#it is such a relief to have a good day I'm ngl

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Becoming obsessed with a new show is so insane like I'm not even finished with S1 of LR but here I am sitting with a 17,200+ word outline of a fic that isn't even half conceptualized along with five other +2,500 word outlines that also aren't half conceptualized and about 25+ fic ideas jotted down in my notes. I'm feeling completely normal about Lab Rats 🫶

[surielstea]

Honeymoon

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader celebrate being newly weds.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | pet names (baby, love, wife) | shadow play | bondage | multi-orgasm | overstimulation | oral (f receiving) | creampie (?) | dirty talk | mentions of having sex on the beach | Azriel being hot

A/N: I hate this ngl but I hope you guys enjoyy

Word count: 5.2k

The sound of Cassian's rambunctious laughter echoes throughout the entire house but Azriel was too preoccupied staring at me to take any notice of his brother's amusement— which was targeted towards Morrigan. Who was so drunk I doubted she could walk. I giggled as she battled with a stubborn wine cork, and was evidently losing. Familiar arms wrap around me and pull me into a warm embrace. "Let's go home," Azriel murmurs and I look up to him with a soft smile. It was two hours past midnight, our wedding ceremony started at noon. It's been a long day, to say the least.

"I just want to make sure Mor gets home safe and then—" I begin to pull away from his grasp but he tugs me right back into him. "Do you ever worry about yourself?" He questions and I roll my eyes. "I'm allowed to care for my friends." I justify but he only pulls me closer. "It's our night." He argues and I can't help but melt into him at the words. "Mor will sleep here tonight, you've got nothing to worry over." He gently rubs up and down my sides and I solicit an exhausted sigh. "We can go home and spend our first night as husband and wife together before we leave for the Summer Court tomorrow." He offers, his tone alluring. I twist my lips to the side, contemplating giving in to my newlywed husband or staying around until everyone found their way home.

"Okay?" He prods and I look up to him once more, though I should've known better than to let my gaze meet his and still expect to deny him. "Okay." I nod and his smile goes wide, resulting in dimples appearing to crease his cheeks.

He barely even lets me say goodbye before he winnows us right into the sitting room of our home.

Azriel pulls me through the dimly lit hall of our house as I stumble over my heels, squeezing his hand tightly in a signal for him to slow down, the eager male however had no intention of wasting any more time without me in his arms, just us two.

I'd be lying if I said some alone time wasn't exactly what I needed. Alone time, with him, that is. He seems like the happiest male on earth every time he glances back at me while I'm already looking at him returning his grin.

He pulls me into the master bedroom, leaning back against the door behind him and clicking it shut. I let go of his hand and stride toward the bed, plopping down onto it in a bundle of white tulle.

My feet are practically screaming they're in so much pain. I groan as I lean down, unable to reach the clasps of the heels due to my excessive amount of skirts. Azriel only chuckles as he watches me struggle to get ahold of my shoe. "What's so funny?" I glower up at him and he folds his lips inward to stop himself from laughing any further. He stepped closer and in two long-legged strides, he was directly in front of me. "Nothing beloved," He crouches down and settles on his knees before me with a sickeningly sweet look in his eyes. "How many skirts can one dress have?" He muttered as he pushed the ballgown material in every which way. "Too many," I sigh, head craning to the side as I stretch my neck.

I feel sweet relief as one of my shoes comes off, and the other quickly follows.

He discards the horrid heels across the room and looks up at me proudly. I would marry him all over again just because of that look. I grab him by his collar and pull him up towards me with a sloppy grin, leaning forward and pecking his lips with an uncontrollable smile.

"Your suit looks really good on you," I say dreamily as I begin unbuttoning his dress shirt. "Yeah?" He looks at me with a teasing smile, standing to his full height and staring down at me. "Mhm." I nod with a dazed smile, utterly love-drunk on him. His hands come to the back of my head, undoing my pinned-up hair that took hours for Nuala to do this morning. Shadows swished around us haphazardly as we both silently took care of each other.

Once I got his shirt fully undone I moved to tug it down his shoulders.

I feel a tug at the base of my scalp and I wince as I realize my hair is being pulled. "Ow— Azriel," I bring my hands back to meet his and he looked at me with slight amusement. "My fingers are too big." He muttered and a smile pulled at my lips. "I've heard that one before." I snicker and he rolls his eyes, taking his hands away from my hair and allowing me to do it myself.

It takes me less than a minute until my hair is unbounded and tumbling down my back. I look up at him with a soft smile and he mirrors it, hands coming to my cheeks reflexively, cradling my face in his all-too-big, scarred hands.

"My beautiful wife," The words roll so easily from his tongue and the title has me flushing profusely, by the mother, we're married and he still makes me go red. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

The kiss isn't hungry or lustful, just pure innocence and love. His rough hands are gentle when holding me, and his lips on mine are so precise and careful.

I smile wildly at the feel of warm adoration flooding through his side of the bond without hesitance. I sent my own version of it back only to find his mental shields completely gone, it was just us, the spymaster didn't feel the need to hide anything.

I pull back and quickly stand to my full height, silently turning around, and without a word he understands what I want. His fingers come to the white laces of my dress, untying the delicate strings as gently as he could manage. As soon as he's got them all undone, then the rest of the clasps, I can fully breathe again. I release a soft sigh as I feel the tight bodice loosen and dip from my chest. He helps me step away from the gown, shadows carrying the expensive white fabric to the armoire where it'll be hung.

"That dress is evil," I sigh in relief, looking up to Azriel who was preoccupied staring at every inch of my body.

I was wearing a dainty white lingerie set that seemed like it would fall apart completely if he were to pull at one loose thread. "You've been wearing this all day?" He grabs me by my waist and pulls me into his chest. I giggle at his neediness and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, then give him a cheeky nod. "I would've taken that dress off a lot sooner if I'd known." He hums, head dipping into the juncture between my shoulder and neck. My hand goes into his hair as I lean up into him, he was the only warmth I could find in this cold room. The lighthearted and sweet energy between us shifts into something powered by need.

He backs away from my shoulder and moves to kiss my lips with a passion I recognized well. My hands come to his jaw but before he lets me even think about reciprocating his urgency he's moving back to my jaw, peppering kisses down the column of my throat, the valley of my peaked breasts, all the way to my navel as he lowers down onto his knees. —And when he pushes me back onto the bed and settles between my legs, I know, he's mine and mine alone.

He looks up at me with swirling hazel eyes, all I have to do is nod before he's shredding through my undergarments, and without much foreplay, his lips attach to the apex of my thighs.

Breath escapes me as he wickedly flicks his tongue over my sensitive clit, my hand shooting into his hair as a whine drags from my throat. I feel him smile against me at the reaction, I look down to see his eyes already on me, catching my gaze. My brows furrow as shadows swirl around my thighs and pin them down onto the bed as he slowly moves downward to where I ached for him most.

His tongue slips over my slit and I arch upward. "C'mon Az, don't be mean." I cry out, pulling at his hair as he teases at my entrance with a stupid smirk on his face. "Need more," I whine. "What exactly do you need more of?" He purrs, his breath fanning over my wet folds, forcing me to clench around nothing for any form of friction. "No teasing." I shake my head with a pitiful whine. "Not even just a little?" He mocks, then his teeth nip at my clit and my breath hitched as I feel heat flood the sensitive area. "You like that did you?" He taunts, his tongue coming flat against the bud to soothe it. "Don't worry baby," He tuts as shadows swirl up my arms and tether me to the bed to prevent my squirming. "Just be a good wife and I'll give you what you want, yeah?" He hums and the proposition makes me throb with pure need.

"Az," I sigh out helplessly, tugging at my restraints but my whines die in my throat as his tongue delves into my folds, collecting every drop of arousal that was a result of him and him alone.

I grin my hips up into his face and he grins wildly, his hands coming around my thighs to pull me closer as he feasts on me like he hasn't eaten in years. My hips lift as I buck into his mouth and my silent command somehow reaches him, because the next thing I know he's dipping lower and finding my opening.

I open my legs wider before he can even think to ask and he smiles at how well he's got me trained. "Good girl," The praise slips from his lips and pushes me towards my climax more than anything else. His head dives low and his tongue enters me without struggle.

I clench the sheets in my fist and tears begin welling in my water line. "Fuck, Az," I moan out. He replies with a wicked flick of his tongue, his arms tightening as he brings me closer, I glance down to see him entirely engulfed in the taste of me like he was drunk on my arousal.

My hand goes into his hair as I run out of oxygen, panting heavily at the feeling of his head between my legs. He finds that sweet spongy spot deep inside of me and toys with it, flicking and swirling his tongue across it with a precision that had me mewling his name like a prayer.

He pulls away from the spot for a moment in order to explore other areas, his long tongue pressing against my moldable walls and I clench around him, if it weren't for his hands holding me down I'd be crushing his head in. I grind my hips up in protest so he returns to that spot, and with it comes a forming know that was growing increasingly tighter.

"Fuck, m' close," I warn, confining my ministrations upward with my hips. My movements become ragged and hurried as my high approaches, but he remains fluid and teasing. I whine as he curls his tongue in such a way that I'm left breathless, my hands in his hair go stiff and the knot burrowed inside of me winds itself so tight that it snaps and I'm blessed with a surge of pleasure as it sweeps over me, a mix of both heat and euphoria blooming from my core and as I release, it’s Azriel’s name coming from my lips.

"Good," He eases as he slowly backs away. “That’s it,” His hands stroke up and down my hips and I release a soft whimper at the sensation. “You can handle more can’t you love?” He murmurs between kisses as he naps his lips back up to my neck. “Mhm,” I nod shakily and he smiles, nipping at my sensitive now marked skin. “So good for me.” He rasps before sucking on the exposure of my neck.

I clench my legs together at the absence of the shadows from my thighs but the ones at my wrist remain. I whine as I grind down, already needy for more. He presses a soft kiss to my neck at the action. “Please Az, need you,” I whine and a grin pulls at his lips. “Is that right?” He leans down and the weight of his hardened cock pressed into my abdomen. My brows pinch together and I nod. “Please Az, I’ll make you feel so good.” I implore as I stare up at his delighted expression.

“Be good and stay still for me then, okay?” He prompts and I nod with wide eyes. “That my girl.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before dipping down yet again, this time aiming towards my chest. He pulls at the string like bra and it unravels at his fingertips.

His calloused hands grip my right breast while his mouth charts my left. His tongue— that was just inside of me, flicks over the sensitive bud and I whine pathetically, pulling at the shadows holding me down in order to weave my fingers through his hair. Hazel eyes meet mine and for a moment, in the dim lighting, they seemed golden. He released my left breast with one last swipe of his tongue and moved to my right one.

My hardened bud quickly became overstimulated as his scarred thump rolled right circles around it. My chest arched up, closer to his face. He hummed in approval at the action and I sighed out his name, over and over again, he was all I could think about. I was completely drunk on his touch and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

“Feels good, ah— so good.” I mewl as his heavy cock pressed into my folds. I grind up against the fabric of his pants but it does little to get me any closer to my release. “Az,” I whine. “I know,” He whispers and moves his way back up my chest to my jaw. “I’ll give you what you want, my wife has been so good for me, I think she deserves a reward.” He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nearly moan at just the sound of his voice.

Shadows leave my wrists and unchain me from the bed while Azriel gets off his pants. I do the rest of his work with his boxers, feeling needy enough to get myself the rest of the way to my climax— but when he presses himself into my folds, I know it’d be impossible without him. He presses a loving kiss to my lips one last time before his tip aligns itself with my entrance and without any further warning he pushes himself inside, he only goes as deep as the head and I nearly meet my high at the feel of his thick member finally press into my sensitive walls.

“Gods, so fucking tight.” He grunts out and I smile hazily at the words, wrapping my legs around his hips so I’m forced to open wider for him. He lifted his hips and then thrusts them back in, his movements precise so he only entered another inch or two, but it was enough for a moan to bubble from my lips. “You’re taking me so well,” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Such,” He begins but thrusts deeper mid-sentence. “A good,” thrust. “Wife.” He praises and I tighten around him at the sentiment of the words.

His hand snakes up my waist, thumps at my breast, then past my arm and finds my hand. He intertwines our fingers and I hold his hand tight as he stretches me out.

He rolled his hips at a rate that had me losing any coherent thought. Finally, his base finds mine, his balls slapping against my ass. “Fuck, you feel good,” He curses, his head falling into the crook of my shoulder as he picks up speed and begins pumping into me faster. The sound of his cock entering me has me drooling, and the feel of him, gods, I could feel every ridge as well as the slight curve that gave him perfect access to my most sensitive spot.

“Az, I can’t,” I murmur as I feel that familiar knot begin to form yet again, sensing I wouldn’t last long if he kept this up. “So close,” I sigh with a fucked out expression as he just admired it. “Release on my cock baby,” He hums and I whimper. He increases speed and I barrel towards my high, chasing it and quickly catching up when he doesn’t cease his actions. My hand squeezes around his as white-hot pleasure consumes me whole.

“Azriel,” I cry out as tears drop from my waterline and stream down my cheeks. He doesn’t let up and I never get the chance to come down from my high, the result of my release only lingers but it never fully leaves, it only continues to build. He doesn’t dare stop, if anything he gets faster. My cunt becomes red and puffy with overstimulation, but he doesn’t care, because he knows how much I love it.

“I’m gonna fill you so full baby,” His free hand comes down onto my abdomen where he can feel himself inside of me. “Can’t wait to watch my cum drip out of you.” He purrs, his lips ghosting over my jaw. I squeeze around him at the words, eyes clenching shut at the pleasurable pain. “You like that? Like when I cum inside?” He hums and all I can do is nod. “Mhm, need to feel you spill deep inside me.” I cry out. “Such a good wife,” He admires, and again, that nickname, it leaves me utterly defenseless.

His hand scopes down my hip and grips my thigh before shadows help guide it up, wrapping around his torso and allowing him to press into me so much deeper. “Az— I’m,” I lose breath and he nods. “I know,” He pants. “I’m close too.” He reassures and I sigh in both relief and pleasure. His hips roll once, then twice, and on the third, I grind my hips up to match his pace and we both reach our highs.

His warm seed spurts into me, so much of it that it’s still leaking into me even once my climax passes, only when he slows his thrusts does the flow end. He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead before pulling out entirely with a grunt, his release slipping out of me onto my thighs. He tumbled down beside me and released an exhausted breath.

“You’re so good at that,” I smile dreamily. “I don’t think you would’ve married me if I wasn’t.” He replies with a breathy chuckle. Realization dawns upon me and I turn my head toward him, he is already looking at me. “We’re married,” I say giddily and he nods with the same smile as mine. “We are,” His hand comes to my arm and he rubs his thumb up and down it then stops. “But I think that’ll change real soon if I don’t give you aftercare.” He springs up and I giggle. “I’m glad you know your limits.”

————

"C'mon Az," I beckon as I slip from his arms, dragging a groan from the male who was fisting the hem of my white nightgown and pulling me back down onto the bed. "We're going to be late," I grumble against his shoulder as he smushed me into him. "Tarquin is expecting us at noon." I remind and he grumbles a curse beneath his breath, nuzzling his face into my shoulder. "I don't think he'll mind if we're a few minutes late." He presumes. "Or a few days." The male adds and I roll my eyes as he pulls me closer. "Azriel," I warn and he does nothing aside from a dragged-out whine. "Big baby." I grit out as I squirm from his arms but his hold is iron and I'd be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay in his embrace.

"Just five more minutes." He begs. "You said that an hour ago." I retort with a glare. "And here we still are." He flashes me a crooked smile and I sigh, making my surrender clear. His eyes flash with pure joy while he pulls me impossibly closer, crushing me with his large, tattooed biceps— not that I was complaining.

"Only fife mibuntes," I mumble, cheeks smushed between his chest and arm. "Only five minutes." I feel him nod, he presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head before propping his chin atop it and taking a deep content breath, arms possessively tightening any time I try to move away.

The thought of being married hits me full throttle, the idea of being connected to this male for the rest of my life dawns upon me all in one moment and I feel nothing aside from pure bliss.

I wrap my arms around him and pull him close, flipping us over so he's on his back, his huge wings spread out on either side of him as I straddle his abdomen. He looks up at me lazily and the smile on his face is uncontrollable. "We're married." I grin wildly and he nods, biting his lower lip in order to shut himself up from every stupid love confession threatening to spill from him, so instead his hands come to the back of my neck and he pulls me down, his lips slotting atop mine. "We don't have time for this." I sigh against his mouth. "Then I can't wait to fuck you on the beach." He hums and my cheeks burn hot. I place my lips back over his to ignore replying to his awfully arousing comment.

"It's been five minutes." He mumbles against my mouth and I immediately reel back, narrowing my eyes at him. "Now who's the responsible one?" I tease, flipping off of him despite his whine for me to stay.

I waddle over to my armoire, walking foreign to me due to how impeccably sore I was between my legs.

I find a white summer dress and smile, slipping off my nightgown Azriel dressed me in last night, then putting the flowy dress on. Azriel was quick to appear behind me and tie the strings. I hum contentedly as he places both his hands on my shoulders when he finishes, leans down, and presses a kiss to my temple.

I grin, looking up at him with a cheeky expression before rising onto my toes and planting my lips on his.

"C'mon, get dressed," I press a hand to his bare chest as I swivel around and push him towards the wardrobe.

————

The summer court was hot. Far too hot to be wearing more than one layer of clothing. So Azriel and I ended up on the coast of Adriatta, watching the ocean rise and fall as it washed over the sand. I smile as I walk along the shoreline, remembering how I used to collect seashells as a child, my mother used to take me here every summer before she got sick. I only have good memories of this place.

"Look at this one." I hold out a small tower shell towards my husband and he barely looks at it, his eyes seeming to much rather be on me, a small smile gracing his lips. He holds his palms out where he holds an array of other shells I've found over our walk along the sea. I place the shell into his hands and we continue to walk hand in hand.

I string him along and he follows mindlessly, shadows swishing wherever the shadow of my body was, attempting to stay close to but keep out of the sun. Eventually, we find an alcove made entirely of calcite rock. The archway is just big enough to fit Azriel and his wings, shadows roaming freely in the darkness. We continue walking, Azriel watching me as I look at the structure curiously, like it's been man-made but no one could forge a rock like this.

My breath hitched as I came across a spot still under the rock that arched into a clear ocean view, entirely secluded like this cove was for us and us alone. I smile happily and rush over to my husband who had the beach bag slung over his shoulder. I take it from him and plop it down onto the soft sand, taking a large, blanket-like towel out and laying it down on the ground. Azriel smiles down at me as I plop down onto it. He squats down and hands me my seashells, I take them gratefully.

I line the edge of the towel with the found shells while Azriel dishes his book from the bag before finding his spot beside me. He rests on his stomach, wings spread out, the membrane shining golden and red under the soft gleam of sunlight. I smile at the image until his right wing pokes me in the side. "Ouch," I murmur and his wing tucks back in, he looks at me apologetically. I looked at his left wing which was spread out entirely and decided he couldn't have been comfortable with just one wing stretched out.

I flip over and straddle his lower back, careful to avoid his wings. "Go ahead." I run my hand down the hard structure of his right wing and he takes the hint, spreading it onto my side of the blanket then allowing it to rest comfortably. "We should've brought two towels." I hum and he opens his book back up, seemingly content with me sitting atop him as if I weighed nothing.

I lean down, careful not to touch his wings, and settle myself in the space between them on his broad back. My chest rests against his back as I wrap my arms around his neck and my nose comes to the crook in his shoulder, peering over him to look down at his book.

I read a few pages along with him but soon found the book to be boring, Azriel was always into reading classics that had some sort of hidden meaning he had to find. I could barely get through a few chapters without falling asleep. So instead I rested my head on his shoulder blade and listened to the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand then receding into the water, all to repeat the process over again.

I trace shapes on my husband's tanned back, stars and smiley faces, a lot of hearts, but most importantly the letters that spelled out "I love you" he closed his book once I finished the three words and he turned his head only a fraction. "I love you too." He hums and I smile like a schoolgirl with a crush. I scoot up on his back and wrap my arms around him tighter. I pepper the side of his face in quick pecks and a grin spreads across his features.

He cranes his neck to the side and I manage to find his lips with mine, placing a loving kiss on them.

"Is this even comfortable for you?" I ask and he nods. "I used to do pushups with Cassian towering weights on me, this is nothing." He hums and I roll my eyes at his competitive side. “You’re cute when you try to act so tough,” I say with a hum, my hands taking free liberty in roaming his exposed chest. “The entire continent is afraid of me.” He states and I giggle. “See? Adorable.” I lean over his shoulder and kiss his cheek. He grumbles a curse and I continue roaming his muscles with my fingertips, eventually finding his defined v-line, like an arrow from his hips. I drag my nails up and down the exposed skin, his shorts going awfully low.

"If you keep that up I'll winnow us right back into bed." He warns and I press a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. "Why so far?" I hum, my fingers finding the waistband of his swim shorts. "Don't you want to fuck me on the beach Azzie?" I recall and he flipped over, knocking me off his back. I yelped and he snickers, watching as I shake the sand from my hair. “Not funny.” I stand up, he leans back against his palms and just stares up at me.

“If you’re not going to help cool me off I’m going for a swim,” I glare at him but he stays quiet, just silently watching as I remove the lightweight wrap from around my torso and toss it at him. He doesn’t even try to catch it, just lets it hit him in the chest as he stares unabashedly at my body in the sunlight, glimmering like the sea behind me. He watches as I walk away and towards the shore, I can feel his stare from a mile away, on my waist, my chest, my ass. It didn’t matter, I was apparently uncharted territory, despite the fact that he had me under him last night.

“You want to join me?” I turn back to ask and all he can think of to do is nod. He stood and reached back, then took his shirt off over his wings and it was my turn to stare. His tanned skin rippled with muscle, the sun gleaming down onto his dark tattoos that I’d traced my hands along so many times I could draw them with my eyes closed.

“You staring at me creep?” He squints down at me due to the sun in his eyes. I smile childishly up at him. “Never!” I gasp. “I’m married I’ll have you know.” I wiggle my left hand in his face to show off the sapphire gem on my wedding ring, perfectly matching the color of his siphons. “And my husband could beat you up,” I cross my arms and march towards the water.

“Could he now?” He asks, hands snaking around my waist as I nod. “He’s big and strong, and so tall,” I say dreamily. “He sounds pretty incredible.” Azriel muses and I grin widely. “He is, but you know who’s even better?” I say and his brows crease possessively. “Who?” His hands leave my waist and I whirl around to look up at him. “His wife.” I supply, my smile widening as I watch his confused expression turn to one of realization.

“I’m inclined to agree.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, I can’t help but lean up into it.

“Now c’mon,” I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers. “I think I saw a few water sprites earlier I wanna say hi!” I pull him closer to the water. He chuckles and follows along.

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[blue-slxt]

New Kink

*Request: this might be a miss ngl...but neteyam and lactating reader. that's all I'm gonna say. I just know that man has a breeding kink so why not this as well*

Okay, so this request really struck a chord with me because I used to have a boyfriend that had a lactation kink. I’ve never lactated before so that never went anywhere between us, but this was such a fun idea for me. I hope you like how it turned out!🤗 All characters are aged up.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut.

You carefully hand your sleeping baby over to Kiri. She had offered to watch her for the day so that you could finally get a break. Jake and Neytiri were more than happy to spend some quality time with their first grandchild. You were more than grateful for all their support.

“I just fed her so she should sleep for the first little while”, you tell her while you caress your baby’s precious sleeping face.

“Alright. You try to get some food and rest too.” Kiri says to you with a smile.

“Thank you. We’ll be by later to pick her up.” “No rush” she turns and walks back home with your baby.

You breathe a big sigh of relief when you plop yourself back on your sleeping mat. Even though your baby was still only 8 weeks old, your home felt so empty without her small coos and laughter. As grateful as you were for the break, you couldn’t help but miss her already.

You rest your head back against the wall and let your body relax.

Footsteps approach your home and you look to see Neteyam entering your home. “Welcome home. You just missed Kiri.” “I see. How are you feeling, tíyawn?” he says joining you on your mat and holding your face. You lean your cheek into his hand and smile softly.

“I am fine. I have missed you Ma’Teyam.”

“I have missed you too” he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your chest. You stroke the top of his head gently enjoying these small moments of easy silence that the two of you rarely got to share any more.

Neteyam lets his eyes flutter shut while he breathes in your scent. He always loved the way you smelled and it had only intensified since having your baby. Suddenly, he felt a drip on his forearm. He opens his eyes to look and sees a single milky white droplet on his arm. And then another joins it. His eyes travel up the way it came and his eyes focus in on your breasts. They had become more full and your nipples dripped with milk.

The smell of your hormones was so strong here. He felt drunk as he stared at you. One of his hands trails up your body to cup your breast and grope it gently. You let out a deep sigh feeling his touch. The pressure he applies makes more of your milk spill over and run down his hand. “Shit…” he says lowly feeling his eyelids grow heavy and his loincloth feels tighter.

You finally look down at his hand and see the mess he’s making with your body. “Ah, ‘Teyam wait. I need to clean—” but he doesn’t let you finish your thought before he lets his impulse drive him to latch his mouth onto your nipple.

You jump at the contact with your sensitive bud. Neteyam groans against your skin tasting your sweet milk free flowing into his mouth. Every drop on his tongue pushes him more out of his mind. His hands roam about your body until one finally finds refuge between your legs.

“Neteyam, you s-shouldn’t…” you try to protest, but you can’t help how your body still submits to his touch and your back bows to press your chest more towards him.

He temporarily detaches from your nipple, “But why not?” Another suck. “You taste so good.” Another one. “So sweet all over for me.” His kisses trail down your body until his head is resting between your thighs. You open them just a little wider for him and he slides your loincloth to the side so he can bury his face in your wet cunt. A low moan escapes your lips feeling his tongue swipe back and forth across your clit. You make quick work of untying your top and letting it fall off. Neteyam busies his hands with feeling and squeezing your breasts loving how full they feel in his hands. He watches as more white dribbles out of your mounds and trail down your body. It triggers this deep-rooted need inside of him. He pulls off of you and pushes you down on the mat while he hovers over you. He attacks your neck and chest with kisses and licks and nips. “Yawne, let’s have another one.”

Your eyes go wide hearing his words. “’Teyam, we just had one” you remind him.

“I know, but I want to give you another. I want to see you carry more of my babies” he pauses to lap at your nipple again.

His tip is already prodding at your entrance. You didn’t even notice when he pulled it out. Your back arches when he finally slides in. There was the slightest twinge of pain feeling him stretch you out like this, but pleasure quickly overtakes you when he starts thrusting into you. “Oh ‘Teyam!” you call out while your fingers tangle in his braids.

His strokes are deep, but gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt you since you just had your baby even though every fiber of his being is screaming at him to mercilessly take you right now.

Low moans and groans leave his mouth feeling how wet you are around him. His mind races with flashes of your swollen belly and the fullness of your hips, thighs, and breasts. It drives his primal urge to breed you more.

He speeds up his pace and your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders. “Fuck, I wanna get you pregnant again.” Your mind is too far gone to even argue with him anymore.

“Do it Ma’Teyam. I want it.”

Your words push Neteyam’s mind over the edge. All the restraint he was holding on to goes straight out the window and he starts to rut wildly into your core. Wet squelching and moans mix in the air of your home.

The knot in your core starts to tighten when he starts slamming into your cervix. “Ah! Ah…Haah…’Teyam…Ah! Neteyam!” He’s all your mind can think of in this moment. Nothing else exists in this moment, but Neteyam and the feeling of your inevitable unraveling.

Hearing his name on your lips pushes Neteyam over the edge. “Oh, fuck I’m gonna cum. Gonna make sure you have more of my babies. Shit!” His lips latch onto your chest sucking down as much of your milk as he can while his hips stutter as he pumps you full of his thick, burning hot seed.  The heat and full feeling throws you into your own orgasm. Your body stiffens before your legs start to tremble around his waist. Your nails drag down his back and you’re both almost positive that it was deep enough to draw blood.

Neteyam holds himself inside of you for a minute trying to keep as much of his cum inside of you as he can. His body falls limp on top of you and you hold his head against your still heaving chest.

“You realize that our little one has only just been born and now we may have another one joining her soon?” you laugh a little rubbing his head.

“That is fine. You make such a pretty mama. I could do this forever.” He says blissfully nuzzling his face into your skin.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. You are not the one that has to birth them.”

[chuuyasheaven]

Okay so I saw you wanted some nsfw ideas for dazai and I'm here to deliver!!!!!!! (I have so many dirty thoughts about this man it's not even funny) anyways so dazai just has a hard day at work and reader comes to visit him and after everyone leaves the office he just bends them over his desk and has his way with them. Just like.... jdnsnsjdhdjsndhs unholy thoughts!!!!!!

Summary: Dazai bending you over at the agency to relieve some stress! :)

Warnings: dom!Dazai, sub!fem!Reader, teasing, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, stress relief, neck kissing, praise, degrading, porn without plot, etc.

Notes (from me): Sorry for the hold up! School was literally stressful and my daddy issues didn't make it better- but i hope you'll enjoy! (@ashthemadwriter ngl I think you’ll kinda enjoy more than everyone else) also this is like so short...

“Such a good way to spend my break, right, Bella?”, Dazai asked you, while he had you pinned down on his desk, taking you right there and then.

As everyone went into the lunch break, Dazai stayed there, while you wanted to bring him his lunch.

Guess you’re the actual lunch he wanted to eat, isn’t that right?

Now your griping on that desk for dear life, but suddenly you felt his finger rubbing your clit, doubling the pleasure.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? That’s quite slutty, darling..But, oh well! That’s why I call you my good slut afterall, hm?”

Why was he calling a slut now? Also, why does it make you wetter?

Dazai’s cock kept thrusting into your cunt more rougher and faster, wanting to finish you both off faster.

Because, you don’t want to get caught, do you?

“Dazai..‘m c-close..”, you got out, Dazai felt himself nearing too.

As his thrusts got more sloppy, he kissed your neck to muffle a whimper.

Finally, the both of you reached their orgasm, feeling your pussy get filled by Dazai’s cock.

You’re breathing heavily, after that love making session, meanwhile Dazai put back on his pants.

Realizing that the break is almost over, you quickly put on your clothes too.

Just as you want to leave, Dazai said something to you.

“Well, have fun walking home with my cum dripping out of you, Bella! Because when I get home, you’ll be stuffed to the brim.”

(I had such a writers block oh my god)

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

[kairismess]

Hello! I see that you're opening request right now, may I request about tsukishima's s/o who cries every time she comes home from work, and she ever moved from another company, but the company was also toxic, and this company she's in now is toxic too, so she's been stressing out and cries every night...

Hsshhshss I'm very sorry if this is hard to understand T u T thank you so much! 💖

OH NO WORRIES ANON !! i honestly like this idea, I HOPE I DID IT RIGHT THOUGH :'))) ngl tsukki would kinda suck at comforting if he forced it, but him just being all real with you when talking to you about it ... he weirdly gets super comforting, and he doesn't even realize it.

it's not lame at all. — timeskip!tsukishima kei x fem!reader

🏐 genre: fluff and a tall glass of comfort

✒️ word count: 975

💭 summary: kei usually doesn't find it hard to be blunt about matters like these... but he can't help but want to see you smile again, so he'll try his hardest to let you know that your feelings are valid.

another grueling day at your awful workplace, and nothing has changed from the past few places you've worked at. it's like you're destined to keep landing at poor workplaces that have a knack for treating their ordinary employees that don't stand out like you so horribly. you could only take so much mistreatment, and to think that you none of your friends nor superiors could really do anything to help you... it was like you were drowning–and nobody was out there to save you in that vast ocean of helplessness and despair that you felt.

your only relief everyday was being able to make it home in one piece, and on a good day, you'd hold in your tears until you were behind closed doors, free to weep and bawl about the misfortunes of being an adult. however, you still had to keep it down, even in the comfort of your own home–your boyfriend was going to be over that evening, and you didn't want him thinking you were dramatic over such little things, right?

by the time you got to your home, kei was already waiting for you by the your door. he looked up from his glasses, his honey-colored, wide eyes greeting scrutinizing your obviously exhausted figure. you managed to smile up at him, but for someone as clever and sharp as kei, he senses something's off about you. he furrows his thin, light blonde eyebrows at you and asks in a soft voice, "did something happen today?" and that's all that it took for your facade to crumble, and for the tears to start rolling down your cheeks in spite of your seemingly sweet, yet forced, smile.

kei walked over to you and with his bandaged fingers, took your bag from you and asked for your keys. he was going to put everything away for you, he was here quite often, and he memorized where all your essentials should be, so it wouldn't be a problem for either of you. he took your hand and led you inside, and you felt a little more ashamed that your boyfriend was leading you into your own home, as if you were a child who didn't know any better and had to rely on someone more put together than you were.

kei sat you down on the couch and got a few tissues from the coffee table, wiping away at your tears, murmuring to you to remember to blow your nose as he handed you the tissue. "...do you need some tea?" he asked you as you nodded, blowing your nose into the tissue. he disappeared into the kitchen, preparing a kettle for the tea, while thinking hard of what to tell you to comfort you. when he came back with the piping hot cup of tea, he kept gulping back the lump in his throat, he was too anxious, and that was always the case with him whenever he'd get too vulnerable with you. "um... i know these days have been... less than desirable, but, you..." kei began, struggling to find the right words, looking away from you ever so often.

he sighed, feeling frustrated with himself for holding back his true thoughts on the matter; but he wanted to sound sweeter, to comfort you. but the way kei comforts is not all sunshine and rainbows; he wants you to remember we live in reality, not in a world where everything works the way we want to just because we persevere and work hard. he looks at you and gently takes your hands in his, and takes a deep breath, hoping his words won't hurt you.

"...you deserve better." he mutters, looking into your eyes, the light in those honey-brown eyes of his had a genuine glint to them, and you could tell he wanted to help you, even if his means weren't very conventional. "i'm sorry you're being treated like that, and it makes me so pissed to know that those guys are getting away with taking advantage of you like that. but... that's reality. workplaces can be fun, and some can be downright abhorrent; but at the end of the day, you're a person who works from 9 to 5 to make an honest living—and that alone is a struggle to do, every day." he utters in a soft-spoken tone.

his voice isn't snarky nor does he hope to sound like a smart ass; he honestly wishes to help you, but to keep you grounded. he rubs the back of your hands and sighs. "...i could help tender you a resignation letter, and while we're doing that, i'll help get you a job at the place i'm applying for in the summer. i'll keep you safe, as much as i can; you've gone through too much already, and i... i want to be there for you, to make up for all the times i couldn't do anything about your suffering." he confesses, his grip on your hands tightening a little.

you felt your second tidal wave of tears coming, and you rushed for the tissues, with kei patting your back, in hopes that his touch would comfort you somehow. he can't really tell you that everything will be okay, he isn't the type to sugarcoat and lie that all will be fine—he loves you too much to build your delusions up, only to be thrown back down by the disappointment of the real world. though, kei loves you so, so much that he'd help you escape those crappy workplaces and help you both land jobs at the same place together. so even if the next one will be just as crappy, or even worse... kei's got you, and he'll make sure you won't waste another precious tear on people who aren't worth crying over; because you deserve so much better.

🦕 tags !! @emptybrain01

[mikuni14]

Wandee Goodday - Ep 1

The long awaited first episode of Wandee Goodday is finally here, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who had been chanting "save me Wandee Goodday, Wandee Goodday save me" for the past few months lol

What I liked:

lots of humor, especially in the 4/4 part I laughed non-stop, although I must admit that a lot of the laughter was from second-hand embarrassment 🙈

Great and Inn are just beautiful (it's good that Great has loose clothes now, I was always worried about the buttons on his super tight uniform in MoD, fighting for their lives)

Thor and Fluke are also lovely, I really like the fact that their characters are already a couple and are completely in love with each other (and horny for each other 🔥) and so open about it

side characters add a lot to scenes, even if they appear for a moment, like a salesman offering technical advice on sex, or a doctor who sprays water on naughty subordinates, also nurses!

I really like Dee as a doctor, as an employee who doesn't let himself be treated like shit by clients and as a friend. He is nice, strong, confident, reliable and capable. Which is in stark contrast to how hopeless and lame he is in his love and sex life 🙈

I like how Yak and Dee felt an immediate physical attraction to each other, which is fighting against an equally immediate strong dislike lol The natural flow they have in their relationship: from physical attraction, through fights caused by negative circumstances, to the night spent together shows that this kind of relationship can be done, without humiliation bordering on bullying, as it's between Phum and Peem in We Are

I really like Yak who can just… stop when he has any suspicion that his partner is not fully in the moment, not fully sure. It was so cool, no forcing Dee to continue by putting pressure on him, making him feel "guilty", no awkwardness, complete chill. I like it when sex is treated so casually that even if nothing happens, the partners just sit and talk and there is no sense of pressure, everything is just so... normal and chill. I loved it.

Kao as a friend, a sidekick, a "token lgbt friend of the main character" 😄, who has his own life and although he is very funny, he is not a serial clown and comic relief, as is often the case. And he is asexual with credible dating problems. So interesting! Also: Drake 💖

I feel kind of vindictive happy that my most hated trope, wiping food from the mouth of the "love interest", is shown here as messing with Dee and giving him false hope for a relationship (?) The day this trope dies will be the day I win. I plan to get drunk when this happen hehe (vain hopes, of course, this disgusting trope will never die)

What I have a few, teeny-tiny reservations about:

at this point I don't really understand Ter's motivation: was he deliberately seducing Dee, or was he just too chummy with him, which he misinterpreted? Not that it matters tho...

8 years of all this? oh Dee… 🙈 (I love how Kao described this pathetic situation in just a few words)

I also don't really like making Dee a silly kid and a 🤡 when it comes to love and sex, especially since he's shown in other scenes where he's a full adult. He's a grown man with a serious profession, so it felt weird watching him as if he were a 15-year-old kid in a slapstick comedy. I get that there's a comedic element to it and it was funny and I was laughing, but the amount of cringe and second-hand embarrassment was downright overwhelming at some point. What is fine as convention in MSP or Only Boo no longer looks so good in series about adults

the comedy of the sex scene completely stripped away the hotness of these scenes, ngl

the above comments are not complaints, they are just loose observations. It was only the first episode after all 😉

Overall, the series started well, I had a great time watching it, I laughed a lot, the characters are cool and very attractive, Great has the body of a young god 🔥 I can't wait for their first kiss and a truly hot night - with fun, but no comedy. What a wasted opportunity for them not to watch MANNER OF DEATH and the uniform buttons! hanging for dear life! Like seriously, it was right there 😤

The series is very pretty, just look at those aesthetic shots in a public toilet:

Omg, this guy:

Me:

Me 🤝 Dee about coffee:

(I shouldn't pick on Dee, if someone brought me coffee just the way I like it, I'd be as stupid as him 😑)

One of my 457,869 screen shots of this man, gosh, he's so fine:

[nevertheless-moving]

stormlight au number 35 (help me i'm lost in the sauce)

Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World all the way to right after Gavilar's death.

Vengeance pact still happens, but plays out very differently. We don't need absolutely every man in the kingdom to join the army, alright Elhokar? And we're making sure Dalinar is there to accept their surrender, actually win in reasonable time frame and 'conquer' them (no Alethi want to live out there anyway, and as long as they send gemhearts in tribute we won't enslave them. actually elhokar, your sister wanted to talk to you about slavery—).

Honestly, just an excuse for:

A) Adolin to have a breakdown that his entire family has been replaced by voidbringers, before eventually accepting with relief that they're still his family, they've just become voidbringers, but its ok because he loves them and will protect their increasingly heretical actions with his life. Hugs his glowing red and green eyed little brother a lot.

Adolin: do I — should I also learn to read?

Jasnah: do you want to?

Adolin: not really, no.

Renarin: to be honest, it's probably for the best if you just focus on being, well, a good Vorin Alethi. One of us probably should be, if we don't have a desolation as a distraction.

Adolin: ok! sure! I can do that. Also thought id mention that if possible, I would personally appreciate *not* having a desolation.

Jasnah: it may prove necessary.

Adolin: I know, i know. Just thought I'd put my feelings out there.

Dalinar: and we'll need you to produce Kholin heirs. Neither Renarin or Jasnah are likely to, and I'm not remarrying a younger woman.

Adolin: Sounds good!

B) Kholin family to have way too strong a reaction to this random darkeyed surgeon in training when they visit Kharbranth, scaring the absolute shit out of said darkeyed surgeon. Adolin walks into a wall when he sees Kaladin. He doesn't even know about the Radiant thing, it's just that

C) Kaladin dresses really hot in this au. Ok. I lied. this is actually the main reason for this au. It — there's a whole chain of events. I – don't look at me like that. The character development works, alright?

A lot of it boils down to distracting people from groping the female medical trainees.

He realizes that breathing in a certain way, while it makes you focus better and move faster, it also makes you more...present somehow? people pay attention to you, for better or worse. Some of the ladies teach him that there are different ways to channel people's focus on you, if they're looking anyway.

And apparently, for the first few years Kharbranth medical students, light and dark eyed alike, have basically no protections from wealthy patients or Lighteyed chief's of staff who are a bit too interested in teaching you to use your safehand, and its not like Kaladin can challenge them to a duel - he doesnt know how to fight, and it would get him and the person hes trying to protect kicked out of the program. So much for honorable lighteyes being real.

But I mean. If wearing some eyeliner, and a gemstone in your hair, if taking your right glove off first after an exam, conspicuously leaving the left on while talking, if bending over to pick his clipboard up in a certain way... if it gets people to not focus on his friends...

...one could probably get pretty angsty with this concept, ngl.

The Stormlight understanding and oaths come in time. There might also be some Radiant Disguise Superhero hijinks, havent fully decided but it's not really a major stretch from canon to say that Kharbranth struggles with violent crime. Also Kaladin gets to learn about institutional racism in school. It's great. I have a lot of Kaladin thoughts but so does everyone in this au so its ok.

Kholins visit Kharbranth:

Jasnah: you've been moping for days. Is your new fixation of the week not responding to your advances?

Adolin: I don't want to talk about it

Dalinar: son, you've clearly been in a mood—

Adolin: look, I'm not — the individual is not suitable for my station, alright? I'm not courting someone I could never actually marry, because that would be stupid.

Jasnah: while it would complicate matters, you know your brother and I have plans to alter the alethi codes around eye color, considering they're clearly a crude derivative of radiant mythologization

Dalinar: I thought we agreed that was low on the priority list

Jasnah: You said that uncle, Renarin most certainly did not agree, and his arguments are sound

Adolin: He's just some surgeon, alright! He's not just darkeyed, he's a darkeyed man. I said I'll get over it! I always do.

Dalinar: ah.

Jasnah: ...did you say surgeon?

Adolin: Yes? Why?

Dalinar: why does it —

Jasnah: how did you meet?

Adolin: He was — he was with this group of women at a winebar, and he was dressed like – but it turned out he just goes to protect them from - and it was so — why are you asking me about this?

Dalinar: Oh! A darkeyed surgeon. Protecting, you say? He sounds...honorable.

Jasnah: Very honorable.

Adolin: He is! He volunteers at this house for injured soldiers, and you wouldn't believe he'd never been to war, I mean his spear Katas — he's – it's like he was born for it —

Dalinar: He sounds like a fine young man. Perhaps you should bring him to meet us.

Adolin: I — while I appreciate that father, I really do, I thought I was the one who was supposed to well. I mean my role in...all of this is to produce heirs and look proper, right?

Jasnah: Hm. when you put it it that way...

Dalinar: I mean, Navani and I might be able to...

Jasnah: Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of producing a child, should it prove absolutely necessary,

Adolin: Jasnah?

Jasnah: Provided the man you're courting is of worthy quality.

Adolin: We're not — I haven't been courting! I didn't think it was an option! I don't even know if he's interested! From what I can tell he has people throwing themselves at his feet all the time!

Jasnah: An abnormally honorable darkeyed surgeon, natural warrior, magnetically charismatic personality...yes that might make a worthwhile addition to the family.

Dalinar: I can write to Elhokar at once, recommend that he and Aseuden —

Jasnah: Uncle we've been over this — this is exactly the sort of thing that led to me insisting you come with me on this trip! If we cripple his ability to lead—

Adolin: Are we — are we moving into the discussing the future part of the evening, because I can go guard the door—

Dalinar: wait, when you say produce a child, you don't mean through soulcasting, right?

Jasnah: I don't see why I should answer that question.

Adolin: Yeah, i'm just going to go guard the door now

[casuallyawkardd]

hello dear, how are you?, could you write a picture where miguel discovers that you are learning spanish to show that you care about him, if it doesn't go well. thanks for the attention ☺️☺️

After my trip, I'm a little tired and sunburnt, but it was all worth it! Ngl, imma be needing to write something wholesome after the shit I've been writing so here you go 😂😭

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Warnings: fluff that is all, also I'm still not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct grammar/spelling

For Miguel, he thinks you're ignoring him. You're blowing him off to go do something else and when he tries to pry you tell him to 'quit being so nosy.' He's already annoyed, so he doesn't pick up on your teasing tone.

In reality, you've been trying to learn Spanish to surprise him. You don't expect to be fluent anytime soon, but some simple phrases and a few terms of endearment are a good start. Those moments when Miguel is talking to you and thinks you're ignoring him, are actually you listening to your Spanish lessons. Whenever you're 'blowing him off,' you're just sitting in your room practicing your pronunciations.

Lyla catches wind of what you're doing before him, overhearing you at HQ when you thought you had found a quiet place to practice. She even offers to help you out and you gladly take her up on the offer. You had had one too many dreams of the Duolingo owl in the corner of your room as it was. Little do you know that your nightmares only now come to life, though that could just be you being dramatic.

Unlike the little, green owl app, these lessons talk back. Sometimes it feels like she critiques you too harshly, especially when you practice writing in Spanish. You wanted to be able to put cute, little notes around his platform. Her shrill voice reminding you when and where to put the accents on letters and that you have to add upside down exclamation and question marks at the beginning of a sentence wakes you up in the middle of the night. However, Lyla is also extremely helpful at the same time. Teaching you the more 'casual' way to say certain things, as opposed to the generic, robotic responses you had been learning. Even some swear words because why not?

The day finally comes when you're ready to reveal your little surprise. Miguel is reluctant, back to you as you try to get his attention.

"Oh, so now you have free time?"

It's a bit endearing that he missed your presence, you say as much. 'Yo también te extrañé, mi amor.' I missed you too, my love.

His head snaps in your direction, confusion written on his face. Slowly, he steps towards you, eyeing you as if expecting you to say something else. Which you do. 'Quería sorprenderte aprendiendo español. ¿Es eso mala?' I wanted to surprise you by learning Spanish. Is it bad?

Everything clicks into place and he's sighing in relief, grasping you by the upper arms to pull you in for a kiss on the forehead. He holds position, letting the kiss sink in before pulling away, running his hands up and down your arms.

"Agradezco el gesto, de verdad. Gracias amor." I really appreciate the gesture. Thanks love.

You ask why he was giving you the cold shoulder moments ago, Miguel sighing heavily before explaining his side of things. How he had assumed you were ignoring him and that he might've gotten a little bit salty about it. You laugh, realizing your mistake. '¡Soy embarazada!' Miguel's smile drops a little after that, looking like he's trying to keep it just for you.

"Yeah, you definitely have some more practicing to do, cariño."

Tags: @prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @graysonshaven @qiaipia @3zae-zae3 @melovetitties @jebsoxnoshansk @thedevax @erissco @its-carlerrr @muimui06

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [3] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k (we're getting into it folks)

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: you're still enjoying this?? you're a mad lot, you are. in all seriousness, i'm writing like i have a new lease on life so i'm really glad so many of you are liking this as much as i am. jamie is really torn, the poor boy, but i've got 12 chapters planned in total so strap yourselves in for a slow(ish) burn <3 <3 <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

---

chapter three - if i could hold you for a minute

“That’s a wrap, thanks boys, you were both great.”

Jamie nodded his thanks, giving his mate Rife a pat on the back that seemed to pass as a hug around here. Rife was quick to run off to the pitch behind them, getting back in on the passing drills, but Jamie hung back. Of course he did. He always fucking did, and he was getting quick sick of himself.

In the last week of being at England camp, he’d taken part in around 10 PR opportunities, all of which were open to volunteers, none of which he was obligated to do. But there were so few of them willing to take part and the smile on your face every time he hesitantly stuck his hand in the air was worth whatever embarrassment you might put him through. And, most of the time, you weren’t big on embarrassing PR moments. Mostly wholesome conversations with the team and stupid challenges that he’d found himself quite competitive with. When he won the competition to roll the 10p coin into a fork yesterday, he was buzzing.

The spelling bee had not been his finest moment, but you’d been very reassuring that people loved someone relatable, and what was more relatable than not being able to spell ‘mediterranean’?

You’d only been able to reassure him as such because he made a habit of sticking around afterwards. Asking if you needed any help taking down the camera equipment, because Tiff still hadn’t come back to work but you’d kicked Brian to the curb days ago. Now you seemed to be doing it all by yourself, and sometimes the way you rushed around made Jamie’s chest ache.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently touching you on the shoulder to get your attention. You turned from the equipment you were taking apart and boxing up, your whole expression changing for the better when you saw who was disturbing you, “Can I get that one?”

He points a thumb over his shoulder at the other camera and is rewarded for his kindness when he sees you physically sag with relief.

“Lifesaver, you are. Thank you, Jamie.”

You didn’t call him Just Jamie anymore. He missed it at first, the silly nicknames that had made you feel like fast friends, but then he’d realised that the way you said his actual name, soft and thankful a lot of the time, was better than any stupid nickname he could come up with.

“Nah, you’re good.”

He gets busy putting the camera away, following your lead as inconspicuously as possible by glancing over at your handiwork when he’s not sure where to put something. When you’re finished, he’s almost done. You come over to take the heavy case from him and he holds it out of your arm’s reach.

“As if. Lead the way, boss.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at him, then protest when he also snatches the box you’re carrying from you with his free hand. He tries to convince you to let him carry the third, tiny microphone box over his shoulder too, but you simply flip him the bird and lead the way to your office.

He’d carry you there, if you’d let him, because he knows the walk of a woman whose feet are hurting in her heels - Rebecca had taught him the signs. You were walking solely on the balls of your feet, trying to keep a normal rhythm but failing.

“You think Gareth will tell me off when he realises I’m using one of his star players to carry my shit around the place?”

He wants to argue that he’s not one of the star players around here, but he’s already learnt where self-deprecation gets him with you - an argument. Instead, he basks in the glow of the compliment inwardly as you open the door to your office and usher him in.

“I think he’ll wonder why the fuck nobody’s been hired to help y’ out,” Jamie says, then sees the determination in your face and course corrects, “Not that you can’t do anythin’ you set y’ mind to, of course. Sorry. Just hate seeing y’ rush about the place with your feet on fuckin’ fire.”

There’s definitely a visible wince on his face when he’s put the equipment down on the right shelves and turns to find you staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know my feet hurt?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think just anyone would notice,” he’s quick to reassure you, then hopes that doesn’t sound like he’s only one who notices anything about you, “It’s just that one of my mates taught me to notice when someone’s struggling on heels. Can offer her me arm then, like.”

“Hm.”

You look thoughtful, but he’s already put his foot in his mouth enough for one day. He can’t seem to stop when you’re around. Yesterday, he’d tried to ask you about your day but all he’d said was the word ‘day?’ as a question. He was still getting over that one.

Deliberately not flirting with you was getting harder and harder every time you fucking smiled at him.

“Anyway, you’re steering me off topic. I hope Tiff’s back soon,” he says sincerely, hovering by the door. Already, he feels he’s outstayed his welcome, cluttering up the place, “An’ if there’s anythin’ I can do until she’s back, then…”

Just let me know? Shout and I’ll come running? Let me convince Gareth to give you a day off so you can relax?

He doesn’t know what his intended end of the sentence was, but you nod like he finished it anyway. You’re looking at him pensively, not saying goodbye yet. Eventually, after a few moments of what looked like an internal debate, you flop into your office chair and stare up at him ruefully as you kick your shoes off.

“I’m so thoroughly fucked Jamie, you have no idea.”

There’s a thought in the back of his head that he’s supposed to be training right now, but he doesn’t even think about leaving. He won’t be able to stay long, but he’ll be damned if he leaves you when you’re pouting like that. He kicks the door closed and walks closer to your desk.

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, hoping its soothing not patronising, “Ted always says something like…a problem halved is a problem shared or somethin’. Lay it on me.”

Again, you’re looking at him pensively. He’s not sure he likes you studying him so closely, like you’re searching for something. He gives you a shrug and a smile.

“Okay, but I’m only taking two minutes of your time, I promise,” you sigh, “Really shouldn’t keep you from training with the fucking England squad for this.”

It’s the first sign of self-deprecation he’s ever seen from you. He hates it with a passion. Briefly, he wonders if this is what you feel like when he does it, if that’s why you always argue against him. Maybe if he plays this right, he can leave this conversation safe in the knowledge that the two of you have become proper friends.

“Oi. None of that, alright? If I’m not allowed, you’re fuckin’ not either,” he insists, firm as he catches your eye. You look surprised, but you nod with a small smile that he’s over the moon to see, “Good. Right. Let’s problem halve then.”

There’s a laugh on your lips that you’re keeping in and he definitely hasn’t used that expression right, he knows. Maybe part of him likes that, though, because he likes the amusement that’s creeping through the exhaustion that radiates from you.

“Gareth’s asked for Saturday to be ‘team bonding’. Something fun but also compelling, you know, pictures to get the public on side. I’m drawing a fucking blank, because I normally bounce stuff off Tiff, but now all I’ve got is a big empty office and no ideas.”

It all comes out of you in a rush. A totally new side of you he hadn’t expected to be let in on when he offered to help with the equipment, but somehow it felt like a privilege. You’d spoken every day for a week, yes, but just small talk, stupid talk that he often walked away from annoyed with himself. Still, he couldn’t have been doing too badly at trying to be your friend if you were willing to open up like this, and the thought made him proud.

Jamie still didn’t think he was very good at making friends. Maybe he could go home with a new one (if he could make himself forget how pretty you really were).

“Y’ literally couldn’t have asked a better person for this,” Jamie grinned, trying to alleviate some of the stress that had collected between your eyebrows, “Answer’s staring you in the face, you know?”

You glared at him. Okay, not the right thing to say. He hoped you’d forgive him when he pointed behind you and you turned. The back wall of your office was entirely made of glass, a window that overlooked the huge indoor swimming pool that the training complex housed. When you turned back to Jamie, you just looked confused.

“The pool?”

“Not just the pool. Pool party. Footballers go fuckin’ crazy for ‘em, trust me. Y’ can’t lose, cause you’ll get a load of pictures of us lookin’ relaxed an’ fun an’ shit. Never know, some people might enjoy the fact we’ll be half naked. Win-win.”

You nodded slowly, still thinking. The furrow in your brow was lifting. Jamie wanted to high five himself far too enthusiastically.

“I’m not one to exploit you lot for your looks…” you begin, and yeah, Jamie knows he maybe shouldn’t have added that bit. Maybe that part of him he was trying to bury wanted to fluster you, “But the rest of what you said was good. Really good.”

“It was?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Jamie! Thought you footballers were meant to have massive egos, huh?”

He knows you’re kidding around, but even the insinuation that he didn’t have a massive ego would have made almost everyone back home laugh. A lot. He liked glimpses into what you thought of him.

“Yeah, well, I’m hidin’ it under me hat,” he joked, a shit joke that you still laughed at, “If you get us some of those floaty things too, the ones kids have at their birthdays? Fuck, do you think we could get an obstacle course?”

He hears how childish it is when he says it, feels the pink blooming across his cheeks. He’s expecting a response that he’d usually get, something kind but placating. Instead you jump up and round the desk, giddy.

“Yes! The ones with a slide at the end, you’re a genius! Thank you so much, I really mean it, I’m going to go and run it by Gareth right now,” you’re already grabbing a notebook and pen, your diary, ready to rush out of the door. He might not have found a solution so quickly if he’d known it would cut your conversation short.

“Might want your shoes, love.”

That nickname just tumbles out of him. Now his face feels like it’s gone up in flames. You don’t react, not that he can see with you rushing back to put your shoes on with a muffled thanks spoken under the desk. You’re rushing out of the door when you shout back to him.

“Find me later and I’ll sneak you an ice cream!”

He chuckles, left alone in your office. It takes him a few moments, but when he catches himself stood there grinning to himself, he’s quick to jog out and in the direction of the pitch. There’s nothing like penalty practice to take his mind off the butterflies in his stomach.

---

You were true to your word. Even though you hadn’t been able to source him any ice cream later that day, much to your own annoyance however many times he told you it was fine, you’d found him in the hotel first thing Saturday morning with a Mr Whippy.

“I snuck out to an ice cream truck to finally keep my promise,” and you look so excited, that Jamie eats his Mr Whippy at 8am in the morning and enjoys it immensely. He begins to ask what ice cream trucks nearby are operating at 8am, but you shut him down immediately.

“I think you’ll really enjoy the pool party later,” you say once you’ve both finished your ice creams, because of course you got one for yourself too. Watching you eat your ice cream so quickly made him wonder if your promise had been for him or for yourself, “Pulled out all the stops. Gareth was thrilled with the idea.”

“Yeah, he pulled me aside yesterday about it. Y’ didn’t have to give me any credit, y’ know?”

“Uh, yes I did. It was your idea, idiot.”

It hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time that you might tell anyone he’d thought of it. Gareth had been really nice about it yesterday, said something about leadership qualities that Jamie wishes Roy had been around to hear.

You rushed off again after that, but he was pleased to notice as you speed-walked away that you were wearing flats today. 

Jamie spent the rest of the morning with some of the lads he’d gotten on with best so far. Even though he’d sorted things with the City boys and spoke to them often, he was surprised to find that the ones he’d become closest to were the others from the smaller clubs in the league, lads who’d also come to camp on their own without any club teammates. Rife was one of them, even though he was West Ham, along with Pattinson, or Patty, and Gondo. The four of them would sit in Rife’s room, cause it was biggest, and just piss about really. Patty had ended up flooding the bathroom once.

After a morning spent playing Mario Kart on Gondo’s switch, which Jamie was fucking great at, even if he said so himself, the four of them made their way out of the hotel and walked over to the training complex.

“I heard it’s a pool party,” Patty said, eyes lighting up, “Hope so. Fucking class idea, that.”

Jamie could feel himself talking before he registered it.

“You know Y/N? Think she’s the one who planned the whole thing,” he supplies, watching as the three boys nod appreciatively. He hopes at least one of them will thank you for your hard work at some point during the afternoon. Rife gives him a funny look as they enter the pool, but Jamie takes no notice.

They’d clearly gotten carried away with their Grand Prix, because everything was in full swing by the time they’d gotten changed and entered the pool area. There were unicorn rubber rings that some of the boys were jumping into the water with, a huge obstacle course over to the left that people were racing on, both the team and some of the backroom staff were joining in. Jamie was amazed you’d been able to put all this together in just a few days and he was proud of himself too, for the idea. It was something he thought he might text his mum about later, so she could be proud of him too.

It didn’t take him long to spot you, likely because he was actively looking for you. You were stood by yourself over by the inflatable obstacle course, holding something on the wall, but watching the scene in front of you with a bright smile. Rife nudged him in the back of the shoulder and looked over at you.

“Fuck off,” Jamie mumbled, but he was walking over to you anyway and he knew Rife was decent enough not to say anything to the other lads and turn it into a whole thing. It wasn’t a thing anyway. He was just trying to do the right thing, like he always was nowadays, by going over to thank you for putting on such a fun time for everyone.

“Pool party, eh? Musta taken some kind of hotshot genius to come up with that one,” he says as he comes to a stop next to you against the wall. You screw your eyes shut like you’re thinking.

“Think it was just a run of the mill genius, if I remember,” you tease, and your bright smile is always blinding but he can’t help but wish it was only ever directed at him, “A run of the mill genius who is late, I might add.”

“Ah, you know it takes a lot of effort to look this good,” he says, gesturing down at his bare chest and black swim trunks. He hopes, because you didn’t know him during his prick days, that you know he isn’t being serious as he would have been a few years ago. There’s still a tiny whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears when your eyes travel down his body and back up again.

“I can only imagine,” you say, a blatant lie when you look as good as you do in your wrap dress, Richmond red this time. He’d think you were doing it on purpose if that wasn’t outlandish, “Now, go on, go and enjoy it! We’ve only got the obstacle course for three hours and no one’s been able to pry King away from it.”

Sure enough, when Jamie glances over, King is pulling Gondo over to race him because ‘no one’s ever gonna beat my record’. Even though that’s his cue to stop spending his team bonding time chatting to you, he can’t help but let his eyes drift to the air hose that you’re holding against the wall.

“Is ya arm not crampin’?”

You try and angle your body so he can’t see your arm.

“All good!”

“Excuse me language, but what the fuck are you holdin’?”

Your sigh comes out frustrated and you relent as you turn and switch arms, shaking out the other one vigorously.

“It’s the air pipe or whatever you call it. For the inflatable. It has to go through this window to the pump on the other side at this exact fucking angle otherwise it doesn’t stay inflated. Found someone with a cheaper rate and this is what I get, the little fucker.”

He has to really fight not to chuckle when you spit out the last bit, because you’re clearly enraged about this very fun pool party. However funny he finds it, however, he can tell that you won’t take any jokes well, so instead he holds up a single finger and legs it out of the pool area.

It’s only a short jog down to the dressing room, where he finds a roll of duct tape in the first locker he checks. Footballers have all sorts of uses for the stuff. He practically sprints back to you with it in his hand and the prospect of solving an issue for you has him floating through the corridors.

He enters the pool area again and knows that he’s bounding over to you like an excitable puppy.

“Hold still, yeah?” he says, more out of breath than he’d hoped, but you’re staying still because you look a stunned by his sudden exit and return. He takes the opportunity to start wrapping the duct tape around the pipe, securing it to the wall with a few small pieces, then strengthening it with a longer ones. He takes one glance at your face, far closer to his than its ever been before, and decides he shouldn’t look at you.

Not with your parted lips and sparkly eyes and-

“Right, try takin’ your hand away, if ya would?”

You do so slowly, but the pipe holds in place, same angle, the obstacle course finally self-sufficient. The sound you let out can only be described as a squeal of glee, hands clasped in front of your beaming face.

“Running out of adjectives for you, Jamie Tartt,” you say happily, reaching out to push him in what he assumes is an affectionate gesture. He’s consumed by the sparks that follow your touch, so much so that he doesn’t correct his balance in time, and the floor around the pool is wet. A startled yelp leaves him as he falls backwards into the pool, arms flailing in what he assumes is not a sexy way.

He sees you with your arms stretched out, reaching out for him with your face an absolute picture, when he surfaces, running a hand through his hair as he gasps. When he looks around, most of the team is laughing and he joins in, shaking his head at some of them who are pointing.

“Hope one of you fuckers got that on camera,” he calls out to the other side of the pool and he gets a thumbs up along with more laughs from his teammates. He turns back to you as all the laughter dies down, sees you sporting a look that’s 50% guilt and 50% amusement.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” you breathe out, but it’s followed by an immediate giggle that you try to cover up. If you were in a swimsuit, or a bikini, god forbid because he might actually lose it, he’d pull you right in after him. As it is, he just tamely splashes your ankles.

“I’ll getcha for that. An’ after I just helped you, too.”

You grin.

“I’ll make it up to you. Right now actually,” he sees a new mischief on your face that scares him, “Hey! Make sure you don’t get this one, alright? I fucking mean it!”

The cameraman you’re gesturing to nods and looks scared, pressing buttons on his camera. Jamie’s still looking up at you from his spot treading water in the pool, a mixture of anticipation and pure fucking awe on his face.

“It’s a pool party, right?” you grin, then jump into the pool next to him, still in your dress. The whole place cheers as you come up to the surface, laughing and flicking your hair out of your face. 

Jamie feels like all his breath has been stolen from him as he watches you try to keep the skirt of your dress from floating upwards too much. He’s totally transfixed. Can’t believe his luck when you’re looking at him again. “We’re even?”

He can’t find words, so he just nods. You swim closer to him, taking a glance on your way, at everyone else presumably to check the attention had turned elsewhere. When you’re sure it has, you whisper to him.

“I know all you’ve done since getting here is be my personal knight in shining armour, but could I ask one more favour?”

Again, no words. He wants to reach out and curl his finger into one of your wet strands of hair. Wants to dunk you under the water. Wants to kiss the living daylights out of you.

Oh fuck. He just nods again, dumbstruck

“Think you could give me a boost? I didn’t think about getting out of this pool gracefully.”

You gesture to the side of the pool. Jamie wonders if he’d died on the way over to the complex earlier and now he was in heaven.

“Uh, yeah. If you’re sure?”

“Please,” you confirm, swimming over to the side and he follows, just like he always does, watching as you brace your arms against the side. He gulps as he places two tentative hands around your waist, then tightens his grip as he pushes you upwards until you can turn and sit on the side of the pool. The hem of your dress brushes his chest in the process and he almost swallows some of the pool water.

Once you’re sat on the edge, feet dangling, he’s just a few inches away from being able to rest his head on your knees as he stares up at you. He feels like his heart is running away from him. You lean down to thank him softly before you stand up, wringing the water out of your dress as you strike up a conversation with one of the coaches on the sidelines about your recklessness.

Those fucking butterflies are fluttering up a storm in Jamie’s stomach, crowding his chest, getting in his head. Yeah, he’s found you attractive from day one, wanted to be your friend from day two. Now he’s that stupid word that Colin always uses to describe Dani when he has a new girl, but he just can’t remember it.

It comes to him when he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling late at night, thinking until he makes his head hurt. Smitten. He’s fucking smitten.

next chapter

---

if you read this far, as usual, i fucking love you <3 also, this chapter is partly based on something the actual england team did before the euros a few years ago, if anyone knows what i'm on about i love you even more ahaha

[r0mantic-f00l]

(not really proud of this one ngl, but I'm tired and I can't write anymore 😫)

friends with benefits with sirius in summer, who could ask for more??

Summer Benefits

It was quite humid, the summer air intoxicating the room as birds chirped and children laughed, glee accompanying the warmth that the most anticipated season brought every year. Ice cream trucks blasted music down streets as people laid in their gardens, trying to ease the heat but failing.

The clock had turned half 11, yet you were still lying in bed, not your bed, but a bed that had grown quite familiar to you over the summer. You had been awake since 10am, but you chose to close your eyes and relax, with your body above the covers and the pillow flipped to the cold side. You turned your head to glance at the boy next to you, who had been lying the opposite way, his body fully under the covers as his arm rested below his pillow. A familiar sight. Yet he wasn't snoring like he always did when he fell into a slumber, signifying to you that perhaps he had the same idea as you to just relax in bed.

However, you sat up from your position and threw your legs over the bed, stretching your spine and your arms as you yawned, proceeding into the bathroom as you popped the joints in your fingers. You glanced in the mirror, and grinned at the many hickeys Sirius had given you the previous night, all of them trailing from your neck to your stomach.

You would never admit this to him, but you were rather impressed with how many love bites he managed to paint on your body; at that point your body was his own personal canvas.

The sound of running water filled the empty silence as you pushed whatever little toothpaste was left from the tube onto your toothbrush (which Sirius had bought for you after the fourth time you had stayed over), and you began brushing your teeth.

The door opened, and you were immediately greeted with the sight of Sirius rubbing his eyes as you stared at him through the mirror. He stepped next to you and took one glance at the thin tube of toothpaste you had left before bending to the cabinet below the sink and fishing around amongst the many hair products and cologne until he found a brand new toothpaste. He stood up and pushed a string of toothpaste on his brush, running it under the tap then brushing his teeth.

His warm eyes had caught yours in the mirror and you both smiled, giggling when he waved. You waved back, feeling warmer due to the lack of proximity between you two, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

It had been at least two minutes when you and Sirius had finished brushing your teeth. You splashed your face with cold water after you were done, smiling as you felt the boy's fingers trail over the hickeys on your shoulder. You stood up straight once again, rolling your eyes at his proud smirk as you glanced at him through the mirror.

"Damn, I really went to town on you last night." He joked, chuckling as you turned your body to face his.

"Tell me about it." You murmured, grinning whilst Sirius pushed your hair off your neck, a sigh of relief escaping you as he clipped it back.

"Thanks."

"No problem." He muttered, massaging your shoulders, oblivious to your thoughtful gaze.

"Hey, Siri?"

He hummed in response, his eyes staring into yours once more.

"What are we doing?"

Sirius glanced up, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows as he pretended to think deeply.

"Well I believe we're standing in my bathroom."

"No," You grinned at his ridiculous joke.

"No, I meant, what is... this? Us? I mean, we've been having sex one day then the next day we act as if we're best friends, then we have sex again, and the cycle repeats."

Sirius nodded in response, this time his eyes truly had a thoughtful look.

"To be honest, I don't know what this is. But I do know that I really like you. And I don't like you just for sex. I mean, the sex is really, really, like heavenly good, but I like you... beyond that? Do you get what I mean?"

You giggled, nodding as Sirius took your soft hands in his.

He smiled softly. "I suppose I've always liked you."

Your eyes turned soft whilst you tilted your head and replicated his smile.

"I've always liked you too."

He hummed, his smile turning into a charming grin, and you instantly knew what he was going to say.

"I think it's time that I ask you on a date then."

"Finally, you've only been fucking me all summer."

You both laughed before Sirius drew his arm over your shoulders and leaned in, nuzzling your nose as his lips were still curved in that Sirius Black smile.

"You know I'm not the brightest button in the box, darling."

You nodded in agreement.

"Understatement of the century."

"Shut up." He said, with the most jovial expression on his face.

"Make me." You teased, leaning even closer to his lips as you stood on your tip-toes.

And so he did.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 261. brb x oc

a/n: ngl......the photoshoot chapter? yeah (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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-

“Marcus, thank you so much for seeing me.”

Marcus looks at Beatrice above the rim of his glasses, one of his hands up in the air as he checks on fabric samples, “Darling, don’t mention it. I know the photoshoot is in a few days and I’m sure you have questions.” 

Beatrice smiles sweetly, but her cheeks turn red, “Oh, um, it’s not…that’s not why I’m here.” the fashion designer stop meddling with the fabric to look over at her, “You remember…that uh…thing we talked about? For Roos’ birthday?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his smile widening . He put down the fabric samples and walked closer to Beatrice, his expression now serious. "Of course, I remember. The special surprise for Bradley’s birthday. What's changed your mind, darling?"

Beatrice fidgeted nervously, her cheeks still tinged with a blush. "Well…he’s getting deployed soon and…well. You see, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I wanted to discuss some ideas with you. I want it to be perfect."

Marcus smiled warmly and gestured for Beatrice to sit in one of the plush chairs in his studio. He took a seat across from her and leaned forward, his hands steepled thoughtfully. "I'm all ears, darling. Tell me your ideas, and I’ll assure you we’ll have something already."

Beatrice took a deep breath and began, her excitement growing as she spoke. "Well, he…chose purple.” she says softly, “So…I think the purple set you showed me…um,it’s the chosen one.”

Marcus nodded, taking note of Beatrice's choice of the purple set. "Purple it is, then. It's a fantastic choice, very regal. Now, tell me, what other ideas do you have in mind for this special surprise?"

Beatrice chewed her lower lip, why was she so nervous. "I was thinking about…lace." Marcus let out an amused ‘mhm’ “And…some flowers, maybe some details in white? Like daisies- no,lavenders on the fabric.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering Beatrice's ideas with his eyes glinting. "Oooohh…Lace and lavender accents on a purple set. I must say, darling, that sounds absolutely enchanting. But tell me, what's the significance of lavender and lace? Is there a special meaning behind them for Rooster?"

"Yes, there is. Lavender is my favorite scent…and…subsequently, it’s…Brad’s too.And lace... “ she blushes, “W-well, lace is just timeless and beautiful, like our love."

“Hm.” he squinted his eyes, “Romantic and I won’t prod on it.” she exhales with relief, shoulders sagging, “I think we have that model ready, we might just need to add a few more things to it, but…since he’s being deployed after his birthday, oh darling we must make it more special.” he leans forward a bit, lowering his voice “How does Bradley likes…stockings?”

Beatrice blinked, her cheeks growing even warmer at Marcus's unexpected question about. She hadn't anticipated this direction for their discussion, but she trusted Marcus's taste and expertise implicitly.

"Stockings?" she repeated, a bit flustered. "I... I'm not sure if he's ever mentioned a preference for stockings, to be honest."

Marcus chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "No worries, darling. It's just that stockings can add an extra layer of sensuality to the ensemble. Since you want this surprise to be special for Bradley before he gets deployed, it might be a delightful addition."

Beatrice considered it for a moment, her mind racing as her fingers curled and relaxed on her lap. She did  want this birthday surprise to be memorable and unforgettable, something that would linger in Rooster's thoughts during his deployment. "Well…he does love my thighs." she looks down at her legs, the plush squishing together since she’s sitting down. "...Let's include stockings in the design."

Marcus grinned, clearly pleased with her decision. "Excellent choice, darling. Stockings it is. Lace on it?"

“Hmmm..no.”

“Color?”

She blinked a bit, “...maybe lilac?”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully at Beatrice's choice. "Lilac stockings it is. They'll complement the purple set and lavender accents beautifully. Now, let's discuss the finer details. Do you have any specific design elements in mind for the stockings, or should I come up with a few options for you to consider?"

She just shrugged with a little grin . "I trust your creative judgment, Marcus. Surprise me."

Marcus smiled, waving his hand at her. "Oh, darling, you are spoiling me.Now, let's talk about any additional elements you'd like to incorporate into this ensemble. Are there any accessories or special touches you have in mind?"

Beatrice pondered for a moment before an idea struck her. "What about a delicate garter belt? Something that complements the stockings and the overall design."

Marcus's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Ah, a garter belt, a classic choice. It will add a touch of sophistication to the ensemble. What color would you like for the garter belt? Should it match the stockings or the purple set?"

Beatrice considered the options. "I think it should match the stockings, so lilac would be perfect."

"Very well," Marcus replied, jotting down notes as they spoke. "Lilac garter belt to match the stockings. Anything else you'd like to add?"

Beatrice paused, her mind racing with possibilities, and she just remember something from when she was younger. She always wanted those giant, flowy robes she’d see in classic movies. "How about a matching robe? Would that be okay? I don’t want to…overwork you Marcus. I know you are so busy already."

Marcus flashed a warm smile at Beatrice. "A matching robe, my dear, is a splendid idea. And don't worry about overworking me; creating this special surprise for you and Rooster is an absolute delight."

She knew he was a busy designer, and she didn't want to burden him with too many requests. "Well I–” but he gave her a look, so she relented, “...Thank you, Marcus. I really appreciate your help with this."

Marcus waved off her thanks. "It's my pleasure, darling. Well,I have everything I need to work for and don’t worry.” he places a finger against his lips, “It’s a  well kept secret.”

“Thank you,Marcus.”

“Don’t mention it, now,” he crosses his legs by the knee, “Where’s our little bundle of joy, where’s little Nicole?”

“She’s with my older brother.” she says, relaxing on the seat and rubbing the back of her neck, “I didn’t…want to bring her here since,well, the conversation is…um…well, you know what I mean.”

"You're a wonderful mother, Beatrice. It's good that you're considering her well-being in all of this. How is Nicole doing these days?"

Beatrice smiled warmly at the mention of her daughter. "She's growing up so fast, Marcus. It's hard to believe she's already going to be one…she honestly appears to be so much older mentally. She's a bright and curious little girl, always full of energy and questions..well, what she can muster that is.”"

She couldn’t help but sigh, a hint of weariness in her voice. "It's not always easy, but I'm trying my best. We both are…with the twins ready to come home, me going back to work at the Hard Deck and…Brad’s deployment…it’s well, sometimes I get anxious."

Marcus reached out and gently patted Beatrice's hand. "You're doing an amazing job, dear. Don't forget to take some time for yourself as well. It's important to recharge and pamper yourself every now and then."

“I know.”

“Perhaps a spa day?”

She smiled appreciatively. "I'll keep that in mind, Marcus. For now I’m okay," she shrugs, “I have Roos and people to lean on whenever I need a break. But, you know, it’s worth it.”

“Mhm…and tell me,” he twirls his hand, trying to remember the words, “The uh…your neighbors, are they still being a pain in the ass? The…Haltons?”

Beatrice sighed as she thought about her neighbors, the Haltons. It seemed like they had been a source of annoyance for as long as she could remember and honestly, it hasn’t been that long "Yes, the Haltons are still... challenging," she said, choosing her words carefully.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in hearing more because he did love some gossip. "Do tell."

"Well, you know, they did that whole scene at Oda. They are still weird, Mark is now trying to…I don’t know befriending the recruits and playing as if he’s friends with Brad."

“Ah, the joys of troublesome neighbors. It's a wonder you've put up with them for so long."

Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head. "Believe me, I've wondered the same thing myself. But we’re managing.” she says, hitting the bottom of her shoe on Marcus’ wooden floor, chewing the inside of her cheek, “I don’t get what they might want with us, or why they even…think about doing with us but,Jesus Christ.”

“I know.”

“They are just a pain in our butt, Marcus.” she finishes, tucking one of her legs under the other, holding her head up with a fist as she supports herself against the couch, “But I’m not going to let their noisiness ruin anything. Especially now.”

“I know,darling.” he calls an assistant close and then looks back at her, “Do you want tea,darling?”

"That would be lovely, Marcus. Thank you."

Marcus gave her a warm smile and warmly told his assistant to prepare some tea. As they waited, Beatrice continued, "You know, I've tried to understand the Haltons, but they remain a mystery to me. I can't fathom why they seem so interested in our lives."

Marcus chuckles softly, waving his hand  "Sometimes, people have their own reasons for behaving the way they do. It's possible they have their own issues or insecurities that lead them to act out. Believe me,I’ve met too many people like them.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes, the fashion scene is filled with those.” he rolled his eyes, “So tiresome.”

“I mean, they do act like they are…so much better than us.” she frowns, “Which I don’t get 

honestly. I don’t…see why they’d be like that. Makes no sense at all.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Some people have a need to inflate their own self-worth by putting others down. It's a sad way to go through life, really.”

Marcus's assistant returned with a tray carrying two cups of tea, placing it carefully on the coffee table before quietly exiting the room. ‘But now,” Marcus poured the tea and handed a cup to Beatrice “Let us talk about something other than them,hm?”

-

Well.

He was going to be deployed alongside Mark. Rooster sighed after leaving Cyclone’s office, rolling his neck and cracking his fingers so he could relax. He lifted his head just in time to see Mav leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, “Seemed like a good meeting.”

He loved his uncle, he did, but now, “Shut up.” now he didn’t feel like talking about that, “Mark is joining the mission with me and the others.”

Mav pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to Rooster, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, could be much worse."

“Thanks.”

Mav chuckled knowingly. "Ah, the joys of working with someone you can't stand. Welcome to the world of military service, my boy. It happens to the best of us."

“I mean,I didn’t stand you and we worked out fine.”

“Yeah,” Mav begins, “But I did see you grow and gave you the tips of adult life. Mark…is a guy that showed up weeks ago and whose wife makes Bea consider murder.” he smirks again, “Oh come on, it’ll be fine. It’ll be your last mission before the promotion,Rooster. Lieutenant-Commander! Now with no hiccups along the way.”

“I guess…”

Mav patted Rooster's back, a reassuring gesture. "That's the spirit, Rooster.” his nephew wasn’t amused “ You will still lead the squad.” his uncle adds seeing that Rooster’s humor was still nearing the ‘absolutely pissed’ area, “And you won’t be alone, Payback and Jake will be with you, and so will Phoenix.”

Rooster tried to muster a smile, but annoyance still gnawed at him. He knew his uncle was trying to be supportive, but the thought of working closely with Mark for an entire mission was enough to put a damper on his spirits. 

"Thanks, Mav," Rooster replied, his tone laced with irritation. "I appreciate the pep talk. But honestly, Mark? Out of all the people, it had to be him."

Mav chuckled again, seemingly undeterred by Rooster's annoyance. "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at us, doesn't it? Besides, who knows, maybe this mission will be an opportunity for you two to bury the hatchet and become fast friends."

"Fast friends? Doubtful."

His uncle's grin widened. "Yeah,well,I get it. He did piss you off." he throws his hands up in the air “I’ll let you seethe, but let’s have something to eat at the cafeteria hm? My treat.”

Rooster sighed, realizing that arguing with his uncle was futile. "Fine, let's grab something to eat. I’m starving anyway"

Mav chuckled, leading the way  ‘In the meantime, you can tell me about this Navy photoshoot.” he says and Rooster looks up at him, “The one that Marcus is doing. Come on, hit me up with some info, I know you guys will do it this week.”

Rooster was so annoyed he completely forgot about it.

Rooster followed Mav to the cafeteria, trying to shake off the frustration that had settled in his chest. He knew his uncle meant well, but the prospect of working closely with Mark on the upcoming mission was a bitter pill to swallow.

Mav turned to Rooster, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, spill the beans about this Navy photoshoot. What's it all about?"

Rooster couldn't help but smile at his uncle's enthusiasm. "Well, Marcus is putting together a little something for the Navy."

Mav raised an eyebrow. "And you're one of the chosen few right?"

"Yeah, me and most of the squad to be honest…Bea too, you know she’s his muse and he’d always try to fit her in." and since she had some experience with photoshoots and he didn’t, it made his heart fill with joy just imagining her there.

Shocking that thinking about his wife made him feel so much better.

“Are you excited?”

Rooster took a moment to think,  then parted his lips "A bit nervous, honestly, it’s something completely out of my comfort zone." he explains “And while Bea, bless her, will help me, it still makes me a bit unsure. I mean,Jesus, I fly a machine that can basically cut through sound if I want to, but a few photos make me iffy.”

“I'm sure Marcus wouldn't have chosen you if he didn't think you had what it takes."

Rooster appreciated his uncle's words of encouragement…he half expected Mav to tease him "Yeah, you're right.." he pauses, “I thought you’d make fun of me for some reason.”

“Who,me?” Maverick smiles, “Nah,you kids can go have your fun. I’ve never seen anything like it but if it’s for a good cause, then why not?”

They reached the front of the line and began to select their meals. Rooster opted for a hearty sandwich and a side of fries, while Mav chose a salad with grilled chicken. They found an empty table and settled in, their conversation continuing.

Mav took a bite of his salad before speaking again. "You know, Rooster, these kinds of experiences are what make life interesting. Embrace the opportunity, even if it takes you out of your comfort zone."

Rooster pursed his lips, arching his brows, “Damn, that sounds…really deep.”

“I have my moments.” his uncle replies, “But really, have fun. You are all young, you deserve it.” he smirks more, “Maybe next time Mark can join in-”

“I will leave you in this base and never come back,Mav.” Rooster cuts him off but he’s smiling, “Just shut up and eat,old man.”

[neverevan]

i'm ngl this is a big reason i would have preferred they just killed the bachelor party totally. i love buddie having fun but it felt rushed, like an idea they came up with before the crunch of the short season hit and something they didn't want to cut/compromise losing even though they didn't have the time to do it justice and it added nothing to the narrative. i loved the scenes and shenanigans but it also felt super out of character for both buck and eddie to be getting so drunk and irresponsible literally hours before a day they both would have cared a lot about going off smoothly for their friends and family. like buck was that uptight about the bachelor party but not his beloved sisters wedding??? he and eddie are both willing to trash his very expensive hotel room and let chimney wake up to that on his wedding day and didn't even bother to set an alarm? x to doubt. unless it was truly a reaction from buck getting cut out of any wedding planning or the wedding party and he was overcompensating it just doesn't sit right for me.

yeah I feel like there was more to the story about that party getting so out of hand, which I think would've became clearer if we had heard Buck's drunken ramblings to Eddie and not just the yet another uber advert lmao

but also don't forget that 1) the og party was meant to be karaoke and sliders with friends, it didn't look like getting totally shitfaced was on the agenda until everyone left and Buck and Eddie probably thought "well fuck, if they don't care, nor do we" which you can say it's out of character, but like... looking at all the goofy stuff they get up to when not being actively traumatised, I think it checks out, but I guess that's more of a personal taste kinda question.

cutting the party scenes wouldn't have made sense imo bc someone had to notice that Chim was gone and if we only got the boys waking up in the mess, that would've just left more questions (or if we flip the whole story and the news is found out differently than these two otherwise important characters need a whole another storyline to still be a part of the main one)

also from start to finish that entire thing (including the flashback when Chim tells Buck he doesn't want the party and up to the point of finding his empty room) was 5 minutes and 15 seconds — the rager being 1 minute 25 secs or so — personally, I think that is a very reasonable time slot to set up the story

yeah, I would've loved it to be a 2-parter instead of cutting all that out, but I also think the editors done a good job keeping in the important bits in and sometimes important bits barely move the story ahead, but provide relief from the stress of it all and that counts too

[onecantsimply]

hiiiii how are you?.

May i request an headcanon for Jack with a fem reader Who tends to be very sleepy, sometimes look always Happy,but Is actually very sad?

Ngl I'm pretty bored rn-

And yes you may-

-

- Jack never did mind your lack of energy. It was always how you were, even from when he first met you. You could sleep. Everywhere. Anywhere. It was a wonder to him or how you slept on the cold hard floor or roof because you wanted it to be cold from where you slept. 

- In general though, while you are awake, you seem pleasantly sleepy, but happy to see him. But... that’s just regular looks when Jack has his monocle on. From what he sees without it, you’re not leading a very good color. More as if you’re always sleeping to simply pass time, and you’re smiling to keep others’ concern away from you. 

- He doesn’t like it. Not one bit. In the time he’s spent with you, he’s found out the feelings he’s harbored for you, as well as the concern that has been bottling itself within himself as he looks into your colors. The same ones every day, slowly getting worse as time passes by. 

- Eventually... it comes to the point where he can’t bottle it up anymore, or you simply collapse from how dead you feel within the moment, feeling no care for your reputation within public. 

- If it’s the former, Jack has you held close, having you vent to him for what’s happening within your life. Why you’re always so sleepy, and why your colors are so dark. So filled with a sick emotion all the time and why you sleep to pass the time. You’re simply counting down the clock, waiting for your own time to come. And that’s something Jack won’t accept. 

- He will tell you of how much your life means. And you don’t seem to get that this is what your life means to him. That Jack thinks of you as precious existence that has to be protected. So the fact that you’re not helping yourself... Jack will take it upon himself to do it for you. 

- You’re overwhelmed with work? Jack will do some of it with you. How about he makes some tea while he’s at it as well? Perhaps some food you can eat? Your house looks a bit dirty. How about he helps you with it? You need a rest? No need to worry, because Jack will make sure you’re comfortably asleep, doing everything he needs to do to make sure that you’re in a better condition. Every now and then he’ll check in on you. To see the faintly brightened color, while still sad, it’s progress. Every little bit is progress, and Jack will make sure it’s turned to 100. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he couldn’t do it. 

- In time, you ask him something that had made him come face to face with the feelings he held for you. Why he did everything for you. 

- “Why would you help me, even despite my own condition?” 

- And... Jack can’t do it anymore. He confesses his own feelings, wanting you to know everything he’s felt for you. The amusement of knowing how you can sleep literally everywhere. The increasing worry for your own state. The love he begins to feel as he gets close to you. The infatuation he has upon finally getting to take care of you, like a loved one would do to their significant other... It’s emotions he can’t completely comprehend, but emotions he knows that he won’t be able to hold back for long. So that’s why he tells everything to you. To let you know that even if you may not be liked by anyone within the world, there will always be one person that can help. Even if they’re possibly one of the worst people to be helped by, that they’ll try their best in making sure their Partner is in the best and happiest condition. 

- If it comes to you collapsing from how tired you are, Jack is by your side immediately, keeping you safe and getting you to someone that could help. The relief that floods through his body upon knowing that it’s just an overwhelming amount of stress and not a disease that could kill you has him glad. But still.. he needs to push those feelings aside. He needs to take care of you. 

- Now we know damn well that Jack won’t allow you to do mostly anything on your own. You need to regain your own energy. You don’t need to do any work, because Jack has already warned and threatened explained everything to your boss.You seem pretty confused on why Jack is doing all of this stuff when he’s only been your friend for a few months. 

- But still, this may end up like the previous path. Jack helps you with everything, but in a much more worried manner because he doesn’t want you to collapse ever again. He doesn’t want to face the deathly worry ever again. It made his heart course with an emotion that had him thinking of you. Overthinking your condition and making him do things he never thought he would really do. Worry for another person in such a manner that he would do anything to have them in a much better state. 

- So to see why you’re curious of him doing everything, he’ll confess all of his feelings for you. That he will protect and help you through every problem you’re in. Even if it means getting himself into more trouble. Even if it means he may have t murk a few people to help you, he will do it. Jack doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. So no matter the cost, he will make your life the best it could ever be. 

[kailuva]

Hello there, I've mostly been lurking on this tag for a while but finally worked up the courage to ask for something.

Since you wanted to have some prompts for "pathetic" Kai, may I request / give you an idea ? First of all, it's so sad how few gay readers there are for this man, so could it be an x male reader ? Gender neutral is fine too, I'm just sick of seeing 'she's everywhere lol.

So my idea was that the reader somehow gets a hold of post Tartarus breakout Kai and takes care of him. Some nice simple fluff like idk, cooking a meal, bathing him etc.

Totally fine if you don't want this prompt, have a great day either way :3

as a gay dude who’s obsessed w him i would be delighted to anon, thank you for the ask!!

it is mostly fluff however i did get a bit carried away ngl i just can’t help myself w him he’s very kissable ok

-

“chin up, please.”

kai’s golden eyes slowly roll to fix on yours and the long pause teases you with the possibility that he’s going to disobey before he does do as you’ve requested, tipping his head back and gazing dull at the mouldy ceiling. you sigh in relief that he’s not in one of his argumentative moods, something that’s becoming more and more regular these days, and despite your own feelings it is preferable to the zombie act. he’s becoming much livelier since you’d first taken him in which is a good thing. it’s been tough but you’ve always been patient and nothing if not persistent with those in need— and he needs you.

you dip the straight razor in the sink and flick a few water droplets off, taking gentle hold of his jaw and gliding the blade up his neck with practiced ease. it feels as erotic as you imagine it looks— two men in a cramped bathroom, half naked, touching. you really want to get off the edge of the bathtub and sit on him instead but there’s something stopping you. he’s unpredictable as he is alluring and you don’t want to ruin it. you can admit to yourself that you are enjoying this, that you’re enjoying his vulnerability and your role as his sole caretaker, glad that he relies on you for everything from changing clothes to feeding himself to something as simple as a shower and a shave. he’s not totally helpless but he’s definitely gotten used to being babied. it’s more than fine in your books, it feels good to protect and love him as he is. how terribly fond of him you’ve grown.

you’ve intentionally drawn out the last few scrapes and if he notices it he doesn’t mention it. underneath the overwhelming scent of shaving foam and cheap shampoo you can smell him. it’s barely there, naturally, for someone who demands a shower twice a day, but you can pick it up. it’s nothing but utterly pleasant and you want to bury your face into him and just inhale. for as many dirty fantasies as you’ve had about him, somehow that one feels peculiarly perverted. red faced, you pull back to inspect your work, tilting his head this way and that. his eyes don’t leave yours.

“you put any thought into a moustache yet?” you ask. the look he gives you speaks volumes of his thoughts on that. “just kidding.”

chisaki sighs deeply as you chuckle and grab a dry towel to dab his cheeks and neck with. you feel refreshed just touching his newly bare skin. inwardly you mourn the loss of his stubble but for the pleasure of shaving him alone you’ll let it go. he’s gorgeous either way and you let your admiration show. his nose scrunches up at the intense scrutiny and he shies away from you, as if you hadn’t just helped him wash himself.

“don’t do that,” you murmur, turning him back to face you. you doubt he’s ever put much thought into his looks but you are curious to know if he’s aware of how pretty he is. of all the words to describe a persons beauty you think that’s what suits him most. you’ve told him so, just to embarrass him.

affection was not something usually invited but you know his tells well enough by now to see that he’s wanting, another little thing that’s become more frequent the more comfortable he gets with you. you caress his cheek like he’s something precious and press your lips to his neck, open mouthed and slow and purely indulgent. you smile at the sigh this elicits and he all but melts into you, allowing you to run your hand through his auburn hair and wrap the other around him. he’s practically on top of you and still it’s not enough, you want him impossibly closer, so you take a risk at a potentially embarrassing fall or rejection and tug him onto your lap. it’s a pleasant surprise when he doesn’t disagree and gives you a smouldering kiss of your own, no stubble burn to accompany it. he tastes good and clean, so, so clean. you want to devour him.

after a minute of passion he rests his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. flushed and breathing a little heavier, you rub your hand up and down the smooth expanse of his back, over rippling muscles that somehow survived his imprisonment. “okay?” you ask, breathless.

you feel him nod against you. “tired.” he mumbles. “we’d have to shower again.”

you laugh a little, squeezing him affectionately. “alright. c’mon then, we’ll dry your hair and go to bed. unless you’re hungry?”

“no.“

he makes no move to get off you.

“kai?”

he hesitates before he asks, so quiet you barely hear it. “… carry me?”

you wonder why now, after all you’ve done for him, he sounds so unsure. you give him a final kiss that you hope reassures and conveys your utter devotion to him. you haul yourself off the tub and carry him to bed, knowing that if he still had his arms, he’d be holding you just as tight.

[steponmeinejghafa]

After Hours

Summary: After a long day of being the queens of ravka, you and Zoya desperately need to unwind, which you help each other with.

Warnings: None <3

wife!Zoya Nazyalensky X wife!reader

Note: While you are the queen of ravka with your wife, you additionally go to a school near the palace to teach when you're not handling any royal duties. (I'm frankly obsessed with the teacher wife aesthetic, ngl-)

-----

The room was far too quiet without you beside her, Zoya had to admit. While she stood and mapped out intricate strategies with the Second Army, she missed your quiet but bubbly presence gently adding in details to or pointing out flaws in her strategies. She hated paperwork without you joking and laughing with her.

Case in point, she missed you terribly whenever you left the palace.

Her day was, frankly, extremely stressful. There was way too much court to hold, far too many issues to discuss, one too many papers to sign, and definitely a lot more policies to make and handle than her threshold allowed.

However, Zoya knew that if she told you how stressful things were, you'd immediately feel guilty for leaving on such a busy day. She absolutely did not want that to happen, and additionally knew you would murder her if she told you that she was taking more load upon herself than she could manage.

Meanwhile, your day was going the exact opposite how your wife's was. Where she was stressing out far too much, you were enjoying yourself with the younger grade's children. While she filled out mind-numbingly boring papers, you were assisting adorable youngsters with their spelling and speaking.

Despite having an absolutely wonderful day, you desperately wished to go home to your wife. However lovely the children were, you did wish to have her by your side as the one who balanced you out perfectly.

Naturally for the both of you, as the day slowly came to an end, as the schoolbells rang out through the corridors to dismiss everyone, and as the courtiers and dukes cleared out of the throne room, a sense of relief was clearly felt.

You hugged the students and said your goodbyes, waiting till the last child had hurried out of the gates, before you hoisted yourself up into the carriage, strictly but politely telling the guards to not help you with your bag.

Sadly, where your day had ended, Zoya's was still going on. She stood near a massive map of Ravka, where tiny red pins signified where which guards were stationed, her brows furrowed while she tried hard to decide which troop needs to circle where the next week when the duty rotation would occur.

You walked in soundlessly like your good friend Inej, startling your wife as you slid your arms around her waist, pressing soft, affectionate kisses to her neck in greeting.

"Why hello there," she chuckled, a smile breaking through her frown, causing her face to light up. She leaned into your embrace, sighing contentedly at the feeling of your lips on her skin. Innocent as it was, the gesture felt familiar and comforting.

"Good evening, my love," you giggled, resting your chin on her shoulder to look at what she was doing. "Far too many strategies, I see. Playing the part of General tonight?"

"No," she sighed. "I'm just thinking about the guards stationed in the main marketplace."

"How come? I thought rotation was to occur as usual next week," you replied, your brows furrowing as hers did a few moments ago as you stood beside her, arms crossed.

She shook her head, and pointed at a place on the map. "Brekker tipped me off about some illegal trade of parem around there, and we need to double on security plus increase the intensity as well as frequency of checks on the pharmacies and traders. We cannot have that-that stuff circulating on the market again."

"I have an idea," you replied. "How about we take a few soldiers from Tsibeya here," you took out one of the three red pins on that side, "and place them with the guards at the market here." You placed it between two blue pins on the map.

"That's...a good idea, thank you darling," she chuckled softly. "Tsibeya has been pretty quiet these last few months. Atleast, that's what the scouts report." She quickly wrote down a letter, and asked a guard to deliver it to the Commanding Officer of the Tsibeya troops.

"Lovely," you grinned, taking her arm. "Now that the boring part of our job is over, let's go down to dinner and then go to sleep."

"But I've got to finish-" She began, but you immediately interrupted her.

"I am taking no arguments here, Nazyalensky."

Sighing ruefully at her obvious defeat, she gave in and agreed. Delighted, you pulled her to the dining hall, where the servants immediately served both of you a lavish dinner.

The table was wide enough, that two people could sit at the head of it, however discouraged it was. You often slit your chair next to her before guests came in, solely to annoy the nobles and to stay by her side. So, while you both ate, it wasn't easy to stare at you, but she did.

Her gaze was fixed on your lips every time you sipped some wine from your glass, so she instantly leaned over to wipe some of it off your bottom lip when it remained after a particularly long drag of it. She constantly felt her breath catch in her throat when you ate something with your hand and licked your fingers clean.

"I can hear you staring, love," You chuckled softly as dessert came in. Truth be told, you, too, were stealing small glances in her direction as she licked her fingers clean after finishing her rice and gravy. She did have a habit of eating with her hand sometimes, when the portions got too small to eat with a spoon or fork.

"I can hear you as well," she chuckled, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Can't get enough of me, can you, my darling?"

"Zoya," you said mock-forcefully as a blush reddened your cheeks. "We have been married for two years. You cannot flirt with me like a teenager would!"

"I have the same energy I did as a teenager, you know that personally," replied your wife with a smirk. "I think that gives me leeway to flirt like one."

"Go fuck yourself," you mumbled, ears red as you devoured your piece of cake with ravenous fervour, as if you could eat your gay panic away.

She leaned over and whispered in your ear, "Do it yourself, you coward."

Inhaling deeply, you buried your head in your hand, kicking her under the table and gently hitting her shoulder with the other hand as you whined, "You know I am a hopeless bottom, Zoya-"

All she did was laugh a bit and let the matter go.

After dinner, you both went to your room to change and go to bed. Your room was connected to the study, which was strewn with maps, books, and documents. They littered every surface, from the large circular table, to the shelves, to the floor.

She went to the bathroom to take a quick soak in the tub, while you respected her private time and sat on the large sofa.

“Y/n, my love,” she called out to you from the bathroom, “Can you come in here and help me, please?”

You smiled and called back, “Of course, my dear,” and hurried into the bathroom to where she stood before the full-length mirror, struggling with her corset.

“Unlace me,” she demanded playfully. “That’s an order.”

“Saints, you could’ve been more subtle about the fact that you want my hands all over you,” you chuckled, earning a gentle elbow to the ribs.

“How dare you!” She protested as you began working away at the laces.

“Why do you always insist on having such complicated knots done for your corset, Zoya?” You grumbled, pulling at a particularly trying knot which refused to come undone.

She was about to reply when a knock on the bedroom door interrupted her.

“Who is it?” You called out.

“Erik, your Majesty,” a voice replied, muffled through the door.

Zoya pushed past you and opened the door, glaring daggers at the poor guard. He looked genuinely terrified as she asked him, “This better be urgent Erik, or I will not be very forgiving about this interruption.”

You placed a hand on the small of her back, moving next to her. The guard relaxed upon meeting your less-deathly gaze, and you asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Um, the Zemeni minister of agriculture has requested your presence, Queen Zoya,” he replied nervously.

Zoya frowned and snapped, “Tell him I can schedule a meeting tomorrow!”

“That’s- that’s the problem, your Highness,” he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “He’s sitting in the parlor right now…”

You felt her hands clench into fists in pure frustration, and immediately took charge. You slowly pried one fist of hers open and slipped your hand in hers. “May I converse with him?”

“I’m afraid he has asked for only her Highness, your Majesty,” he shook his head.

“Ah,” you said, “Well then, Zoya, do go on down. I’ll be here waiting. Thank you Erik.” He bowed in acknowledgment, bade you both a good night and hurried away.

“A queen’s work is never done,” you chuckled, unlacing your fingers from hers as you pulled her towards you by the waist, pressing a soft, loving kiss to her lips. Zoya felt warmth blossom on her cheeks, as your eyes wandered her face.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she replied, taking your head in her hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You allowed a deep red blush to coat your cheeks after she left, and as she turned, she missed the way your gaze skirted quite shamelessly down her entire body, without an ounce of innocence in it.

You decided to go into the study and check for any unsigned documents, and just to be busy while she was gone. You found a mountain of paperwork she or you had forgotten to sign, and luckily, none of them were overdue.

While you worked, a long and heated discussion took place between your wife and the agriculture minister. It slowly made her more and more agitated, and the familiarly unpleasant sensation of stress built up in her body as she struggled to keep her voice level.

“I need those finances, your Highness,” the minister finally said. “There cannot be a lack of money and funding towards the agriculture sector of Novyi Zem.”

“I’ll fix up a meeting between us, the finance minister, as well as chief of the Merchant Council. We can discuss this matter as a group, just to ensure there is no conflict or confusion amongst us on this. Fundings are particularly trying between two ministers, I have noticed,” she sighed. “Will that be all?”

“Here is a list of grievances we have been facing,” he handed her a paper with an official stamp. “Do look into them. It is imperative that they get resolved.”

Lovely, Zoya thought. Another thing to add on my plate.

Zoya nodded. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Don’t worry about that. I have my lodging all set. I leave for Novyi Zem tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you for coming to me with your concerns,” she stood up, prompting him to do the same. “Goodnight, my good sir.”

He bowed deeply. “Goodnight, your highness.”

The second he left, Zoya stormed up the stairs to the pair of yours’ room, already too wound-up to manage anything.

You stood over a map of Ravka which had pins on it identical to the ones in the throne room. You were leaning on your palms which were rested atop the table, trying to work out another, more efficient way, to help Zoya with her problem.

You were far too engrossed in that work to hear her enter, so when she wrapped her arms around you, kissing your neck, you let out a startled yelp.

“Saints, Zoya, you frightened the life out of me!” You gasped, leaning into her.

She hummed and mumbled against your skin, “Who’s playing the part of General now?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled. “I’m only helping!”

She turned you around and rested her palms on the table’s edge, trapping you between it and her. She leaned closer and smiled, “Well, I need your help in something else.”

You blushed and replied, “What will that be, my queen?”

She suddenly pulled you into a hug, inhaling your sent. You let loose a small gasp of surprise. It wasn’t often that she showed such large amounts of affection. It usually extended to soft kisses and short hugs.

“Someone seems a little shocked,” she laughed, as you hesitantly wrapped your arms around her waist, hugging her back.

“Forgive me if I’m surprised that my minimalistically affectionate wife suddenly decides to tackle me in a hug,” you scoffed, running your hands through her hair. “How about I run you a warm bath, and ask for some warm chamomile tea?”

She pulled away and hummed, “That sounds like an extremely appealing offer…I will most certainly take you up on it.”

“I know you inside and out, Zoya Nazyalensky,” you chuckled. You took her by the arm and led her to the bathroom, helping her take her corset off after hearing her complain about the long hours she’d had to endure the pain of it.

You quickly ran her a bath and left her to soak in it, fetching her a nice cup of tea as promised. While she bathed, you entered the bathroom and handed the tea to her.

“Be careful, my love,” you said, kissing her forehead. “The tea’s still a bit hot.”

She took a long sip and sighed contentedly, before looking up at you quizzically. “Aren’t you going to join me?” She gestured at the tub where she’d reclined.

You shook your head, blushing. “No, I’ve still got some work to finish. But don’t you worry about me, my darling. You need to unwind.”

“So do you!” She protested. “Let someone take care of you for once, Y/n.”

You dismissed her statement with a gentle wave of your hand, and gave her a quick kiss before leaving her to her own devices. It was true, you needed to unwind, but you hated being looked after. It often made you feel uncomfortable, for you thought it would burden the other person far too much.

Heading back into the study, your eyes landed on a mountain of letters which sat on a small table near the end of the room, all of them unopened. Deciding to kill some time, you wore your reading glasses, and sat down there, opening them to get through their contents.

Zoya’s voice startled you, as she said, “I thought your work was finished, dear.”

You shook your head and stood up, “I was just trying to kill some time.”

“Well, you’re killing three things,” she counted off her fingers. “One is your back because your posture while you sit is pathetic, two is your sanity, and three is your ability to take a break.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoffed as she dragged you to your dressing table to brush out you hair.

“Shut up and let me take care of you, idiot,” she replied, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your head.

You sighed and put your hands up in defeat, looking at her through the mirror. She brushed your hair gently, slowly getting out any knots instead of aggressively ripping them out of your skull, like most people would do. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and she immediately looked up at you smugly.

“Someone’s feeling relaxed, I see,” she smirked, putting the brush away and dividing your hair into sections so she could braid it.

“Oh shush, you,” you blushed, putting a hand back and hitting her on the hip gently. “How dare you bully me this way.”

She deftly braided your hair and laughed, “Oh my goodness, Y/n Nazyalensky has finally allowed someone to take care of her! This is a true miracle!”

You facepalmed and shook your head as much as she would allow.

She tied your hair up properly, and rested her hands on your shoulders, leaning down to press another kiss to your head. You looked up, feeling lighter as you smiled at her. It was almost as if you’d gotten so used to being stressed that you didn’t even know you had it in you. Like how, after a point, you don’t realise a noise was there until it’s gone.

“Come to bed,” she said softly, her hands gently massaging your tense shoulders. “You’ll feel better.”

You hummed softly, and let her take you by the hand and lead you towards the bed. Sleep pulled you towards the covers almost magnetically, and you collapsed into your wife’s arms the second you felt the soft sheets caress your skin.

Turning around to face her, you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her closer and burying your face in her chest as she rested her chin atop your head, her arms enclosing you in her loving embrace while the soft caress of her hands in your hair lulled you to sleep slowly.

“I love you,” you mumbled into her skin. Her scent of cinnamon and honey was familiar to you, as even when you both were young teenagers in love, almost every evening was spent this way, with her trapping you in her arms so you couldn’t escape or attempt to get back to work.

“I love you to, she replied, pressing a long kiss to your head again. You looked up at her and leaned up quickly to kiss her, smiling against her lips before nestling back into her embrace.

And thus you both fell asleep, your duties forgotten temporarily in the sweetness of the moment.

———

Lmk if you want more Zoya ones!