#this is sappy fluffy with a side of angst

[suncoved]

STOP IT RAFE, YOU'RE BEING MEAN! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; bestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; rafe has a strict rule that if you ever leave anywhere, you tell him. and when you break that rule, he goes ballistic (bsf!rafe cameron x reader)

warnings ; angst! verbal fighting, angry!rafe, kinda mean rafe, theyre both annoyingly oblivious.. warning this did not turn out how i planned it to be but im also not mad at it, idkkkk

to say you were bored was an understatement.

it was a regular rowdy saturday night in the outerbanks, this nights party being at a random kooks house on the figure eight whose name you couldn't quite remember

you were nursing a forgotten red solo cup of punch in your hand, crowd-watching to pass the time.

it wasn't normal that rafe actually succeeded in convincing you to come to these things. because as much as you liked chatting with spoiled self-absorbed kooks over disgustingly sweet punch, you'd rather stay cuddled up in your fluffy pyjamas and watch sappy romcoms on rafe's couch.

but nevertheless, here you were. dreading every decision you had ever made up to that point as you watched rafe from across the room. a blonde kook girl climbing over him and straddling his hips, sitting on his lap as he smirked.

you knew you really had no right being mad at him because you weren’t dating.

but from the start of your more than 10 year friendship, rafe made it clear that you were and always will be his.

so why didn’t that rule go both ways?

with all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, you failed to hear a certain blonde pouges voice echo around you.

you snapped out of your state, consciousness returning to your mind as a hand was waved repeatedly in your face.

“hey! you there princess?” a smile adorned the boys face, a ratty snapback placed backwards on his blonde hair.

“yeah, jj. right here” you joked, smiling brightly back at him as you brought your cup up to your lips.

“thought we lost you there for a bit princess? what’d you doing standing here all alone?” jj asked, surprised to see your constant kook king shadow nowhere to be seen.

“just people watching, the usual. where’s kie?” you quickly changed the subject, wanting anything to get your mind off of rafe.

“around here somewhere i hope. gonna’ try to round everyone up to we can get outta here. early morning for us cut goers tomorrow, fish to catch and things to steal” you giggled at his joke, earning an even wider grin on his face.

you always liked jj. you thought he was funny, and he was the most loyal person to his friends that you knew. and despite his manic tendencies, you trusted him.

“have a nice night j. drive safe!” you said, watching him wink at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

with jj gone, you were left to your own thoughts agian, which was never a good thing.

you glanced over again at rafe sitting comfortably on the couch on the deck. the light from inside illuminating his face as he leaned over to the table, picking up a small bag of white powder and handing it to a random touran.

you bit your lip as you noticed the same blonde from before clinging to his side, rafe seeming unbothered but making no move to push her off.

god, you couldn’t even imagine how rafe would react if he saw you speaking to jj earlier. so why is it that he can literally let a girl dry hump him in the middle of a party and you shouldn’t care?

you didn’t know why you cared though, because rafe is you best friend, nothing more.

right?

you didn’t have time to think about that right now though, you just needed to get the fuck out of this party right now or you were gonna explode.

an idea clicked in your brain and jj dragged a drunk john b towards the entrance of the house, kiara and pope following quickly behind.

you decided that this was now or never, placing your red solo cup onto a random table as you walked towards them.

“hey jj!” you called out, his head immediately snapping towards you. “you think you could give me a ride home?”

it was nearly 30 minutes later that rafe noticed you were no longer in your spot in corner of the house. business was coming to a halt as he sold his last few grams of cocaine, a heavy wad of cash safely resting in his back pocket.

his eyes scanned the crowd for your face, but you were no where to be seen.

and rafe was starting to freak the fuck out.

he knew you wouldn’t go upstairs to any bedrooms, or go out for an impulse swim in the pool. and he knew most of all that you wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and the notification box in his voice remained empty from your contact.

he ran his hand roughly through his hair, pulling aggressively at the roots and cussing to himself frustrated.

his eyes widened as he saw your friend in the crowd, interrupting what ever useless conversation she was having, because until he knew you were safe, nothing was more important.

he asked rudely where you were, watching as her face morphed into shock that rafe was talking to her. because well, if it’s not plotting on the pouges or selling drugs, rafe doesn’t interact with anyone but you or his friends.

“i-i im not sure. i saw her leave like a bit less than half an hour ago. i thought she told you, she always does”

rafe clenched his jaw, hundreds and thousands of thoughts running through his head. “was she alone?”

“n-no. she was with that jj guy and his friends” your friend murmured, nervous she was ratting you out to the scariest guy in the whole of kildare.

it was safe to say that rafe was fucking pissed.

it took him less than a few seconds to put his keys into the ignition of his jeep and drive illegally fast to your house. you liked to piss him off often when you were in a mood, but never with your safety.

rafe never fucked with your safety, ever.

he murmured venomous cusses to himself and he walked towards your house, the pebbles from your mothers perfect drive way crunching under his feet as he speed to your door.

he made a beeline to the entrance of your home, the white arches welcoming and the doorway dimly lit by the porch lights.

he planted his feet straight on the 'welcome home' door mat, lifting his balled fist up to the door and sending booming knocks to the wood panel.

his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists so hard together there was sure to be crimson-red crescent indents from his fingernails. he was fuming.

the click of the lock releasing from the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the door handle turning and the lobby of the inside of your house quickly coming into view.

he locked eyes with your figure immediately, a pink fluffy towel in your hand as you dried your hair. you were only wearing a pair of long socks and rafes shirt which reached more than halfway down your thighs, your face bare of makeup.

you jumped as you saw the look on his face, an anger prevalent in his stare that you had never seen directed at you. fuck. you were in some deep shit.

you parted your lips to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. for the first time in your life, you were scared of rafe. not that he was going to harm you physically, no, never that.

but you knew how much he cared about you and your safety. you just wished he cared that much about your feelings. you wanted him to see that.

"rafe" you said, your voice coming out as a whisper as you watch the lines on his forehead crease together as thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" he spat as he pushed you as softly as he could into the house so he could close the door, worried the cold of the night was going to make you shiver.

you didn't have time to answer before he started again, running a hand roughly through his hair as he huffed. "you just left? you fucking left a party at night without even texting me, and you let that fucking pouge drive you home!"

you rolled your eyes at the last statement, this was all about jj? "so that's all you care about? me going home with a boy i've known since third grade who just so happens to live on the cut? you don't give a shit about me, you just care about this stupid kook pouge rivalry!"

"don't say what you know isn't true ma. you know i care about you more than i care about myself." he stated, nearly all the anger in him draining out as he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. he couldn't handle seeing you cry.

"how do i know you care about me rafe? because you don't seem to show it." you sighed pushing yourself as far away from him as you could, your back pushing up against the wall.

"don't fucking say to me y/n. i've loved you from the moment i met you." you finally stopped looking at the floor, lifting your chin so you made eye contact with him.

"stop it rafe, you're being mean" you whispered, mostly to yourself more than rafe. you couldn't listen to him say how much he loved and cared about you for one more second. not when you still had the picture of him being essentially dry-humped in the middle of a party by a girl you didn't even know.

"ma i love you. you know that. you're my world, my favourite girl. why are you fighting this?" rafe said, trying to hold you wrist in his hand before you quickly pulled it away.

"bec-because you can't just say all this then turn around and have make outs with other girls right in front of me. it-its not fair." you spoke, the tears finally making their way down your cheeks in steady streams.

rafe physically flinched at your statement, his palms getting sweaty and his heart rate increasing into rapid beats. was he actually going to admit his love for you right now, like this?

"what are you saying y/n?" he asked, his voice cracking as his face fell. his mind racing with how many outcomes could come out of this conversation.

"that i love you, you idiot!"

[walpu]

pre-relationship stage with them

characters - Gepard, Aventurine notes- gn!reader, pining, light angst but mostly fluffy, a bit of hurt/comfort. I love blonde preservation men okay. no beta we die like the economy in my country

Gepard

Poor poor Geppie.

He pines so much. Treats his love for you like a tender flower. Even his feelings for you is something so precious to him, he's happy to simply be in love with a person like yourself.

I feel like this poor man willd try so much to do everything for you without giving away how deeply he cares and how intense his feelings are.

"Aw, lil' Geppie, you care about y/n so much!"

"I- I do not. I mean, of course I do! But- There's nothing surprising about it. After all, it's my duty as a Captain to care about every citizen. And, of course, it's my duty as a friend to care about y/n.

Sure, Gepard. Sure.

He would never say something like this to your face though. After all, he simply can't lie to you.

Oh but how he adores you. His face literally lights up when he sees you, the most gentle smile blooms on his face when he watches you doing even the most trivial task.

Tries to act like his usual self around you but it's pretty evident to everyone that you're his weak spot.

Would gently scold you if you would ever put yourself in danger or break any rules.

If you would get seriously hurt would actually lose his mind. Would blame himself even if the situation has nothing to do with him. Beats himself up, asks for your forgiveness and does his best to help you.

Despite the popular belief that he would prioritize his work over his beloved, I don't think it's true. Sure, he takes his duties seriously, but he would always find time for you. Would make sure to see you at least two times a weak, would answer your texts and calls. If you need him, would certainly be right by your side. Even if it means he would have to work overtime later.

Tease him a bit and he's all red. Doesn't try to stop you though, secretly adores your attention.

Would be oblivious to the fact that you like him back. Like. Really dense about it.

He's just so used to giving, to protecting, he simply doesn't expect anything in return. He has silently accepted the fact that you may never love him back, but he will be there for you regardless of it, no matter what.

Plus, he feels like he may not be the one for you. Like you need someone who doesn't have to constantly put their life in danger, who can always be by your side, who won't break your heart. Because he's painfully aware that each fight may actually be his last. That he may not come back to you.

Speaking of that. He would make sure to say a proper goodbye to you before every battle or expedition. Nothing too sappy or depressing, he doesn't want to make you worry, after all. Would probably tell you to take care of yourself, to sleep well and to eat healthy food lol. He really just wants to make sure that he got to see you before heading straight into the battle.

If you're a Silvermane guard as well, would restrict himself even more, not wanting to use his position or to be pushy. However, would still be worried sick, even more so. Would still talk to you before every battle, asking almost begging you to be careful.

Loves giving you head pats.

Generally the goodest boy. Just make sure to make the first move because otherwise he would be satisfied with just being your loyal puppy.

Aventurine

Good lord.

This man is such a mess.

Be ready for a mindfuck but not because he's manipulative towards you or something like that but because there's so many layers of trauma in him.

You have to be patient with him okay.

I feel like pre-relationship stage would be so confusing to him. He had flings in the past, okay? Short ones, meaningless. Something to distress, to feel another person's touch, to feel some sort of connection, no matter how shallow it is. He knew he uses those people and that those people use him in return. Not once he asked them to be gentle or caring.

But with you it's so different. Doesn't matter if your relationship started sexually and developed into something more or if it was mostly platonic/slow since the beginning. He still feels something. And he's not sure if he likes it.

Sometimes it feels so good to be seen, to be addressed as a person, not just as a tool. But sometimes it scares him. After all, this man hasn't been vulnerable with anyone for a long, long time.

I'm sorry but I feel like he would try to pull away from you a bit after realizing how much you actually mean to him.

Oh but he will crumble if you reach out to him, okay? He simply can't ditch you like that, not when you see him for him and want him for him.

Even if it's scary.

Would slowly relax around you. Don't expect him to open up easily but still, the more time you spend together, the more his cocky mask will slip away.

Will randomly and out of the blue tell you small details about his past. You two may walk down the street together and he will see something that reminds him of Sigonia so he will share this memory with you.

It may be the smallest thing but it means a lot to him that you listen. Even this tiny moments of vulnerability are hard for him.

On the more positive note, he's so fun to be around. Would tease you and cling to you all of the time. If you tease him back, he would pretend to be offended but would actually enjoy the playful banter a lot.

Just don't tease him too much about him becoming more and more clingy with each passing day.

Spoils you rotten. New clothes, jewelry, watches, shoes, anything you may want or need. He still can't quite get rid of this idea that you have to be convenient for someone to be valuable. It's not like he's trying to buy your love but... Maybe subconsciously he does. Once again, be patient. This man is so used to the fact that all of his alliances are build on mutual benefit that it's still hard to accept that you're really here for him.

Spoiler even when he will feel more stable in your relationship and his mindset will turn more healthy, gift giving will still remain one of his love languages.

Just like Gepard, would care greatly about your safety. He may be careless about his own life but never with yours.

Loves, loves, loves physical contact. As I said before, gets very clingy, putting his arm over your shoulder or tugging on your sleeve. If he's feeling down, would crawl to you side and subtly brush his shoulder against yours or lean to your side. He may still have his confident smile but those small gestures show that he wants you to be the one holding him this time.

Invades your personal space a lot actually. Texts you constantly too lmao.

LOVES SILLY NICKNAMES. Would call you his dearest darling in the sweetest voice during the most inappropriate time and then laugh at your reaction. Would settle for something more casual like "baby" when he's not trying to be a pain in the ass. Still tries to play it off as something teasing. Deep down yearns to call you this without having to pretend that this is just a playful banter between two friends.

Oh and he would dance around the topic of dating, throwing hints but never having the courage to ask openly. So good luck with him.

[withleeknow]

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities. 

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.12.2023]

[lwwife]

i neeeeeed a fic where leah gets jealous of someone being too touchy and flirty with r and it can end with anything u want!!

Only I can touch you like this

Suggestive, Jealousy, Angst, Teeny bit of smut if you squint

This may have been a little angstier/dominant than you imagined, I will write a fluffly cute one with a needy sappy jealous Leah as well to make up for it, enjoy! ;)

Word count: 1,571

-

Y/n’s Pov:

“Baby” I call out, “can you zip me up please?”

“of course, darling”, Leah comes waltzing out of the bathroom in a white fluffy hotel robe and stops in her tracks when her eyes meet me. “fuck” she mumbles. “Babe come on we’re going to be late I need you to do this up for me” I whine, getting cautious of time. “oh, would you be quiet, it’s only the girls we don’t need to be there on the dot, let me admire my sexy girlfriend” she begins to smirk and slowly walk towards me, arms open ready to encapsulate my waist.

I giggle softly at her antics and throw my arms around her neck. “Ahhh!” I squeal at the sudden jolt of Leah picking me up to spin me softly, she giggles cutely at me, eyes filled with love then brings me back down to my feet and kisses me hard. I attempt to shy away once again cautious of time but as soon as she slides her hands down and firmly grips my ass I’m done for. I moan into her mouth, and she takes it as an opening to slip her tongue inside, passionately kissing me. I return her gesture, and our tongues glide along each other, both freshly brushed, tasting of mint and lust.

I slip my right hand into the opening of her robe and trace my fingers softly down to cup her left breast. Her nipple hardens under my touch and my stomach instantly flips. I squeeze lightly and she returns my earlier gesture of moaning into my open mouth. I remove my left hand from her neck and softly pull at where the robe is tied around her waist. The fluffy white robe flies open and my mouth fills with saliva. Leah’s toned abs, filled breasts, and perky nipples are on full display, and my favourite of all, her tattoos. I reach forward and trace over the swallow bird on her left rib. Then my other hand reaches for the ‘creation of Adam’ hands on her right rib. Both tattoos are just to the side and under where her breasts fall. My left-hand slides further down to reach the sword on her hip. As I look at them, I fall in love a thousand times more, remembering what each one represents, and just how much I love this girl.

Leah’s hand grips my chin and lifts my head, so my eyes meet hers and I'm snapped out of my love-filled daydream. Her wanting eyes instantly place me in lust once again. She slides the robe off her shoulders and pushes me forward, so I fall on the bed. As she leans to jump on top of me, I roll, so she falls, face-first into the mattress. “Fucksakes y/n! What was that for?”, I tap my wrist, “Tik Tok baby, Tik Tok” I walk off, my dress still unzipped. One job Leah. One job.

-

Leah’s pov:

Arriving at the club was a nightmare, to say the least, as I expected. Y/n continued to tease me the whole drive, gliding her hand up and down my thigh, even slipping into my trousers at some point. Once we finally entered the club, we received nonstop stick from the girls about our late arrival. Well, I received nonstop stick. Y/n joined in on the fun, making sly comments and forcing me to turn red from embarrassment.

The night continued pretty well, however, Y/n was relentless in her quest to rile me up. The entire night she would accidentally drop something, bending over right in front of me, grabbing me softly in places this couch should not have seen, and whispering dirty things in my ear. To deal with my increasing horniness which I knew would not be taken care of anytime soon as Y/n refused to leave every time I begged, I drowned myself in triple-shot vodka cokes. This just seemed to turn me into an even needier mess, but my hormones calmed down when Y/n finally left my side to go get a round of drinks.

When Y/n returned with everyone’s drinks she left just as quickly claiming she was still waiting on hers, so I continued my conversation with Beth. That was until I changed seats for comfort, this time angling towards the bar. I hum in agreement with Beth and turn my head slightly when I spot Y/n sitting at the bar with a woman. I squint my eyes, as they are already somewhat blurry from the alcohol. The woman is dressed in a short black dress, with thick brown hair to her mid back, and toned tanned arms. I know how Y/n likes arms. My arms. I furrow my brows. Y/n tilts her head back and chuckles hard, whilst grabbing onto the woman’s forearm. Fuck no. Nothing is that funny. My chest puffs out and I shift in my seat, anger coursing through my veins. I continue to hum whilst Beth chats, still staring hard at the woman and Y/n. “What the fuck does she think she’s doing?” I grumble.

-

Y/n’s pov:

I know how Leah gets when she drinks. Horny and possessive. And oh, how I love it. Once the woman at the bar who I’ve now come to know as Casey hit on me, I smiled politely informing her of my already taken status. I reached for my drink to turn back and walk over to the girls, when I spotted Leah, shifting her position to face the bar. Oh, this could be fun. I turn back to face Casey and smile, this time with intent. “What’s the harm in a chat” and sit back on the stool and strike up a conversation with her.

After a minute or so I begin to feel Leah’s eyes burning through the side of my head. I confirm my sense by glancing to my right at the mirror behind the alcohol shelves at the bar, where I see Leah sitting facing me and staring hard. I swear she doesn’t blink for a split second. Her jaw clenches and her eyebrows furrow. I squeeze my thighs shut at the sight, my centre throbbing with want.

I place my hand on Casey’s and lean in to whisper in her ear “Let’s dance” I propose. She smiles excitedly and leads me onto the dancefloor, my hand in hers. Our dancing started tame until I turned my back to face Casey’s front, ass slightly touching her groin. I turn our bodies, so we are both facing Leah’s direction. I throw my arms up, bringing them behind to clasp around the back of Casey’s head pushing her forward to find my neck, her hands finding my waist, the second Casey lays a finger on me Leah immediately gets up.

She smacks Casey’s hands off me. “What the fuck are you doing?” she asks me, in a dominant tone, staring straight through my soul. “Dancing Lee, why what’s wrong” I return, pouting my lip and looking up at her with doe eyes. Leah doesn’t say a word but grabs my wrist so firmly it starts to go red. She leads to a dark quiet corner and pushes me up against the wall, roughly. My stomach riles and I feel my black-laced underwear turn wet at the action. Leah grabs both my wrists and pins them next to my head. “I’ll ask you again” she growls, “what the fuck are you doing?”, stupidly I decide what’s the harm in a little more fun? “And I already told you, darling, dancing” I smirk. Leah’s jaw clenches so hard I can see every bone move, and fuck was it hot. She turns me over quickly, so the front of my body is against the wall, my hands still pinned next to my head, and smacks my ass hard. “You think you’re funny huh?” she groans in my ear, and I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. She smacks my ass again, this time holding onto it after, trailing her hand up my dress until she meets the wet spot on my underwear. “You’re mine” she growls again, whilst she slips my underwear to the side and runs her fingers through my wetness. She slightly dips two fingers into me, then pulls them out, bringing them up to her mouth. “You see this? Only I can taste you like this.” I lick my lips and bite down on my bottom one, hard, trying not to moan.

Leah turns me around again, my back against the wall. She brings her hand up to my jaw then slides it down to my throat and softly squeezes. “Say it.” She demands. “Say you’re mine. Say I’m the only one who can taste you like this, the only one who can touch you. Say it, baby”. I continue to stare at her, too turned on to find any words. She squeezes harder at my throat, prompting me. “I’m yours Leah. Fuck I’m all yours”. I grab her hand and guide it to my lips “These are yours”, I slide it down to my breast “So are these” I continue down to my ass “This as well” Then I finally guide her to my underwear, “and this, this is all yours baby. Forever.”, she smirks hungrily and proud at me. “Good girl.”, “Now take me home and show me I belong to you” I whisper in her ear.

A/n: I LOVE jealous Leah fics so I hope I wrote this one okay, I kind of went on a whim here and made it up as I went. Does anyone want a smut-filled part 2?

Requests are OPEN so send through more Leah fics you'd like to see!

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder:

chapter 1.5 — anyone else but you.

DISCLAIMER: half chapters are much shorter and used as wholesome, or not ;), fillers for the series! they're essentially palate cleansers so you can be emotionally prepared for more angst + hurt/comfort in the full chapters. however, you won't need to read these half chapters to understand context in full ones.

husband!carmy x hispanic!wife!reader

teaser. chapter 1. next chapter.

warnings : reader occasionally speaks some Spanish that Carmen hasn't picked up on. he thinks it's endearing. nothing else really. just very fluffy and touching. just good ol' sappy carmen and his wife going out for the day before the honeymoon!

authors note : this series is not doing well and it's kinda killing me inside but that's okay! just for funzies. also, the end is mostly dialogue. got a little lazy. sorry!

word count : 3k (not as short as i thought it would be ngl..)

highly recommend listening to the series playlist.

song(s) for this chapter : anyone else but you, & everyone adores you (at least i do)

"14.56? You're kidding me!"

Your eyes scan over the rainbow assortment of fresh, boxed fruit, the overpriced strawberries immediately grasping your attention. But not necessarily in a good way. Neither you or Carmen can totally remember who's idea it was to walk to the farmers market in this dry heat. It's not like you don't enjoy long walks, but it comes with cons. Pollen irritates your nose and the wind always messes up your hair.

You tug at Carmen's shirt, which, for once, isn't a tight-fitting pure cotton tee. It almost looks a little big on him, the sleeves rolled and cuffed perfectly so they still hug his arms. It's collared too. That ring on his finger makes your knees weak. He smells like the cologne he used to snag from Mikey's bathroom as a teenager. Richie got him his own bottle for Christmas the year after his passing and he's been wearing a spray or two on his neck and the insides of his wrists every 'special occasion' ever since.

And a hint of cigarette smoke. But you like it.

You always have.

He looks good. Fresh. Clean. Yours.

"Wow. I mean—" Carmen lets out a breathy chuckle that isn't quite loud enough to be a laugh, "it's a massive box. And it's strawberry season: May."

Still, despite his persuasive tone and the big hand that sits in the back pocket of your jean shorts as he stands beside you, it's not enough to convince you it's reasonable.

"But—"

"And we're at a farmers market, like, 10 minutes away from our place. Convenience costs money, baby."

Carmen peers down at you, retracting his hand from your rear and teasingly pushing your head into his shoulder. You pout. You don't want him to be right. The dramatics are fun.

"Pero, que es eso? Quieren que yo pago casi quince dólares para unos pinche fresas?" You throw your hands up, directly pointing to the tempting, fresh, and beautifully red fruit.

Carmen only nods. Even after 2 years of accidentally eavesdropping on your conversations, filled with the Spanish slang and sometimes vulgar language you've been using your whole life, he still hasn't quite learned much. Most of the time, he's too anxious to ask you what you're saying. He worries it'll make you stop doing it in front of him.

Until he comes to Tina, desperately. She'll ask him for the details but he can only remember bits and pieces of your one-sided conversations with him. She laughs for a moment or makes her eyes go theatrically wide just to fuck with his head. But eventually, she tells him the truth.

You only know this because Tina immediately started cracking jokes after she spent 15 minutes crying over your engagement, and then another 25 over your official elopement. 'Sacaste con un puré, gringo, mi vida! He needs patience!' she'd say to you whenever Carmen did the most minuscule thing that not-so-accidentally set you off.

"Mi amor," you turn to him, pinching your fingers and widening your eyes to make sure he's really paying attention, even if he doesn't understand you, "podemos comprar la misma cosa en Walmart, or algo así!"

The look in his eyes suggests that he didn't catch most of that. The only words he picked up were "mi amor" and "Walmart," obviously. He just assumes you're continuing your pointless bicker. But he doesn't have the heart, or even the want, to stop you.

He does love the way your nicknames for him roll off of your tongue. It warms something in him. Almost as if he believes your words capture your feelings and fully encapsulates him better than boring English ever does. They're smooth and they stick to his brain hours, or even days after they're spoken to him. In fact, he's been pretending he didn't faintly hear you whisper into his curls as he drifted off to sleep 'te amo con todo mi alma' last night, all fucking morning. It's the only full sentence you've ever spoken to him that he's been able to engrave into his memory.

"Uh-huh," he chuckles as he nods his head slowly, his dimples cinching in near the corners of his mouth. His skin looks a little tanner and brighter than usual. The veins in his eyelids are nearly invisible now, and the little moles that are scattered around his face and body are so much darker now. You thank the spring, nearly reaching the tips of summer, sun for bringing some life back to him. But you're not done complaining. So, you try not to smile in awe of your husband.

"Ó sea, que, are they gonna make me grow a magical straw-baby?"

"What, like—like how people say you'll grow a watermelon in your stomach if you swallow a seed?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"I don't know, peach. Maybe?"

"It's not worth finding out."

"Yeah. Definitely not."

Despite this, you guys buy the damn strawberries.

You continue walking through the market and stopping at every other intricate little selection of produce, picking up ingredients for tonight's, tomorrow's, and the next day's dinner. You're still snacking on the overpriced strawberries, the entire carton in hand. Carmen occasionally lets you pop one in his mouth. He contently bites right before the stem and swallows. They're perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. And unfortunately a tad bit sticky. In the end, they're worth the aggressive price tag.

Finally, you stop in your tracks at a flower stand. Bouquets tied together with white ribbonYou're immediately drawn to the vibrant red of the roses and the pure, angelic white of the mums. Oh god, and you're convinced the baby's breath tucked in neatly between each gap that couldn't be closed by blooming petals could remedy the need for plant life in your living room. The fantasy makes you feel like you just can't leave without taking some of these gorgeous flowers with you.

"Mm—" you point, your mouth full of mushy strawberries, "those look really nice."

For a moment, Carmen hesitates. Those flowers will shrivel. They will lose their once attractive and captivating saturation of color. He's not even sure if they'll last more than 72 hours, given how bloomed the petals are. But you still have those clay vases from your engagement party. And he still loves to make you happy. Despite their fleeting nature, your appreciation for his gestures will last forever. Even if their lifespan doesn't.

Carmen's had this tendency for longer than either of you can pinpoint. Having money he doesn't need, money he doesn't use, has led to him making some questionable decisions. All in good faith. But impractical nonetheless. Take, for example, that time he bought you a Cartier love bracelet for your 1 year anniversary.

Yes, you heard that right. Cartier. The gold and shiny flat bands that required the disassembling and unscrewing of 18 karat gold bolts with a miniature fucking screwdriver. Oh, and this was even after you and him agreed to 'no gifts,' as you were already planning a trip to Copenhagen. The reaction he received from you wasn't quite what he expected. Tears streaming down your face and the kiss on his cheek to compensate for the lack of a proper gift for him was not part of the thoroughly walked through plan he wrote in his head. But your happiness is his, in the purest and pathetic and shameless way. He realized this the moment he screwed that last bolt and secured the thin piece of gold against the circumference of your wrist.

It's around 4pm, and the glistening sun is just slightly past its highest peek. Bright transparent blue and green spoons made from hard plastic swirl around in the cheap, (and definitely not authentic) gelato you share. Outdoor seating wasn't the first option, now that spring was slowly evolving into another scorching hot Chicago summer, but the AC of the parlor was sure to give you hypothermia.

"Fuckin' hot out here. Can't see," Carmen mutters, taking a small bite of the creamy pistachio mixture. He squints at the blinding beam of the sunlight. You felt a little guilty for letting him sit right in the direction of the sun. But he insisted.

"Did y'know blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight?" You raised your brows, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking the gelato residue from it.

"Seriously?" Carmen leans forward, putting his hand above his eyes as a makeshift visor. His hand reaches out to adjust the heart shaped sunglasses that started to fall off of your head.

"Here," you hand them to him, feeling bad that you'd completely forgotten about them.

"And yes, seriously," you nod, hovering over the table and adjusting the sunglasses so they'd rest perfectly on Carmen's nose before sitting back down, "It's because blue eyes have less melanosomes compared to green and brown eyes."

A simple, "thank you, baby," would've sufficed, but kisses your lips, gently cradling your jaw and barely letting a breath of air slip through the empty space between your mouths after the 3rd kiss. Alas, you remove your lips from his and sit back down.

"Is there, like—"

"An exact number?" You finished his sentence.

"Yeah."

"Yes, actually. Blue eyes have 3 in each, green eyes have 5, and brown eyes usually have around 9 to 12 depending on how deep the color is."

You smile, shrugging your shoulders as you try to remain humble. It's impressive, he has to admit. Carmen's always been fascinated by your knowledge of pointless information. He wishes he could store and retain so much of what you know. But for now, he'll just admire you for it. He'll contemplate his lack of ability to remember things like patterns and bullet pointed facts that didn't relate to culinary arts later.

"Huh," he crosses his arms against his chest, his button up shirt squeezing his flesh and showing his slightly faded tattoos "kinda makes sense."

Letting out a laugh or two, you take another disappointing bite of the fake gelato monstrosity. It's not that it doesn't taste decent, but the texture is off and the crystallized ice that formed around the sides is unappealing for the price. Carmen had doubts since the moment you dragged him in by the hand like a greedy kid spotting a candy store. But he didn't say anything. What's the point of using his knowledge and skills to crush making you happy? It wasn't necessary at the time.

But, much to his pleasure of being correct, but his dismay of your disappointment, you aren't the biggest fan of it in the end.

"This isn't great," you swallow, shaking your head and dropping the spoon back into the paper cup in defeat as the green and nutty mixture went down your throat for the last time.

"It's not real," Carmen joins you, just to end up dropping his spoon in the same unfulfilling manner, too. "Most gelato places aren't. Gelato's dense. Not fluffy."

You nod, pushing the cup to the side and interlocking your fingers into his. His calloused fingertips gently caress the back of your hand and go over every little vein and mole that shines through your soft and soothing skin. He's become pretty fond of the whole hand-holding thing. Especially with that pretty rock on your finger. It's delicate. You're delicate. You're his.

"You've been doing that since the day we met, y'know," you hold onto his hand tighter, smiling and snatching your sunglasses back from his face with one swift motion before he can protest.

"What? Explaining shit about food you don't care about?" Carmen chuckles, his teeth showing. Sometimes he was embarrassed of his info-dumping, but he's learned to not be so shameful of it. You find it interesting. He doesn't really notice that he does it anymore.

"Yeah. But it's cute. It's what made me wanna keep talking to you. You don't do it to make me feel stupid, or something. You just.."

You paused to think.

"You know a lot about what you do, Carm. You're passionate."

Ah. The day you met.

Around 3 years ago, you'd just moved to the bustling city of Chicago after writing and successfully selling a beautiful script to an indie short film, which ended up being undeserving of your work due to the poor execution of dialogue. It didn't even end up showing at the film festival you were practically forced to attend. Even after co-writing and directing film projects and not-so-popular cinematic pieces, you hadn't tasted the pleasure of success. You dreamed to write something all on your own and conjure up a moving script of the century. You figured moving to a brand new city would get the creative juices flowing. Eventually, it did, but it took a boring circle of friends and a couple sleepless nights before you were successfully back and thriving in the industry.

You decided celebrating with an appletini or two at a shitty Karaoke bar down the block from your apartment was the best option. And thank god you did.

Carmen caught your eye the moment you detached yourself from your social circle to smoke a cigarette or two outback in the alleyway to melt the anxiety that started to consume you once you got a little tipsy for the first time in months. The tattoo on his hand and the way he crouched down on the asphalt beside Richie who complained endlessly about the complexities of his divorce was intriguing.

You butted into their conversation and lit a cigarette of your own, politely greeting them. Richie didn't say much. It's like he knew it would be Carmen's opportunity to function like a normal person and have a pleasant conversation with a random bar girl in black pantyhose and combat boots. The two of you discussed moving back to Chicago, discovering that Carmen actually grew up there and started a new life of culinary exploration and expertise, while you just needed a sense of control and escapism.

After the conversation had reduced to mundane small talk, visibly making both of you tense up, you finally got his name: Carmen Berzatto. His use of his full name was a little displacing. It made you wonder if you should've known who he was, considering his surprisingly humble background check. You couldn't help but want to know if there was more to him than his career. More than his cigarettes and his tattoos and his weird love-hate relationship with his family friend he called 'cousin' for no real particular reason.

More than the restaurant he'd been trying to revive.

That night caused him to come to the realization that he didn't actually know if there was more to him. Ever since that conversation and its rude interruption of Richie's right hook into some random guys face landing him in a cell overnight, he's been forming into a real person instead of the outer shell that is his job as a chef. He asked about your films, your projects, what made you start working in cinematography, and who your inspirations were. You answered completely honestly and wholeheartedly with every question, never making him feel a burden for his curiosity.

You could tell he was nervous with the way his voice shook and his breath went uneven with every look.

"I was kinda scared to talk to you when you came up to me," Carmen smiles, running his free hand through his dry and defined blonde curls. You squinted in disbelief.

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I–" he shrugs, leaning forward to get even closer to your again "you were cool right off the bat. You still are. Possibly a lot cooler than me."

You roll your eyes playfully, refusing to take the compliment in a fit of flattery. Constantly being humble around Carmen was kinda hard. Especially with the way he unintentionally showered you with compliments that were really just state of facts to him. But he didn't want you to be humble. He wanted you to own that shit.

"And you're beautiful. So, so beautiful. I think that scared me a little, too."

"I think I might've been more nervous than you were. I was just so determined to talk to the hot guy with tattoos and a blue apron over a slutty white t-shirt that I tried desperately to hide it," you joked, laughing harder at the sight of an eyeroll of his own.

"Yeah, well, look at us now. Married," Carmen smiles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and exposing your decorated lobe with earrings Natalie gifted you for your birthday last year. "I'm glad you stuck it out. You always do. All the time."

Carmen gushes over your ability to 'always know what to say,' when you know deep down your life is just a constant cycle of 'figuring it out' and 'going with the flow' of inevitable highs and lows of life as you go on. Your brilliance is so organic. Everything about you has always been the purest form of excellence and love to him. Even when he barely knew you.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" You bite at the inside of your cheek, your hand releasing from Carmen's so you could clasp your palms together in a pleading motion.

"Sure."

You pause, swallowing the familiar lump that hasn't formed in your throat since the first time you told him you wanted every part of him in your life.

"When..." you breathe in sharply through your nose, "did you realize, 'oh yeah, I need to spend the rest of my life with her.' Was there any specific moment?"

Almost without a second thought, Carmen answers with a blush against his cheeks and his hand grasping yours again at the loss of physical contact.

"Probably the first time we kissed."

That response surprises you more than it probably should. That night in your apartment changed his course and perspective on love and life for the rest of eternity. He learned to slow down and let himself fail and pick the pieces of his mistakes back up.

"I love you, Carmy."

"I love you."

He says it back hungrily like he needs it to be branded into the ridges of your mind. And at this rate, it might've already been stamped into your memories of him.

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @fallinallinmendes @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[onyourowndaisymae]

when belphegor falls in love

content + warnings: belphie x reader, some angst (and chapter 16 spoilers) with a fluffy end, probably some improper astronomy things going on but i'm trying my best // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.3k

the planetarium is cast in a blueish glow from the stars above-- something about the devildom skies made them twinkle in a barely-there powder blue, now recreated on the ceiling in sparkling, vivid specks of wonder.

the stage was set beautifully before you arrived. layered blankets covered a larger-than-necessary section of the floor, nested around the makeshift bed that he had already warmed up for you with a quick snooze of his own. there was a small mountain of pillows waiting for you

but that was then, and this is now. all preparations were played off as simple and easy, disregarded as insignificant now that you were wrapped up in his arms. belphie smirks as your lips press soft, sweet kisses across his cheeks and temples-- as much as he doesn't want to admit that he put in effort to make this date special, he loves basking selfishly in your praise. it's smug, he knows, but considering how much work something like this is for the avatar of sloth, shouldn't he get a little recognition?

your body is soft against his, warm and comforting like a blanket fresh from the dryer. he pulls you in a little tighter and nuzzles against the side of your hair, peppering little kisses against you just to hear that giggle he adores spill from your lips. his eyes are on you, but yours are glued to the twinkling lights on the ceiling-- lucky, seeing as he doesn't have to hide the sappy look on his face from you when your attention is divided.

"are these the same stars we have in the human realm?" you ask quietly. he nodded and finally tears his gaze away to join yours on the recreation of the starry sky above you.

"mhmm," he murmurs quietly. "that's one of the things we've always had in common-- the devildom and the human realm share the same stars."

if this had been a better night, he would have taken you out to see the stars in real life, not just come phony imitations. but the light pollution in the devildom was a bitch. the only place within a reasonable distance with a clear enough view was the demon lord's castle, but frankly, belphie had no interest in sharing your attention with lord diavolo of all demons tonight. so, albeit a bit reluctantly, he settled on the planetarium instead.

"that makes sense."

your arm lifts towards the sky and points to a constellation above. your eyes glimmer with pride in the low light, and he wonders what's going to come out of your mouth.

"that's the big dipper," you say proudly.

he laughs-- it's a little mean, judging by how confident you looked during your announcement. but you just look so cute pointing out one of the most recognizable constellations like it's a diamond in the rough. you pout a little and look at him funny.

"what? that's the big dipper."

"yeah, obviously," he retorts, that smug grin making him look mean and sweet all at once. "i'm sure even levi could point that out."

"oh yeah? then you point out a constellation, genius."

a chuckle leaves his lips. his fingers trail up your arm, teasing you, feeling the way goosebumps gather on your skin as he moves. he takes your wrist and points your finger at another cluster of stars.

"you see that w-shape over here?" his hand guides you into connecting dots across the projection. "that's cassiopeia."

his eyes flicker over to you. your gaze is no longer scorned but wide-eyed and enraptured. a swell of satisfaction warms his chest.

you've always had an interest in stargazing. it was one of the first things the two of you connected over once he left the attic. life had never been so awkward as it was then. not only did his brothers tiptoe around him, like they were waiting for him to explode into a tantrum of sorts. but now he had you to wrap his mind around: a human descendant of the sister he lost so long ago, now here and friendly with demons that should have killed you in one fell swoop.

well, it seemed like he had done enough damage for the rest of them.

he didn't deserve you. not really. he was reminded of his sins in quiet moments like this. you're babbling on about something related, some story you've been meaning to share. he thinks he hears beel's name somewhere in the story, so he nods like he's paying attention.

how he managed to win you over is something that still baffles him to this day. you should hate him. you should have spat in his face on that day, made him pay for the lies and deceit at your expense. but you didn't. you accepted him on your own terms, bridging the gap between you through his brothers. you single-handedly fixed what was broken when lilith died-- he still feels indebted to you in some way. maybe that's why he still feels some lingering guilt snuggling close to you like this. he doesn't deserve your kindness.

"you okay?"

your voice is soft, each word threaded with concern. he blinks. has he really been out of it that long?

"i'm fine," he answers, but he won't meet your gaze. he knows that you know he's lying. "really."

you intertwine your fingers with his and press a soft kiss to the back of his hand. it's quiet. no words are exchanged as you stare at each other for a moment. it's nice.

you look beautiful under these stars. belphegor is in love with you.

the realization makes his cheeks burn, and he unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you. his fingers quiver a little against your hand, but you don't seem to mind. you give him a small smile and graciously accept his snuggles without question.

he loves you so much.

it feels a little hard to breathe right now-- feeling your warmth against him makes him hotter, and suddenly he feels like retreating from your kindness and sleeping the next century away under beel's bed.

"regardless," you say, in a way that shows him you know he's acting off but won't push him any further. "whatever it is, you can always talk to me. you mean the world to me."

the heat of shame and embarrassment melt away as you embrace him. your eyes focus back up on the ceiling.

"there's the little dipper, too," you murmur. he laughs again. "what? why do you keep laughing, you big bully?"

"you look really cute when you do that. y'know, when you get excited about finding really easy constellations," he huffs quietly, nuzzling into your neck with red cheeks and a surly pout at such a cruel nickname. he feels you laugh, buzzing pleasantly against his nose, and can't help but smile a little himself.

"gross," you tease. you both laugh this time. then, quieter, you ask, "will you tell me about the constellations?"

he nods and shifts to look at the ceiling again. when belphie tells you about the stars, he doesn't just explain their names-- he brings them to life. their conception and birth are discussed in hushed voices, with him telling you stories only a fallen angel would know. they begin to feel less like twinkling objects millions of miles away but, instead, like family. these stars you've gazed up at all your life have their own stories. one day, you'll make sure belphie tells you all of them.

he decides, as he's talking, to save his confession for another time. part of him wants to lay it all out for you immediately. then again, confessing under fake stars feels sort of like a jinx, doesn't it? so he'll wait-- for real stars, for the right time, for the best way to tell you he can't live another day without you.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum

[writingsofanomnivore]

Wishing well- Oikawa Toru x Reader

fluff/angst? a bit bittersweet. this feels like a very shitty piece. might delete. based on a song I really like.

"I threw a coin in the wishing well; I thought it was free.”

Sunlight peeked through the wooden slats near the well, casting a golden glow that reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes. The gaping well beneath your fingers seemed to peer up at you, its depths reflecting the silver shine of coins that almost blinded you. You wondered who else had thrown a coin, what they wished for, or, as in your case—for whom they wished. The 500 yen coin between your thumb and finger suddenly felt so heavy, as if begging to join the others inside. So, you threw it. Let it go, like that one boy you so dearly loved.

“I wrote you a letter, baby,

Signed it from me.”

The letter sat in the book, lying lifelessly as if it did not contain the words you wished to utter to him—words you’d never said, words that required more courage than you could ever muster. You still remembered writing it a year after he was gone. It wasn’t his birthday, New Year’s, or even Valentine's Day, but you still wrote it, signing it, “from me,” knowing your ‘lovely’ handwriting was quite distinguishable.

“Yn-chan!! What is this? I cannot read a word!”

“What are you talking about, Shittykawa? I knew you were blind, but not this blind.”

“a) Rude. b) I bet you a ramen bowl that no one other than you can read your handwriting. Don’t pretend I haven't caught you squinting at your notes trying to read what italic mess you’ve conjured up.”

“Hmmph!” With a huff, you took it back, ignoring the cries of “I was just kidding, Yn-chan!!” and “Yn-chan, please!”

“I’m looking around this town,

Everything’s changed.

That old liquor store has been sold away.”

Your ‘secret bridge’ is gone. A whole road has been built atop it. The water beneath it is now solid brick. The old grandma you’d meet on your way home has moved to the city with her grandson. The cat who would purr into Oikawa’s hand looks at you every day, as if asking where that loser is. Everything’s changed—for better or worse, you’re yet to know.

“I see your reflection in every scene.

I miss your long brown hair just blowing for me.”

Peering at the glass window, you somehow saw his reflection behind you. A part of you wished to turn around, but the wiser part didn’t want to be disappointed, so you looked ahead. Wind entered through the window, and the image of brown hair flowing flashed into your mind. Fluffy brown hair blowing in the wind—it was unfair how one could be blessed with so many things. You couldn’t even be mad because, at the end of the day, it was your love who was the blessed one, and you were the only one getting to admire his beauty. So, with a sappy smile, you looked at him like you always did.

“If love was a feathered wing,

I hope you’d see,

There’s a whole wide world even if it ain’t with me.”

Though these moments are bittersweet, it feels nice to know you’ve grown up. You’re not that same 17-year-old sneaking out to meet someone your parents didn’t know about. You’re not the same 17-year-old saving money to buy Tooru charms, little bouquets, and keychains for his bag. Now you’re 21. You’ve learned how to deal with idiots, stand up for yourself and others, manage deadlines at work, and made new friends. A journey everyone makes, and just like that, you hope he is doing the same. Learning, experiencing the little joys of life, the hardships, and battling each one with grace. Though a part of you wished you could be by his side when he plays his first match in university to cheer him, to be part of the audience when his serve hits the opponent's court—you’re glad he can experience these moments.

“So long to the summer.

You were always my friend.

So long to my lover.

You were there till the end.”

And now summer’s almost gone, marking the third year without you, friend, lover. The sunlight slowly fades as the sun begins to set, making the park chilly. Walking out of the park, you knew this wishing well would not bring him back into your arms, but maybe, just maybe, you will keep wishing.

[eliza-styx]

Ghost x Soap fics masterpost

It’s been crazy five weeks since I returned to writing fanfiction at full speed so I figured it’s time to highlight all the ghoap fics I wrote so far, in case anyone is interested in checking out my work. The fandom is really lively and so many fics are written for the ship that it gets lost in the sauce quite fast but I figure some of these are still bangers you may wanna consider reading!

1. Heart of Stone, Simon Riley A fluffy take on what could have happened in-between missions, it’s just tooth-rotting fest of cuteness with minor hurt/comfort elements

2. Simon and the Ghost

First fic I wrote for this fandom, a take on Simon vs Ghost internal conflict and his so totally mysterious feelings for Soap, a little sappy, a little humorous

3. Pillow Talk

Ghost’s survivors guilt gives him nightmares but Soap is there to hold him through it, a notch angsty, hurt/comfort, pre-slash

4. Hopeless Christmas Interventions

Soap impulsively invites Ghost to his parents’ house for Christmas and his parents treat him as if he was Soap’s boyfriend, which he totally, absolutely is not; it’s pure, unfiltered Christmas fluff and Soap’s parents are the parents we all deserve

5. Simon and the Soap

This is a nsfw sequel to Simon and the Ghost, they are switches in this one because why the heck not, pretty sappy for pwp

6. His Healing Touch

The angstiest take on Ghost’s trauma I’ve commited so far, mostly focuses on his sexual trauma and the trust between him and Soap that lets him reconnect with that side of himself, nsfw, bottom!Ghost, top!Soap, turns quite sappy and romantic

7. Dabloon For Your Thoughts

This is a crack!fic that people didn’t trust to read lol It’s fluffy, it’s cute and it’s not as ooc as you may think, it’s just them falling in love during a very unrealistic journey, based on a tiktok prompt

8. Chodź (Pocałuj Mnie)

The first ghoap fic to be posted on ao3 in Polish, it’s sweet and erotic (and someone said it reads well even through google translate)

9. Between Soft Strands A fluffy little thing about Ghost being obsessed with Soap’s hair and yearning to touch it, soft with just a dash of teasing

10. Don’t Tell Him It’s Me A loosely defined romcom au wherein Ghost and Soap sort of date before they meet on the mission but Soap does not recognize his “boyfriend” behind the skull mask

11. Overgrowth

Cute silly fic inspired by bearded Soap craze on Twitter, Ghost just has a thing for Soap’s beard

12. My Heart At Home

A collab with MizuShiba, companion piece for their stunning fanart!

13. Sweet

Just Soap and Ghost being sweet and vulnerable, slow dancing at night

14. Cat Dad

141 have a kitten now and it basically thinks Ghost is its mommy

15. Blowing Off Steam

Rated E, PWP with a sappy ending, sparring match gone sexual

16. The Sweetest Flower Wild Nature Yields

Flowershop AU

17. Trapped By You

Rated E, porn with a bit of plot

18. Rutting For You

Rated E, untraditional a/b/o, alpha x alpha, porn with a hint of plot, may have a sequel at some point

19. Slipping Up (co-written with Starry)

hurt/comfort, tw: for drinking as a coping mechanism

20. The Maskmaker

pure fluff, written for MW2 fic/art exchange

21. The Heart At Fault

angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, tw character injury

22. Retraced

Rated E, porn with feelings, body imagine issues

23.Tenderly

Rated E, porn with feelings, ftm trans Soap

[fallen-gabrielle]

I have a hurt/comfort AU/fic for KND where Father becomes amnesiac. Not decommissioned, just amnesiac.

The story starts with a fight between Nigel and Father, and it escalated quickly where Nigel accidentally hurts Ben too hard to the point he almost died. Nigel called an ambulance because even if he hates his uncle, there is a line he won’t cross (can’t say the same for Ben but that’s why he’s a villain). Anyway, Nigel warns his dad about it (Monty and his wife are recommissioned in this AU for giving expositions and maximum angst). Nigel see that Monty is super protective of his brother and worries a lot about him and Nigel feels bad about the situation. Ben is in a coma for a few days.

During that time, Monty takes the DC under his custody because yes, the social services can still be dicks. And that my headcanon about the uno bros and the social services is always the main backstory for them in my stories/AUs. At first, the DC fucking hate Nigel for almost killing Father and living under the same roof is not easy for either of them. Nigel’s parents do appease the tensions though.

Once Ben wakes up, he’s got amnesia from the physical trauma. But he didn’t just forget a few things, no no, he forgets pretty much his whole life: he ‘s back when he was around 8 years old, when Grandfather was still in power. So before the Kids Next Door nor the social services dramas. Idk, he has a lot of issues, his subconscious brought him back during a time when he was feeling slightly fine, and that meant when he was with Monty. So of course when Monty learns about that, he gets the most brilliant dumb idea… to lie to Ben. He’s going to pretend that they were never separated by the social services and that the original KND operatives didn’t treat him like dirt (both are the reason Ben became evil in my headcanon). Everyone else was just sitting like ‘that’s a bad idea’, especially the DC because they know their father well, and he doesn’t like when people lie to him. But since the doctors said it could be dangerous to force Ben to remember everything at once, the family accepts to lie to him for the time being.

So Ben goes live with his brother too, the whole family is reunited. Ben learns to know his children and it’s super cute, fluffy, and sappy. They are of course kinda afraid of him but this Ben is actually very nice. After some time, the DC actually prefer their father like this. They also start to hate Nigel less cuz they have a better dad now. Nigel realizes that Ben was indeed a different person before becoming Father. At this point, Monty already told Nigel about all the angsty stuff that happened, so Nigel starts to have genuine sympathy for Ben. The whole family spends quality time together, it’s nice, Monty is happy to see Ben happy.

Of course the KND are aware of Father’s condition and asked Nigel to watch over him to find the right moment to send him to the artic prison, but after a while, Nigel isn’t on board with it anymore. While he does want to send Father to the artic prison, he just doesn’t want to do when Ben is in this state. Ben still needs medical attention cuz his physical trauma was kinda severe, and it would be too easy to trap Father when he’s powerless (amnesiac!ben means he’s also unaware he has powers). Nigel learned to know his uncle better and doesn’t want the knd to give him a second reason to hate them. Nigel wants to avoid the original drama that solidified Father’s hatred for the knd. The organization pressures Nigel to choose his side, even his friends of Sector V start to look down a little on him for sympathizing with their worst enemy.

And since it’s me we’re talking about, there will be a moment where everything turns into shit eventually. But honestly, I haven’t really thought about the actual ending of it. Ben does start to remember everything: the feeling of betrayal and abandonment from his brother, the social services and the knd in general, and of course, that it was Nigel who put him in this state (even though it was really an accident). He gets his powers back but doesn’t control them well (doesn’t remember much on how to control them, plus the emotional and psychological pain messes with it). Nigel tries to reason with him, and has to explain the whole truth cuz Ben was not doing well about the feeling that everyone just straight up lied to him. It kinda works, but the knd show up, ready to capture Ben. Nigel is exasperated by their actions cuz he was trying to prevent his uncle from becoming Father all over again. Ben was confused as to what to think about his nephew after he revealed everything but Ben still chooses to protect Nigel from the knd and that where the story ends.

There’s a lot of super sweet moments in this story between the characters, but also some angsty ones. Monty gives Nigel the cold shoulder at the beginning but then apologize to his son for exemple. I just wanted a story where Monty and Ben could be happy together and stuff. Nigel learns that not everything is black and white and there’s nuances everywhere, the DC get to be actual kids and have fun with their father, playing games and whatever. Ben being in general wholesome is always one of my favorite prompts.

[brandileigh2003]

Masterpost: Here's my fics, and recs

Silence between us a soft wolfstar falling in love, features Sirius dealing with anxiety, and remus who is deaf and has an adorable service dog. (Complete, 30k)

Silence between us universe: can stand alone, but will have some spoilers for main fic. collection of one shots, more to be added. Silence within remus' pov of silence between us, Signs Between Us, Where the Silence Began

---All completed unless marked, no particular order---

Collapsing: 1st war divergent wip, accident leaves Remus severely injured. (17k now complete)

A New Chapter (26k) follows trans remus from Hogwarts through divergent end of the war, studying how lycanthropy and disability affects his life and relationships

Inevitable When you finally fall in love, you never expect that you'll have to lose them way too soon. Cancer fic with MCD. Ending did help me heal some from heartbreak though. (8k)

A Matter of Loyalty (13k) 1st war divergent fic, dual pov, angst, check tags, now completed

DN(R): lie low at lupins, canon divergent. Remus explains what led him to get a "DNR" tattoo (3k)

Identically pining Hogwarts era 1 shot. mutual wolfstar pining, identical twins sirius and regulus where Reg decides to help get them together. Remus is disabled. (6k)

I've got you: hurt/comfort sickfics (56k)

Other Side of the Screen: sirius falls for remus' voice, even more as they become online friends. But there's still a lot they don't know about each other. (3k)

Memories of you: Exploration of Sirius' grief in two parts. (7k)

Through the Years: older wolfstar. Married with grandkids (2k)

Parks and Playdates: Remus didn't imagine joining a playgroup would bring so much joy into his life (4k)

I don't wanna be anything other than me trans fest fic: Lily and remus friendship, remus transitioning at school, pining Remus (4k)

Tears of Blood: mcd, 1 shot, historical fic exploring Spanish influenza (3k)

Hearts finally in sync: divergent lie low at lupin's (3k)

House of cards: 1st wizarding war wolfstar internal thoughts (3k)

Bad practices: remus is spiraling bc of his past and Sirius helps him work through it (make sure to check tags) (2k)

It all comes back around: centering around two run-ins with boggarts (5k)

An unlikely place to fall in love: au/modern 1 shot: both chronically ill and meet in the hospital (2k)

The truth sets no one free: Sirius was given a trial and gets his freedom but it's at a steep cost. One that he'd rather not pay.

I would do it again: fluffy and sappy wolfstar

Guarding remus au/modern 1 shot high school colorguard fic, Sirius pov, ft trans remus (7k)

In Every Universe: series of unrelated one shots for FFF. Updates when inspired by prompt.

Song Interrupted siren Sirius who wants a way to not have to kill to live. (4k)

A matter of choice sirius turns to alcohol after a bad mission and he's questioning choices and love (1k)

On sinking ships (you showed up just in time): Titanic dorlene fic with no mcd (14k)

How to find me: i'm on tiktok. I have Twitter and youtube under same screen name but I don't do anything over there.

--Here's a list of some fics I recommend: I add to it sometimes. Enjoy!!

Recs: Part 2, 1 shots, trans remus recs, fluff recs, wip version, part of my to-reread list, re-read 3rd time, jegulus, chronic illness/disability/deaf/blind, autism, mcd,

[dalmascan-requiem]

Tempestuous Rubato: Sake

-------

A well-earned respite, and feelings that needed to be said.

-------

Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: alcohol and drunkenness

------

IRL it is a stressful ass month for me, so I wanted to take a break from the drama and angst of Resistance to have a fluffy sappy moment with the boys. :)

"The sake… is good."

Kris tries unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. The statement was simple enough–but seeing as Laurent bobbed his head, seemingly unable to keep it upright as he regarded him, it was easy to tell the man was undeniably drunk.

"It is quite good, my love. And perhaps a little strong…" Kris couldn't deny that his own head felt a bit fuzzy from the alcohol. He always had a high tolerance, but it had been years–decades, even–since he could last indulge. Perhaps an occasional drink here or there, but… after Ishgard…

Kris shook away the dark thought. That was in the past–a lot of things were in the past, but all that mattered was now. Bozja had been successful in their rebellion, and Dalmasca would soon follow. Even more important, though, was that they were together again. Maybe that's the source of my giddiness rather than the sake.

Though he couldn't help to admit the sake was easy to drink, maybe too easy. Before he realized it, they'd gotten through two bottles, and the waitresses almost tempted him into buying a third. They sure know what they're doing. No doubt they're used to lightening heavy coinpurses–

Kris's thoughts are interrupted when he hears a mumble and notices Laurent staring at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you…"

"Your cheeks. They're red. It's cute." Laurent leans forward to poke one of his cheeks, but jabs rather suddenly (and painfully) into Kris's chest instead.

Ow! Gods, how is he still this strong while this drunk… Kris gives a strained smile as he grabs Laurent's hand, interlocking their fingers in an attempt to stop any future jabs. "My love, perhaps… we should head back to the inn for the evening."

"The inn? Why–oh, the inn. Of course. I understand." Laurent gives Kris a side glance that tells him that he is very much misunderstanding the situation. "Yes, let's get back to the inn. To relax."

"...That isn't what I–" Oh, forget it, whatever gets Reyna into the room and asleep. "...Yeah. Sure. Let's get back then. Can you walk?"

***

"This is nice."

"Is it now?" Kris looks down inquisitively at the Viera he was carrying. "You like being carried because you drank too much and now you can't walk?"

"Hm." Laurent is silent for a moment before responding. "Yes! I feel safe. You've gotten so strong! And you're warm."

Kris chuckles. "Well, it is a bit chilly tonight. Worry not, though, we're close to the inn."

Laurent nods, and silence falls over them once again. It doesn't take long for Kris to notice something was off, however. "What's wrong, my love?"

"I… I just… missed you."

Oh… Kris frowns slightly. "I'm so sorry–"

"No! No, I don't need–don't want you to apologize." Laurent leans his head against Kris's chest. "I missed you, but I'm happy now. That we can have this."

Laurent huffs lightly before continuing. "I could never be truly mad at you, anyway. Not forever. Everything you went through… I can't say I wouldn't have done the same. I'd do nearly anything to protect you, Eir. Even now. Especially now."

Kris sighs and gives Laurent a light squeeze. "You've sacrificed enough for me, Reyna."

"They weren't sacrifices. Not if they meant waking up next to you."

"You're quite the romantic when you're drunk, aren't you?"

"I'm not drunk–"

"Oh? Should I put you down so you can walk the rest of the way?" Kris smiles down at Laurent, who crosses his arms in a huff, not responding. Undeniably romantic… and adorable. Alcohol always shows people who you really are… 

After a moment, Kris gently kisses Laurent's forehead. "Thank you, Reyna, for everything. You… you mean the world to me." He gives a warm smile before looking up "

"Now then… I do need you to walk a bit. I may be strong, but I can't carry you up the inn's stairs."

Laurent chuckles, a playful look crossing his features. "Oh, of course, can't use all of your energy before we… relax, right?"

…He won't stop with this, will he…

***

Kris opens his eyes when he hears a slight groan at his side. With a soft laugh, he turns and wraps Laurent in his arms. "Good morning, my love. How are you feeling?"

Laurent is silent for a moment before responding in a miserable tone. "I'm dizzy. I suppose I've felt worse, though."

"Well, you did drink a lot of sake, Reyna. I'd be more concerned if you woke up feeling fine."

"Mm." Laurent is still for a moment, then starts fidgeting under the blanket. "...Where are my clothes?"

"Ah, you… you very much wanted to take them off last night. Said you were hot. Or I made you hot. Something like that."

"That sounds like something you'd say, Eir."

"Do I really sound like that?" Laurent didn't respond, which spoke volumes. Maybe I should tone it down… "W-well, you're the one missing your clothes, Reyna. But, should you like to retrieve them from around the room, I can fetch something to make you feel–"

"Wait." Laurent grabs one of Kris's hands before he leaves the bed. "...Can we just… stay like this for a few moments longer?"

Kris smiles and settles back into bed. "Of course, my love. Anything for you."

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

How I like my fanfics

Heterosexual: ❌

Gay as hell: ✅

Both parts being a horny mess who love each other for their looks and hotness: ❌

Romance, fluff: ✅❤️✅

A little angst: ✅

A lot of angst: ✅

A little smut: ✅

A lot of smut: ❌

Consent: ✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅

Poetic descriptions, sappy analogues, romance and fluff all over: ❤️

Them confessing their undying love with a kiss: ❌

Them confessing their undying love in a cute, romantic way, THEN asking for consent, out loud or by checking body language, THEN a cute and fluffy lil kiss: ✅❤️

Use of words such as d!ck and c0ck: ❌❌❌❌❌

Detailed descriptions of sex: ❌❌❌❌❌

Them having sex: ❌

Them making love: ✅❤️❤️

Descriptions of their feelings in the moment and their thoughts and cute lil moments, rather than descriptions of they’re actions and the sex itself: ❤️❤️❤️

Slowburn: ✅

Enemies to lovers: ✅

Side ships (queer af ofc): ✅

Friendship OTP’s involved: ✅

THE LONGEST FIC IMAGINABLE: ❌

A really long fic: ✅

[areiton]

permanent markers - irondad

Happy birthday, Tony Stark!! Here, have fic. 

Read on AO3

~*~ 

It’s the memorials, that triggers it. 

Everywhere he goes, there’s the faceplate, Iron Man staring back at him, and it’s as painful as it is comforting. Karen doesn’t even ask about the spike in his heartbeat, when he swings past the familiar red and gold graffiti. 

Sometimes, when he’s staring at a new memorial that’s sprung up, he wonders why it’s always the faceplate. 

Why it’s never, never the arc reactor. 

He thinks maybe it’s because Iron Man belonged to the world, and the arc reactor--that was easy to overlook in the face of the armor, and the imposing mask. 

But that’s always been how the world treated Tony--the man was overlooked for the masks he wore. 

The thing about the memorials is--they’re so temporal. Most are flowers scattered around the city, candles burning near street art. They last, a few days, before they’re cleared away, scrubbed down, removed. 

There’s the memorial in Central Park, and at the foot of the Tower--the one to Mr. Stark and Cap and Natasha. 

But the ones from the people, the ones that he sees, that haunt him--those never last. 

And he wants something that lasts. 

~*~ 

Johnny, it turns out, knows a guy. 

Not a guy that can make it work, but that can do the basics, no questions asked. 

Peter spends a week solid in the lab, trusts that Johnny will keep an eye on Queens, and when he emerges, he’s trembling, and giddy and there’s four new memorials up, scattered through the city as he swings through. He wonders how long they’ll last this time. 

When it first happened--the months right after the Return, when he could barely breathe through the giddy relief of living and the bone crushing grief--there had been new memorials almost every hour. The city was a constantly changing canvas, and Iron Man--Iron Man stared back, grim and impassive and beloved. 

Now--almost two years after the Return, after the world has pulled itself back together and healed--they come less frequently. 

Still. 

People haven’t forgotten. 

Even when the memorials are wiped away--people haven’t forgotten. 

~*~ 

“Can you use this?” he asks, and places the vials down on the table, tiny clinks of glass on mental. Johnny makes a quiet, curious noise, and the guy peers at Peter. 

“Sure, kid,” he says, a smirk turning up his lips. 

Peter smiles, and leans back against the chair, his wrist tilted up and bare. 

When the needle bites into his skin, he exhales, and some of the tension in his belly goes loose and sweet and confident. 

~*~ 

“Why not the faceplate?” Johnny asks, later. They’re eating hotdogs and walking through the streets and his wrist throbs, a faint ache that reminds him it’s real. It’s permanent. 

“Because Mr. Stark wasn’t just his mask,” Peter says and Johnny frowns at him. 

Peter smiles, leans over and kisses him quick and easy, and says, “Will you finish patrolling this week?” 

Johnny makes a face, but catches his hand. “Yeah, babe. Whatever you need.” 

~*~ 

The drive used to bother him. It’s two hours north of the Compound, a good three hours outside the city, and it used to grate, every long moment of dread and anticipation. Now--now it’s familiar, almost soothing, and he settles, deeper into his own skin, the further he drives. 

It’s dark, when he finally pulls up to the lakeside cabin. Gerald blinks at him from his little lean-to, and the lights glow, a faint warm welcome. 

“You’re late,” a familiar voice calls and his heart does that thing, the same one it does when he sees those memorials scattered through the city. 

A tumble, a lurch of remembered grief and fear, cascading into bright hot relief and joy. 

Because this is the truth--there are memorials and monuments for a man who died to save the world. 

And the truth is this--he didn’t.

Against all odds--he lived. 

Tony Stark lived. Iron Man--Iron Man died. 

Peter thinks he can live with that, even if the rest of the world still mourns. 

“You waitin’ up for me, old man?” Peter teases and Mr. Stark laughs, a faint huff in the darkness. He comes closer and smiles at Mr. Stark. “Happy birthday, Mr. Stark.”  

“You haven’t been patrolling,” he says, instead of denying what they both know to be true, or addressing the reason for this weekend’s visit. 

“Was working on a project,” Peter says, and rubs a finger over his wrist. 

Mr. Stark waits, and Peter comes across the porch, sitting next to him and presenting his arm, wrist bare and visible. 

He’s close enough that he can feel the hitch in Mr. Stark’s breathing. He’s close enough that Tony doesn’t try to hide it. 

“Kid,” he breathes. 

It’s simple. Delicate lines in arc reactor blue, shaping the heart of him. And scrawled, messy but distinct, that familiar handwriting that Peter adores-- 

Be Better. 

“They still put up your faceplate, in the city,” he says. “And then they’re gone--memorials wiped away like dust.” 

Tony’s arm comes around him and even though he’s too old for this, he burrows into him. His words press against Tony’s side. “You’re not just the mask the world sees, Mr. Stark. And no one can wipe this away.” 

He knows. He’s been trying for days, and each time it doesn’t smudge or fade, relief sings in his veins. 

A metal finger brushes over his skin now, hard enough that it hurts, a little, but the ink stays put. 

“How?” 

“Synthesized a special ink. Gave myself a low dose of that virus that knocked Bucky on his ass last summer, the one they found in Zemo’s place?” Peter shrugs. 

Mr. Stark isn’t breathing. “You deliberately infected yourself and then permanently modified your body?” he says, his voice very precise. 

Peter blinks at him. 

“Jesus christ, Pete.” 

“Tony, you literally put experimental tech in your chest. And Extremis, ok, that was pretty body altering,” he says. “And Steve--”

“Why am I being brought into this?” Steve asks from the doorway and Peter grins at him. 

“No more tattoos,” Tony says, decisively. 

“Maybe one more,” Peter says. “For May.” 

Tony’s eyes soften, and he squeezes Peter close, and Peter leans against him, the soft blue glow of the arc reactor lighting the corner of the porch, settling him in his skin, reminding him--he’s home. 

[an-organized-confusion]

Just posted the platonic GymRat!Logince fic, “more than ever, hour (work is never over)“...

Brain is not letting go of image of Roman literally chilling out in the locker room with Logan. (Because he was being reckless again.)

Hhhh- I’ve not been in Artist Mode lately (My Creativities be like “WRITE. WRITE MORE.”). But it’s probably on the giant Art To Do List pile.

Now just have a Janus-centric POV drabble left to complete the first set.

Have other ideas for this AU after that, but wanna get back to work on the iZ!AU again. :Ic

[octo-hyacinth]

Ah ah! Your writing is to die for I loved the 'Pomefiore's Reaction to Receiving a Flower' and I was wondering if you could do Riddle,Ace,Azul and Rook reaction to you giving them a stuffed animal/plushie♡ I just think their reactions would be neat<3

OOH ABSOLUTELY. This has fantastic potential i can smeel it >:3

anyway i love this ask, enjoy~

~~~~~

TWST Boys Being Gifted a Plushie

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt Content Warnings: Fluff, slightest bit of angst(?) (just a smidge), Rook possibly sounding ooc (POSSIBLY) A/N: I wanna smack Ace sometimes. Also my first time seriously analyzing Riddle's personality.

Riddle Rosehearts

He would be stunned into silence for real.

He'd never had one of these as a child, and by the time he was in NRC and could technically have one without his mother confiscating it, he'd grown out of them, and saw no point in them anyway

But you got him a little bear with a red bow around its neck... and he was immediately attached to it, even though he didn't show it

It's... so fluffy?? And he could keep this in his room, with no judgement???

It's definitely big enough for him to hug at night when he's feeling lonely and missing you

Sometimes he'll talk to it at night, saying the things he wishes he could say to you but can't.

To your face, he could only be formal and reserved, but to the bear he could spill his true thoughts and feelings about you

Maybe one day, he could tell you what he wants to say, and finally break down the wall of his own making.

Ace Trappola

Immediately gives you a smug grin once you hand him the stuffed fox

"Ooh, what's this, Prefect? Don't tell me you're getting soft for me?"

He shuts up after you whack him on the arm

He keeps it in his bag for the rest of the school day, but once he gets back to his dorm, he gently sets it on his bed, and decides to name it after you.

It sits next to his pillow as he sleeps at night, and lets him have a bit of comfort, almost like you're there with him

He never speaks a word of that, though. He'd never admit he loves it as much as he does.

This gift you've given him only makes him like you even more. Maybe if you think about him enough to give him a sappy stuffed animal, he should be showing his affection for you even more.

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course, you had to give him a lil octopus plushie! One of those flippable ones, too, with different colors and expressions on each side :)

He immediately goes entirely red, right up to his ears, but he’s desperately trying to stay cool and refined. He’s trying so hard. So don’t tease him too much, he might actually explode.

“Ah, I-I see, how thoughtful of you. You have my gratitude.”

And then he retreats to his office to silent-scream.

You got him an octopus?? This little guy??? Was for him???? Does this mean that you really like octopi?? But not him, right? Unless-

Man, his thoughts spiral so damn fast, you have to reassure him that you do indeed like him, and that there’s no reason to think otherwise <3

He keeps the little guy perched on his desk, and often flips it inside out and back whenever he’s exhausted or needs a break, just to give him something to focus on

He really loves it, though. He’d never admit it to your face, but Floyd has slammed the door open (without knocking) and found Azul just, gently holding or admiring the little octopus way too many times. Floyd may or may not have been bribed to keep his mouth shut about something he may or may not have witnessed, so don’t ask. (Or do, you can probably get whatever info you want from Floyd if you play your cards right.) But it always reminds Azul of you, and he treasures that. He’d much rather be holding you, but for now, this must suffice.

Rook Hunt

Rook is absolutely delighted you bestowed upon him such a thoughtful present!

He took the little stuffed leopard and immediately gave it a big hug, and his eyes just lit up when you told him that the leopard, being such a good hunter, reminded you of him.

“Merci, ma chérie! I truly do love this with all my heart.”

It gets a special place on a shelf in his room, where all his most prized possessions and trophies go.

And that leopard is the centerpiece.

And as a hunter, he now wishes to retrieve a trophy for you to treasure, as much as he treasures this.

[itsactuallywhitewolf]

OkAy so i just read your thing for dating steven grant and oh my fucking gOD I LOVED IT SO MUCH. I have a request please may you at some point in the future make a fic out of it just disgustingly fluffy possibly with Marc if u fancy it cos i feel like he’s absolutely a totally soppy sappy softie under that angsty boi act! (If you’re not vibing that request no worries at all! Just wanted to say i really like your work!🥰)

Hold Me

Gif Credit

A/N: Hiii, thank you so much, I'm really glad you like the Steven headcanons, I really appreciate it 🥰💕 And yes totally, Marc is such a big softy and all I wanna do is cuddle him! I will definitely write more with in the future, but right now, and given the episode yesterday, I got inspired to write this piece, which is maybe not soo fluffy but it's still very cute! I know it's pretty angsty but I still hope you'll like this one too!

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!Reader

Word Count: 916

Warnings: ANGST, spoilers for episode 5, mentions of death, big mommy issues, fluff at the end✨️

When Marc got the call from his dad, he didn't know what to say. The phone in his hand, the line silent, him at a loss for words, empty at the news. His mother died. And he didn't know what to think, didn't know what to feel. He only knew that there was some relief, but also excruciating pain.

After he got off the call, and his dad's reassuring words had already slipped away from his empty mind, he sat on the ground, back resting against a bookshelf, and stared at the wooden floor. The memories would come and go, one more sorrowful than the other, his heart aching, breaking and cracking open a little more with each of them.

When it was already dark outside, and his bare feet were almost frozen from sitting on the floor, he slowly got up, barely able to hold himself up, and stared into empty space. Crestfallen, he stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do next. It was the quiet hum of the fishtank filter that eventually pulled him back, his eyes now on the goldfish. And that's when it occurred to him. He couldn't let Steven know. Steven, who thinks the number he's calling is his mom's. Steven, who thinks the apartment in which he's living is his mom's. Steven, who was too innocent and pure to know of the death of his mom. Marc knew it would be too much for him, knew it would break him, if not more than himself. And while his mind was racing with thoughts, how he could spare Steven from finding out, grief, pain and fear, something inside him stirred. A thought, an instinct, a longing to get to you. To be in your arms, knowing you'd take care of him, because he knows he can't look out for himself. Not tonight. Because he knew he would do something he'd regret later.

So he got out of the house, trying to get to you as fast as possible, his clothes getting soaked by the rain that was pouring outside, rain that hid the tears that once again fell from his eyes.

And when you opened your door you found him crying in front of you. Stepping forward, he fell into your arms, sobbing on your shoulder, his tears staining your shirt. You were taken aback, putting your arms around him, confused. You didn't know what happened. You'd never seen him like this. And doing so broke your heart. The way he gripped onto you, almost as if he feared you'd slip away at any moment. The only thing you knew was that whatever made him ache like this, made you ache as well.

But you didn't ask. You never did. If Marc didn't tell you, you wouldn't question any further, that's how you both worked. And this time was no different. You slowly rubbed his back, quietly shushing to calm him down. He eventually stopped sobbing, only silent tears left rolling down his face.

You slowly pulled back and watched his gloomy face, his eyes reddened from crying. Giving him a sympathetic smile, you put your hand up to hold the side of his face, trying to make him look at you. But Marc's gaze was set on the floor, shoulders slouched, his expression bleak. Your thumb stroked his cheek softly, your other hand moving up to put away a wet strand of hair in his face. Him being like this killed you inside, making you want nothing more than to care for him, take away whatever pain he had and make him happy again.

You shortly let go of him and closed the front door, which stood open the whole time and had let the cold in. Turning back to Marc, you kissed his forehead and held his hand, pulling him with you to the living room. "Come on, let's sit down," you said softly. He sighed, as if to get himself together, and quietly followed you into the dim room, sitting next to you on the fluffy couch, still holding your hand. And when he finally looked up, seeing your caring eyes, your sympathetic smile, that's when he felt the hot tears gather in his eyes again, another sob leaving his mouth.

You immediately pulled him to your arms, your heart wrenching at him crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's alright, I'm here for you," you shushed. "Come on, lie down a bit. Put your head on my lap."

He was still crying when he lay down, his face drenched in tears. You gently wiped them away, your other hand in his hair, stroking his head, trying to get his sorrows away.

"It just... it hurts so much," Marc spoke quietly, voice quavering. "I know," you whispered in response, pulling his hand up to kiss his knuckles. "It's okay. You can cry, I'm here for you."

And so you sat there, Marc lying down, his head in your lap, his tears rolling quietly down his face until he eventually fell asleep from exhaustion. But you held him, still, pulled the blanket that was on the other end of the sofa over him, keeping him warm, gently stroking his hair. You watched his expression soften in his sleep, softly tracing his little worry lines , leaning down to kiss his forehead, until you, too, got tired and leaned back, sleep overtaking you. But you knew that you'd be there for him when he woke up. And Marc knew too.

My request are still open if you want me to write anything for you!✨️