#this has been in my wips for longer than a week

[landinrris]

lando to red bull........say more.......

So this one is based on a prompt I came across on ao3 in a collection (that I now can no longer find based on the screenshot I took at the time). It was originally supposed to be my second big project of last summer when McLaren was in the trenches and had me feeling a bit hopeless... and then McLaren stepped up their game. But I don't think it's completely dead potentially. The original prompt was:

"Red Bull!Lando and Ferrari!Carlos; they aren't together yet and are still pining. Lando thinks Carlos hates him now that they're battling much more directly across teams, but Carlos is just pulling away because he's struggling to hide his feelings- Lando's just so radiant, he can't help it anymore."

This scene would've likely been in the front half of the fic itself even though it takes place in Silverstone. I was... in a place (worse than I am now) when I wrote it regarding Carlos' apparent treatment at Ferrari around the beginning summer races last year. (it's also all I have connected to this prompt right now, so sorry for the slight angst but not sorry for the 1.2k this scene is. I couldn't split it up.)

ask me about a wip!

---

They always end up here, laying in one of their rooms just because they can and unloading on each other in a way that’s never quite the same with someone else. Sometimes they get dinner beforehand, but they always end up here: Carlos on his back staring at the ceiling, Lando propped up on his elbow on his side watching on amused as Carlos collects his thoughts.

Carlos has gone silent now while Lando continues to watch him. He’s changed out of his Ferrari shirt, something old and soft in its place that he only ever wears at home and decidedly not in a motorhome in the English countryside. He reminds Lando of when he was at McLaren like this, and it makes his heart ache.

After the fifth consecutive minute spent in silence and Lando watching Carlos’ eyes flutter shut a few times, he starts to think maybe Carlos is just using him to get out of his motorhome. But Carlos speaks eventually, a heavy sigh on his lips. “They’ve switched the dynamic without telling me, I know they have.”

Lando is so startled by the noise, even though he’s been watching Carlos, that he startles himself. “Who did?”

“Ferrari. Vasseur. Charles went on the warpath a few weeks ago after he got penalized post-quali, and things haven’t been the same since.”

“Woah, hang on.” Lando pushes himself higher up on his elbow. Carlos has never mentioned a supposed hissy fit or what’s come out of it. “What happened?”

Carlos rolls onto his side as well, but he keeps his head on the pillow, effectively staring at Lando’s chest. “He impeded two people and got a six-place drop. Daniel and Esteban, I think. He was speaking French with Vasseur, so I don’t know what he was saying exactly, but it was loud.”

“Out of all the languages you know…”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “I know, I know. Since then though, we have not been allowed to fight. Charles has been more angry on the radio. I think the team is promising him preferential treatment to make him happy. To show him how he is their driver they want.”

“Didn’t you guys never have defined number 1 and number 2 drivers?”

“And that’s why I signed and renewed with them. You know how I feel about team orders.”

Lando knows all too well. He remembers the few times they happened at McLaren and the way Carlos looked like the human manifestation of a thundercloud getting out of the car following them. That reaction always made sense to Lando— they’re racing drivers, why are they there if they’re not allowed to race?

Carlos isn’t fuming now though, he’s lying in Lando’s bed in a motorhome in a field in Silverstone. He looks like he’s halfway deflated— the opposite of how Carlos Sainz should ever look.

“These last few races, they have kept me behind, and when I was not behind, they tried their best to get me there. Like they have told Charles he will finish in front of me if the team can help it.”

“What’s Charles said about it?” Lando’s almost afraid to hear the answer. He hasn’t spoken to Charles much lately, especially in the time now since he’s been at Red Bull, since he’s been a direct competitor. Since Charles is officially no longer lamenting to the press that Lando should just move over for him.

“About the change in treatment on track? I have not asked him about what he discussed with Vasseur. Plus I am not sure I care to hear how he thinks he deserves to be in front. I think there will be no contract negotiations then.”

Lando hangs his head and collapses into the pillow beneath him. “You haven’t even talked to him? Carlos Sainz Vasquez de Castro—”

“Ay,” Carlos kicks Lando’s leg as best he can from this angle, the blow landing at the top of his thighs. “He has not exactly come to me and said anything either. Nothing about being sorry for my race or strategy or anything. We used to commiserate about the bad days, and now every weekend is a bad weekend, and nothing.”

Carlos is still watching him when Lando turns his face to look. “So because he hasn’t said anything and you haven’t talked, he’s on board with getting preferential treatment?” Lando wonders if Carlos thinks it sounds as funny as it does coming out of his mouth.

Carlos’ face doesn’t falter though, a bad sign that he’s deeper in his head about this than Lando thought. “I’m not trying to discount your feelings, you muppet,” Lando says, a bit softer. The last thing he needs is Carlos leaving him like this. “Just trying to understand. You two seemed to really get along up until now.”

“It’s been gradually getting worse, and I don’t know what to do, Lando.”

Lando doesn’t know what to do either, if he’s being honest. He never had issues with Carlos at McLaren, with Daniel he was as non-confrontational as he could get, Oscar was much like Carlos, and now he knows his place with Max for the next six months as Max finishes his glory run. 

Carlos has found himself in the middle of one of the most undesirable situations, and Lando’s lost for words.

The man lying across from him is a shell of who he used to be, closed off, light dimmed. The team doesn’t want driver feedback for development. His teammate takes team handouts because they help him. How is Lando not meant to have a poor view of everyone associated with that team when this is what they’ve done to one of Lando’s best friends? One of the people who kept him sane during 2020 even when they were hundreds of kilometers apart.

“The only thing I know is to talk to Fred.”

Unsurprisingly, Carlos doesn’t seem to like that idea. He groans and shifts to lie on his back like before. “I’m going to lose my seat.”

The fear of that coming to fruition is ten times scarier than any thought of Carlos being relegated to second driver mid-season. Lando inches closer to Carlos and debates reaching out to touch him but doesn’t let himself. “Don’t you dare let yourself lose your seat or so help me God, Carlos.” There’s probably too much emotion behind his words, but Lando doesn’t care. Not right now and not about this.

For the first time since laying here, Carlos cracks a smile. It’s small, but Lando couldn’t miss it if he tried. “Why, you would miss me too much?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know the answer.” Because Carlos does, Lando knows he does. Even on their most competitive days, Lando doesn’t wish for anything to be different. Could never. Not when Carlos beats him to pole by one one-hundredth of a second or when he makes his car the size of the entire track. Lando has Max, but he also has Carlos in a way that’s so unlike his other friendships in the paddock. He has Carlos in a way that screams what if we were more, what if we were brave enough?

Carlos looks at him like maybe he’s thinking that in this moment, but nothing comes of it— never does.Lando tells himself he’s okay with that, he is, especially during times like these. Besides, Lando would rather have Carlos as a friend than not at all, so he watches Carlos back and tries to keep his heart rate from spiking when Carlos says, “I do,” barely audible.

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

Something about how i owe them everything

[bisexualcherdegre]

D:BH Rarepairsweek 7 | @dbhrarepairs

Day 3: Hank/Markus After the revolution, Markus and Hank are both trying to deal with the new situation they've been handed. Their paths cross.

[the-one-who-lambs]

so. successfully defended my master's. I have some a bunch of revisions to do for my written thesis before I officially have a master's, but I'm very nearly done with it.

I'll be doing research over the summer, but it's not nearly as fast-paced as normal semesters are, and this was a semester in turbo mode. And boy I certainly felt it. I should have a week or so before this semester is officially over, then I'll be able to finish up my thesis and have more time/energy for writing.

I know I've said that updates would be slower than normal this academic year (this semester, especially) and y'all have been very patient with me, so thanks so much. I've still got another draft/revisions to go, but I'm hoping I'll be able to get back to normal Hannah writing mode because I miss averaging 500-1000 words a day lmao

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Trying to power through two WIPs that been haunting me The red shawl only has two dozen ish more rows and the blue shawl only needs about 6 more pattern repeats. I want to start more interesting long term projects but would feel bad about leaving these two unfinished when they’re both less than 10 hours away from being off the needles.

[generalsmemories]

sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

[be-good-to-bugs]

hehehe

[risuola]

INFINITY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

When was the last time you slept? You couldn't tell, but Satoru was determined to get you to rest.

cw: slightly angsty if you squint, just idiots in love unable to communicate properly, death mentioned (the usual jjk content) — 1,3k words

a/n: i'm going through my wips, finishing them finally and posting, don't mind me ❥

“When was the last time you slept?”

Satoru’s soft voice entered your mind and brought it back to reality. You were exhausted, having no sleep for few days already. Your eyes felt heavy, your mind was foggy and as you tried to push through the fatigue, you struggled to concentrate on even the simplest tasks. Everything felt like it’s taking twice as much effort as usual and more and more often you were catching yourself at making silly mistakes that you wouldn’t normally do. It was probably the fact you were standing at the little kitchen unit in the hotel room you share with Gojo for the mission, and the cup you were trying to fill with water overflown already.

“Shit,” you cussed quietly, putting down the kettle and grabbing the roll of paper towels, knocking a bottle while you reached next to it. Of course it was open and another portion of liquid spilled all over the counter and the floor.

“Hey, whoa, I’ll deal with it,” the strongest was quick to take everything from your hands, smiling in amusement at the soft groan that escaped your mouth. “So? When did you sleep last time?”

“I don’t remember,” you grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. The job you had been assigned was taking everything from you and it wasn’t because it was hard. It really wasn’t much above the ordinary and your partner turns every task into a child’s play, but it was the unpredictability of the curses you were targeting that made you go without sleep for a week already. You had at most four hours of rest, broken into short naps when you just passed out and now, you were awake for 43 hours straight. It was taking a toll on your mind and body, the fatigue was like a weight on your shoulders, making your movements sluggish and your thoughts slow.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes aggressively, a desperate attempt to wipe away the foggy haze from your sight. It’s been some time since you don’t see clearly anymore, your brain was pulling tricks on you and though you couldn’t blame it for that, you also wished it to keep up for just a little longer

“Go to sleep,” Gojo told you, wiping away the water that you spilled all over the kitchen area. “I’ll deal with anything that might pop up,” he reassured, though his tone was everything but caring. He was teasing you, his playful nature and smugness fronting in his behavior as always. He wasn’t bothered by the mission, he was doing his job flawlessly and frankly, you were sent with him only to make sure people around are safe because Satoru has a habit of not caring too much about casualties.

“You know I can’t do that,” a groan from you only made the man chuckle. You were in the middle of war – it felt like it, at least – there was a plague of curses, most of them reaching first grade, day after day appearing in bigger quantities and it was straight up way too dangerous to let yourself to drift away. Last time you managed to close your eyes for a little longer than an hour, one of the demons broke into the hotel you were staying in and nearly killed you. It seemed like they were just waiting for the right moment to attack, when your guard is down and you’re vulnerable and you knew that once you fall asleep, you’re not going to wake up on time. Even if Gojo was volunteering to fight, you were convinced the moment he’d step away from you, you’d be dead. And that was the last position on your wishlist.

“I told you I’ll take care of the curses while you’re sleeping, don’t be so dense,” the strongest just shrugged, seemingly unbothered but the grin was ghosting over his lips, making you wish you could wipe it off his stupid handsome face. While you were suffering, Satoru was sleeping just fine, not caring about a thing because he didn’t need to care about being in danger when he always had a nice, protective layer of damn infinity around himself. The world could be burning and not a single spark would reach his sleeping form. Rest was a luxury he was able to afford during this mission and sadly, you couldn’t because once you’re not awake and ready to protect yourself, you’ll be swiped off the board.

“Why would you even bother, huh?” You snapped, not sparing him a look while you approached the window. The streets seemed oddly calm, now as dark as the sky above them, and you wished it would stay normal for the next hours so you would have one less thing to deal with during the night time.

Truth is, the very fact of sharing a job with Gojo is a curse in itself, one impossible to exorcise and it was taking every bit of professionalism that you had in you to just push through it. Your relation with the honored one is difficult. It’s complicated and straight up unpleasant, it seemed like you were stuck in an endless cycle of bickering. Every conversation seemed to turn into an argument, and every disagreement seemed to escalate into a full-blown fight. It was exhausting, emotionally and mentally, it was straining but no matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t manage to break the pattern and instead, you just kept going around in circles. The words you spoke to each other were getting increasingly cutting and the anger was growing with each passing day. Even when you did manage to reach a solution, it was always a matter of time before another conflict would arise and you’d be back to square one. It was as if you were trapped in a maze, with no clear path to a peaceful co-existence and that was enough reason for you to be convinced that Gojo would be the last person on earth worrying about your well-being.

“I don’t want you to die on me because of the lack of sleep, come one,” he shrugged, throwing away the wet paper towels and joining you near the window. “Rest, I’ll stay awake.”

“I’ll get myself a coffee,” you said, not convinced at all. Truth is, only few times you allowed yourself to pass out was when Satoru was awake, because you wouldn’t dare to close your eyes when he was sleeping himself, but you couldn’t trust him. And you’d feel horrible if you made him stay awake just so you can sleep.

“No, seriously, no coffee for you,” he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled towards the bed.

“Gojo, do you not understand—”

“Shhh,” he hushed, manhandling you onto the mattress, forcing your shoes off and gathering the covers to tuck you in as if you were a child.

“I hate you…” Was all you could mumble. It was a torture. The soft pillows underneath your head and warm comforter were so perfect, so inviting for you to just let yourself drift off. You wished to let the heavy eyelids down, to give your eyes the rest they need and allow your brain to reset and clear. You felt like your body was betraying you, the exhaustion was seeping into your bones, making it impossible to move.

“Yeah, yeah,” to your surprise, Gojo pushed his own boots off as well and in a moment he was in bed with you, sharing sheets and pulling you towards himself. “Now, here. You are now inside my infinity. You’re safe, sleep.”

Infinity. It felt safe, suddenly, but was it because of infinity or the man that now had his arms wrapped around you? You couldn’t tell and frankly, you couldn’t speak either, so you just hummed something in response as the sleep has taken you away.

[jeanbie]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: university au | warnings: sexual content, fem/afab!reader, masturbation, listening-to-the-other-fucking, sexual tension, slut/whore shaming (men being pigs), "slutty"!reader, mentions of spit | wc: 10.7k | ♬

note: why has this been a wip for like...a year? also i always like to try out new versions of levi and i feel like he'd actually be just a normal kinda grumpy guy in a modern setting so i hope u guys like my uni!levi interpretation ꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚

⏤ Levi wants to be mad that his neighbour keeps screwing guys really loudly. But how can he be mad when she's just so goddamn pretty?

It's the third time this week.

Levi knows what it means to let off steam, and he knows that exam season has just finished. For the last few days, the volume of noise where he lives has climbed exponentially; flats throwing parties, yelling in the hallways and laughter outside his window. 

Levi's happy, too, that his exams are over, but he has to admit, he thought there might be moral standards from the people he called neighbours. 

He sighs, momentarily tapping down the volume of his music as he hears what he thinks might be his neighbour against the shared wall. The sound is fleeting, and he almost thinks he's making it up, and then he hears her soft whimpers and two hard thuds against the thin separation between their bedrooms. Levi waits for a second, blinking, and then he closes his eyes.

He's never really met his neighbour. It's been around eight months of living next door to one another, and he doesn't think he's actually ever seen her. Once, he decided he'd try to confront her when she left her room, but just kept missing the opportunity. 

Unlike his previous three years of university, Levi had decided to bunk alone for the final climb of his undergrad degree. His friends would all be upstairs somewhere, either in studios of their own or sharing six-bed flats amongst themselves, but God knew that Levi needed the space this time around. 

In his first year, he'd shared with quite possibly the worst human beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. He spent more time at Erwin's flat than his own, which is why he ended up moving in with him in his second year. Then, he took a spontaneous study abroad for his third year (spontaneous, as in all of his friends were doing the same thing, and there was no way he was staying here on his own when they were out having the greatest times in different countries), and now, in his fourth and final year, Levi just wants to know that being alone doesn't have to be a luxury. 

He needs the space, and the quiet. Granted, his studio is spacious, although it would be perfect if he wasn't on the ground floor with little to work with for a view. Eight months down the line, and he's still waiting for that promised peace and quiet.

There are two other people in this hallway, but his next-room neighbour, Room A, is by far the most interesting. He knows that the people in Room D are party animals, and during freshers week, they made that fact glaringly obvious. Room C are ghostly, silent most of the time until they remember that they, too, have music to play to block out other people's noise.

Levi likes being in Room B because it's not too far from the exit. If he were to open his door, he'd be adjacent to Room A; the space is so tight that he's not even sure they would be able to leave or enter at the same time. 

The list of what he thinks he knows about his next-room neighbour is longer than what he actually knows. He knows for certain that she's female, and that she cares about the cleanliness of her flat. If Levi's not listening to the sound of other people's mess, he can hear her vacuuming every other day, which he can respect. 

Levi knows that her name is Y/N, because he's heard it being called a few times, both for business and pleasure. He also knows that she's in her final year, just like him, because once he overheard her on a phone call complaining about her dissertation. That's about all he knows confidently. 

The rest is speculation, things he thinks he knows from listening: he thinks she sleeps with the radiator off, because he always hears the switch in the morning. He thinks she keeps her keys on her door because he hears them clink when it closes, and he thinks she mumbles to herself sometimes, because the walls are thin and if she's not on the phone, then who could she be talking to? 

Finally, Levi thinks that she might be a bit of a whore, and he means it endearingly, because the amount of times Levi has heard her fucking somebody is becoming ridiculous.

At first, Levi tried to be understanding. After all, it wasn't like she was screwing guys in the hallway. She was in her room, in her own time, and he tried to come to terms with that simply being out of his hands. The noise was unfortunate, yeah, but he could always put his headphones on for an hour or so. 

Then it just kept happening, like clockwork, like some sick joke. 

After about the sixth time, he was fed up. He'd thrown his headphones down, scowling angrily as his eyes flickered to the time in the corner of his computer screen — 1:23am. It was bad enough that he was working all night on his stupid assignment, and now his neighbour was screwing some asshole so loudly that he may as well have had no headphones on in the first place? 

At least she sounded good. 

Levi had deliberately ignored that thought for a while, until he heard her having sex with some guy a few months ago. He'd sighed, like a routine at that point, and remained seated on his couch, the remote in his hand ready to raise the volume of the football game on TV.

The noise was faint — if Levi had to predict based on the floor plans of their rooms, she'd probably be on her bed — but if he strained enough, he'd be able to hear her mewling, the even fainter sounds of slapping skin. 

He sat there, silently, listening in like a priest taking confessions in church. His silence was judgement and equal measures of fascination. Having never really listened to her before, Levi never knew she sounded like that. Submissive, but seductive, dirty and slutty. Hm.

He had learned to respect her sex life — even creating his own for a while, too, giving her a taste of her own medicine. If anything, that only made things more lively in Room A. Somehow he blames himself for it having got to this point, presently, where he sits listening to her for the third time in a week — and it's not even Friday yet.

16:34 Levi: she's at it again 16:35 Erwin: AGAIN???? 16:37 Hange: isnt this like the fifth time this week? 16:37 Levi: third

Levi turns his chair to face the other wall, looking up at the blank plaster. There's another thud against it, and he blinks, his brows raised slightly. Is she fucking someone against the wall?

16:39 Furlan: theres no way its that bad 16:40 Furlan: send vid

After skimming over the texts, Levi's eyes flicker back to the wall. Then, he rises up from his chair and walks towards it, angling his body with his ear to the noise. Now that he's close, he can't hear a thing, and he scoffs — typical — and prepares to move away.

"Mphf — damn, bitch. You're more of a slut than I thought."

Levi stops. 

Bringing his phone to his legs, Levi slumps his shoulder against the wall casually and almost cranes to listen. Without seeing anything, he feels like a fly on the wall. He hears someone with a deep voice grunting — he doesn't care about them — followed by occasional gasps, much softer, honeyed, elusive. 

"You thought I was a slut?" 

Levi hears her voice quivering, but there's little hurt in her tone. It's all lust, and he can hear the smile in her words. 

For a second, Levi hears her body thud against the wall again and he flinches backwards. She must be directly on the other side — if the bricks weren't there, her body would be up against his own. 

"Dunno what I thought," the male voice says, strained. "Wasn't-expecting-this. Shit, that's tight."

"Mm. You like it?" There's a beat of silence, and the faint sounds of breathy moans, high in an octave that sends goosebumps pricking over Levi's arms. "You like me?"

"Like your pussy. Shit, girl."

With every imagined thrust, Levi can hear her moaning, her voice raising as the pace fastens. Levi stands there, his eyes zoning out on the crack under his door and eventually, he pulls back. There's a slight ringing in his ears, and blood rushes to the tips.

16:51 Levi: phone can't pick up the volume 16:51 Levi: just trust me

It happened two more times before the weekend rolled by, and Levi thought that she must be on a conquest of bedding every guy on campus. Half of him thought it was to spite him specifically, although he wasn't even sure that she knew what she was doing was bothering him so much. 

Friday evening had been a strange eve of silence, but he still felt on edge, as if waiting for the sounds to emerge. The weekend soon enough rolled by with no more sexscapades, and he felt almost a sag of relief in his shoulders.

Levi had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on his door.

"Oh. It's you."

When he pulls it open, inwards on his own room, Levi props his weight against the door and stares out at Reiner, who is holding a light board under his armpit. Reiner holds it out to him with a nonchalant shrug and holds the door open with his foot as Levi takes the board with a raised brow and plonks it onto his bed. 

Reiner stands in the doorway until he comes back, not quite daring to enter.

"I need one of those," Reiner offers in conversation. 

"Well, you've got a job, buy one,” Levi replies, making Reiner smirk. "If you've broke it, then you can pay for it."

Reiner throws up his hands, "Hey, they don't call me the gentle giant for nothing."

Levi's face drops into a disapproving frown, "Nobody calls you that."

"You're right," Reiner sighs with a charming grin and then folds his arms. 

Reiner and Levi know one another from one of their elective classes, and by some magical fate — or a wild coincidence — Reiner had been a mutual friend of one of his closest friends since first year. He also lives upstairs on the third floor, alongside some other guys and a girl that Levi didn't know very well, but had met once at a party and had kissed. He'd considered bringing her back to his room just to torment his neighbour but passed up the temptation.

Thinking of his neighbour, Levi's eyes quickly dash to her door, wondering if she might be inside and listening to them. Reiner doesn’t catch the look — or maybe he does, prompting him to his next sentence.

"You should come out tonight," Reiner suggests.

"Where?"

"A few of us are getting some drinks at Sonny's," he says. "Feel like I haven't seen you properly since that party, like, what, three months ago? You should get out more, have fun." Then, Reiner's smile widens and he, too, glances to his left to Room A, "Escape your sex fiend of a neighbour."

Levi might have cringed at the thought of her listening in, but to his surprise, he found a thrill rush through his body. Maybe she was listening right now, curled up to the door.

"I don't like Sonny's," Levi replies.

"Oh, you've been there before?"

"No. But I saw it on Eren's Instagram once, and it looked awful, sorry."

Laughing, Reiner shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. It's just nice to get out. Really — what if we changed bars, would you come then?"

Just as he says that a soft thud can be heard from behind him, beyond the walls of the thin hallway that houses Levi’s room and his neighbours'. Levi almost cranes to catch the sound, half expecting his party animal hall-mates from Room D to come bounding inside, dressed in flamboyant attire to listen to loud music whilst getting ready to hit the town for the Friday deals that bars boasted of to rowdy students. 

Instead, the door just to the right of Reiner swings open and a young woman steps inside. Levi blinks — depending on which direction she goes in, Levi's life could get a little bit more interesting.

Levi knows that he’s seen her before in the common room, chatting to other friends around a pool table, or shaking a vending machine with a stranger to try and free an overpriced bottle of Dr Pepper from the machine's claws. 

Levi blinks once again, and Reiner turns at the sound of the door creaking open, and the breath almost leaves Levi's body in one giant exhale when she steps in their direction, towards Room A.

Ah. So this is Y/N.

Reiner's eyes move up and down with intrigue as she — you — step closer towards them. Judging by your almost surprised gaze, and the flit of your eyes as you look between them and the door to Room A, even Reiner knows that you are the aforementioned sex fiend, the famous neighbour who screws guys all the time and makes Levi all hot and bothered. 

Nothing is said — there is nothing to be said. For a split second, you pause, judging the space past Reiner to your door, to your sanctuary, meanwhile, the two men size you up, intrigued by your very existence. Levi feels his conversation skills run dry — what could he say now that you were here?

He has to confess, against his previous wishes, that you were pretty. Beautiful, even. He tries to downplay it by thinking about you pushed up against the wall with a cunt full of someone else's cock, but if anything the thought only makes things worse. 

As you push through the awkward silence of the hallway, Reiner slightly inches closer to Levi, as if to give you space as you stride by. To their surprise, you do so with a lifted gaze, having the nerve to look shy, guilty, friendly. 

Everything would be easier if you weren't his type, weren't Reiner's type. Levi thinks about that for a second as his friend devours the sight of you, and Levi feels his stomach dip. He's never even spoken to you before, but he feels like Reiner has just crossed a boundary somehow. 

The fact of you being as pretty as you sound, as desirable as Levi imagined you had to be to bring so many people back to your den (either irresistible or slutty, but sometimes those went hand in hand and he knew it) just makes the dull ache in his abdomen worse, his heartbeat fluttering ever so out of pace.

As you pass, you peer over at the two men, gazing at Levi in particular. You even look around him, eyeing his room. Then, when you look back at Levi, it’s as if something clicks — it was as if you registered that this man had been enduring your fucks and flirts for weeks and weeks on end, and had been courteous with not complaining once. 

You look at him, over him, sizing him up greedily. Levi moves from foot to foot in a way that looks impatient, although he isn’t sure he's fully convinced you of his indifference when you smile charmingly, your cheekbones full and round.

"Hello," you say — Levi almost buckles. He's only ever heard your voice through walls and doors, never face to face. He blinks dumbly, says nothing.

"Hey," is what Reiner offers with a wide grin, his gaze flickering to your body and then back to your face. But you don’t look back, only look over Reiner's shoulder to Levi, and then turn to your door and thrust the key into the hole. 

Your door untwists, unlocks, and in you go. After it closes and clicks with the lock, Levi hears you shuffling in your room, and then he finally looks back at Reiner. 

For once, Reiner says nothing. He raises his eyebrows and pulls a face, one that Levi rolls his eyes at, and then Reiner claps his hands together and announces his silent leave. 

Levi watches as if frozen in place as Reiner leaves the hallway, and when his own door closes with a slight tick, he strains to hear you beyond the wall, but can hear nothing.

A whole day has passed since then, but Levi can’t stop thinking about it.

He hasn’t left his room all day, to the stressed displeasure of his friends. The hallway has been frozen in a quiet stillness, with nobody coming and going at any point. Levi hasn’t heard you stirring since you walked past him and Reiner the day before, but he supposes he’s just thankful that he has no fears of being bombarded with sex for hours on end, or minutes at a time depending on which loser you lure home. 

Levi drops his plate into the sink, sighing with both hands flat on the side of the counter. To the left, he casts a dirty glance out the window, looking at the grey landscape beyond the glass. The car park to the hotel that is tucked neatly behind his building is virtually empty, and the giant lake-sized puddles ripple with rain. He felt like it always rained here. 

Listening to the rain, Levi finishes his ritual of cleaning the dishes and then turns off the tap with another sigh. It has just been too quiet today — unnervingly quiet, in a way that makes Levi feel more on edge than at ease. He's been craving this taste of silence for so long, but now that it’s here, everything just feels off. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated exhale and moves through the thin archway to get to his bedroom, near the front door, when he hears something beyond the threshold of Room A next door. Levi stops in place.

The noise is so faint that he almost misses it. He leans his head closer in the direction of the wall, waiting for the next sound to give when he hears it again — a breathy whimper. The whimper transforms into a moan, one that Levi can hear as clearly as he would if he were in the room. There are no other voices, and Levi pulls away from the wall quickly like it's on fire.

No. It can’t be.

Levi finds it both annoying and amusing when he hears you entangled with some random guy every other day, but just the possibility of it being you, and you alone, in your room with nobody but your fingers, makes Levi’s throat tighten.

Before, it felt as though your sex life was a performance intended for Levi to listen to, but now that it’s just you, the moment feels private and intimate, and Levi doesn’t know what to do.

The moaning continues, staggered, stuttered, falling and rising in a tempo he knows only the hand of the moaner can create. By now, he’s somewhat of an expert on your noises, how you respond to whatever your partner is doing — the unfamiliarity of your pleasure tonight has thrown him off, and all Levi can do is apologise in his head and pull himself back against the wall. 

He’s come this far listening to you play with others. It would just be unfair not to hear how you really like it when you’re alone.

Levi can’t be sure what it is you’re actually doing; he’ll have to leave it to his imagination to conjure up the perfect image of you on your bed, legs spread, fingers stuffed up your cunt. He closes his eyes as he leans his head against the plaster, quite literally straining to hear every gasp leaving your mouth.

The world seems to slow around him, the sounds of your one-man show all he can hear. All of a sudden, he’s thankful for the unnatural silence of the hallway outside so he can hear it all.

What he pictures is lewd and perfect; you’re biting your lip probably, trying to contain yourself as you plunge your fingers deeper inside your pussy, curling them in a way nobody else can. The lights are dimmed, but in his mind, the picture of your body is crystal clear; the shape of your body is outlined by light, shadows cast attractively around the perk of your breasts, the glisten of crystalline sweat on your skin. 

With your chest rising, Levi watches in his mind as your thighs quiver, your knuckles pushing against your opening — if it was possible to get more of your finger in there, you’d do it.

Your fingers slide in and out covered in wetness, each plunge inside accompanied by another moan that makes him shudder. Levi’s ear is flat against the wall, his cock hardening uncomfortably beneath his joggers. 

All of a sudden, the shame of eavesdropping washes over him and he pulls away, breathing heavily as he moves from the wall to the bathroom. For good measure, he slams the door behind him, immediately turning on the tap and washing his face. What was he thinking?

Thankfully, there’s nobody to greet his ashamed walk back into his bedroom. He rubs the side of his face with a groan and glances back at the wall. For a moment, he pauses, but he hears no more sound.

Levi’s been in a sour mood since the weekend, and nobody around him knows how to solve it. 

At first, it had started with the dream he’d had; the dream where he’d shoved your head into a pillow and fucked your brains out, which woke him with a start and another guilty walk to the bathroom. Then, he’d turned up late to his class and simultaneously discovered that Reiner had, in fact, broken the light board he loaned him the other week.

After that, he received a bitchy email from the receptionist at his building about upcoming fire alarm inspections, and because he’d been too busy looking at his phone, Levi had slammed into a group of first-year girls in the library and caused one of them to drop all of her books and her coffee on the floor. Now, his wallet was five pounds lighter and his expression was sour, and no matter how hard his friends tried to coax him out of his foulness, it was no use.

“At least you bought her another coffee,” says Eren with a shrug as he watches the flustered first-year disappear out of the student café with her friend.

“Not the point, dipshit.”

“It’s probably ‘cause of the lack of sleep this man gets thanks to his harlot neighbour,” Hange suggests, their shoulders hunched as they finish up one of their handouts for their evening class.

At that, Reiner looks up from his phone and adds, “Hot harlot neighbour.”

“Is she actually?” asks Erwin. “I don’t know if I can trust your judgement in women, Reiner.”

“She is beautiful,” Levi mutters reluctantly, his face still drawn together with irritance. Admitting that fact only makes him feel worse, especially when the memory of his dream creeps back into his mind. He sighs and rubs his neck. “But she hasn’t really made any noise in a while.”

“Maybe she’s on her period,” says Eren unhelpfully. 

“Whores are on the pill,” Porco adds, suddenly reminding Levi of his presence. The blond-haired guy sits to the right with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of sexist to call her a whore when I know most of you probably have higher body counts?” replies Isabel. She’s crept up on the knit of friends, but contrary to normal, her being here doesn’t make Levi feel any better. Right now, there are simply too many witnesses to his misery.

Eren shrugs. “Fine. Then she’s a slut.”

“As if that’s any better,” Isabel says dumbly. “You guys are pigs.”

“But she is beautiful,” Reiner says again. “I’m telling you — it’s a miracle Levi hasn’t made his move yet. If I lived next door to someone who looked like that…” He trails off. Levi cringes. How did he end up being friends with the worst people in the world?

Reiner sells Levi as actually having enough confidence to get up and knock on her door, when the truth of the matter is that Levi is too afraid to even approach the wall when he hears a noise anymore. In the time between him listening to you finger-fucking yourself and him having such an out-of-pocket dream about you, Levi hasn’t even wanted to listen to anything he hears outside of his room, too afraid of what he might do or think if he hears you again.

Besides, what would he even do? It’s been almost eight months of sharing a wall, and he’s come no closer to knowing you or anything about you. You’re as familiar to him as any stranger in this café, but the only difference is that he’s heard the way you whimper when your cunt is stuffed with cock and you’re up against the wall, which most people would have trouble competing with.

When you know how someone sounds when they’re most likely cumming on someone else’s dick, it’s an unbeatable bond.

Levi looks up at Reiner as if to say something, but then his eyes are drawn to the doors to the café. They widen suddenly, and after watching his expression shift, Reiner follows his gaze and looks over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, he whips his head back to the group and hisses, “That’s her!”

The speed at which their heads turn is almost funny to Levi, and he might have laughed had he not been so full of mortified fear at the sight of you. 

You look pretty today — really pretty. Pretty in a way that Levi can’t even begin to make sense of considering the only way he’s seen you so far is in glimpses, in the corridor dressed in comfy clothes, or stark naked with his dick up your snatch in his head. His whole body fills with a sticky heat as he narrows his gaze on you, hoping that by staring you might disappear like a mirage and spare him the embarrassment due to come.

But nothing ever goes the way Levi wants it to. He breathes in heavily when your gaze pans across the room as if you’re searching for someone, stopping with a comical wide-eyed look of surprise when you see a group of six or so people all watching you with strange intensity. 

Levi is not at all prepared for the way your brows knit together in confusion as you assess the strangers, only to raise in acknowledgement when you finally look at him for a moment too long. 

Words are not needed to convey the silent series of events that spiral after that look. Levi knows instantly what you’re thinking and what it means. He knows that you know he’s told everybody about you — and he knows that you know he knows who you are and how often you do what you do. 

There’s no way of explaining how confident he is that you’ve cracked the code in your head — he doesn’t know anything at all, only that when your face brightens into a smile he knows he’s screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“Oh shit, you were right,” Porco says after a while of mutual silence, and Levi is strangely grateful for the distraction of his voice as he turns back to his friend. “She’s hot!”

“And you’re being fucking loud, shut up,” Levi grumbles, his face scrunched into such a tight frown that it hurts to hold it. “Yes, that’s her. So what.”

“She’s looking at you,” Hange says rather unhelpfully. They’re sitting with their elbows on their spread legs, head low as they glance at you over the top of their glasses. Their brows are so high they might as well become a part of their hairline as they say a few seconds later, “Still looking.” A beat, and then, “Still looking.”

Levi huffs quietly, trying to find something interesting on the low table in the middle of the group to latch onto. All he can find are some of Hange’s papers and Porco’s bagel wrapper — neither are particularly inspiring to stare at, but he stares anyway, acutely aware of the heavy weight of your gaze on the side of his face as you approach the coffee counter. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re all fucking gawking at her,” Levi replies stiffly. 

To their credit, the group does their best to mask their very obvious staring, but Levi already knows that their hanging mouths have caused irreparable damage. He makes it a point not to look back over at you, and based on how his friends try to busy themselves with random things, he guesses you’ve reluctantly looked away from them and are currently buying something.

After today, Levi will never come here again — he’s just suddenly remembered that you’re real, and the notion of seeing you out in public just became his next biggest worry.

“Maybe you should go and say hi,” Isabel suggests, her mouth full around a bite of brownie. 

Levi looks at her with an incredulous look. “And why would I do that?”

“She’s your neighbour,” Isabel replies slowly. “It’s polite. And friendly.”

“I’ll go and say hi, if you want,” offers Reiner. When Levi throws him a dirty look, he says, “What? She smiled at me before. I might be her next conquest.”

“Not much of a challenge for her,” Levi mutters. Besides, you weren’t even looking at Reiner back then — but as soon as the thought comes to his head he immediately exiles it. He’s not going to stoop as low as to fight Reiner on it; it will only deepen the hole he’s dug himself now that he's opened his mouth and told people about you.

After around four minutes, Levi has exhausted all possible resorts of interest around the table and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. Reiner still has his head looking up towards the coffee counter, but the others have mercifully ceased their curious staring. He levels his breathing and takes a quick swig of his tea, all before absentmindedly turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Your back is facing everyone, your head thrown back in laughter at something someone next to you is saying. Levi represses the urge to bristle at his own thoughts of what you might be laughing at, what possibly makes you laugh and smile — what coffee did you order, or maybe you are a tea person? Hot chocolate? Levi’s face falls into a narrow look of horror — Jesus Christ, he’s in so deep and over what? The sound of you?

Levi decides that he’s possibly gone insane after a long four years in academia and rests his cheek on his shoulder for a minute, gaze low. His friends are right, to a fault; he could just talk to you, scratch the itch until it’s gone and he can relax and live like a normal human being again. But that would involve taking initiative and actually confronting you, which in the grand scheme of things seems like a terrible idea. 

He’d rather just forget about the delusional display of heated fantasies he’s conjured up after getting just a peek at you.

“Oh, shit. She’s looking again.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Levi looks back at you without even thinking about it. 

Sure enough, you’re looking back at the group, a cup of something steaming in your hand as your friend leads the way through a cluster of tables towards the double doors leading out onto the wide front courtyard. The screaming voice in his head is commanding Levi to look away, but he just can’t. 

He watches you as you look back at him, mapping out every detail he possibly can while he has the chance to just look without any consequence, and feels his breathing constrict when you smile, so softly that it knocks the literal wind from his lungs, and raise your free hand in a wave.

And he doesn’t even move.

Somewhere behind him, Levi hears Reiner snigger and the brawny guy lifts his own hand to wave back at you, a grin plastered on his face. Your eyes barely move to look at Reiner in acknowledgement before locking back onto Levi with an almost hopeful look, and now would be a great time for Levi to move or do something in response, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know how to respond when your smile deepens into a smirk, almost like that was exactly what you wanted him to do.

“Why does she look down bad?” Eren asks quietly, making Porco cackle with a laugh that makes you look away and slink after your friend. Levi affords himself the time to watch you go, watching the way your ass moves in your jeans, the way your breasts bounce in that shirt, the way your waist looks and the way your hair moves and the way your smile widens—

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Porco says, shaking his head with an amused look on his face. “If I lived next to someone who looked like that, and looked at me like that—”

“Well, you don’t, so fuck off,” Levi snaps. Wrong answer: the boys in his group laugh even louder, and Levi wants to shrink to the size of an ant and drown in his tea.

God. Levi realises with a gigantic sigh that today has been a long ass day.

Levi rubs his hair with the towel and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He stares, long and hard, and frowns at what looks back. For a guy who is to be considered “grown”, he cannot believe how stupid he's being, how stupid his brain is.

He has never once had a crush on somebody he’s never even met before, and only actually seen properly about two times. In the long four years of being in this city, Levi has never entertained an interest in anybody, mostly because he felt he didn’t have the patience for a relationship nor the time, which is why the way he’s feeling now is all the more bothersome — and even worse when the person he’s having trouble understanding his feelings for is someone he’s barely met, never talked to, and knows likes cock more than the air they breathe.

It is simply outrageous that he likes you so much. And he’s not even sure if what he feels would qualify as liking you. 

Levi has never spoken one word to you and has never made any effort to do so, but alongside the audible archive of moans he has of yours in his memory and the mapped-out beauty of your face, Levi can distinguish that the pooling pit of desire in his tummy is closer to a crush than it is just general appreciation. And this feeling sucks.

Suddenly, Levi thinks back to seeing you in the student café and physically cringes at his reflection. All that for what? A smile? He is pathetic — Levi cannot believe that he has become such a strange man, and it is entirely your fault for being so pretty. And sounding so fucking sexy.

Levi hangs his towel on the small heated towel rack and washes his hands, hoping that in a metaphorical sense, it will wash away all of the terrible thoughts he’s having. Then, he shakes them dry and flicks off the bathroom switch, striding back into his room with a sinking feeling of emptiness. 

He makes his way to the kitchen and looks longingly at the kettle. A cup of tea would do wonders for the creeping headache forming in his skull, but like the idiot he’s suddenly turned out to be, Levi instead leans up on his toes to grab a bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge and finds an accompanying glass to pour himself a drink. 

It’s been a long day, and he needs something strong. Quite frankly, Levi thinks he also deserves it.

For most of the evening, Levi entertains himself with his whiskey bottle, a glass and whatever the hell his TV can pick up in the black spot he calls home. He’s not sure how many glasses he’s had by the time he hears the corridor door swing open with its alarmingly loud squeal, but judging by how the room seems to tilt on its axis, Levi would wager a guess as to believe he’s had at least more than six glasses. 

He feels his heart in his ears, pounding like a war drum, and he immediately reaches for the remote and turns down the volume. Like a cat, he feels his ears prick at the slightest sounds, and quite quickly, it’s as though stones are weighing down his stomach when he hears a boyish kind of snigger in the hallway, followed by the sound of keys in Room A’s door.

Please no. Not right now.

Not when Levi’s trying to come to terms with the unnatural feelings he’s somehow garnered for you.

Levi hears you shush the guy of the night and push open your door, its hinges moaning with relief when both of you stumble inside and it closes with a click. It’s almost embarrassing how quiet Levi has gone in an effort to eavesdrop — as much as he dislikes the idea of you being fucked by some random guy, he has to admit that he’s come to find some enjoyment in the vision of you being destroyed, in the music made by your pleasure. It took a while to admit it, but now that he has, it’s like a weight being lifted.

Once again, he is left to wonder what you’re doing when he can no longer hear your moans or the guy’s stupid voice muttering: Levi’s imagined you stumbling through the narrow passage past the bathroom and towards your bed, arms snug around the guy’s chest. You’ve probably sat down, and the guy is between your legs holding your face with his hands.

Only you haven’t. Levi hears a familiar thump against the wall and his eyes widen excitedly.

“Get this shit off.” Levi hears the guy grunt unhappily, and, hey wait, when did Levi suddenly end up listening so close to the wall?

“You don’t like it?” you ask, your voice so quiet through the thin layer of brick separating you from Levi’s ear. 

“Like it better when it's not on,” the guy groans, and a few more thumps against the wall sound along with a strange dragging noise that Levi presumes might be your back. “God, you’re so hot.”

Well, that they can both agree on.

Levi closes his eyes as your voice begins to rise, foolishly high and breathy and in a way that makes Levi’s dick harden under his clothes. He pictures your face in his head, thrown back in a twist of pleasure, and fights the urge to grip his cock with his hand — he loses the battle and curses as he grabs his dick and begins to pump his wrist.

Levi leans his back against the wall and dips his head low to his chest, his eyes unwillingly fixed on the sight of his own cock hardening in his hand. Levi acknowledges that jerking off to his neighbour having a shag is a bit weird, but it could be worse, and as long as you can’t see him, he doesn’t care. 

He tightens his grip around his dick and drags his hand up and down, biting down on his lip to keep his satisfied groans from eliciting any unwanted attention.

On the other side of the wall, you feel the brick behind your head as the stranger lifts one of your legs up over his shoulder, falling to his knees like a beggar and lifting the bottom half of your skirt up over your hips. At some point during your ungracious entry into the bedroom, the man managed to slip down your panties and now has full, unrestricted access to your cunt, and wastes no time pushing his head between your thighs. 

Feeling the man’s tongue running flat up your slit, you moan breathlessly and stare up at the ceiling. You’ve fucked so many men it’s impossible to remember all of them, but you never get bored of the feeling of someone’s tongue up your pussy. Your heart stammers in your chest as you peer down at the stranger; his face is pushed between your legs and hidden from view, leaving you with nothing but dark locks of hair to gaze at, hunched shoulders and a pale hand pressing into your leg.

Admittedly, the only reasons you picked this stranger to approach in the bar had been because of the way he looked, and you close your eyes and let your jaw hang open in pleasure, all while your thoughts linger on who you pretend is between your legs instead of him. 

“You taste amazing,” the guy groans into you, and you smile pleasantly. Everybody likes being complimented, don’t they?

“Yeah?” you ask, smoothing one of your hands up around your tit, “It’s all yours.”

The guy groans, as does Levi, who’s listening so loyally that he might as well smash a hole in the wall and look through. Nothing is left to imagination anymore; it’s as if you’re narrating your night just for Levi’s sake.

“Yeah. You’re right. This pussy’s mine,” the guy laughs, nipping his teeth against your inner thigh and making you squeal unexpectedly. 

“Come on,” you rasp, worming your fingers through his twirly locks of hair with a slight grip. He winces and looks up at you from over your stomach, eyes dark and wide with the pain of your fingers tightening around his curls. “Fuck me, big guy. I want your cock.”

Levi’s wrist quickens. He blames the whiskey for the strangled little pathetic sound that burns in his throat, but there’s no way you heard it. Although these walls are so thin that he can hear every sound you make, there’s no way you can hear any of his noises. The logic defies Levi at that moment.

“God damn, you really are a needy girl, aren't you?”

No, you’re not, Levi thinks. Only you are — you grin down at the handsome man removing himself from between your legs and shuffle closer to grab a taste of yourself from his lips. He groans into your mouth, one hand on your ass and the other around the back of your neck. 

With his arms around you, the man guides you towards the end of your bed and ungracefully drops you down, groaning when you bite your bottom lip and stare up at him with an expectant look in your eyes. Levi could only dream of what makes the stranger growl like that as he strains to listen in. You open your legs to invite him in, watching as he pulls a condom from his back pocket and takes his jeans down to his ankles.

Levi’s cock is throbbing, the tip an angry shade of red as he swipes his thumb and smears a slip of pre-cum across the curved edge. Levi inhales deeply, feeling his whole body stiffen as he pulls his fist up and down, the fingers on his other hand grazing across his balls with a sensitive flush. He hears you moan outrageously loud and his wrist trembles — he must have slipped it in.

You tighten your legs around the stranger, pulling him and his dick further into your cunt, the wetness of it slippery and inviting and divinely powerful. Every man you’ve had up there has made a comment on how good it feels, and as the guy moans loudly and tells you it’s the best pussy he’s had, you think of your neighbour; his surprised expression when he saw you in the café, the way his friends threw him looks when you smiled. 

You know he’s been listening (if he hasn’t, then he’s admirably unbothered or deaf), and the thought excites you wildly.

You look beyond the man and to the wall, imagining your neighbour staring at the brick with a blank expression. Maybe he’s angry that you have another man over. You hope he is. 

Biting back a laugh, you moan for good measure and match every thrust with a sound. The guy stuffed inside of you mutters a string of curses, chest puffed with pride, oblivious to the vision you have in your head of your neighbour snug between your thighs, his face steeled into his usual displeasure. 

“Mmf, yes,” you whine, a little louder than you usually would. “Right there.”

“Say my name,” the guy growls, slapping your thigh rather sharply, “like a good girl.”

You flush, knees practically bent over to your chest as he folds you in half. For a second, you can’t even think of his name, don’t know if he ever even told you. Instead of wounding his pride, you drop a few girly moans and hope it distracts him, which it does. You wonder what would happen if you were to moan out your neighbours name — if you even knew it, that is.

“Oh, god,” you moan genuinely and close your eyes as the man sinks his cock in further. Thank goodness this man’s dick is long, you think, feeling the tip brush against a weak spot inside of you. The mattress beneath your spine is shaking uncontrollably, and the man peers down at you with a glint in his eye.

Levi’s head leans back and a breathless groan escapes — fuck, he thinks, but there’s no time to take it back, and certainly no chance he’s been heard. 

Unbeknownst to Levi, your ears prick up curiously. The man snug inside of you looks at your face with an equal amount of curiosity, his hands wide against your skin as he fucks you at an unmeasurably quick pace. It’s as if he has somewhere else to be than here, but the pressing wrinkle in his forehead deepens as he fucks you harder, nails digging into your skin, spit flying from his mouth to your breasts.

“My friend said your pussy was good, but I didn’t think it would be this good,” the guy says, his voice raspy. All you can currently focus on is the squelch between your legs, and for a hopeful sound of annoyance from your neighbour.

When nothing comes, you opt for staring up at the guy with wide eyes, as if the thought of being passed around a few friends shocks you. In actual fact, you could care less, just as long as you both feel good.

His next few thrusts knock the wind out of you, and Levi clings to those pitched sounds like they’re his new lifeline. Pumping the length of his cock with his hand, Levi clamps his eyes closed and tries not to become self-aware of what the fuck he’s doing, instead focusing all of his energy on the twisting ache in his stomach and the dull groan of his wrist bones.

What Levi does next horrifies him. His hips jerk suddenly, his breathing laboured as he imagines himself in your room between your legs. Just the thought of looming over you, chest bowed over yours, your legs over his shoulders as he sinks himself into your cunt. The look of pleasured joy on your face, that stupidly beautiful smile lifted so high. 

In the swirling darkness of his closed eyes, Levi conjures up images of you flustered and naked, covered in sweat and cum and as your breasts bounce the shine on your body curves — fucking hell, he’s in so deep, he’s so fucked.

“Oh! Oh, there, yep, there — hmpf!” 

Levi hears you so loudly that it’s as if you’re panting it in his ears. He fists his dick almost furiously, feeling the creeping heat move across his body like a wildfire. The phantom illusion of your body underneath him pulses, the feeling of your cunt wet and squishing around him feels so real he might believe it if he weren’t uncomfortably self-aware of how screwed up he is, fantasising about a girl he’s never even talked to before.

Even through the wall, Levi can hear your bed rattling against the opposite wall, each slap of skin as the stranger fucks himself into you; Levi zeros in on the sounds and produces the perfect scene in his head, one that makes his dick twitch in his hand and his feet slip slightly across the wooden floor. 

His chest rises and falls heavily, his hands trembling, his balls so sensitive he’s resorted to clinging to the wall like a rock climber with one hand while he pumps his cock with the other. Listening to you being fucked stupid is going to make him cum all over himself, and for a split second, that seems fine. That would be okay.

“Goddamn. You’re tighter than I expected,” the guy says, which sends Levi over the edge. 

He groans softly at the floor and feels his whole body trembling as the coil in his stomach suddenly releases, and a string of cum shoots from the end of his cock. Levi keeps pumping, cum falling down his hand and to the floor in a grossly filthy manner, one that he’s trying his best not to stress over as he focuses all of his energy and thoughts on the hand wrapped around his cock and how badly he wishes it was your pussy gripping him instead.

When he does open his eyes, Levi blinks away the blurry tunnel vision and tries to catch his breath, now uncomfortably aware of the sticky mess covering his hand and the floor around his feet. For a second, he feels complete bliss — until the ringing in his ears subsides and he hears you whining in that pretty fucking voice you have, and the shame washes over him like a bucket of cold water.

Levi forces himself up off the wall and stares back at it, almost as if it might transform into a window for you to gape at him, the dirty eavesdropper who just had an orgasm over a daydream and the sound of his neighbour fucking some random guy. He blinks in horror.

The guy screwing you groans like an animal — a dying animal, Levi thinks bitterly, until he realises that he’s the first person to have orgasmed in the strange threesome and he isn’t even in the room. 

Although guilt is consuming him, Levi can’t commit to pulling away yet. He might as well see it through to the end now that he’s become a part of it all.

Your cunt clenches around the guy’s cock like a vice, coaxing whatever last reserves of self-restraint he has before he grunts out a loud, “Fuck!” and slams his hips into you one last time, filling the condom with cum.

You feel the warmth bulging inside of you — lucky for someone to have gotten off in this exchange. Your pussy throbs and you squirm unhappily, hoping he might keep going.

“More?” the guy asks, breathless and shocked. “For real?”

“Mm. More, I need more,” you tell him, your walls fluttering around him. “Please, please give me more—”

No, no, no, Levi thinks in a panic. Please no more! As if being subjected to listening to some guy cumming after being in your pussy was bad enough, Levi wants nothing more than for it all to be over so he doesn’t have to listen anymore. He knows he could easily put in earphones and tune you both out, but that’s not the point. 

Still, he feels a sudden rush of bitter hatred when the guy slaps your skin and makes you whine, all before laughing and pulling out. Levi hears nothing for a moment until he hears a drawer pulling open and slamming shut, and he thinks in a hot flush that he’s about to have a terribly unhappy night listening to you getting screwed again.

You watch the stranger shake his cock for a moment once the old and used condom is off, and he quickly puts on a new one while he’s still hard and admirably shoves himself back inside. Your wet warmth welcomes him back encouragingly, and there’s no trouble keeping him hard once you’ve gripped him back inside. The man shifts himself inside of you and moves in and out, his eyes trained carefully on your face as if assessing your enjoyment. 

He creeps a hand between your legs and thumbs the hood of your pussy, and your eyes flash open with surprise at the feeling of his thumb on your clit.

“My god, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he comments, and Levi curses.

This can’t go on! Levi feels his mind reeling and he refuses to take responsibility for what his body does next; he wipes his hand on his joggers and glares at the door. Taking a few strides towards it, Levi forgets the cum on the floor and grabs one of his jumpers, pulling it over his head as he grabs his five seconds of courage by the balls and swings his door open. 

The sound of you being fucked is made even more pronounced in the hallway. Levi’s never admired his other hall-mates until now, because he knows they’re all either listening in the same horror as Levi used to or they’re out somewhere missing all of the drama. Still, Levi feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he raises his fist, and without thinking any of it through, he bangs his hand on your door three loud times.

The sounds cease.

Levi hears a flustered “fuck!” and a confused moan, each one from a different person, and now that he’s knocked, Levi knows if he does a runner, you’ll only know it was him when his door shuts in the now uncomfortable silence. Standing in the hallway, he knows he has to live out his embarrassment and see it through. 

The stranger pulls out of you in a fluster, staring down at you with surprise. “Should we answer it?”

You crane to listen, half-hoping it was a knock on someone else’s door and not your own, but you reluctantly glance up at him in shock and pick yourself up off the bed.

“Um…” you start, flustered and scanning the floor for something to put on. You spot your dressing gown slung over the chair at your desk and reach for it, giving the guy a pointed look as he scrambles for his underwear. You hoped it wouldn’t have, but the vibe is killed rather cruelly by whoever is banging your door so loudly. 

Tying the cord around your waist, you pass by the guy with a sheepish smile and smooth a hand across his chest. In a way, the stranger is surprisingly handsome, especially considering you only picked him out for the way his hair looked. He grins after a while and grabs his shirt, holding it in his hand as he leans to kiss your lips and slither past you.

“Lemme get it,” he suggests, already making his way to the door. You let him go without protest, simply standing to the side as he reaches the door, twists the handle and pulls it open. The map of muscles in his back tense when he sees Levi standing outside.

“Levi,” he says dumbly. Levi blinks in confusion. How does he know this guy, and more importantly, how does this guy know him? The stranger seems to pick up on his blatant confusion and shifts uncomfortably, “It’s Samuel. I live in Isabel’s flat.”

Levi visibly grimaces.

This city is just too small and he hates it so much. Why the fuck did the guy fucking you have to be someone in close connection to one of his closest friends, and why the fuck did it have to be the guy involved in the sex Levi has just jerked off to?

“We met?” Levi decides to ask.

“Not officially,” mutters Samuel.

Levi ignores him and glances back into the darkness, schooling his features into disinterest with all of his strength when he sees you standing in the shadows.

The revealing V of your dressing gown attracts his attention, his eyes trained on the curving line of your breasts pushed together by your folded arms. He looks up to your neck and face, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and then finally acknowledges your face. 

Your makeup is smudged in a way that makes Levi’s cock twitch again, but he refuses to feed in to the pleasure he so badly wants to seek at the sight of you, fucked-out and equally surprised to see him standing like a loser in your doorway. You take a single step forward in what looks like wonder.

“What…are you doing here?” Samuel asks hesitantly.

Levi remembers he’s there and glares at him. “I live next door.”

“Oh,” says Samuel.

“I don’t care that you’re fucking. Trust me, I don’t.” He’s lying. “But can you be quiet about it?”

His voice cuts deep, making Samuel flinch, but in Levi’s peripheral he sees your face twist into an amused smile, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor to arrive by Samuel’s side.

“She’s not that loud,” Samuel attempts to say, in a pathetically unenthusiastic voice. Even he must know to an extent that you’re actually extremely loud.

Levi’s brows raise. “It’s not her I’m bothered about.”

“Oh,” Samuel says again. He turns to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights, but when his face drops at the look of amusement on your face, something tells Levi that Samuel may have expected you to defend him the way he just tried to defend you. 

Samuel’s eyes narrow and he snatches himself away from the door to find his shoes and phone. “Whatever man. She’s a slut anyway, you must be used to it by now.”

Levi hums, his eyes on you as you look back at him, unmoving, unbothered. Your eyes drop suddenly to his bottoms before pulling back up with your brows raised. After looking down with reluctance, Levi spots the cum he wiped on his joggers in a smudge across his thigh and he pauses.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t think of any other words.

Samuel slips his shoes back on and levels a dirty look in your direction, but you just smile sympathetically and wish him goodnight. He mutters something rude under his breath and barges past Levi on his way out, and Levi makes a point of watching Samuel go whilst trying to pretend that neither of you has just spotted what is drying to a crusty stain on his joggers.

Levi continues to stare down the hallway even when the door has slammed shut and Samuel has disappeared, but the sound of your feet shuffling on the floor makes him look back. He must be a good actor, because your brows furrow for a moment when you lock eyes, as if you aren’t sure whether or not he’s angry.

Of course, Samuel had been right. You were a loud fuck, you were a bit of a slut, and Levi is very familiar with the guests coming and going from your bedroom. But none of that matters at all now he’s here, looking at you hidden underneath a dressing gown, your lips parted with hesitance.

Levi stares at you for a second, wondering what he could possibly say to you now that the chance is right there. He should have known he’d say something stupid — Levi copies your facial expression and clicks his tongue: “I know you can actually do better than that.”

His words take you by surprise, but he watches as your wide eyes soften and your smile twists — his stomach churns, thrilled, enamoured. If he was stupid, he’d push himself into your room and kiss you, but luckily, he’s exhausted his daily dose of stupidity and fallen back into his usual state of normalcy.

“Oh, really?” you ask sarcastically. This is the first time he’s heard you talking since your shy little hello a few days ago, and without a wall between you and some dude’s dick up your pussy. 

Levi hums, weaker than before. “Him, of all people?”

“Well, I don’t pick them for their personality,” you tell him, and he blinks as he realises that you’re actually discussing the people you bring back to your room. Levi lets it sink in until it does, deep in his stomach, and he feels his neck burning.

Suddenly, Levi is uncomfortably aware of how aware you are; you know you’re loud, and you know Levi can hear every moan and cry and whimper, every thud against the wall, every gasp of breath, every boy. And something tells him that none of that is accidental.

“...Thank god for that,” he drawls finally, his gaze hardening on your own. This time, you hum, mockingly, and tilt your head while you look at him.

Levi doesn’t know how long he stands there for. All he knows is that the tension between you is so thick it’s almost choking him. He doesn’t even know if you can feel it too — the unimaginable jolt of sexual tension coiling around his body like a snake, his whole body vibrating excitedly. 

It would be so easy to move forward towards you. Levi doesn’t even think you’d refuse him. The sultry look in your eyes is inviting, enticing, and he lets his gaze wander back to the slip of skin above your breasts before he snatches his gaze back.

“I’ll be more quiet, if that’s what you’d like,” you say after a while.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you for a second, weighing his options. Then, his gaze softens and he grunts — no. Be as loud as you want.

You seem to understand, for the smile widens into a pleased grin. “Alright. Sorry, Levi.”

He prays that you didn’t just see his body flinch as you said his name. Levi grunts again and waves his hand dismissively, turning for his room before the excitement of everything makes him become stupid again. He’s done enough stupid things today, thank you!

“Night, Y/N,” he says through clenched teeth, and if he had looked back, he would have seen the smile widen to a degree he could have never even expected, the confirmation you needed being your name on his lips, a name he would have only heard had he been listening.

Levi refuses to give in to his dumb urges and leans his back against his door when it shuts closed, listening shamefully as you hesitate before closing your door behind him. Finally, he lets out an exhausted breath and closes his eyes again.

For fuck sake. He’s a moron.

A moron who wants to fuck his neighbour, and is pretty sure that you know it.

Would you let him?

Levi stops himself from groaning like a pathetic loser when he thinks of you again, this time opening your door and letting him in, slipping the gown down your arms so that your breasts fall out for him; his hands grabbing them, pushing you back on the bed you were just being fucked on; his dick slipping inside of you, your cunt clenched around him, lips on his hands, cum filling you up like a cake, pooling out of you—

Levi feels his cock twitch again. He sighs loudly. 

He’s going to need another shower. Preferably a long cold one. Hopefully cold enough to send him into shock and kill him, just to spare him from the humiliating reality that Levi Ackerman has become an infatuated sad fuck with a raging hard crush on his stunningly sexy neighbour. 

Levi groans again. Fuck.

[evertidings]

— SEPTEMBER 2023.

accomplishments.

it’s always so interesting doing monthly updates because when i do them week by week on patreon, i always feel like i’m not doing enough. and then i’ll go read my last monthly update on here and i’m like ?? oh??? i said we were at 50% last time i updated and now i’d estimate we’re at a whopping 85%. 83% maybe. but !!!!! still. so exciting. i can see the finish line now. it’s in sight and it’s far, but it’s fucking in sight. we made it.

the final scene in this chapter (i say scene when maybe i should be saying act; it’s a lot longer than that) has been so fun to write for me. i mean, the opening branches were fun but because they were also kind of formulaic. i had to make sure the same information was conveyed through the five and all five addressed the points i wanted, meaning i was doing a lot of rearranging of words. point blank, it was a bit draining. with this final act, there’s only one route to go so i’ve been focusing a lot more on individual choices and flavour text.

i’m not exaggerating when i say that this is probably some of the most unhinged stuff i’ve written. a lot of what’s said is meant to rile the hunter up but even then i just- i stare at my sentences and go “damn. did we really have to take it there?” i’m hoping that some of your reactions will be similar. it’s so funny to me as a writer and i’m glad that this chapter allows me to let loose like this.

i don’t have a set date for when the chapter will come out but i will let you all know as soon as i can. in the meantime, i’ll be celebrating N’s birthday this month and (maybe?) getting the gears up and running for my second/side wip. it’ll have a secondary blog so i’ll be posting the username for that when i have things sorted.

hope you’re all well <333

stats.

462,205 (+13,663)

[aziraphales-library]

are there any WIP or long post s2 fics you guys are keeping an eye on? I want to get into something for the long haul! love you guys, thank you!!

I don't read WIPs myself, though I have a couple bookmarked for once they're complete. Here are some long ones for you, which may or may not be completed by the time this posts...

Flaws by indigo (E) (WIP) (now complete)

Aziraphale cannot just sit back and hope any longer; Crowley is too precious to him to allow any risk at all to his continued existence. The Metatron's offer was far too good to pass by, and even if Crowley refuses to see it, Aziraphale needs to take this chance to make Heaven into the place of light and good that it should be. Crowley will come around eventually, the angel knows that impetuosity was always one of his flaws. But what of Aziraphale's flaws? Naivety, perhaps? I am jumping into the post S2 whirlpool with my own thoughts on What Happened Next. Whilst I have every confidence that NG will FIX THIS, I have some fears that Amazon will leave us hanging... and anyway, I want my happiness for them NOW, not in another four years... Angst in places, but they will end up on the same page, eventually! At least one update a week for now, settling into weekly updates by September.

how do we turn on the light? by moonyinpisces (M) (WIP)

Aziraphale ascends to the highest level of the Archangels. And he remembers—well. It’s not important what he remembers.

The End of My World Is You by T_O_S_T_E, WeepingintheTARDIS (G) (WIP)

If finding the Truth means the end of the Universe… would you still proceed? Something’s Up, and that something is the Second Coming. Although many people - sorry, angels - seem to be involved, there’s only one among them who knows what’s really cooking in the hot oven called ‘the Great Plan’. Although — only one?

Don't Fall Away From Me by PhoenixRose314 (M) (WIP)

if i fall, on that day, i only pray don't fall away from me. What if there was much more to Aziraphale and Crowley's history than Crowley remembers? What if there had been an "our side" even before the Fall? What if Aziraphale's guilt was the only thing keeping them apart for the last six thousand years? And what if the only thing that could pull them back together again was the firm belief of a plucky little angel-turned-human-bookseller that love really does conquer all? Don't Fall Away From Me is a post Season-2 Good Omens fic that rotates perspectives between Muriel, Crowley and Aziraphale.

Are We Meant to Read the Footnotes? by RiaTheDreamer (T) (WIP)

After Aziraphale’s decision, Crowley chooses coffee, not death. Life goes, painfully, on, and Crowley does his best to adapt to his new lonely existence. It hurts. Until it suddenly doesn’t. Someone has opened the Book of Life and erased Aziraphale’s name. Old habits kick in, but how can Crowley save someone whose existence has been destroyed and forgotten?

- Mod D

[undercoverpena]

undercover peña

javier peña x f!reader

as promised, here's a snippet (50 or so lines) from this writer wip poll game and undercover peña won! so, here we have it. it currently doesn't have a working title, but the premise is:

Javier, who has left the bureau and is now back in Texas wants a simple life. But, when Steve offers him a job to go undercover with a fellow DEA agent, posing as a married couple to gather information on a potential new player, he finds it difficult to refuse.

warnings: none, except my unedited writing.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

Wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“Try not to fuck her, Jav.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—nor that he’s happy, content. A glow to his skin, he suspects, isn’t just from the sun, but knowing his wife is able to sleep and getting the chance to watch his daughter grow older.

Javier couldn’t relate—not that he’d admit that.

Picking up a ring, he rotates it between his thumb and finger as he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side makes him grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot. Because none look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Handed a file—everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javier knows better. Suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation.

Needing too.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, the tension had been too much. Already beginning to fray him at the edges, as sleep began to be a distant friend. That had just been following the initial phone call.

It hadn't mattered that he thought he'd be okay, his body said otherwise. Remembering—it all coming back to him. The aches, the knot in his stomach. Then there was the way a space had begun to be carved inside of him, a place where a piece of his soul he suspects is meant to be, but was long lost when hunting Escobar.

All of it was made worse by the worried look on his Pop’s face.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain. That this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few weeks, at most.

It didn’t shift the expression—didn’t stop the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness in the air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy home.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand—beginning to gesture, somewhat wildly—likely about to tell him he wasn’t sure.

Javier had been told (on numerous occasions) that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, red blouse and black tailored trousers clicking their heels towards him.

It wasn't anything cliché. Time doesn't stop—the room doesn't silence. But something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters.

Because usually, a woman's figure is what he will admire first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he meets first.

And fuck do they cut into him. Practically reach towards him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, ceasefire, a chance to strengthen his facade as you turn to greet Murphy. But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say commandingly. Body turning to him, hand sticking out towards him—adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air. “Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you.”

an: dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who is lovely and wonderful, and seemed as excited about this as me.

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the super lovely @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz @lemonzestywrites @rainbow-nerdss @devirnis @cal-daisies-and-briars @buddierights @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz @try-set-me-on-fire and @rogerzsteven Thank so much! Go check out all their snippets and works!

Well would ya'll look at that... I'm actually participating in a tag day with an actual wip and not a coda. Whoa. And even better... Its an NFL Buck snippet! WOOOOO! Want to see more NFL Buck? Please check it all out here!

"So." Karen begins, pulling Hen's attention from the book she's been trying to read for the past week. She quirks an eyebrow at her wife, "So?" "So my boss's son's, partner broke their leg Tuesday after tripping over their 15 year old terrier." Karen explains and Hen can't help but look back towards where Paisley is lounging on the arm chair (Hen's favorite seat that she has lost to that sassy fur ball) with worry. Her wife chuckles reading Hen's internal concern, "Babe, Paisley is as pure bred as they come. We'll be lucky if she makes it to 10." "That pure bred survived an earthquake and a collapsed building. I wouldn't put it past her to make it way past 10 out of spite alone.” Hen remarks, turning back to Karen. Karen rolls her eyes, but gets back on topic, "Anyway. Harris, that's the partner, got their hands on some passes to that super exclusive gay club, The Green Carnation for this Friday." "You mean the place that runs a background check rivaling the FBI, makes every patron sign NDA's, and will blacklist a person from every gay bar from here to Vegas if they break said NDA? The place that is rumored to host not only out celebrities, but also the deeply closeted, tilt the world on it's axis if they ever came out, big names? That gay club?" Hen questions, her excitement starting to rise. Her very sexy and somehow very connected wife smirks, "The very one. And poor Harris just can't fathom trying to hop around on one leg and not drink thanks to their newly acquired pain meds. So they had their partner-" "Your boss's son." Hen remembers, leaning towards Karen, who instinctually gets closer as well. "Karson, with a K, starts to asks around his dads work because you know, we're literal rocket scientist working on very classified information." "Who better to invite to a secret club than those who work on secret projects." "Exactly." Karen's smirk becomes wicked (and very sinful), "And wouldn't you know, the only non-straight and married person around is yours truly." Hen honest to go squeals, loud and bubbling with elation, "You got us passes to The Green Carnation?!" "With a pre-paid drink package. All we have to do is agree to the background check and sign the NDA." Karen replies with a broad grin. Hen can no longer hold herself back and practically tackles her wife with a teeth clattering kiss. Karen, as always, catches her and kisses back 110%. ("So, my 48 off falls on the weekend." Eddie states and he takes notice of Buck's sly grin forming, his boyfriend most likely on the same train of thought, "And since it's still your bye week..." "You want to dance the night away with other secret gays." Evan finishes. Eddie smirks, "And get a private room blow job." The quarterback's smile is almost feral like, "I'll make the reservation." And Eddie watches Buck tap on the contact Florists with the green clover next to it. The phone rings twice before a deep voice comes through the speaker, "State your member id." "Buckley, 201-09-18." "Diaz, 201-09-19." A quick moment of silence, then, "What can The Green Carnation do for you today Mr. Buckley and Mr. Diaz?")

Hmm... Is a certain run in going to happen???? We'll see!!! Hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @perfectlysunny02 @aroeddiediaz @loserdiaz @diazsdimples @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins @buck-coded @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @sunshinediaz @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @goforkinard @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather @bigfootsmom

[callmelittlesunshinefics]

Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden. 

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.” 

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree. 

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.” 

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights. 

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.” 

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.” 

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress. 

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?” 

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not. 

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of. 

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head. 

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.” 

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.” 

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came. 

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.” 

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms. 

���Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?” 

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.” 

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost. 

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.   

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you. 

“Back where, Rem?” 

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-” 

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.” 

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.”  He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.” 

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask. 

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be. 

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date?? 

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date??? 

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now 

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight. 

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly. 

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head. 

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off. 

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall. 

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room. 

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?” 

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.” 

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.” 

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before. 

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!” 

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?” 

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously. 

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.” 

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading. 

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?” 

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement. 

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory. 

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.” 

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation. 

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces. 

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden. 

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back. 

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound. 

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged. 

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider. 

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her. 

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.  

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on. 

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up. 

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.” 

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey. 

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed. 

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.” 

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.  

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?” 

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink. 

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too, 

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots. 

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate. 

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously. 

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned. 

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand. 

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.  

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you. 

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down. 

“I’ll kill him.” 

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.” 

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.” 

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out. 

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself. 

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point. 

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily. 

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.” 

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?” 

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back. 

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair. 

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.” 

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind. 

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.” 

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.” 

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave. 

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it. 

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“ 

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.” 

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part. 

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?” 

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?” 

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.” 

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??” 

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!” 

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears. 

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.” 

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“ 

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..” 

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first. 

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.” 

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.” 

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.” 

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended. 

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms. 

[snippychicke]

It's Just Business Part One

Go ahead, say it. 'Eliza, don't you have enough WIPs?

Yes. I do. But One Piece has brought me the most productive Muse I have had in a long time. And who am I to resist? Especially this face

Hopefully my last WIP for One Piece LA, and I can get all three done.

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Destination: 

You grew giddy as you saw the lights of the Baratie against the darkening violet sky. The trip had been longer than usual after getting blown off course by a squall you had encountered midway, and you had worried it wouldn’t be until late in the night before you were able to reach your destination.  

Lining up your ship with the deck at the back of the restaurant was pure muscle memory at this point. You had been doing this run since you were a child living on your parent’s merchant boat, after all. Patty called your name as you approached, a large grin on his face as you threw the rope to him to pull the ship in and anchor to the floating deck. "We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it tonight!"

"A small squall pushed me off course," You explained as he boarded, and you gestured to the barrel before grabbing a much smaller package along with your bag. "But you can rely on me, promise!" 

The dark man huffed as he picked up the crate. "Uh huh. Just make sure to tell the others to come help before you fall too deep in Sanji's blue eyes." 

"Patty!" You hissed, face burning as you paused. " I don't--It's not like that!" 

The cook's laugh echoed across the deck and into the night. "I was young once too." 

Theoretically, you knew he was right, yet at the same time to think of him, or many of the other veteran cooks of the Baratie as young seemed wrong. 

Like Zeff. 

The aforementioned chef greeted you by name as you entered the kitchen not long afterwards, his eyes crinkling as he smiled towards you. "Good to see you made it, I was starting to worry!" 

"Just took a minor detour!" You excused over the clamor of the kitchens, your eyes scanning discreetly for the other blonde chef. (Sous chef, chef, cook, you still were confused by the differences.) 

"Eggplant is waiting tables tonight." Zeff called, meaning your attempt at being subtle had failed spectacularly. 

"Oh no," You laughed despite the blush at being caught red handed. "What'd he do this time?" 

"Bein' a little shit like always,” Zeff finished whatever he was working on and washed his hands before bellowing out over the clatter of the kitchen. “Those not actively working on orders go unload Lil' Miss' ship! And you, lil' lady, let's go discuss business." 

You carried your package with you back to Zeff's office. The place was nothing like the clean organized chaos of the kitchen. Instead it was pure chaos with papers and log books piled everywhere. It felt like home to you, honestly. You had been raised by merchants, after all. Your parents had taught you the motto that if a person’s office was clean and well organized, business was bad. Chaos meant business was booming and they barely had time to keep things tightly organized. 

And business was always booming at the Baratie. 

You took a seat across from Zeff’s desk and you two quickly fell into a heated discussion as you haggled over prices, giving each other needlessly hard times for the hell of it. After finally settling on prices, the topic moved onto what was needed for the next run. 

"Alright then," Zeff said as you placed the order in your bag, along with the stack of money as payment. "You run off and find Sanji. I'm sure by now he's heard you're aboard and getting antsy." 

Your smile faded as you blushed. It was a very common tease from the crew, and you were fairly sure they were just playing around. Giving everyone a hard time seemed to be the cooks’ mutually favorite pastime.  "Hardly. I'm sure he's been chatting up some pretty gal or three and hasn’t even noticed." 

Still, you held the package close to you as you made your way to the restaurant proper. Nemo, the Maître d’ smiled as you entered, showing you over to one of the smaller tables on the second floor balcony where you could watch the rest of the restaurant. One of the benefits was always having a table reserved on the days you were due to come in.   

Even with the late hour, the Baratie was still rather busy. Couples mainly filled the tables, though you saw a few groups you assumed were friends and others that were likely business meetings. With the melting pot that was the baratie, there was no way to really tell who was civilian, marine, or pirate. 

"Well, there's the lady of the hour," A familiar voice stated, pulling your attention back. Sanji smiled at you as he placed your favorite drink in front of you. "I was relieved to hear you made it safe and sound, though I did miss our usual lunch date." 

"Me too, but the weather wasn't very cooperative today," You smiled as you offered the package to him. "Fresh from the tailors, as requested." 

Despite being on the clock, Sanji took the seat across from you before opening up the garment box, revealing the silk button-up shirts he had ordered. There was a faint smile on his face as he examined the shirts--he had left the color and pattern choices up to you so you had went with ones that would make those sky blue eyes pop. 

"You never disappoint," he said softly, apparently satisfied with your choices. 

"Gotta keep my favorite business partners happy." Which was true in a sense. It was just business. He had paid you in full last time for you to go buy the shirts. But seeing Sanji smile at you like that, his blue eyes sparkling from behind fine blonde hair, woke the butterflies in your chest and was a payment of sorts all in itself. 

"Well then, let me go see if those lazy asses have your usual ready. If not, give me a minute and I'll whip it up myself." 

》°《

You could remember first seeing the fishshaped restaurant emerging from the fog as a child. The Baratie wasn't quite as famous as it would be, but your parents, both descended from profitable merchants themselves, could sniff out a good partnership in the making.

That's when you met the infamous Zeff. You could remember peeking out from behind your father's leg to look at the tall muscular chef, amazed by his braided mustache. 

And also when you met Sanji--not much older than yourself--and at the time a fair bit thicker. 

And you got along like cats and dogs. 

Years passed and while you and Sanji were more likely to glare daggers at each other then say something nice, he was also the only person your age you saw the most. Your merchant ship visited every few weeks with produce, and both of you were usually roped into unloading and putting things away. 

"Damned oregano," You heard him mutter as you stocked the spices. 

"Doesn't that go in spaghetti?" You asked as you carefully poured sugar into the large barrel. 

The look Sanji had could've killed, but you were used to him shooting daggers at you whenever you were in the same room. "What did you say?"

"Oregano,” you repeated as if he was dumb (in your defense, you were eleven and firmly believed he was.) “I do know how to make spaghetti sauce now." 

"I'm just going assume you mean some kind of marinara sauce you put on spaghetti noodles," He sneered as if you were the thick one, making you roll your eyes. 

"Oh right. Sorry Mr. Fancypants, but not all of us literally live in a restaurant." So many sauces and different types of noodles hardly meant anything to you when you typically ate the same thing every day when out at sea. 

"Yeah, some of us weren't allowed in the galley until she was ten,” Sanji muttered under his breath not-so-quietly. “And can barely boil water as it is." 

You lost your temper despite promising your family you would be on your best behavior, and impulsively grabbed a handful of the white crystalized sugar before throwing it at Sanji.  

He yelled as the sugar hit him, glaring at you with murderous intent before giving another yell as he tackled you. 

And the fight was on.  Punches, kicks, spit, everything flew as you tussled on the floor, trying your best to make the other conceded.. 

"What the hell is going on here!" Zeff boomed as he pulled you both apart by the back of your shirts just minutes later, swearing both of your names. "The fuck do you think you were doing?" 

"She started it by throwing sugar!" Sanji snarled.

"He was making fun of me!"

"I was just stating facts!" 

“I don’t care who started it!” Zeff snarled. “But that is the wimpiest fighting I have ever seen! Absolutely disrespectful. I’m dragging both of you outside for a lesson.”

[getmotherd]

WIP foxies

The lighter one has been degreasing for a couple of weeks. Hes got some bone cancer on his snout, i cant wait to see him done!

The darker one is just done being cleaned by my beetles. Its a juvenile fox, but a little longer than the old boy. His shape is really interesting, i cant wait to properly compare him to some other individuals.