facing away from them & somewhat half heartedly eavesdropping but every now & again they said something so familiar that it may as well have been my own sisters sitting behind me. ‘—don’t hate her but some of the things she says-‘ ‘i know, i know. can she even hear herself? it’s like. so self-centred.’ ‘and she THINKS she’s being the nice one or she wants us to think it? i don’t even KNOW anymore. like, either she’s so conceited she thinks we love everything she does or she knows she’s behaved badly & is enjoying, i don’t know, us not knowing what to say?’ ‘i KNOW. and, like, we have to be honest,’ ‘absolutely,’ ‘but at the same time it’s like. she should know.’ ‘she should KNOW.’ ‘but she doesn’t or she’s pretending not to and im so done.’ i don’t know who you ladies were, i never saw your faces, i wish you all the best with your friend.

- the Intensely Cheerful & Organised Mother who was my seat buddy on flight 1. you were corralling three teen daughters &, from the glimpses of your notebook i caught, were studying for a test on medicine or maybe nursing. i know you were all on your way to see taylor & you were Determined that it was going to be the perfect trip. i have never seen someone work so hard at getting their luggage to fit in the overhead compartments but you managed to find a space for all of it & i applaud you now

i know there’s more but im for bed. basically i love to fly & im so happy to have done it again

[covenantofthedeep]

to kiss in cars and downtown bars ☆

☆ feat. | kazuha, venti, kunikuzushi, heizou, xiao and aether! ☆ summary | you go out to a bar with them. antics ☆ tw: mentions of alcohol and bars, suggestive - reader is referred to as "pretty", "beautiful" , "handsome" etc ☆ author's note | this is perfectly normal i am perfectly normal for venti i am so n o rmal. im so sorry if this is too suggestive

venti |

you're sitting on one of the high barstools, watching venti out of the corner of your eye. he's singing, gesturing wildly with the hand that's holding a wineglass filled with something that looks like champagne, and his hair's not in its typical two braids; you'd watched a group of girls do it up in a singular loose dutch braid. you wonder, briefly, how it would look loose, cascading around his face and catching on his cheekbones. you wonder how it would look if you ran your hands through it, how it would look sticking up? you wonder how he would look untucked, maybe if you kissed him....

when you snap out of your reverie, he's staring right at you, a knowing smirk ticking up the corner of his lips. as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. a hot flush spreads up from your chest, and you're positive you've turned red. the flashing lights play across his face as he tilts his head, and suddenly the room is far too hot, far too confining, and you're regretting coming out at all. you turn away and flash a smile at the bartender, setting a few bills down on the counter before gathering your purse and shouldering your way through the crowd.

outside, it's started to drizzle, and the air is cool and crisp on your fiery cheeks. you close your eyes and turn your face towards the stars, listening to the sounds of the bar behind you, the wind whistling through your hair. you shiver; it had been warmer when you had left and so you had neglected to bring a jacket, and now goosebumps pop up all over your arms. you sigh, thumbing your phone in your purse, ready to call a taxi to take you home, when someone grabs your arm from behind.

you spin around, muffling a shriek--and realize it's venti. he's smiling at you in that self-satisfied way, the same smirk he was giving you in the bar, the same smirk that has your heart pounding faster than it should be and your cheeks flushing. "venti!" you stutter out, squinting at him. "what are you doing out here? you should be in there." you gesture in the vague direction of the club.

venti's gaze flicks up and down your body, and suddenly, despite the goosebumps, you're far too hot. "well," he says, shifting from foot to foot, and is it your imagination, or does he look nervous? "well, you looked intoxicated. and i thought i should check on you, and help you get home, since you're my friend."

at that word, friend, you deflate. of course. you're just imagining things. you're just friends. you clear your throat. "i appreciate it, but i'm fine, really. i'm just tired, seriously. i think i'll call a cab and go home."

venti quirks an eyebrow, toying with a loose strand of hair that hangs in front of his face. you're seized with the sudden urge to tuck it behind his ear and you entertain the idea. just friends. "do you want me to walk with you?" he asks. "it's such a lovely night, you can see all the stars!"

you can't help yourself; you glance up. raindrops pitter down your face, trickling down the neckline of your top. you shiver. clouds coat the sky, a quilt of puffy gray against a deep navy background. "you can't see any stars, venti," you say, exasperated, still looking up. "and i'm cold. i think i'll just.. call a taxi. thank--" you look at him and cut yourself off, because he's staring at you.

the look in his eyes sends a sucker punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of your lungs and seizing you with the urge to curl into yourself. then he blinks and the moment's gone, and he's holding out his coat. "here," he says gently. "i'll walk with you."

you take it from him, and your fingers graze his, and it feels like you've been dipped into a pot of molten lava.

walking home is almost torture; walking just so apart, close enough that your fingers brush when you step but not enough for you to grab his hand if you wanted. the rain soaks your hair, plastering it to your forehead and droplets collect on his eyelashes like diamonds. when you reach your door, he smiles. "have a good night, yn," he tells you, turning to make his way off of your stoop.

"wait," you call, taking off his jacket. the rain plunges around you in ice-cold sheets, and you miss it already; the smell of champagne and flowers clinging to the warm fabric. he glances over his shoulder. "keep it," he says. "i'll get it next time."

and he winks.

kazuha |

when kazuha calls you, for some reason, you pick up. and, for some reason, when he invites you to the bar downtown (it'll be fun, i promise) you say yes. when he hangs up, you cradle your head in your hands and debate calling him back and cancelling, but then again, it's been a hard week, and maybe a night out is just what you need?

lurking in the corner of the bar, you realize that a night out is not what you need. the bar is hot and stuffy, and everyone reeks of cheap alcohol and cigarettes. you wish desperately for your bed, and you lost track of kazuha an hour ago. you cup your hand around your phone screen, squinting to see the time, and realize that it's almost dead. "shit," you mutter. "shit, shit. shit." you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes, considering walking home or maybe taking public transport? but at this hour, the buses are notoriously known to be packed full of drunks and junkies, and you have no desire to deal with that, not now.

"hey, yn," slurs a voice near your ear. "yn, yn, yn! yn! can you hear me? yn!"

you jerk your eyes open and squint. "kazuha? are you... are you drunk?"

kazuha laughs; a noise so uncaring and free, so unlike his usual self that you have no choice but to smile. his usually pale cheeks are flushed, whether it be from the drink or the heat, you don't know. his hair hangs around his face, and the top button of his shirt has come undone. you wrench your eyes away from it and search his face instead. "drunk? me?" he asks, so innocent and dubious that you could've believed him if it weren't for the fact that he's leaning heavily against the wall. "i'm not drunk. i haven't drunk anything tonight. i'm just saying hi to my favorite pretty friend. can i not say hi to my favort.. favort... favorite pretty friend?"

you flush, tearing your eyes away from his face. "do you know how you'll get home, kazuha?"

he ignores this question and instead takes your face in his hands. "your eyes," he says, eyebrows furrowing, "are like pools. i could, i could dive in them. and swim. mmm, i love swimming." he lets go of your cheekbones, the skin where his hands were on you burning, almost as if on fire. "hmmm."

"okay, that's enough," you say, taking his elbow and steering him towards the exit. "i'll take you home. do you have a car?"

"yes! yes, i have a car. i drove here. are you going to drive me, favorite pretty friend?" he asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

and so you wind up in kazuha's shitty red bug, his forehead resting against the dashboard. "kazuha?" you ask worriedly. "are you going to puke?"

he laughs dryly. "maybe. it wouldn't make a difference, not in this shitty car anyway. it's already been ... trashed." he leans back in his seat, finally, and gazes up at the stars. "the sky looks beautiful," he whispers, almost to himself. then he looks at you, the sparkles of the constellations reflected in his eyes causing you to blink and lose your focus for a moment.

the rest of the ride passes in silence, with you occasionally glancing over to check on his state--every single time, he's watching you. you can feel his eyes rake over your body, pausing when he gets to your eyes. you shift uncomfortably in your seat; why is he doing this? after maybe the fifth minute of this, you pull the car over. "okay, what is it?"

"what?" he asks quickly, folding his hands in his lap.

"why do you keep... staring at me? looking at me? do i have food on my face?" nervousness keeps you rambling, keeps you from looking at him.

"oh, i... no," he mutters, and when you finally do look at him, a flush is creeping up his neck.

"then?" you demand, impatient. you hadn't signed up for this, babysitting a drunk kazuha when you could've been tucked into your bed with your book, maybe some ice cream.

"i was just, i was just thinking how much i'd like to... kiss you."

you freeze; opening your mouth, and then closing it. "i'm sorry, what?"

and then he's holding your face, similar to the way he did in the bar, and tipping your chin up. his hair falls into your face, feather-light strands brushing your cheeks. his eyes catch onto yours, intoxicating, filled with the night sky. he brings his lips to yours, and he tastes like sweet champagne and, undeniably, kazuha.

when he pulls away, your hands are shaking on the steering wheel and he settles back with a self-satisfied smirk. "well," he says conversationally, his flushed cheeks and blown pupils shattering his façade of nonchalance. "now that we've got that out of the way, shall we continue?"

kunikuzushi |

you heave a sigh, nursing a coke, scrolling through instagram on your phone. why are you here, at a dinky bar, with kuni nowhere in sight? he had been glued to your side for practically the entire night; sullen, quiet, and holding a bloody mary from which he had taken exactly two sips, and then all of a sudden, he'd vanished.

now, in his place, is a burly boy with his hair combed aggressively away from his face--he's been trying to buy you drinks all night, all of which you had politely refused. now, he's teetering on the edge between tipsy and fully, completely, wasted. "oh, come on, you pretty little thing," he urges. "just one drink? just one drink and one dance, come on."

you fight the urge to get up and leave; that'll make him angry, and in his current state, you don't want to deal with it. "no, thank you," you say again, politely. "i'm the designated driver for my friend, and i have to stay sober."

he rolls his eyes heavily, taking a huge swig from the current drink in his hand. "oh, but fuck that, handsome. you can just come home with me, and your friend can call an uuuuber. come on, i promise i'll make it worthwhile!"

you shove down a retch and flash him a civil smile, turning back to your phone. you jump when he slams a glass down in front of you. "drink!" he shouts, and you cringe away from his flying spittle. "drink, godammit! i said, drink, i don't care about your pathetic little friend!"

you open your mouth, ready to bite back a retort and storm out of here, fuck kuni, when none other than kuni stands between you and the man. all five-foot-four of him. you can't help but feel flattered, his hat clenched in his fist and his hair mussed. he leans close to the man and whispers something in his ear that causes him to jerk back and settle on a stool at the other end of the counter.

"kuni," you breathe, grabbing his shoulder. he spins around, looking at a spot above your right ear. "kuni, thank you. i mean--i could've handled it, but thank you."

"i know you could've handled it," he spits out. "i just. well. i wanted to help. you've been sitting here, and you look so--" he clamps his mouth shut, pointedly looking at your eyebrow. "anyways. are you ready to go?"

you shake your head, confused. "i mean, yes-- i am, but i thought you were having fun? don't you... we can stay here a little longer, i don't mind."

"no," he says stiffly. "no, we're going. i would like to go now, so we are. unless you'd rather stay here with that guy?" he raises an eyebrow and gestures towards the man he'd just run off.

you can't suppress the chuckle that bubbles out of your chest. classic kuni, ditching halfway through and taking everyone with him. although in this case you can't be annoyed, judging how you weren't enjoying yourself anyway.

"okay, no, no, i'm coming," you laugh, grabbing his hand. "c'mon, it's an absolute madhouse. keep ahold of me while we go through, otherwise who knows what would happen?"

kuni has seized up, looking at your hand in his, his hat dangling limply from his other hand. "um," he mutters. "um, i. yeah, sure." and he drags you through the crowd.

kuni's hand in yours, his rough callouses against your smooth palm, sends sparks up your arm. you want to watch his constantly angry face split into a smile--or at least ease up on the frown. you want to watch him laugh. and you want to kiss that bastard.

the two of you emerge from the bar, stepping out of the suffocating heat into cold night air that can't be above freezing. why had you opted to go sleeveless? you shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, casting a glance at kuni's thick jacket. "kuni," you say, smiling at him. "can i borrow your jacket? it's so cold out, and i don't want to walk home...."

kuni scoffs. "who said we were walking home? it's cold, i don't want you to -- i mean, it's too cold for this. my ears are going numb."

you tilt your head. "you don't want me to what?"

his pale cheeks go red. "i mean, i don't want you to catch a cold." you laugh, and he quickly adds, "just because, you know, then you wouldn't be able to drive me anywhere! no other reason, that's it, i promise."

he looks so flustered you almost feel sorry for him, but you can't stop. "you're worried about me, aren't you?"

he crosses his arms. "i'm not. i am not worried about you. stop smiling at me like that! it makes me want to--" he cuts himself off, but this time you don't goad him. you look at him, your heart a butterfly in your chest, your hand warm in his. you step a little bit closer and bend and place a kiss on his cheek. "just for warmth," you tell him, his face beet red and his hand death gripping yours.

xiao |

somehow you've persuaded xiao to let you put his hair up into a ponytail, and archons, you want to kiss him.

you lean against him as he tugs on his hair, scowling at his reflection in his phone camera. "xiao, leave it alone," you tell him, pushing his hands away. "it looks good! it looks good. i promise."

he sighs. "i guess if you say so," he mutters, tucking his phone into his slacks and shouldering his way into the bar. you lag behind, watching the muscles of his arms tense as he reaches up--again--to tighten the ponytail. he turns around and flashes you a small smile, pointing towards the bar. you give him a thumbs-up, grab a coke, and lean against the wall.

it's two hours later, after you've struck up a conversation with a boy--he's awfully cute, you have to admit--that you realize you haven't seen xiao in quite some time and you haven't checked your phone. pulling it out, you see that xiao's blown it up with texts, ranging from yn, where are you? to yn, i'm going to leave without you to yn, coem hep me. you excuse yourself and stand up on your tiptoes, scanning the floor, a furrow creasing between your eyebrows. he didn't really leave without you, did he?

arms wrap around you from behind and you whirl around, coming face-to-face with xiao's chips-of-gold eyes, his nose an inch away from yours. "yn," he says, his voice a deep rumble. "there you are, i've been looking for ages."

you stumble back. his breath smells like wine, and he smells like his cologne--sharp, faintly floral. you inhale deeply, reveling in the smell, and then ask, "xiao, are you drunk?"

he scoffs, shaking his head, but you can tell--he's listing to the side, his hands gripping your shoulders far too tight, his last couple of texts. that explains it. sober xiao would never be this close to you, let alone touch you. and yet, you wonder, staring at his lips, if perhaps...? what other things could drunk xiao do?

you step closer, grabbing onto his forearms. "do we need to leave? are you tired?"

"no," he replies, turning his head. you watch his adam's apple bob and wonder, again, what it would be like to kiss him. "i was just... tired of you flirting with that pretty boy."

you let loose a sharp burst of a laugh, thinking that this must be a joke. it has to be. xiao would never say anything like this, xiao would never act like this, this has to be a fluke. but when you look at him, his eyes are serious, his face unsmiling. "oh, xiao," you say finally. "are you jealous? you shouldn't be. you're awfully pretty as well, you know." and then you clap a hand to your mouth, surprised that you said that. out loud. to xiao.

but he's smiling at you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners, making him look absolutely irresistible. "am i, now?"

and he watches you flounder for words, burying your face in your hands. "no," you reply, your voice muffled. "you're... hideous. ugly. disgusting, even."

"hmm. sure, yn," he says, stooping to pull your hands away from your burning face. "let's get you home. i think you're a little drunk." and with that, he plants a kiss on your mouth.

shikanoin heizou |

you and heizou had planned to meet at the bar, because you lived on opposite sides of the city and catching a taxi together seemed more like a waste of money than anything. he'd called and let you know that he was standing just inside, so you head for the door and let yourself in, shoving yourself past the crush of bodies, desperately scanning the crowd for any glimpse of inazuma's famous detective. finally, you see him, and your heart... stops.

his hair is loose, his usual headband missing, and he's in something so much simpler than what he usually wears--your heart starts up again and stutters, and you wonder briefly how you haven't fainted yet. "heizou!" you shout, gesturing wildly. he turns away from the girl he's talking to, and his smile freezes on his face. his eyes rove up and down your body, taking you in, and his gaze pins you in place. you couldn't move, you think, even if he asked you to. not with those eyes on you.

you curtsy, trying to deflect his attention from you, trying to get him to stop staring at you like that. "yn." he smiles, winking at you. "look at you, all dressed up. i can hardly keep my eyes off you." you blush, knowing he's just a flirt and he says this to everyone, but you can't help but wonder, just a little, what it would be like to have him all to yourself.

"you look not too shabby yourself," you manage to force out, butterflies taking flight in your stomach when he grabs your wrist and yanks you out towards the dance floor.

it's five songs later when you protest against another dance, claiming your feet hurt--you've got blisters on the back of your feet and your toes feel like they're being severed with a chainsaw. you're not drunk, but he's vaguely tipsy, more flirtatious than usual; his hand is on your hip and the other is on the back of your neck, cradling it like you're going to kiss him. which you just might.

"noooo, yn," heizou whines, reaching for you as you peel off your heels and step back. you laugh. "heizou, you'll have no problem finding someone else to dance with. i guarantee it."

he pouts. "but i want you to dance with me! no one else! yn, please, please, please...."

the words send sparks through your chest and a flush rising in your cheeks, but you sit down on a chair. "no," you say firmly. "heizou, seriously. you're a dignified detective, act like it!"

he makes his way over to you and plops down by your feet, resting his cheek on your bare knee. "i am always dignified," he says, his voice muffled by his position. he turns so that his chin digs into your kneecap, and normally you'd push him off, but for some reason, you can't move. the place where his chin is on your knee is burning hot, boiling even, and you wish desperately that you were outside, sitting on the curb in the cool night air.

and that's where you wind up ten minutes later, heizou leaning against you, waiting for a taxi. "i don't understand why you don't have a car," you say, gently trying to shove him off.

"i don't understand why you don't," he retorts, braiding a strand of your hair. you sigh.

"it's just not logical for me. i can take the bus. but you can't, because you have no idea how to take a bus."

heizou rolls his eyes. "i can too take a bus. i'll prove it to you." he makes to stand up, but you grab his arm and pull him down.

"you can prove it to me another time, when you're not so... inebriated."

"inebriated," he repeats. he turns so that he's looking at you, staring right at you, your gaze caught in his, unable to look away. he leans closer, as though he's going to kiss you, and for a moment, you think he might. maybe, if you could just....

a honk blares beside you, and the two of you jump apart as though electrocuted. heizou's flushing, not looking at you, rubbing the back of his neck, and you're sure you look the same.

"a cab?" the driver asks, uncaring of what he's just interrupted. "a cab for ... yn?"

aether |

aether's handsome, and he's been staring at you for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. you and aether are friends; not best friends, not acquaintances. but you're just friends, which is what you keep repeating to yourself when you're seized with the urge to grab his face and kiss him senseless. he's in a loose black top with the upper two buttons undone, his face is flushed with heat, and his hair is escaping its typical braid.

"here," aether says, sliding a drink over to you. you take it from him, raising it in a cheers. you take a sip, closing your eyes. when you open them, aether's making a face at you over your glass, and you choke. as you're about to lower it down, he reaches out a finger and tips the glass up, spilling juice all over you. you cough, gripping the counter for support, frantically fanning the air in front of your face as though it would help.

aether cackles madly, snorting as you gasp for air. a dimple forms in one cheek, the perfect size to press your thumb to it. "oh, that was funny. oh, the look on your face!" he picks up his drink and takes a sip, making a face at the sharp taste.

"it's not funny!" you wheeze, crossing your arms--and then lowering them as you realize that you can't breathe.

"it was so funny," he retorts, setting his drink down. he leans closer. "you have to admit," he says seriously, eyes searching your face, "that it was funny. you're laughing."

you want to slap him, but you also want to grab his hair and pull. would it be soft, you wonder? would it tangle around your fingers....

you shake your head to clear your thoughts, almost as if they're cobwebs. you let loose a final bark of a cough and cast a glare at the glass that sits beside you, pushing it away. aether tilts his head and studies you, sipping his drink slowly. you lean closer and watch his eyes widen a fraction, bracing your elbows on his knees. his face flushes slightly--and you knock the bottom of the glass up, spilling the liquid inside all down the front of his shirt.

aether splutters, jerking his knees up so that your hands slip and you have to right yourself on the stool, laughing. "oh, you should've seen your face!" you tease, handing him a stack of napkins.

aether stops scrubbing at his shirt and sets his napkins down. you can't tell if he's gathering his composure or plotting something back against you, and you study his face, trying to figure out what he's thinking, when he reaches for you and grabs the back of your neck with one hand and your waist with the other, standing right in front of you. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath, smelling like alcohol and cherries. his eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and yet his lips never touch yours.

he finally pulls back, and your whole body is hot, and you find that your fingers have found their way to his wrist and your nails dug into his flesh. "you should've seen your face," he says, grabbing the pile of napkins beside him.

[roach-works]

weird realization of the night that most of you people following me can't have any idea of who i actually am because i share information about myself very infrequently and only when i want to make a point about something else. but also ive been on tumblr for more than a decade so i just assume im like... part of the neighborhood. like a raccoon in the trash. i live here. you know me.

but in case you don't hi im roach im in my thirties and i used to be a queer girl illustrator and now im a queer man working in manufacturing and ive had adhd this whole time and i used to write a lot of weird filthy fanfic and now im working on mostly original romance and erotica these days (if you like gay post-apocalyptic sci fi please check out Stories Of The Michigan Fleet).

i live in the american midwest at the moment but im probably going to spend the winter in oregon with my family. my current hobby is quilting but im intending to get back into drawing eventually, so stay tuned for a side blog. ive been called everything from a terf to a self-hating homophobic lesbian separatist, so if you see people being mean to me online feel free to make up some even better accusations. i faked the moon landing, personally, by the way. took about a week in 2014.

i like answering asks but im not very prompt or polite, so i don't get too many. feel free to say hi, tho.

[star-writes-sometimes]

bullying and cuddles

word count: 2.3k

cw: fem reader, reader implied to have anxiety cause im projecting, swearing, bullying (affectionate), fluff, idiots in love, probably ooc tangerine but whatever

a/n: i needed domestic fluff, is this similar to other stuff ive written? yes but i dont care i love domestic fluff. i geniuenly was debating posting this because i kinda hate it but yknow c'est la vie

---—---

you emerged from the safe house bathroom after brushing your teeth in an old tshirt and pyjama shorts. both of the boys bedroom doors were closed and you could hear the thomas the tank engine theme song coming from lemon’s room. 

the door of your room was open and your suitcase was on the ground, clothes messily thrown all over the place. you had been here for about four days now so you were settled in as much as you could be in a new environment.

you and the twins were staking out a place and it was long and tedious, by this point you were thoroughly bored and ready for this to end so you could go back home. you couldn’t stand another night in the cold unfamiliar bed. 

so, instead you knocked on tangerine’s door.

“come in.”

you opened the door and walked in, quickly shutting it behind you and leaning against it, facing tangerine. he was sat up in his bed reading a book. he was wearing a plain tshirt and pyjama pants. he looked comfy, more relaxed than he usually was. the quilt was folded neatly at the end of his bed and his suitcase on the floor was immaculately organised, a stark contrast to how your room looked.

“hi,” he said smiling at you.

“hi,” you returned the smile.

“cute pyjamas.”

you were wearing a faded marvin the martian tshirt and pyjama shorts covered in little oranges, “they’re oranges.”

“you sure you didn’t wear them just for me, love?” he smiled wider at you, cocking his head to the side slightly, “cause you look adorable.”

“why would i wear them for you, you’re my third favourite person in this house,” you scoffed.

“are you putting yourself above me?”

“i know my worth,” you squinted at the book he had in his hands, “whatcha reading?”

“uhh,” he glanced down at the page he was on, “the hunger games.”

“really?” 

“why are you surprised?”

“i don’t know,” you laughed slightly, “i can only image you reading old or pretentious books.”

“are you calling me pretentious?”

you snapped your fingers in realisation, “tolstoy, you seem like the tolstoy type have you read anna karenina?”

“well, yes i have but i don’t just read old books.”

“so, hunger games.”

“yeah, it’s good criticism on violence in capitalistic societies.”

“i don’t think professional assassins should have a say on violence in capitalistic societies.”

he rolled his eyes, “then i enjoy the commentary on consumerism.”

you glanced at the gold jewellery on the bedside table, “i don’t think you can have a say on that either.”

he followed you eye line, “oh fuck off.”

you laughed, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you shifted around slightly in your spot against the door.

“did you come in here for a reason or just to take the piss out of me?”

you thought back to your lifeless room, “i was bored and i couldn’t annoy lemon.”

“why not, you’d probably enjoy his company more than mine,” his eyes drifted back down to his book.

“he’s watching thomas and there’s only so much of that i can take.”

he nodded, “understandable.”

there was a pause and you fidgeted with your hands nervously. you didn’t notice tangerine staring at you intently, contemplating what he should do.

“come sit with me,” he gestured to the empty spot next to him.

“are you sure?” you hesitated, bringing up your hand to chew on your nails.

“‘course love.”

you slowly moved over and sat on the bed next to him, keeping distance between you both on the queen sized bed.

it was silent again and you pulled your knees up against your chest, resting your chin on your knee.

“what part are you up to?” you asked.

“the interviews with caesar.” he turned his head and focused on you, noting your position and the gap you put between the both of you, “have you read it before?”

“back when i was a teenager but not since then.” you avoided his eyes, feeling anxious about the sharp eye contact, “have you read it before?”

“yeah, i’ve read it a few times.”

you just hummed in response. despite the nervous thoughts running through your head it felt better being in here with tangerine than being alone in your room. it was better having anxiety over being alone with the guy you were crushing on than the emptiness you would have felt by yourself in your room. 

“come here love.” he said softly.

“what?” your eyes snapped up to him.

“sit next to me properly.” 

you moved slightly closer, still leaving space between you both.

tangerine rolled his eyes and put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, “i’m not gonna fucking bite ya love, you can sit next to me.”

you scrunched your nose up at him, “i just didn’t want to get cooties.”

“you think i have cooties?”

“yup you have phytophthora gummosis.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

you laughed and leant into him more, “it's a disease that affects citrus trees.”

he tried not to smile, “how long have you been waiting to make that joke.”

“a few weeks,” you smiled brightly, “i did research on citrus trees.”

“just so you could take the piss out of me?”

“i had to, you look cute when you’re all annoyed and scrunch your eyebrows up.” you reached up and run over one of his eyebrows with your thumb.

“don’t call me cute.”

“why not? you are.”

“i’m meant to be intimidating.”

“how could anyone be scared of you? you’re reading the hunger games.”

“very funny, i can be scary and enjoy the hunger games.”

“are you team peeta or gale?”

“definitely peeta, he was smart and a romantic,” tangerine said, like he had thought about it a lot before.

“oh so you’re a romantic that adds to your scariness.”

“you’re bullying me, you’re a bully,” he pinched your side, enjoying the way you squirmed into him.

you yawned and put your head on his shoulder. he repositioned his arm that was around your shoulder and started stroking your hair.

“are you tired darling?”

you blinked sluggishly, “yeah… i should probably go-”

you started to get up but was stopped and cut off by tangerine.

“no, stay,” he held onto you, “you just relax.”

you bite your lip anxiously but try to relax into him again. you stared at the book in his hand, studying the mockingjay symbol on the cover. 

“what’s on your mind pet?”

you felt your neck heat up at the unfamiliar nickname, “uh can you maybe read to me?”

“you want me to read to you?”

you nodded.

“you sure you’ll be able to understand with the accent?”

“you’re british not an alien, i can understand you fine.”

“okay.” he pulled you close, you settled with your head on his chest and his arm comfortably around you. he smiled down at you, silently grateful that you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, “you ready?”

“yeah,” 

“okay darling,” he took his focus off you and onto the book, “i’m still in a daze for the first part of peeta’s interview. he has the audience from the get-go, though; i can hear them laughing, shouting out. he plays up the baker’s son thing, comparing tributes to the bread from their districts.”

“what would your strategy be in the interviews?” you asked.

“i’m not sure.”

“i don’t think you could pull off the charming thing.”

“wow, thanks love your doing wonders for my self esteem,” he replied sarcastically.

you smiled, “no that’s not what i meant, you’re plenty charming, i just think you’d be better as one of those career tributes everyone is scared of.”

“i thought you said i wasn’t scary?”

“shhh that was minutes ago you should’ve forgotten about that by now, just keep reading.”

“right sorry,” he laughed slightly, “then he has a funny anecdote about the perils of the capital showers. ‘tell me, do i still smell like roses?’ he asks caesar, and then there's a whole run where they take turns sniffing each other that brings down the house.”

“maybe you would be charming, you always smell really nice.”

“thank you, darling,” he kissed your forehead and pulled you impossibly closer, “you smell nice too.”

you smiled and adjusted your position so you could hold onto his shirt. 

“i’m coming back into focus when caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.” he continued, “peeta hesitates, then gives him an unconvincing shake of his head. ‘handsome lad like you. there must be some special girl. come on what’s her name?’ says caesar. peeta sighs. ‘well there is this one girl. i’ve had a crush on her ever since i can remember. but i’m pretty sure she didn’t know i was alive before the reaping.’”

tangerine glanced down at you half surprised and half disappointed you didn’t interrupt again. he liked listening to you talk.

your breathing had evened and your eyes had closed. you’d fallen asleep against him. he bookmarked the book and placed it on his side table. he carefully reached down, grabbed the quilt and pulled it over the both of you.

“goodnight, love.” he kissed your cheek gently.

— 

lemon woke up the next morning and stumbled into the kitchen, prepared to see tangerine already up and cooking breakfast for the three of you. he was shocked to find the kitchen empty, no trace of you or tangerine. 

he looked over at both your bedroom doors and saw yours open and empty. weird. you were usually the last awake, having to be woken up by one of the twins.

lemon walked over to tangerine’s door and opened it, “hey bruv have you seen-” he cut himself off looking down at the scene in front of him.

you were asleep in tangerine’s arms and he was holding you close. he was awake and staring down at you, playing with your hair and gently tracing your features as you slept.

lemon snickered, “whats going on here, then?”

“shut the fuck up,” tangerine immediately fired back but lemon knew it was less harsh than it usually was. despite all the teasing tangerine knew he’d get, he was happy.

“this is cute, it really is.” lemon quipped, “but i have no clue how to make breakfast so please get up soon.”

“i’m not interrupting her sleep just cause your fucking incompetent.”

“fine, just don’t blame me if i burn this place down trying to make toast,” lemon started to leave.

“stop, just wait ten minutes then i’ll make you some fucking food.”

“thanks bruv, really appreciate it.”

“whatever.”

lemon left and tangerine was alone with you again. 

tangerine moved your hair away from your face, “sweetheart?” he kissed your forehead, “if you don’t wake up soon the smoke alarm will probably wake you.”

you stretched slightly and snuggled into tangerine more, “this is nicer than the way lemon wakes me up.”

“if we don’t get up soon lemon is gonna try to cook,” he held your face and kissed you cheek gently.

“we can’t have that he’ll probably poison us all,” you sat up and rubbed your eyes, “why is your bed comfier than mine?”

“because i actually make mine?” he got up and stared down at you still wrapped in the blanket.

“ha ha,” you laughed dryly and fell back into the bed.

you closed your eyes again and settled back into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. it really was a comfortable bed. 

your peaceful rest was interrupted by getting lifted into the air.

your eyes flew open as tangerine picked you up, carrying you into the kitchen. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly.

"what the fuck are you doing, you fucking numpty!?"

"you looked peaceful i didn't want to have to wake you again."

"well it didn't fucking work you twat."

"sorry, love," he set you down on the kitchen bench and kissed you cheek, "but you look cute when your annoyed."

you felt your face heat slightly and turned your face away from him.

"stop flirting and make me breakfast." lemon interrupted.

"you could say please, you wanker," tangerine snapped at him.

"please, make us breakfast, please, mr. fruit?" you said giving your best puppy dog eyes.

"for you, not for him, darling." 

you smiled, "thank you, tan."

“you’re a twat,” lemon added.

tangerine flipped lemon off and started making pancakes. you jumped off the kitchen bench and moved over to the kettle, checking it was full before boiling it.

“lemon, do you want a cuppa?”

“yeah,” lemon mumbled, distracted by his comic.

tangerine whacked lemon up the side of his head.

“yes please, sweetheart," lemon corrected himself.

“thanks lem,” you laughed slightly at the sibling abuse.

the kettle flicked off and you finished making the three cups of tea and handed one to lemon who smiled in thanks. you walked over to tangerine and placed one on the counter in front of him.

tangerine grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the cheek, “thank you pet.”

you pulled away from him and started drinking your own cup, watching tangerine as he cooked and plated the golden pancakes.

“so did you two fuck last night?” lemon abruptly asked.

you choked on your tea and tangerines head snapped up to glare at him.

“no we slept together,” tangerine slowly replied.

lemon snorts, “i thought that was the same thing.”

“no you bellend we actually just slept, we were tired,” tangerine snapped.

you gulped down the rest of your tea and quickly placed your mug in the sink, “i’m gonna go shower boys, please save me some pancakes.” you smiled at the both and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

once you were gone lemon spoke up again, “you gonna tell her you love her yet?"

“shut up,” tangerine hissed, glancing at the shut bathroom door.

“she likes you too you know.”

tangerine didn’t respond for a few seconds, “really?”

“you’re in love with each other you both just fucking stupid.”

and for once tangerine didn’t feel the need to throw an insult back, he just reveled at the thought that you could like him too.

[mngo-jii]

✉️ : this was supposed to be a drabble to motivate me to write, um. take it anyway, as an apology from me not writing a fic in a while. im working on a request, i promise. (this is from a scene in 'nevertheless')

7th year au, Daniel is a mess, drunken confessions !

You don't understand why Daniel miserably sprawls out on the bed, why he closes his eyes in drunken annoyance at the most ridiculous reason, or why he sinks himself and nearly drowns in the unkempt sheets.

You haven't even had a chance to change out of your dinner date attire, let alone had the time to bury your face into your pillow after the date you've been longing for months. This isn't even Daniel's dorm—it's yours.

"Daniel, this is ludicrous," you admonished him as you sat. Daniel feels the mattress sag under your weight, and he childishly turns his back on you.

"How could you be so clueless?" he mutters. Most of it is muddled into the fluffs of your pillow, but you can make out what he's saying. "Clueless as to what?"

Daniel only groans in response. You call out his name, sick of hearing him mutter absurdities.

"...Seven full years, and you're still yet to grasp what's happening in front of you."

"Happening in front of me...?" You furrow your eyebrows at the boy below you.

"I know what's happening in front of me: my best friend scaring off my roommates as he crashes into my bed while intoxicated—because I decided to go on a date with the guy I like rather than hanging out with him."

You didn't think there would be a day where the tables would be turned and it would be you consoling a mess like Daniel.

Nights prior to this was when it was you sprawled on his bed, whining about this same guy you've been pining on—about how he's constantly being shipped with another girl, or how he wouldn't even bat an eye at you even after all the things you've done for him.

And despite how tired Daniel was with your nonsense and patheticism, he let you bury your teary eyes into his shoulder, letting it soak his jacket with your tears full of desperation to be admired. He shushed your sobs and cries of this douchebag's name, and he caressed the top of your head to calm you.

...

The two of you are enveloped in stillness, cut off from the outside world like a thin quilt falling onto you. Daniel is immobile beneath you as you irritably close your eyes at the ceiling.

At this point, you had started contemplating if you should simply ignore Daniel and crawl into a deep slumber next to him—it's not like there hadn't been any nights where you two latched onto each other, anyway.

Your thoughts trail back to your date that night, yet you can't bring yourself to feel flustered anymore. The person you've been looking forward to excitedly rave about this is drunk on your bed because he had been opposed to it from the start.

..."I like making potions, you know."

You hear the boy mutter below you. You lower your head, silent and questioning. He's drunk, after all.

"I like solitude as well," Daniel finally turns on his back, tiredly gazing up at the ceiling as you stare down at him. "...Unless it comes to being around you."

He sloppily sits up. His face now inches away from yours.

"I like you the most," he says, "I like you more than potions and solitude."

"You're my favourite person in the world," he trails off.

"...What about you? Who's your favourite person?" he continues, desperate eyes linking with yours. His scent is engulfing you in a dizzy haze. "Stop this nonsense," you pathetically turn away from him just to be pulled back.

"Do you like that guy? You like him, don't you?"

...

"Then I want you to stop. Because..." Daniel sinks his head down as he drunkenly speaks, "...I just don't like it."

"Don't hang out with anyone else. Just me, okay?"

"Just me, please." He grabs a fistful of your clothing and desperately leans his head to your chest.

"Please, [Y/N], only me."

[summerbummin]

Headcanon that vigilantes outside of Gotham don’t believe some of the Gotham rogues are real because of how ridiculous they sound and think the Bats are just making shit up

One day in Gotham Tim and Kon are hanging out together when Condiment King attacks and Kon is just so thrown because WAIT HES REAL

Like before this Kon refused to believe rogues like Crazy Quilt and Polkadot Man and such existed, like yeah I’m not falling for that Rob im not an idiot

Now he’s reevaluating his entire life because if Tim wasn’t lying abt Condiment King, then does that mean the other ones are real too? Is there actually someone running around calling themselves Lord Death Man and saying they’re a yoga master???

Kon’s just like

And Tim’s like we literally fought someone whose superpower is having big boobs and you can’t believe Kite Man exists??

[angelbaby-fics]

Would you mind writing a little reader who regresses to an extra tiny headspace with caregiver Bucky 🥺👉👈

yessssss ohh how i wish i could have buggy around while im in babyspace >.< ❤️ 114 words

you squirmed in the bed; you couldn't do much else. not that you'd even want to. what could be nicer than rolling around on the big soft mattress, stretching out your fingers and grasping at all the different textures you could find. plush farm animals, a big crochet blanket, a quilt bucky had owned since he was a little one himself. bucky….. your bubba… just the thought of him in your fuzzy little baby brain brought a smile to your face, your giggle was like a siren call to the man in question. "is that my little baby laughing in there?" he peeked his head around the corner. "baaaa…" you reached up at him.

you're invited to my tea party!

[the-gateway-to-madness]

@thesadpuffin

Behold, your very own high school radio station kids to play around with or ignore as you please. If this school does not have its own radio station, please assume they found a way to make their own, because these imbeciles absolutely would.

Shisi concepts:

17

Favorite color: seafoam green

Favorite drink: Sprite

Favorite food: any fresh bread, but especially sourdough

Would be from Kakariko

ASMR girl energy

Very quiet and calm

The one in charge

Aroace or just casually disinterested in drama, idk/idc which (both probably)

DJs Mon-Wed-Fri after school

The only neurotypical

She weightlifts. I didn't think of this until after drawing her, so she looks slimmer than she should, but it fits her so I'm adding it.

Torenn concepts:

16

Favorite color: teal

Favorite drink: Fanta lemon

Favorite food: Fish, shrimp, and crab (he doesn't like lobster)

Would be from Lurelin

Works and repairs all the tech involved

✨️autism✨️

A little nervous, follows the rules well enough to keep their station from being shut down by the school

Long n skinny with no muscle so his clothes are all baggy to be long enough

Flawless deadpan

DJs Tues-Thurs after school

Kyta concepts:

16

Favorite color: Purple

Favorite drink: fruit punch

Favorite food: chicken cordon bleu

Would be from Hateno

Knows a wide range of music

DJs on weekends because she's the only one willing to, and also runs the music for things like sporting events (she likes to play dramatic music when Revali goes out on the field, because she thinks it's funny when he gets mad)

✨️adhd and autism✨️

Has a running joke with herself about how many hair ties she can carry on her person

Refuses to wear the skirt

Ships Zelink. Torenn and Shisi don't get it

Gremlin energy- talks on live radio like she's making tumblr posts, her only concession to the rules is not swearing (she thinks it's funnier to use stuff like "fiddlesticks" and "horsefeathers" on air and watch Shisi and Torenn cringe, anyway)

"and today on friendships that just seem really nice: that one sporty dude whose hair is better than mine- Lonk, I think, right? And Zeeta! ... Link and Zelda, apparently. Torenn is making faces at me- oh there he goes again. Uh. Link and Zelda, if you're listening- which I bet a dollar y'ain't- sorry about the lonk and zeeta thing."

She sings, and also sews! If she ever managed to meet Link and Zelda she'd make them matching flannel frog plushes with each others' eye and hair colors included in the color schemes.

Further concepts:

Torenn and Kyta are childhood friends

To this day they say they faked papers and parental permission and got married at 14 as a joke. Everyone is still stunned they pulled it off

They did not. They both refuse to let anyone find out it's a hoax though.

They are really dating! A year so far and going strong.

Shisi is the only one who knows the truth about the whole shebang. She finds it pretty dang amusing, for the sole reason that Kyta and Torenn do too.

Shisi and Kyta share a love of sewing. Shisi taught Kyta to quilt and use a sewing machine and Kyta taught her to make plushes. After hearing the rumors about Zelda they would probably get her favorite colors from Impa and make her a nice quilt with fleece backing to cheer her up.

Shisi plays guitar, harp, and ocarina (>:])

Torenn can draw really well

They call their listeners their study buddies and go out of their way to occasionally throw in ridiculous songs for people to get up and stretch and dance to

Alright my bad night last night has caught up im out of ideas

i did make a playlist for these idiots' radio station tho