#With little explanation of the kind of hat

[ohblimeygeorge]

I saw an anon ask to @russilton about pregnant George learning to crochet and this just instantly came to me and I had to get it down.

I’ve never written gewis before so this was fun!

✨✨✨

George is nothing if not an over thinker. Lewis knows that much.

So it’s not a total surprise to find an empty spot next to him in bed at 2:36am.

George does this sometimes, when his mind is working overtime and he has so many thoughts going through his brain that he finds himself getting restless and feeling smothered by the rumpled bedsheets and another warm body snoring next to him, so takes himself off to make a cuppa in the kitchen where he can take a moment to breathe and focus his mind into the night sky past the kitchen window and on the life still bustling about below. He’ll spend half an hour or so there before feeling calmer and able to slip back in beside Lewis, no longer feeling overwhelmed and instead snuggling back under Lewis’ arm to cuddle in close. Lewis panicked the first few times it happened, demanding to know what was wrong and wanting to help but now he realises that sometimes George just needs that space and he’ll come back when he’s ready.

So he dozes off again, fully expecting the next time he wakes to find his missing boyfriend back where belongs.

It’s 4:24am and George is still missing.

This starts setting alarms bells ringing in Lewis’ head because this is unusual. It’s been almost 2 hours and he’s still not come back. Lewis knows George has been doing his disappearing act a little more lately, knows the kind of thoughts he’s having and knows now more than ever George has been feeling especially claustrophobic when he gets like this.. but Lewis can’t help but worry. Even if George waves him off to go back to bed, he needs to find him.

So he shoves his slippers on and stumbles into the kitchen, expecting to find him there sipping on his camomile tea, sleep creases on his face, hair wild. But he’s not.

He checks the living room - not there. Bathroom? George has been known to spend quite a bit of time in there as of late so it’s not unreasonable Lewis thinks. Not in there either.

Then he realises there’s only one room really left to check.

Walking back down the hall, he notices the door slightly ajar so knows he’s right. Pushing it open more, he’s immediately hit with the soft glow of the lamp on the dresser and the comfy armchair in the corner is filled with George’s lanky limbs and rounded belly. And he’s - knitting?

“George?”

Jumping at the voice, George looks up and freezes mid stitch, cheeks blushing red at being caught. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Lewis replies dumbly, moving into the room and leaning up against the changing table. “You’ve been gone ages.”

“Oh, sorry..” George apologises, just now spotting what the time is by the clock on the dresser, “lost track of time.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Ok… why are you knitting at four in the morning?”

With an exasperated sigh, George lays his craft on his belly, “it’s not knitting, Lew, I’ve told you, it’s crochet.” He explains, as if Lewis is the dumbest guy ever to not know the difference no matter how many times George has told him now, “and I just thought I should carry on making some cute things for her.”

After not being allowed to race anymore, George had to find something else to occupy his time. Lewis genuinely thought he’d just stay at the pit wall or hang around the garage, not being able to stay away but no. He went into full on nesting mode and decided he wanted to learn a new hobby that would benefit the baby so crochet it was. He was actually pretty good - although Lewis knew George was great at anything he put his mind to - and had already made a few hats and a blanket for her and made Lewis a scarf which he wore at the very next race, showing off George’s accomplishments.

“Right…” Lewis is still confused at the explanation but thinks there’s a little something more to it. “And you thought this time of morning was the ideal time to start?”

“Mhm.”

Lewis watches him for a moment, his concentration fixed as he methodically follows the YouTube tutorial which he’s only just now noticed George has up on his phone perched on the arm. It’s suppose to be a cardigan apparently, looks like it’ll turn out super cute with the colour matching the already made blanket and Lewis would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine how adorable their daughter would look in it. But so far George had only made the back and half an arm so there was still some way to go. He’s impressed with how good it looks already. He watches him a little while longer, noting the characteristic crease between his brows and knows he’s trying his hardest to quiet his brain. Bending down to be level with him and earning a quiet snort from George as his knees creak with the effort, Lewis places his hand on George’s knee, gaining his full attention once more. “Babe, talk to me.”

He doesn’t expect it, but George suddenly tears up and it’s like once he’s started, he can’t stop. Startled, Lewis pauses his video for him and gently takes the half made cardigan and crochet hooks out of George’s hands and places it down on the floor carefully before pulling him in for a hug. He lets George cry it out before he feels ready to talk, running a soothing hand up and down his back, letting his nails lightly scratch at the same time the way he knows George likes. It’s a little awkward of an angle especially with the bump but Lewis doesn’t care. “Talk to me.” He repeats softly.

Letting out a choked breath as he stems his tears, George sits back and places his hands around his bump protectively, rubbing his thumbs on the skin where he can feel her wiggling about. “I just.. I just want things to go right.”

“What do you mean?” Lewis asks

“Well, like, what if something goes wrong with the birth? What if I do something wrong and it hurts her? I haven’t even packed a bag yet and there’s only a few weeks left to go and there’s so much to do in here still! And what if when she is here we don’t know what to do with her? Like how will we know what her cries mean? Or what time to put her to bed and wake her up? How will we know when to start helping her to roll over or crawl or walk? Or what if she doesn’t like us? Doesn’t like me?” He finished his ramble with a big stuttering inhale, blue eyes wide and watery.

Lewis knew George was a pretty emotional person anyway but pregnancy hormones had amplified that. So he knew not to react unkindly despite how silly some of the things he was worried over sounded. “George, babe, listen to me okay? You have nothing to be worried about. The bag thing, we’ll sort tomorrow yeah? Get it sorted, no problem. The room can wait because she’ll be sleeping in with us for at least the next 6 months anyway.” He soothed, “You won’t do anything to hurt her because I know you would do anything to make sure she’s safe. And no parent knows what they’re doing first time round yeah? It’s all learning and trial and error and learning what works for us as a family. And things like walking, we really don’t need to worry about that just yet.” He chuckled, “and of course she’ll like you. She’ll adore you. Just like I do.”

George just gave a pathetic little sniffle as he listened to what his boyfriend had to say. “I’m sorry for being so stupid.” He mumbled, looking down at his hands still rubbing patterns on his skin.

Lewis looked personally offended at that and placed his hands on George’s cheeks getting him to focus fully on him. “Don’t ever apologise for being worried ok? And you are not stupid. This whole becoming a parent thing is really scary for me too, so I’m right there with you but all we need to focus on is not things going right but just doing this together and loving her. That’s all we can do and the rest will follow, yeah?”

George nodded as best he could with his face being held in the protective grip of Lewis.

Feeling satisfied that he understood, Lewis let go and bent down to pick up the forgotten item on the floor. “Now, why don’t you carry on with this for a bit longer? Then we can come back to bed and get some sleep.” Lewis suggested, handing back the little pink half-cardigan.

“We?” George asked, confused, “Lew, it’s okay, you can go back to bed. It’ll be boring just watching me.”

“Nah, I want to.” Lewis answered, sitting back on the floor to lean his back against the dresser and getting comfy. “Besides, I can watch you and maybe pick up a few tips and then we can make a whole wardrobe for her!”

George just let out a snort as he saw Lewis’ cheeky smirk, settling himself to get cosy in the chair again before pressing play on his phone to resume the video.

After half an hour of comfortable, peaceful silence, both men were asleep, letting out soft snores in their soon-to-be daughter’s room.

#gewis #my brain decided to work and I just went with it #everybody say thank you brain #just a lil drabbly thing #lemme know what you think!! #f1 fics #gr63 #lh44

[undercoverpena]

it means something

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show; they make you glow, and feel like something worth choosing.

to @joelsflannel, i took aspects of all your prompts. i tried to make it fluffy, her a little romantic, i tried to give you a quote that i hope you adore, with a man i know you already love. and i sprinkled in a hard day for you, but with some stress-easing fun to unwind with. merry christmas <;3

wordcount: 3.2k warnings: softer!joel, soft sex (p in v), talks of love, jackson era joel, mentions of ellie, joel in a towel (like damn). written for @pedrostories secret santa event.

You’re tired, drained.

Somehow, you find yourself able to drag your feet from the livelier part of Jackson to the quieter, almost more peaceful part. The soles of your boots draw lines behind you, all of which will likely be covered by the newly settling snow within the hour.

It's picturesque, this place. The kind of location you expect would have once been on postcards that people would be sent to loved ones saying 'wish you were here'.

You don't have to wish.

If your eyes weren’t like pinholes, you’d take a second to admire it.

Stamp your boots in one spot, and enjoy the crunch of it under your feet. A thing you’d do on any other day, if not for the fact, that you were so ready to be in the warmth, to be with him—to curl into him and breathe in his scent.

The kind of scent which buries itself into your nose, to your soul. It wraps its fingers around you and digs its clutches into you. Not that you complain. You'd bathe in it if you could, happily letting him smear it over your skin whenever the two of you have the chance.

It’s why you continue to move. It's why you force one leg in front of the other, muscles begging for reprieve.

By the time you’re up the steps, fingers wrapping around the handle of the front door, you realise how badly you wish to shed your layers. Desiring nothing more than to slide out of your coat, unwrap your scarf, remove the hat, gloves and second pair of socks.

Twisting the handle, the door doesn't fight letting you inside. Instead, it welcomes you. Allowing you to move quickly inside, more than anyone would expect from someone so fatigued—removing the layers, hanging each in turn on the rack beside his.

A sight which tugs at something inside you. It loops its fingers around that feeling within, gently pulling—it is all warm, unexplainable; all hard to describe, but the closest word is lovely, nice—welcomed.

That feeling had been born before the end of days, but it had been nothing but an ember then. Now, it was a roaring fire, all lit by him.

You're sure he knows. Not that either of you talk about it. It added to the long list of things you never speak, not for his sake, but for yours.

Even when you first began your… thing with him, you’d found it as difficult as him to know what to call it. Especially, when it had all happened so randomly, with no explanation or sight that it would occur. It just did.

Smiling, you allow yourself a moment to think back to it. How warm it was. How the setting sun smudged an array of shades across the sky, how you'd been bitter about something, mumbling under your breath until a noise cut through your dismay. His laughter. All gruff and born from his throat. It had expelled into the space between the two of you, cut through your bad mood.

Because it had been louder than you’d ever heard it as the two of you walked back, as you did on so many other nights. But that night had felt so different—and it was.

One moment you were staring, and the next his lips found yours, all chapped, but soft. His fingers around your cheek, whispering your name so gently. Stroking your skin, all worn, a bit rough.

Now, the two of you are a habit. A routine.

Nothing has ever been discussed, nothing ever exchanged. Just some nights you ate dinner with him—knee pressed against his. Sometimes your things sat along his in his home, bobby pins and whatever book you were reading.

Some days Ellie let herself into your house, had made a bedroom out of one of your spares, and sometimes she asked if you wanted to come round to theirs.

The only constant thing is that at least once every week, your limbs found themselves tangled with his. His mouth latched itself onto your neck, hand grasping at your breast, fingers pinching the peak of your nipple as he gruffly told you how hard you’d gotten him.

You liked it. Craved it.

Enjoyed the way you took him apart as he focused on making you a mess.

You liked seeing his salt and pepper curls cling to his forehead, liked running your nails through the hair on the back of his neck—back arched into him, feeling fuller than you’d ever imagined you could. Hearing his gruff voice in your ear, saying words he'd never say if he wasn't buried to the hilt inside of you.

But then, you only call him Joel when he's between your thighs too.

"Miller?"

His name rings around the first floor of the house.

Checking the package in your pocket, you sigh as the day drips from your tight muscles. Hand moving to rub the back of your neck, staring at Ellie's half-open comic and the pencils you'd lent her over the table.

You knew she wouldn't reply, not when tonight was movie night. A Christmas one, she'd told you. She had already let it slip she was going, told you as she kept watch on the door so you could continue your surprise for him.

Her request for you to join her faded when you looked up at her, likely seeing the same look which now greets you in the dust-covered mirror.

Kicking off your boots, and removing one layer of socks, you sigh at the way your feet can all of a sudden breathe—even inside his thick socks. Wiggling your toes, you smile as you begin to curl and unfurl them, before your hand finds the bannister, dragging yourself up the stairs until you reach his room.

His empty room.

Heart falling, you consider calling out again. Using his first name this time—letting each of the four letters carry around the house.

But, his bed looks comfortable. It calling to you. Somehow finding yourself lying on it, your face pressed into his sheets, your bones and muscles sighing in relief that you're in a bed.

Eyes wishing to flutter shut, body unwinding against the mattress, the sheets. It’s on the third heavy exhale, do you realise you hear water. It falls in pitters and patters, distantly, likely from the bathroom across the hall.

That’s when a smile curls across your face because you’ve always found comfort in the sound of running water.

Whether it’s rivers or rain, and showers or leaks. It reminds you of calmness, of things fading from reach—washing away, starting anew. Memories of times trying to colour themselves in your mind, fading before they do as sleep tries to coax you away.

The only thing which displaces the grip sleep has on you, is the comforting sight that comes to a stop at the foot of the bed.

Steam swirling around him, all broad shoulders and still damp skin—the hair on his chest, arms, and stomach, clinging in half-swirled curls and straight lines, the towel clutched at his hip.

The first time you saw Joel Miller naked, you’d almost lost the function to speak. All man—all soft and muscle simultaneously. Something constructed from fantasies, made in real life, carved and moulded by hands you think never thought he’d be real. You were close to not being able to speak all over again now.

Eyes tracing, outlining and shading—squirrelling away a sketch of him you’ll think about when the other side of the bed is cold and not filled with him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

You hum, lifting up onto your elbows, admiring him, finding him doing the same—even if you suspect you’re not half as good-looking right now as he is.

Least of all when he takes your ankle in hand, moving you sideways with him as steps between your legs now hanging off the bed, the fabric of his towel brushing over your jeans, his palms coming down on the mattress on either side of your neck, staring at you with a look of concern.

“Y’not been sleepin’?”

“Just been busy,” you reply, arms looping around his neck. “Not lots of time to rest.”

You suppose at some point between summer and winter, things became soft—less about need and company, and something along the lines of real.

In another world, one not ridden with fungi and death, you suppose it would have been labelled, added something which tied the two of you together—something meaning more to others than it likely would do to you.

Smiling, you force your eyes to open properly. Watching that look of hunger slowly bleed out over the concern, vanishing entirely when you smirk. If the two of you were different, you suspect you'd tell him you miss him. Tell him you've thought about him.

Instead, you whisper, “Want you, Joel.”

Even more so when you trace the words over his mouth. Aware of his hands on your jeans, and how he's popped open the button, how he's dragging down the zipper. The fabric freely slides from your skin as your hands slide down, dropping to the towel at his waist—thumb digging over it, all ready to pull, unravel it. “Need you.”

His eyes narrow swallowed in darkness. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, dragging your fingers to the tuck, undoing it, not taking your eyes off him. Seeing something in his eyes that is more than just reciprocation of the words spoken, but the ones left unsaid.

“You want me?”

However, you’ll have me.

You’re not sure you speak it, but you're sure he hears it all the same.

For how aloof people think he is, he’s a man who listens—not just to the crunch of branches and the rustle of trees, but to the things people don’t say. He hears their secrets and pulls away their lies. Skills he told you one night he levelled up in when the world tried to keep taking more than it had already.

You suppose it’s how he knows you, your body, what you want and what you crave.

More so as he tangles his tongue with yours, all heady—gripping him firm, tightly as his fingers snake between the two of you. Desperation thrumming through your fingers as you push them into his skin, into his muscles—feeling the coil tighten as he moves his fingers with nothing short of precision. Knowing you, having mapped you out, learnt your cues—it’s why you don’t fight it, the incoming wave ready to drench your taut muscles, let him undo you, unravel you out so you’re nothing but spread out for him.

He likes it like that, you can tell. Likes how you surrender to him, how you lay out for him, letting him move you how he needs you.

It used to be rough, desperate—pure carnal. But, it’s been replaced by something else, something not soft or romantic, but you’re sure it’s a distant relative.

Once you’d gotten a bruise on your hip that pulsed, shifted in shades from being nudged against your kitchen table. Now when he leaves them, he traces them with his thumb, hoping to suck out the sting. Because now you’re treated to comfort—too recently washed bedding and his fingers inside your cunt as your body bends into him, practically curls, sings, hums.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

Compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show. Each lick of his gaze makes you glow, and feel like something worth choosing, having been picked, plucked—and placed on some mantle you don’t even mind being perched on.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, breathing a struggle, practically gasping, you mumble his name—murmur it, almost a whine. “Fuck me now, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Then, you’re overwhelmed.

Bathed in both the scent of fresh soap, dewy skin and absolute fullness. Your legs wrapping, crossing at the ankles as he slides into the hilt—pausing, just as he always does, fingers brushing over your jaw until he’s tilting your chin.

That same look—the one you first witnessed after the kiss under the dusk.

It doesn’t vanish until you show him, either in a whisper of the magic words or a movement he can read as a spell. Your hips rolling, rocking—please, please.

Your hands take in the feel of him breathing, the way his chest expands, fills with the knowledge, the realisation, nails digging, almost all in order. One he answers, delivers, fucking stamps.

Joel makes your toes curl, makes white noise appear in your ears, and makes you forget every important thing you’ve ever filed away. All hot, scorching against your skin as you grasp him closer, hoping you’ll be smothered in burns—hoping the same when you swallow his grunts, his hisses off your name. His hips pistoning, aiming to send you over the edge before him, hands—riddled with the evidence of his survival and his new hobby keep you rooted, don’t allow you to wander off into bliss without him.

“Too good f’me, sweetheart.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, right against your pulse, before he licks against what beats under your skin.

You snort amidst your whine, clutching all the strings which keep you whole as you close your eyes—banish him from looking into your soul. He’s seen all there is there, let him in before, provided flashes, evidence of your shattered soul and broken mentality. It comes to the surface easier here, when your walls suck him in, and your body calls for him in a chorus of pleading and begging.

Because you’re close—not needing too much from him tonight, the sight of him is enough. The knowledge of his existence, knowing he’s yours without confirmation.

“There, right there,” you moan, heels digging into the base of his back, feeling the jostle of him, the way he rears and fucks.

He smirks, shifting, just enough to make the head of his cock hit the spot which makes your thighs shake, tremble, fucking quake. His mouth still split open, words there on his tongue, all ready to drape over your skin—

But, you just feel it’s incoming arrival. All white-hot, blinding—too much pressure, yet needing just a little bit more. Your body is not yours, mind empty, gone, faded. You want to sink your teeth into him, bite down, cut into him and leave a mark like the ones he leaves inside you each time the two of you do this.

Because it means something. This. The two of you in this little house in fucking Jackson. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

“Yea’,” he grunts, palm on your face, tilting you up roughly, forcing your eyes to open.

And you swear he smiles when they flash open. You swear it.

“Means somethin’, sweetheart. This—fuck—us.”

The words grind into you. As though he's the pestle and your mortar. Your breath is lost, unable to be grasped, your body hanging, pleasure a bigger force—swallowing the room, casting you in shadows and misting over you—until you cry out. Squeezing, fluttering.

Not able to see anything but his face, the look on his face—the twisted expression of his lips and the deepness of his eyes. More black, than brown—but they’re somehow still soft, still full of something you hope is pleasant and full of emotions.

It only vanishes briefly when he spills inside of you.

When he collapses on top of you—his heart hammering against your ribs. And, even if it isn’t the first time, you feel yourself still—pause, no rash movements, because this is nice, this is something you want without asking for it.

“Can’t believe I can hear y’brain already.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes, glancing over—finding his lips have slid into his cheek.

It gnaws at you, the reason for your lack of sleep. The thing which you've traded hours of rest for. That dormant part pushed to the edge by exhaustion, now awake and very much worrying.

“Got you something,” you whisper, biting your lip, watching his brows furrow and lines appear between them.

Standing up, you steal the dressing gown from the back of his door—the one you’d traded for months ago. The one which is far too big, even for him, making it only cosier when you borrow it. Shooting him a smile, you almost disguise it, worried it's far too soft, too normal, before you mumble about being right back.

It's a hurry to the front door, all feet hammering down on wooden steps before your hand digs in your coat pocket, retrieving the wrapped thing you’ve lost shuteye over.

When you enter, he’s under the sheets—hair at odd angles, looking both a mixture of energised and fucked out that you wish you could paint with your fingers, so you'd forever have it.

“Didn’t wanna give this to you on the 25th—just in case you popped a vein trying to figure out what it means.”

Kneeling on the bed, you take a levelling breath, before handing it to him. His eyes travelling from you to it, fingers taking it—all delicate, measured. Before he unpeels the ribbon, undressing it with more care than he often shows you, before it rolls free of the paper you managed to find. It catches the ceiling light, glinting, gleaming, the handle looking even more detailed in this light than under the candles you’d had to use to remain discreet.

In your hand, the knife had appeared large, and menacing. In his, it looked right.

Yet, his face looked as though it was anything but.

Enough for you to prod, needle. To nudge closer on your knees, to smooth out the sheets and then flick your lashes up, finding him already staring, weighing it up—whatever coated his tongue, had been written in his mind.

“Sweetheart… I don’t… I don’t deserve this—”

More words fall in silence, not quite spoken, yet somehow loud.

Enough for you to say his name, to rest your knee on the bed and deeply sigh.

“You…’m not a good man.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Crawling up, placing your hand on his chest, you take a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I care.”

And you don't.

Because it's easy to feel something for him, to love him. It's natural, there one day and the day after. It wasn't hard or difficult, but very fucking easy.

Your mouth even opens to say as much, but you close it again before a syllable is muttered.

Wrapping the gift, he moves it from between the two of you, to the bedside table. His fingers linger, hovering over the carved wood—the one which caused splinters and made your eyes almost cross over. “Y’should. M’not an easy man to love.”

“I disagree,” you whisper, fingers having slid up to the base of his neck, your fingers teasing his curls. “Since I’m pretty sure I already feel those things for you.”

His brows lift, and you smile—letting it speak the words you can’t say, and you’re sure he’s not willing to hear.

“Don’t sweat it, alright? You’re mine, I’m yours. Yeah?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, placing the knife back into the packaging—moving it, replacing what he’d been holding with your wrist as he pulls you close.

“Got you somethin’ too.”

Nose bumping his, you shift closer, thighs finding themselves on either side of him—his hands finding a place on them, sliding up, callouses grazing on your skin, before squeezing.

“But y’gotta wait until the 25th. Like a good girl.”

Smirking, you cup his cheeks. "Okay, Miller. I'll wait."

an: merry christmas, i hope you love this <3

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel x reader

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hello! Just finished Die Happy, and oh my gosh what a wholesome and sad time!! I love the way you portray Sanji and his inner monologue with himself.

Would it be possible to get a continuation where reader ends up making it a habit of sleeping with Sanji now that’s she’s had a taste. They kind of make a nightly routine and no one really questions it because they just like seeing everyone happy. How would Sanji feel realizing that it’s been weeks since you first started sleeping with him? What if reader is trying to tell Sanji they actually really like him but he just thinks reader is to perfect for him so he’s kind of blind to her advances.

Thank you so much and I hope you have fun writing!!!

All ye who yearned (@federalclassroom @sparkyrosewood14 @zzbloody-animezz @clonaa @number-0-iz) come get y'all juice:

Maelstrom - Sanji x Reader

Part 2 to "Die Happy"

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

One night turned into two, two turned into a week and a week turned into... well, however long you and Sanji have been sleeping in one bed. He's not keen on keeping track but taking in the moment instead. He doesn't ask why you continue to crawl right back into his bedroom every night. In fact, he doesn't dare make any comment about your new habit out of fear that you might think he's grown tired of it.

Every night he thinks it might be the last, so he forces himself to stay up as long as he can. Although having you sleep soundly against his chest makes his heart rejoice, the new and asinine sleeping schedule he has implemented puts his body into a poor state. Sanji expected someone to say something but he hasn't considered the whole picture and how it looks to the other Straw Hats - he sleeps in one bed with you every night and looks exhausted during the day. It gives... quite a boost to one's imagination. This is why no one so far has made any inquiry about the new sleeping arrangement.

Even if only opportunity made him the person you like to waste your spare time with, Sanji feels as though the universe itself has smiled at him. Some god above him saw his suffering and decided to ease his burden a little. In his mind, this is the most logical explanation.

But that's about to change.

He feels you stir against him. Unknowingly, Sanji freezes, afraid that it's his feathery touches that wake you up from slumber. He holds his fingertips right above your skin, uncertainty hanging in the air.

"You're not sleeping?" you murmur against his chest.

Gently, he sets his hand back on your arm. Your skin is burning his fingers but he welcomes the scorch like frosty cheeks welcome the scarce sunlight in winter months.

"Just thinking about something," he answers with faux disinterest, hoping that you won't inquire further.

To Sanji's horror, you lean away from him and prop your chin up on your head, staring at his face from above. A bright, curious glint shines in your eyes.

"Come on, shoot. What keeps you awake at night?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, he's silently panicking for a moment.

You. All of you. From the way you say "good morning" in a raspy voice to the "goodnight" you separate with a yawn. How I can tell exactly what's on your mind by the expression on your face. The little dances you do when you're having a good day. How adorable your scowl is. The way my chest hurts when I see you frowning.

Sanji gives you a reassuring smile and shakes his head slightly. "Nothing you should worry about, love," he dismissed you. A beautiful liar he is - nothing in his voice indicates the dread that resides inside him.

His heartbeat quickens suddenly when you give him a flash of a smile. In the twilight of a dark night, you look like a faerie, luring a poor, lovesick man to bestow his deepest, darkest secrets upon you.

And Sanji just might.

"Maybe I want to." You shrug your shoulders. With your other hand, you poke his chest playfully. "I'm fine with worrying if it's about you."

Sanji swallows thickly. You're in his bed, snuggled against him and openly admitting you care about him. If he doesn't change the course of the conversation soon, he might act upon his desire, confess feelings he's been unwilling to admit even to himself.

"As much as I appreciate that," he begins nervously, "there's enough in that pretty little head of yours. You just lean on me and I'll do the rest." Sanji forces himself to smile softly at you as he makes a point of leaning through putting his hand on his chest.

You chuckle and bite your lower lip. Sanji's mind tries to slip into his well-known fantasies of kissing you but he manages to keep his thoughts at the present moment.

"Spoken like a true gentleman." Hinging on your forearm, you lean closer to his face. "Maybe it's you I should marry."

He clenches his hand covered by the duvet. Having you so close to him was a daydream until you made it turn into somewhat of a nightmare. Sanji keeps telling himself that whatever happens, he can't let you in on his feelings, fearing that if you learn of his hopeless affliction, you will abandon his intimacy once and for all. And that Sanji doesn't even want to consider as a possibility.

"I thought you wanted to marry a prince," he says in an attempt to divert the conversation.

A scoff leaves your lips and you shake your head in disapproval.

"Fuck princes," you drone out. "I'm not a participation award you can put in your trophy case and show off. I'm more like wild, untamed waters. Like a maelstrom." Your voice hangs for a moment and Sanji holds on to it with more hope than he thought he's capable of. Maybe the universe really did take pity on him. Then, you lean even closer to him, leaving a rather obscene lack of space between your faces. "And you, my lovely Sanji, are a skilled sailor."

His heart stops for a moment.

"Don't do this," he whispers in a weak voice. "Don't give me hope for something I can never have. It's cruel."

"'Can never have?'" you repeat in confusion. "It's your bed I keep crawling back into despite telling myself to stop doing that. You already have me. All of me. I don't care how desperate that makes me look. I want you to have me."

Sanji tries to control his ragged breathing. His iron will is crumbling as he allows himself to look at your lips. Is he dreaming?

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean," he warns you in a distant voice. His mind is too occupied, too busy going haywire, to be rooted in reality. Will you taste as sweet as he imagined? Will you linger on his lips like the reviving kiss of a goddess given to a dying man?

"You shouldn't assume I'm someone who just runs their mouth," you answer.

His lips barely touch yours. There's too much fear in him - fear, that this isn't actually happening. That you're just a dream within a dream, that he imagined this moment to curb his desperation. But then he feels you kissing him back, your lips engulfing his as though you're silently begging him not to go anywhere and stay with you. Sanji can't help himself putting his hand on the nape of your neck and fixing the angle off the kiss to deepen it; to kiss you like princesses deserve to be kissed.

Maybe you are a maelstrom - raging waters twisting into deadly whirlpools. But he's definitely not a sailor. A shipmate would navigate dangerous tides, while Sanji seems to be drowning. The waters of you are filling his lungs and yet he feels like he's breathing for the very first time. He's slowly falling farther away from the light of reason. Soon, darkness engulfs him. But it's not cold. It's not lonely. It's the darkness of a warm, summer night.

And in this darkness, drowned in the untamed waters of a maelstrom, he hears a siren singing in your voice:

The madness of returned devotion.

#sanji imagine #sanji fanfiction #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji fanfiction #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #opla #one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece x you #blackleg sanji #opla fanfiction #opla x reader #opla sanji #opla x you #opla fanfic #one piece live action

[licorice-tea]

I Think I Love You!

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader, Platonic Straw Hats & reader

Content: Strawhat!reader, cursing/strong language, kissing, Law has trouble with accepting his feelings, reader is a schemer and plotter fr, misunderstandings / miscommunication but more funny than angsty, fluff, idiots in love <3

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is a song fic based on “I Think I Love You!” by the Partridge Family lol, so the indented parts are song lyrics! also i wrote this between like 2 and 5 am… please forgive me for any grammar mistakes😭

This morning

Law cannot stand being a guest on the Thousand Sunny. He wakes up in the library- he must have fallen asleep there last night- and can already hear shouting from above deck. Why are they causing such a commotion this early on in the day? To him, the reason is simple: because the Straw Hat Pirates are inarguably the loudest, most annoying, chaotic bunch of-

thump thump thu-thump thump… knock knock!

Pushing the door to the library open with your back, you carefully turn while entering the room to reveal a serving tray in your hands.

Your voice rings out in the mostly silent room- save for the noise coming from the deck of the Thousand Sunny. “Hey, Law? Sanji made coffee for the girls and I, so I had him make you a cup t- oh.”

You smile to yourself upon seeing the ally captain, Law, fast asleep at one of the library desks. (Or at least, he looks like he’s asleep.) Wordlessly, you set the tray down beside him.

“He looks cute like this,” you think, “calm.”

On your way out, you pause and grab a sticky note from a drawer in another desk. You decide to jot down a little note rather than wake him. But, unbeknownst to you, Law is already awake and staring at your back.

Ok, so… there might be one exception to his feelings of contempt toward the Straw Hats.

And maybe it’s because he wants to let you fulfill your kind mission, or maybe he just panics, but when you turn around he closes his eyes again. You stride back across the library to his desk makeshift bed, and stick the note on the tray as quietly as possible. Law can feel the soft exhale of your breath fanning over him, knowing you’re probably smiling. Soon after, he hears the door open and close softly, and decides it’s safe to sit up and open his eyes again.

I woke up with this feeling

His tired eyes scan over your words with the tiniest hint of a smile: “Sanji made coffee! + There’s milk and sugar in separate cups, b/c I’m not sure how you like it. -y/n :)”

To think, you went out of your way to ask that dumbass cook to make a cup for him, too? Then you had arranged it so neatly- and written the sweetest goddamn little note… Well, it was really just a simple explanation of the tray sitting before him, but it was cute because it came from you. He knew you wrote it out of care and concern for him, not to mention your own kindness. And- as he allows his mind to wonder while staring at his untouched coffee- he thinks that maybe you did it out of love.

“Wait, no, that’s crazy.” All this time around Straw Hat and his crew must be getting to him. Law tries to remedy his outlandish idea that you might feel for him the way he does for you by starting on the coffee you brought him. He doesn’t usually take milk or sugar in his coffee, but since you went out of your way, he adds a splash of the former and a small cube of the latter. And suddenly, his mind is wandering again…

What a kind thing to do for someone. This makes him feel sure of his previous notion once again- that you just might love him. You have to. Because he’s falling in love with you, slowly but surely, and…. oh. Fuck. He loves you.

Law curses himself. Realizing he’s falling in love is NOT how this day should start. Or any day, for that matter.

I didn’t know how to deal with

Though he got at least 6 hours of sleep (which is around 3 more than usual for the surgeon), and drained his coffee cup, Law’s head is aching. It’s a result of stress, most likely. Because, ever since he came to the terrifying realization that he’s falling for you, he can’t stop thinking about it (love, you, etc.)

Your smile is one of his favorite things, for example. It ranges anywhere from bright (like on the night he cracked a single joke while the two of you kept watch from the crows nest, and suddenly you outshone the stars while laughing) to sweet (when you accept a compliment from the love cook with a shy expression), with at least a dozen more variations.

And your eyes… God, he needed to stop thinking about you. He can barely concentrate now; what did he even plan on doing today?

Law decides then, that if he’s to get anything done at all, he’ll need to push all thoughts of you to the backburner.

And so I just decided to myself

“This is a foolproof plan,” Law thinks to himself, “one of my best yet.”

He’s most definitely lying to himself, but is it really lying if the liar themself believes the lie?

“Shit. Even that doesn’t make sense.” Whatever, he just needs to concentrate on something- anything other than you.

So Law, stubborn as ever, uses this trait to his advantage by becoming dead set on not thinking of you at all. He does so by ignoring you when you pass by each other in the halls of the Thousand Sunny, not meeting your eye when you offer a friendly smile over dinner, even straight up ignoring you once when you knocked on the door to his room. He knows it was you because you have this habit of making a short tune out of knocks-

No! He absolutely can’t think of you. Law has already made up his mind, and under no circumstances can he backtrack.

I’d hide it to myself

Law is very obviously hiding something, you’re just not sure what.

It’s like his demeanor toward you changed overnight. Before his switch up, the two of you had been spending a large portion of your days together. And sure, there aren’t many people to choose from for company when you’re at sea, but you took pride in the fact that Law still wanted to be around you.

It had taken a little time for the Captain of the Heart Pirates to open up at first- which you didn’t mind at all, some people are simply more reserved than others- but once he did, your purely physical attraction to the man grew into a head spinning crush. So, once you gained the confidence, you began flirting and showing him how you felt in careful ways.

And it had seemed like it was working! He engaged in meaningful conversations with you, started sharing sly compliments and jokes and looks, would always sit beside you at dinner- or directly across from you if both adjacent seats were taken- and didn’t seem to mind trading in his late night reading for keeping watch from the crows nest with you. All signs had pointed to him at least thinking of you as a friend, if not reciprocating your feelings for him.

So why the hell is he ignoring you all of a sudden? Whatever the reason, you intend to find out.

And never talk about it

After consulting with your team (Nami, Usopp, and Robin- the most emotionally intelligent people and/or those with the most relationship experience on the crew), you decide to confront Law. “It would be best to be straightforward and honest,” is the consensus the four of you came to.

But, it proves to be harder than you thought since he is still avoiding you. You’ve taken to hanging around the kitchen because everyone has to go there at some point, as everyone gets hungry or thirsty, but Law never shows. How is he getting his morning coffee if he never goes to the kitchen? It bewilders you; how he’s managing to sneak by you on your own ship. (On the second day of trying to catch him, you realize that he can, in fact, use his devil fruit abilities to avoid walking around the ship and simply teleport into the kitchen instead.)

The next day, you decide to hang around inside the kitchen. Sanji doesn’t mind one bit, and you think that Law is sure to pay a visit at one point or another.

And he does! You don’t even have to wait long, because early in the morning- around 6:30 am or so- he teleports in with a flash of blue light and greets Sanji with a nod. However, he doesn’t take notice of you sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Just as I suspected.” You mentally pat yourself on the back for your sleuthing skills.

Law walks to the counter to grab a mug and pour a steaming cup from the pot the chef had just brewed, when you speak up.

“Morning, Law.”

He nearly drops his mug before turning around to see you, sitting at the kitchen island, with your own cup of coffee. (He notes how yours is a much lighter shade, and you’ve added ice and whipped cream. It fits you, he thinks, to prefer something sweeter. Great, just another reason why you could never like him the way he likes you.)

Law had purposefully been using his devil fruit and any other means to avoid you these last couple of days; yet here you are, looking at him with your knowing gaze. He was sure that you had caught on to his avoidance, because you’re perceptive like that, he just didn’t expect you to outsmart him like this. It’s enough to drive him crazy inside; like everything about you drives him crazy. (In some strange and foreign way that makes him yearn to be around you, but forces him to push you away.)

He mumbles out a quick “Morning.” and tries not to look as caught as he feels.

This is where you realize the flaw in your plan to confront Law: Sanji is also there. And despite the love you have for your crewmate, you don’t really want to do this in front of him.

So, when Law leaves just moments later, you follow.

And didn't I go and shout it

“Law! Wait up!” You call from a few paces behind him.

Though he doesn’t wait, he responds, “What?”

“What do you mean what? You’re being weird, and I want to know why!”

Law finally slows down, but only to open the door to the library, “I’m not being weird. Go away, y/n.” He states simply, then tries to close the door, but you hold it open.

When you walked into my room

You follow Law into the library- the room he has begun to frequent and sort of staked his claim on ever since he became a guest on board the Thousand Sunny.

With equal fervor, you respond; “Then why are you avoiding me? And straight up ignoring me when I try to talk to you? Because it’s really fucking rude. We’re friends, you know, and I thought-“

“We can’t be friends.” his voice is cold.

“Oh… Oh.” You think you understand now. “That’s so dumb, Law. Like, really stupid actually. Our friendship doesn’t depend on this alliance, if that’s why you-“

“It’s not!”

“Stop cutting me off! Ugh, just…” you sigh, clearly frustrated, “just tell me what’s going on then, please.”

He looks at you, your arms crossed and jaw set tightly. One might take your expression for angry upon first inspection, but there’s just a hint of sadness in your eyes and furrowed brows. He doesn’t want to ever see you like this- especially not because of something he’s done.

“I think I love you!”

This is it. He’s going to confess his feelings to you and ruin everything. You’ll probably hate him, never want to see him again, and that will just make it a hundred times harder to endure the remainder of his alliance with the Straw Hats.

“Well.. We can’t be friends because I…” Where was confidence and blatant disregard for the opinions of others when Law needed it?

You tilt your head and quirk a brow, giving him a quizzical look. The knowledge that you would never judge him so harshly; nor do anything to purposely hurt him, wasn’t doing much for his nerves right now, but it would have to do. He just needs to spit it out and get this over with now.

“I think I love you.”

You blink a few times as your eyes widen in clear surprise. Are you upset… or happy? He can’t tell, so he quickly corrects himself; “Uh- I’m falling in love with you. I think.”

(I think I love you)

Your frown grows into a small smile before the curve of your lips opens up into a much happier, brighter grin. And you laugh in a way that’s practically melodic to Law, which allows him to finally release the breath he’s been holding.

“I… I think I love you too, Law. Or I’m falling.” You emphasize the word like it’s an inside joke, just between the two of you. “It’s hard to tell.”

“…Yeah.”

“So… that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I’m, uh, sorry. I didn’t-“

Law stops when he feels the gentle press of your lips on the corner of his mouth. It’s barely a kiss, but you’re so incredibly warm and soft that he really doesn’t care that it only lasts 3 seconds. (Though, he would very much like it if you did it again. He makes a mental note to kiss you back with more certainty, should he get the chance.)

“It’s ok.” You tell him after you pull away.

He nods slowly- it’s probably the first time you’ve ever seen him in such a flustered state- before hesitantly leaning in again to close the distance between your lips. He tilts your jaw with one hand, and his other comes to rest on the small of your back. But he waits for you, like asking for your permission, which you grant him by parting your lips slightly. Then Law finally kisses you; it’s slow and a little unsure at first, but he quickly gets caught up to speed. You both find yourselves lost in the other as the whole exchange becomes more passionate, albeit a little aggressive and clumsy.

And this time, the kiss lasts much longer than 3 seconds.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece #fanfic #law x reader #x reader #law fluff #trafalgar law #law x you #i think i love you #song fic #he’s so silly #scheming and plotting #straw hat pirates #straw hats

[mickyschumacher]

𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

#mickyschumacher #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Let There Be Hotel Complaints

Based on a post request by @rayslittlekitten I really hope you like it, I have no idea if it fits but I tried hard.

Title based on: Hozier - Dinner & Diatribes

Contains: Fluff, Ray being Gomez Addams, mentions of periods/period symptoms, smut (fingering, oral sex M and F receiving, P in V, breeding kink, possessive Ray, scents and smells, aftercare) Not beta read.

3.5K words.

Ray's feelings for you are as wide as the ocean, and his love is second only to his desire.

The hand that wrapped around your body felt like hot coals on your already heated skin, and you fought the urge to shrink away from Ray. "Raymond, I've been put in the garden working, can you let me shower before you hug me?" His arms only tightened around as you felt his chest expand against your back as he pressed his nose into your sweat-damped neck. "Ray! I'm covered in sweat."

He checked, and the sound reverberated through your body like the first rumbles of a thunderstorm. "I don't mind, Dear, you smell wonderful." His face moved to the top of your head as he took another breath, admiring how your conditioner mixed with a hard day's work. It drifted into his mind like the reaching of a siren song, slowly bleeding away his other thoughts.

His lips found your neck, and he smirked against your skin as your head tilted to make room for him. A quick glance at the clock let him know you'd have enough time to enjoy each other before the fancy business dinner tonight, and he found himself slowly unlacing from the hug as he brought one hand to your breast.

He gained more access to your skin, and you rested your head back onto his shoulder and pushed yourself into his touch, but he was pulling his hand away a second later when he felt you stiffen as he tightened his grip around your soft flesh. "Sorry, Love."

"It's ok, I'm just a little sore." There was no explanation needed as to why, you knew he knew why, he always seemed to know.

His hand moved lower, rubbing the skin of your ribcage in long, soothing strokes as his lips moved from the dome of your shoulder up your neck. "Allow me to make it up to you?"

The offer was the definition of temptation, but there were things to be done and places to be. "Tonight, if all goes well at the dinner. I have to finish with the garden and then get ready for tonight."

The teeth against your skin were not in retaliation for your conditional refusal but a promise of things to come. "Then let me help you?"

"Of course." Your reason was wholly selfish, motivated by rolled up sleeves and rippling muscles at his instance of lifting heavy bags of soil. You finished your glass of water and went back outside, not missing how Ray's eyes followed your arms as you placed your sun hat back on your head. He smiled at you, it was earnest and filled with warmth. "What do you need me to do, Gorgeous?"

You couldn't help yourself, there was something in his desire to aid you in every need that sparked something in you. "Many things, My Darling, but right now, I need help with the tea roses."

He smiled and took two steps to close the distance between you before brushing his lips on your ear. "Your wish is my command."

****

The rest of the afternoon swam by in a haze for Ray. It was the kind of torture that the training he had received many lifetimes ago could not prepare him for, and with each passing moment, his thoughts grew more debauched until he was waxing poetic in his head like a madman.

As you finished your makeup, he could not get the image of you licking the strawberry juice from your lunchtime dessert off your lips out of his head. Breathing through his nose had become an affliction; top notes of your shower gel and the underneath of you were one thing, but there was the faintest hint of him there that made him want to sink his teeth in your bare skin so many times that the hotel's tofts would look away in shame the moment they saw you.

By the time you slid into the car, pressing your legs to his as Bunny drove you to the hotel, he was afire with need. He laced his hand with yours as the vehicle travelled down from the lush countryside to the bright lights of the city and leaned in close, his nose brushing your temple as he told you more about the guests at the party you were heading to.

There were already people milling around when you arrived, handing their bags off to the Bellhops so they could enjoy their complementary night in luxury. Ray was less willing to relinquish the bags and simply blinked as the hotelier became insistent. Nevertheless, the man still walked to your room on the sixth floor, smiling saccharinely as he told you to enjoy the complimentary champagne before the party started.

The opulence of the room and the expensive champagne sat ignored by you and Ray as he steeled himself for a night of making nice and glad-handing when he would rather be doing something far more enjoyable. He took your hands and drew you to the middle of the room, wrapping his arms around you as his nose returned to your hair for the millionth time that day. "You look beautiful as always."

You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. "And you keep sniffing me like some weirdo."

He took it in stride, chuckling softly as he yanked you to his chest. "I can't help it, you smell exquisite, it's driving me insane."

You sighed, enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. "I know what you're thinking, but we promised Mickey."

He mirrored your sigh as he broke the embrace and extended his hand. "I know. We should head down there now, the sooner we go down and mingle, the sooner we can leave."

His hand found your lower back as you took the lift to the grand hall and stayed there as you met up with Mickey and Rosalind and made introductions with the upper class lucky enough to receive invites. Of course, the reason for your invitations was the massive underground white widow super cheese farm under the hotel's private golf course.

It was painfully dull, standing around making small talk about the weather and wallpaper while eating tiny pies that only served to make you more hungry. Ray stayed stuck to your side, practically dragging you around with him while he did business for his boss.

"Your wife looks lovely tonight." Ray's arm tightened around you as you spun towards the voice.

"She looks lovely every night, Dave." If Dave had plans to say more, they were defeated by Ray's harsh glare as he pulled you away.

He moved to a quiet corner of the room and placed your hand on his ample bicep. "What's gotten into Ray? You've just about ripped the heads off anyone who's talked to me tonight. I get Dave, but the Simon's are nice."

He moved into your space, pressing you against the window as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger while he leaned in close enough that your noses were brushing. To outsiders, it would have looked like a private moment between lovers, but Ray's eyes were fixed on with a look so lustful it would have made the whore of Babylon blush. "What's gotten into me? I have spent the last two hours watching these pigs look you up and down while acting like I don't want to rip their arms off for even daring to speak to you."

You blinked, he was in a mood tonight. "Well, Dear. How about you stick it out for another hour so we can eat dinner from this stupid menu then, I'm all yours for the night?"

He swallowed and exhaled before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Of course Darling." His tone had shifted; it had taken on that gravelly tilt that created a flutter of excitement in your chest, and you eagerly headed back into the fray as Ray finally composed himself.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned into your touch. "Thank you, Dear."

****

The dinner was the typical mess of rich people's food that had too many flavours and not enough on the plate, but Ray gave you all his cheese twirls and made sure to pick you the biggest slice of chocolate cake off the platter when dessert came around. All was going well until the tables were cast aside again for the wine course, and you were split from him as one of the tofts Mickey looked after pulled him away to talk about security.

His eye kept drifting over to you, and he grew ever more aggravated as he watched the sommelier try and fail to flirt with you. He dismissed the man he was talking to with the promise to call later, that he was tired and wanted to enjoy his hotel room and all but stormed over to you. "Are you enjoying the wine, Dear?"

You shook your head. "I've told the sommelier that I'm not interested in that variety, but he's being very insistent."

The man smiled and turned to Ray. "We have some of the best wine in the country here, your girlfriend…"

If looks could kill, Ray would have ended the man there and then. "My wife isn't interested, and I don't appreciate your tone or your attitude. I will be speaking to your employer in the morning to deal with this in full."

His hand was back on your lower back as he marched towards the lift, and between his puffed chest and his expression, no one dared to join you as the doors opened. The second the doors closed, he was on you, pressing you against the wall as his lips found yours. The grip he had on you was almost painful, his fingers digging firm into your skin as he held you in place for a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

He finally allowed you to breathe when the doors opened on your floor, and he all but dragged you to your room as he shut the door and pressed up against it. His lips were on yours again, and his hands slid around your body until his fingers were curling around the fabric of your evening dress and ripping it open with the pop pop of fancy buttons.

He shoved the dress down, breaking from your lips for a moment to take in the lingerie you were wearing. "Fucking hell y/n." That went next, and his lips didn't give you the chance to admonish him about what he had paid for the now ruined fabric lying at your feet.

He once again broke from you and knelt on the floor, removing your shoes one by one before kissing his way up your legs, swapping legs with each kiss, getting closer and closer to your centre with each one until he slowed at the crease of the thigh. He was once again inhaling like he was suffocating, and you wove your hands into his hair as your frustration grew. "Can you do something instead of sniffing me?"

His teeth sunk into your skin in retaliation, and he was standing up to his full height with eyes full of threat. "Don't rush me." His hand cupped you, his fingers running your rapidly gathering wetness as he all but growled at you. "This cunt is mine, I get to take all the time I want, understand?"

You almost wanted to act out to see what it would make him do, but the poor man already looked pained enough. "Anything you want."

He locked you in another kiss, his teeth smarting at your lip as he made his wants known with a gentle pressure on your shoulders. "Get on your knees."

He kicked your ruined dress under you to soften the ground as you sunk down, and you pulled at his belt to free him. He helped you, shoving his trousers and boxers down in one go just far enough so his cock could spring out and you could grab his perfect ass unencumbered by fabric.

He looked down at you as you kitten licked around the head and felt another rush of this heated primal positiveness that he had been feeling the whole night. A hand found the back of your head as you took him into your mouth, and his free hand shot out to rest on a side table to steady himself as pleasure filled his senses.

He stopped himself from bucking his hips in order to focus on the vision of you sucking him like a lollipop. It was outright pornographic, and all he could think about was that you were all his and his alone. "Fucken 'ell, Love." You moaned around him, and he used every ounce of self-control to pull you off of him and to your feet. "Get on the bed."

His hands were all over you as you made your way to the bed, and he ran his hands up and down your sides while you spun around to face him so you could lay on your back on the plush mattress. You settled on the pillows as his lips met yours, and he finally began to remove his clothes.

Bare skin hit bare skin as his lips started a journey down your body until he was lifting your legs over his strong shoulders and onto his solid back. He kissed the bend of your knee, his lips soft as his beard brushed your skin. He locked eyes with you and smiled softly as he continued his journey upwards, finally arriving with barely there kisses that had you pushing your hips towards him. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours." A hot, wet heat enveloped you as he licked you from the entrance to clit in one firm, wide lick before sealing his lips around your clit. Ray had always been a man who prided himself on his attention to detail, and your bedroom was no different; it was like he had committed precisely what you needed to memory so well that he didn't even need to try, and tonight was no different.

He seemed more desperate tonight; accuracy swapped for the burning desire to consume your whole, and it didn't help that he was moaning against your flesh like he could somehow feel what he was doing to you in his own body. The chorus of his name from your mouth only served to spur him on, and a forearm pressed your hips down so you couldn't move away from him as he used his free hand to slide two fingers inside you.

With his rough fingertips bullying your G-spot, you didn't stand a chance, and he was far too strong for you to twitch away for a reprieve as the waves of an earth-shattering orgasm took you like the undertow of a raging river. Your chest heaved as he pulled away, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips. You licked him clean only to have him kiss away the taste like you had slighted him by taking him up on his offer, and then he was slotting himself between your spread wide legs and grinding his cock against your sensitive skin. "Tell me me you're mine."

"I'm yours." You marvelled at his self-control, his face buried in your neck as he continued teasing you. "I'm yours, please Ray."

He took his cock in hand and notched it at your entrance. "Who do you belong to?"

"You." Your reply was desperate, your hands on his heated chest with fingers curled in a threat should he persist in his game, but he didn't, and seemly satisfied with your declaration, he slid inside you with one confident push. The fullness of it stole the air from your lungs, and you lifted your hips up to take him in faster as he bottomed out.

His hand found your hip, and his fingers dug in with force as he began to move, taking a steady pace that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each pass. One of your hands wove into his hair while the other clutched at his back, and he pressed his lips to yours in a scalding kiss as he picked up speed. Mercifully, before he suffocated in the air stealing a kiss, his lips moved to your neck, and then his teeth were out, marking your skin like he was trying to prove a point about his ownership over you.

He pulled away for a moment and took in your blissed out face, faltering as the vision brought him teetering to the edge of oblivion far sooner than his ego would allow, so in a mix of the desire to uphold his pride and the need for more skin to mar he pulled out of your for a fleeting moment only to flip you over then slam back home as his teeth found more skin. He was overwhelming at this angle, and your fingers curled around the pillow as he slid a hand between you to rub your clit.

Ray would often tell you that you were good for his ego, that he could walk into a room where all the men would turn their heads to look, and he could smile knowing you were his alone. But this was something different, you writhing under him, stuck between frantic begging and breathless need made him feel like a God with you as his ever willing offering.

He captured you in another kiss as the edge neared, and you shuddered as, with one more precise circle to your clit, you fell over it. His hips didn't slow, and he growled into your mouth like a hungry animal as he chased his own high. "You're mine, I own you, understand?" All you could do was nod as your vision began to grey at the edges, but he must have accepted your answer because he all but roared as he came inside you.

His strength failed as it hit him full force, and the possessive beast inside him was finally satiated, knowing he had marked inside and out. He was mindful not to crush you, but he couldn't find it in himself to move away just yet, he couldn't let his hard work slip from you just yet. His lips were once again gentle as they kissed the marks his teeth had made, and you sighed as he brushed the stray hairs from your face.

His nose found its family home on the back of your neck, and his chest expanded against your back as he inhaled. "You must be intent on trying to kill me, My Dear."

You didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and rather than ask, you kissed him in hopes he would tell you anyway, but he didn't, and the weariness in your bones forced you to speak. "What do you mean?"

He finally rolled off you, and you laid on your sides facing each other as his hand ran up and down your side. "I can't understand how someone can smell so intoxicating, it truly is torture."

You reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, and he tilted his head to press his lips to your palm. "You get like this every month, I thought you'd be used to it by now."

He shook his head, sleepy. "Never, how can someone get used to being on fire."

"I suppose that's fair." There was more you wanted to say, but it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, and he could tell. Despite his own feelings, he was getting up to clean himself up before returning with his arms loaded. He brought you a glass of water and used one of your damp face cloths to cleanse away your makeup before using another damp cloth to remove the mess from between your legs, although he did pause to watch the evidence of your shared sin drip from your body and onto the expensive sheets as another wave of possessive filled him.

With his duty done, he disposed of the unclean fabric in a pile and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he pulled you to his chest. "I love you y/n."

You relaxed into his arms and dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart lay. "I love you too, Ray."

In the morning, he would awaken you with ginger tea, a heating pad, and ibuprofen before climbing back into bed with you and soothing away your aches and pains until check out finally came. Room service would find no evidence of the mess Ray had left in the aftermath of your coupling, just a pile of towels already in the dirt laundry bin when they collected the cart at the start of their shift. He did, however, get a dirty look and a snide comment from the hotelier about what kind of establishment he was running. As you checked out, Ray took it in stride.

Fin

#raymond smith x you #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith #charlie hunnam fanfiction #the gentleman #charlie hunnam #raymond smith smut

[shady-tavern]

Perfect Nemesis Part Two

Part One Here.

***

You woke in the hero hospital, feeling like you had gotten run over. Aches and pains seemed to fill your entire body. You peeled your eyes open to see Peony across from you, asleep and bandaged, with some stitches along one temple. He wasn’t wearing his mask and you saw his face for the first time since you met him.

Your brows furrowed briefly as you groped for the button that called the nurse. Was it the first time you saw his face? Your head hurt and felt stuffed with cotton.

The nurse working for the Society appeared a second after you sloppily pressed the button, only for your eyes to fall closed halfway through her explanation of the severe overextension of your abilities and how that had translated to damage on your joints and tissue. How you would have killed yourself had you used more of your powers.

When you woke a second time you were just barely more coherent and it was the middle of the night. A dimmed light across from you let you see that Peony was awake, speaking softly with Endless, who sat in the open window, also without his mask.

They both paused and looked over when you made some kind of low sound. Your mouth felt dust dry and your limbs heavy. Everything hurt, but in a bone-deep bruised way and you instinctively knew right away you’d do some serious damage to yourself should you try to use your powers again anytime soon.

"How are you feeling?" Peony asked hesitantly and cautiously, voice quiet but clearly audible in the silent room. You blinked at him, weakly and sluggishly patting around to call the nurse again. You were barely capable of stringing a single thought together.

It was only when your hand bumped the button that you realized you weren’t wearing your ring. You weren’t wearing it and you felt…fine. You felt like you were whole and very much not cursed.

You blinked at them. "Huh," you croaked and passed out again just as they straightened, attention firmly fixed upon you.

When you woke a third time, your mind clear enough that you could actually cling to consciousness, it was to your mentor sitting in a chair beside you.

"Thank fuck," she said the moment you blinked your eyes open and focused on her. Her relief was strong in her voice and openly visible on her face. "You were out for nearly a week. What did you do, kid?"

"Not a kid," you mumbled, but that only made her smile a little. She’d never drop that stupid nickname. Instead of answering, you made yourself move your heavy arm until you could look down at your hand.

Your mentor sobered immediately and you let her take your hand, looking at the spot where a dinged up iron ring had sat for years. You hadn’t taken it off once, not for training, not for bathing and especially not for your last boyfriend who had hated the damn thing. Not that you had liked it, but you had needed it. It had been vital for so long.

"What happened?" your mentor asked quietly. "Did they manage to break the curse?" You shifted your head slightly to peer past her, only to see Peony’s bed empty. "Ah, your buddy is getting a check-up and then he’ll be released later today." 

Your mentor leaned forward a little, turning serious. With more emphasis she said, "Kid."

You had never once been able to hold back when she used that tone of voice. The story spilled forth just as every other story had back when you had been a sidekick and later a fledgling new hero. But you were safe, here and now. 

Your mentor was one of the safest people you knew, she’d go to bat for you at the drop of a hat. You had grown into the hero you were today under her protection and guidance after all.

She was silent for a long moment after you were done and you found it hard to keep your eyes open. 

"I’ll go talk with Peony," she said, giving your hand a parting pat. "Sleep, kid. You really fucked yourself up this time. It’s going to take a while for you to recover."

You mumbled something that was some kind of vague agreement, your eyes falling closed.

*.*.*

Peony was gone when you woke again and you continued to sleep more than you were awake. Sometimes you had visitors, sometimes not, sometimes you woke to people having left gifts at your bedside table.

The time you fell asleep to your superior berating you for destroying 'six and a half fucking buildings you goddamn unbelievable idiot' you were glad to get out of the harsh reprimand. You hadn’t cared about the damage when you had been without empathy, but that hardly mattered. Not when you had caused nearly five million in property damage.

You were very relieved that no one had died. That the people who had gotten caught in the crossfire had been rescued by Peony and, to everyone’s surprise, Endless.

You hadn’t seen your colleague or the villain who had been so eager to be your nemesis since that night in the hospital. You had no idea what to feel when it came to them, but every time you found yourself thinking about them, you touched the spot where the ring had been.

The curse was gone entirely.

The magical expert the Society sent to examine you confirmed that as well, clapping you on the shoulder and congratulating you on getting rid of that horrible thing. You got questioned extensively, but you found yourself skirting over details, citing that you didn’t remember much. 

Your mentor had spoken with Peony once and had said that he would explain himself when and if you were ready to see him again. She had given you a card with his private phone number on it.

"And that Endless fellow will be there too for the conversation, if you want him to be," she had added. Then she had paused, looking at you. "You made quite the impression on him. He had nothing but praise for you."

You had looked away, shrinking bit into yourself. You had too many questions to not want answers, even if everything was kind of a mess. You had no idea if you still wanted to be Peony’s friend or…whatever Endless and you had had previously. 

But they had gotten rid of your curse, even if things had become a bit ugly after they had taken off the ring. Still, that moment of intense betrayal kept hounding you, your ignored pleas, how you had been tied to the ground, utterly helpless.

You found yourself touching your hand over and over, startled alarm finding you for a split second when you didn’t feel the ring, before you remembered that it wasn’t necessary anymore. It was both the greatest relief of your life and something you still had to wrap your head around.

It took some time to adjust to living without a curse after so many years with one.

When you were released from the hero hospital at last with strict orders to take it easy for another month before you could be allowed back to active duty, you were glad to go back home.

You unpacked the bag your mentor had brought you for your stay in the hospital. She was puttered around your home, opening windows to let in fresh air. Your mentor at last opened your fridge and immediately closed it again.

"I’ll go shopping," she said and left briskly with a little wriggle of her fingers.

You tentatively opened your fridge, only to immediately close it again yourself. Well. Taking a deep breath, you rummaged around beneath your sink to get gloves and cleaning products and you got to work, removing food that had had plenty of time to go and rot and mold.

You were just finished with that very disgusting task when your mentor returned and she shooed you away, grumbling that you had to take it easy.

You did take it easy the rest of the day, barely getting up from the couch. Your mentor made sure you had food and left some meals you just had to heat up in your fridge.

"Call me if you need anything," she said after dinner. "I’ll stay in a nearby hotel for another night before returning to work."

Even then you knew she’d drop everything in a heartbeat if you said you needed her help. You resolved to find a good gift for her, to thank her for all her care and her sometimes no-nonsense encouragement during your recovery.

You hadn’t known that overextending your powers could result in a month of bedrest. Then again, apparently you had badly damaged your body in the process and there had been quite a bit that had needed healing.

Empathyless-you was an asshole in all regards.

As you sat alone on your couch you found yourself fiddling with the card Peony had given your mentor. You wanted answers, but you had no idea if you wanted to see him or Endless again.

Maybe a part of you was afraid of what those answers were. Of finding out that the friendship and flirting and banter and easy companionship had only existed so they could trick you.

But, in the end, you wanted to know why they had tricked you more than you were afraid. Why they hadn’t just told you about their plans to remove the curse. You would have let them. You had no idea how much you still trusted them now, if at all, but you had trusted them that much before they forcibly removed your ring.

You leaned back with a sigh and fiddled with the card a moment longer, before you drew up the sort of courage that let you step into costume on a bad day, that made you face villains that sometimes, secretly, frightened you.

The sort of courage that let you keep your head held high the two times you hadn’t been able to save civilians, carrying their limb bodies.

Peony picked up near immediately, his voice tentatively hopeful. "Imagination?"

"Yeah." You were glad that your voice sounded steady even if your heart was beating faster nervously. "You said you were willing to explain?"

"Over the phone or in person?" he asked, voice going a bit softer in a way that made your throat tighten a little. "Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll make sure to get assigned to another city too if you want. I have the paperwork ready to be submitted."

You closed your eyes for a moment. That was all a bit much at once. "Just…why?" It came out more hurt than you had intended.

Peony was quiet for just a second. "I’ll answer, but it would be best if Endless were here," he suggested, voice going a bit tentative again.

"Aright. Sure. Call me back when he’s there." You ended the call before he could say anything else, rubbing a hand restlessly over your face. Your emotions were kind of messy, but at least you had those feelings. You were rid of your curse and that…that meant so fucking much.

It was in all honesty the only reason you were willing to hear them out.

Peony called back quicker than you had expected and from the slight change in audio quality you could tell that he had put you on speaker.

"Hello," Endless said, voice soft and hesitant in a way you had never heard or expected to hear from the confident villain. "I hope you’re doing well?"

"No smalltalk," you found yourself croaking out, your voice cracking a little despite your best efforts. You grimaced and took a breath before you continued. "Just tell me why."

"Why the deception and trickery and why we used your trust against you?" Endless asked and you swallowed past your dry mouth. "It was the only way to lift the curse."

Thankfully, he continued before you had to ask him to elaborate. "The villain who hurt you once met up with my old mentor, ranting and raving. I overheard a lot that day and in all fairness, I had mostly forgotten that day until I met you." His voice turned a little softer. "It took me a bit to remember that you were the hurt sidekick in that public trial."

"What do you know about the curse?" you found yourself asking, worrying the hem of your sleeve between the fingers of your free hand.

Endless made a low, dark noise. "It’s one of the vilest things I’ve ever encountered and that says a lot. The curse isn’t particularly complex, but it’s removal is. For one, it cannot be removed if you want it removed by the person in front of you. As long as you let someone try to take it away, it would not work."

Which was why none of the Society heroes or independent vigilante with magical abilities had been able to do anything.

"We could not tell you about what we had planned," Peony said quietly, regret thick in his voice. "I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but just one mention about it would have made you expect the removal sooner or later. We would have had to wait years to make you actively forget about it for it to work."

"I’m so very sorry as well," Endless said softly. "I wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t minded your curse, but it was clear you hated it for both of us. If you never want to see me again, you won’t."

You closed your eyes as the two men fell silent, giving you a moment to work through everything. You ended the call, rubbing your hands over your chin before pressing your face into your palms to just breathe.

Your emotions were all over the place and you had no idea what to think or feel for the longest moment. In the end you texted Peony 'give me some time' and shoved your phone under your couch cushions.

You did not sleep that night, staying awake until the first hint of dawn, staring out across a city you had been protecting for years with Peony at your side. Your friend, your companion, your partner.

And then Endless had shown up. The exciting villain who had shaken your world up in the best of ways for months. Who had made you stop worrying about that damn ring on your finger.

A ring that was no longer needed because of them. You had no idea where that ring was now, but you didn’t want it back either. You never wanted to see the damn thing ever again.

In the end you called your mentor and, as so many other times, laid your troubled heart at her feet.

"That’s a right mess, kid," she said with sympathy and you couldn’t help but snort before, at long last, you found yourself crying. Pent up stress and relief and confusion all poured out in a mess of tears. "There, there, let it all out." And quieter, so you barely heard her, "Maybe I should go rogue and kill that asshole in jail after all."

And then you were laugh-crying and when you calmed down again, you did feel better.

"I’d say let them grovel a while," your mentor said. "If you think you can ever trust them again."

Could you? You wanted to, you realized as you ended the call and sat curled up on your couch, watching as the city came alive the more the sun rose. You wanted to trust them, because…because they made your life better, both of them. Meeting them had brought so much good into your life.

But you couldn’t forget the betrayal and being pinned to the floor. The panic as your ring got stripped away, your pleas ignored. 

You understood why they had done it, considering the nature of the curse. But the mind and the heart were two different beasts and you were in the very fortunate position that neither of them seemed to be able to come to a proper decision.

So you puttered around for a few days, mulling things over until you realized you were just turning in circles. So you called Peony again after staring at your dirty dishes for a long moment, mind far away. He picked up and from the voice in the background that immediately became easily audible when you were put on speaker, Endless was with him.

Despite all the things you wanted to ask and say, somehow the first thing out of your mouth was, "How do you two know each other?" 

Peony huffed softly, "We’re childhood friends, actually. I always knew he was Endless and he always knew I was Peony. I, uh, I was the reason he switched cities in the first place. I had some trouble that he helped me with. Civilian trouble," he added quickly and you felt an unexpected, fresh stab of hurt fade again.

It was Society policy to not share your private lives with each other when you hadn’t been told each others identities. You had always made sure to respect that, never prying and not commenting on slip-ups from Peony or yourself.

"After helping my friend out I didn’t want to go back to Imperia," Endless added. "It was easier to establish myself here than go through the hassle of clearing my old territory from the rabble. And, well, Imperia didn’t have you either."

You had no idea what to say, so you changed the subject. "Why were we in the same hospital room, Peony?"

"You don’t remember? My mask got eaten by the void," he said and it took you a moment to recall, that, oh, yeah, he was right. Your memory was a little blurry, especially with how fast it had all happened. "Along with half my outfit. Any longer in there and I probably would have lost some pieces of me too."

Endless was audibly grimacing when he added, "I tried to negate the damage as much as I could, but the void really, really doesn’t like anything that’s not me."

That didn’t surprise you. Every brush of the void during fights had told you as much, even though you had trusted that Endless wouldn’t use it against you.

"Was my mask still in place?" you asked, because the nurses would not have unmasked you without your permission, no matter if your partner had shown you his face or not. Both men made a low, unhappy sound.

"The glue we used apparently couldn’t withstand the amount of power you put out in order to make that dragon," Peony explained. You blinked in surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that. "Which, by the way, what the fuck? I didn’t know you could do that."

"Neither could I," you admitted after a moment. "Having no empathy meant I didn’t care about you or myself."

Peony’s mirth noticeably fell away. "I can’t tell you how sorry I am. About ambushing you and making you think we betrayed you. We tried to come up with so many different ways to get that ring without you catching on, but you always guarded it like your life depended on it. Which, knowing what we know now, it actually did."

His words gave you pause. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, you didn’t notice?" Peony sounded surprised. "My frie- I mean, I stole your gloves on multiple occasions, but you always had backups. I tried to 'stumble' into you a couple of times if they got damaged in fights too when Endless was nearby to try and yank the ring off. Endless tried to tug them off too."

"I also tried to remove them with my powers, but that was too finicky while we fought," Endless admitted. "I’m not really good at that delicate stuff when it comes to my powers. It takes so much concentration that I usually just get a headache."

You stared at the opposite wall and the framed artwork on the wall, baffled and unsure what to say. All this time you had thought that you had just forgotten your gloves, especially since they always turned back up. You had thought Peony had just been tired or injured whenever he had tripped and you had adjusted to catch him.

"I couldn’t invite you out to drinks either or I would have gotten you wasted enough to let me pull the ring off," Peony added after a moment. "Which would still have been a major asshole move, I know that, believe me. You were always very firm on not telling each other who we were, so that plan would have never worked."

"And I didn’t want to ask you out knowing I was going to do…that," Endless said, voice lowered and laced with a quiet sort of ache. "Doesn’t matter that I have no chances now, I never wanted to taint whatever we had that way."

You struggled with finding your voice for a couple of seconds, Peony and Endless waiting patiently for you to speak again.

"Why didn’t you trick me sooner?" you asked and they were silent for a long moment.

"I like you, you know," Peony said at last, his voice heavy. "As does Endless."

"More than that, really," Endless added so quietly you almost hadn’t heard him. You suspected he actually hadn’t meant to be heard by you at all.

Peony continued, "We care about you and the more we did, the more we hesitated. It became harder to go through with it the longer we waited."

You slumped back against your couch, feeling conflicted all over again. 

"I’m truly so very sorry," Endless said softly. "If you are willing to let me I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

"As will I," Peony said firmly. "But if you never want to see us again, one word is enough and we’ll vanish from your life."

"We’d still see each other during seminars and Society meetings," you found yourself pointing out and Peony hesitated in a way that made you frown and sit up. "What?"

"I would leave the Society," Peony said. "I’ve wanted to go independent for a while now, so I plan on going somewhere else to open my own office. Just, uh, just so you know, you’d be welcome as my partner. If you want."

Independent hero offices existed everywhere, they worked together with the Society and the government as well as companies. They could be quite successful if done well and you didn’t doubt that Peony was quite capable. He’d make it work.

Peony hesitantly added, "In all honesty, I think I’ll go independent regardless. I’ve been a bit unhappy with working for the Society for a while now."

The Society wasn’t perfect, that was true, and you could admit that the idea of being your own boss was an unexpectedly interesting and, well, rather tempting. You would have said yes, you realized, before this entire mess with the ring.

A part of you still wanted to say yes.

As you tipped your head back to stare up at the ceiling, you came to a decision. You had no idea if you would regret it, but it felt like you’d regret it more if you just…gave up. Ran away. You shifted your fingers to press your thumb of the same hand against the spot where the ring used to sit.

"No more secrets," you said at last. A high demand in your field of work. Secrecy was a big part of the business, both for villains and heroes.

"Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you," Endless said without an ounce of hesitation.

"Aren’t you scared I’m going to use that against you?" You couldn’t help but ask, pushing just a little, because if he told you everything you wanted to know you could easily sell him out to the Society.

"You are a truly good person," Endless answered, voice firm and once again without a hint of hesitation. "And should you decide to betray me in the end in answer for my transgressions, I will only bow my head and call it fair."

He sounded like he meant it. 

"Why don’t I start," Peony said and you heard the careful hope in his voice, could imagine the little smile that curled in the corner of his mouth. Like a small flower yearning to bloom. "Hello Imagination, you know me as Peony, but my real name is Florent Quill and I visit hospitals and nursery homes in my free time to leave bouquets for the people there."

That was so very Peony. Florent. You turned the name over in your mind and found it fitting.

"And my name is Ashton Bach," Endless answered, a smile audible in his voice. "At your service. I’m not nearly as nice as Flori, but I do enjoy making share holders and PR teams panic over stocks on the weekends. But I think you already knew that. Oh, I have a cat, Powder, she’s very sweet."

You found yourself smiling a little at his description and the way his voice grew fond and warm.

"Also, I’m deathly allergic to peanuts," Ashton added. "And I cry every single time I watch Pride and Prejudice."

"I can attest to that," Florent answered dryly and Ashton barked out a brief laugh, raspy and brightly amused.

You curled up against your couch, hiding a smile against your knees. You were still quite upset, deep down, but something about this conversation eased your heart a little. Took away some of the ache and that unsure uneasiness that you felt around them.

"Anything else you want to know?" Ashton asked.

"Not now," you said and hesitated. "But maybe we can talk again later?"

"Anytime you want," Florent promised. "We’ll be here."

You said your goodbyes and hung up and slumped sideways into the pillows. You felt better and even hesitantly hopeful. You fiddled with your phone and wondered if rebuilding trust was that easy. 

*.*.*

It was not that easy, not at all, but slowly, with every conversation you felt less hurt, less backstabbed, less unsure. You knew that they had only wanted to help, but sometimes you woke up from a nightmare where you got the ring ripped away, frantically searching for it. It always took you a moment to remember that you didn’t need it anymore.

Sometimes you dreamed of tearing them apart and it didn’t matter. Not even in the nightmares where you died too along with them. A lack of empathy meant a lack of…anything, really. Anything that mattered, that made you human and kind and stupid and passionate and lazy and all the things that made up this existence on earth.

You had hard conversations with them and it helped that they never shied away from you when you allowed some of the hurt to bubble to the surface. You still hadn’t seen either of them, but bit by bit you allowed your closed off heart to open up again.

And before you knew it, you were ready to return to active duty.

"Don’t worry, I’m taking time off," Florent had reassured you. "You won’t have to see me until you’re ready."

It felt weird to return to work alone and changed. To no longer need the intently protected gloves and to walk the streets with only some occasional fights against a handful villains who wanted to test their mettle against you.

You used your powers faster than before, imagination leaping to your fingertips, eager and hardier and bigger than before. You created things quicker than ever and every creature was just a tad more dangerous than before.

Florent and Ashton did stay away like they had promised. And as one week turned to two, then three, you noticed their absence more and more. The break room remained empty, no friend and colleague there to greet you with smiles and flowers. No powerful and genuinely fun to fight villain seeking you out and handing over the off-switch for the world for a little while at the same time.

No warm hugs and friendly nudges, no promisingly lowered voices and excited grins, no flower crowns on your head and no murmured words that were promise and flattery all at once. 

You ended up calling your therapist and you had a long, tough session. When you left, your eyes were swollen from crying, but you felt like you could breathe properly for the first time in far too long. Your mind and heart felt blown clear at long last and you knew what you wanted.

"Hey," you said when you called Florent, the call getting picked up nearly immediately. Ashton was present too today, he wasn’t always, but often enough that calling Florent first was just easier. "Let’s meet."

*.*.*

Seeing Florent and Ashton again, entirely out of costume, was a little strange, but you were glad to see their faces. They smiled at you and Ashton’s faintly glowing eyes were soft and hopeful, never once straying from you.

A small flower bouquet laid on the table of the café, all your favorites rolled up in pretty paper.

"Hey," Florent said, the faintest of nervous undertones to his voice. "It’s good to see you."

You sat down across from them and realized that seeing them out of costume helped. You were still rather more nervous than you had expected, but the hurt was only a quiet ache now, no longer the fresh, bleeding stab that it had been previously.

"I still want to say sorry again," Florent admitted with an apologetic smile. You had told him to stop apologizing after the sixth time and you pinned him with a look.

"I heard you," you said. "I just…needed some time."

"You are entitled to that and more," Ashton agreed easily and waved over a waitress. "Order whatever you like, it’s on me."

"On you or the businesses you like to rob?" you couldn’t help but ask and his grin got delighted, his eyes going a bit sharper, a bit more intense like they did when you fought.

For a brief moment you wondered what battling him felt like now with your powers having grown fiercer. You wondered how far you could push, how little you’d have to hold back with Ashton. If you’d have to worry about actually hurting him at all when you fought him or if he’d meet you every step of the way.

Florent just sighed in fond amusement. "Don’t get him started," he said in a conspiratorial tone, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice. "He is quite passionate about that topic."

"They are just so stupid," Ashton said as though he couldn’t help himself. "And quite awful, really. Besides, I don’t touch the businesses that are actually good to their employees, you know."

You did know. You knew more about both Ashton and Florent than ever before now. The waitress arrived and you ordered and she left with a smile and brisk steps.

There was a beat of silence, before Ashton leaned forward and asked, "Have you seen the newest announcement for Janet’s books?"

You couldn’t help but light up, as did Florent and before you knew it, you were deeply in a discussion about your favorite book series. A book series Ashton and Florent were big fans off as well. And now those books were supposed to become a TV show and it was rather exciting.

Your conversation moved naturally without much issue at all, rolling from topic to topic as you ate and drank. You laughed and smiled and before you knew it, Florent excused himself.

"I’ll be meeting up with my mum in ten minutes," he said regretfully. "I’ll see you soon?"

"Yeah." You found yourself smiling up at him, then hesitated and you bumped your shoe lightly against his. "Come back to work, alright?"

His face lit up, relief and something warm and bright making him look as happy as you had ever seen him. "I will. And just so you know, the offer of partnering up still stands if that’s something you can see yourself doing." He glanced at his phone when it pinged and winced. "Shit, she said she arrived early. Please excuse me."

He briefly touched Ashton’s shoulder as he got up, sent you another smile and hurried out of the café.

"Want to go for a walk?" Ashton offered, gesturing at the good, if a bit cold weather outside. "We could talk more privately if you want."

You considered the offer, then nodded. Ashton paid and left a generous tip, before you got up. You made sure to take the flowers along and you soon found yourself walking through the nearby park with your former nemesis. Or maybe still nemesis? You weren’t quite sure what the two of you were now.

"You know, I still want to apologize too," Ashton said, looking ahead, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. "I know it sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I just can’t forget the way you looked at me."

Your light mood turned serious and you looked ahead yourself, watching some teenagers jostle each other, laughing at whatever one was showing the other on her phone.

"I wish you would have done it sooner," you found yourself saying at last. "Before I got so attached. Maybe then it would have been easier."

He winced. "Yeah, you’re probably right. I just…" He hesitated, then sighed and his shoulders slumped a little. He smiled a little as though he couldn’t help himself and it was the softest smile you had ever seen. "I think you don’t know how amazing it is to fight you. How you light up when you get to cut loose a little or how little you are afraid of my powers. You never were. Most people run away the second they get close to the void."

He huffed a soft noise, amused and so warm it made the slight chill of the early autumn air disappear. "And then I got you to talk to me, to banter with me. You’re so quick on your feet and you are so damn funny." His small smile faded. "But you are right. In my desire to hold on to those moments for just a little bit longer I ended up hurting you worse."

He tipped his head to look at you, those faintly glowing eyes serious. "I’m usually a pretty selfish person and petty as fuck too, but I messed up here. I shouldn’t have let my feelings get in the way." 

He looked ahead, a wry twist to his mouth. "When I realized what you meant to me, I knew I’d never get to be close to you again if I went through with our plan. That I’d never get to talk with you like that again."

You fiddled with your phone in your pocket, shifting your other hand to once again press your thumb against the spot where the ring used to be.

"I don’t want you to stop," you found yourself saying quietly. Ashton beside you jolted, his surprised gaze meeting yours. Hope made his eyes a little brighter, even as he visibly tried to reign himself in.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly. "I will respect your choices, no matter what." His expression turned hard as he looked away, his shoulders tensing and hunching a little, making him appear smaller. "I will never again ignore what you say."

You looked ahead and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"If this is going to work, we’re going to couples therapy," you said and you heard the sharp breath he took. This time his hope was almost painful to look at.

"Of course," he said. "I’ve been seeing my therapist about this mess myself. Do you have a couple’s therapist in mind? Or should we go to one of ours?"

You mulled that over. "Let’s try ours first, if they agree," you said. "If that doesn’t work, we’ll look for someone specialized."

Ashton nodded with an open, still so very hopeful smile. You noticed the way he pulled his hand out of his pocket, as though he was about to reach out, when he immediately pulled back again. Without much thought, you offered your own hand, not looking at him.

His skin was warm and his palm and fingers calloused when he took your hand as though it was the most precious thing in the world. It made your chest both feel tight and too full.

"Can I still flirt?" he asked after a moment of silence and you found yourself laughing briefly, softly.

"Don’t you dare not to."

"Nicknames?" Ashton asked, that excited, wild-edged smile appearing on his face as he shuffled a step closer to you, still holding your hand so very gently.

"Let’s hear it," you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling back.

He lit up as though he had waited for this moment for ages. "Darling Treasure, brilliant Menace, amazing Foe, my lovely Nemesis -"

You couldn’t help but laugh and duck your head at the same time, flattered and flustered. "Those are just compliments."

He leaned forward a bit to meet your gaze, that wild smile looking downright, well, downright goddamn besotted. "Maybe," he said. "But they’re all true to me."

You had no idea what to say, but whatever expression was on your face, he seemed quite happy about it.

"So, darling Nemesis," he said, that wild-edged smile still on his face even as his voice turned soft and low, the way it used to during your most exciting fights when he’d murmur right by your ear. "Will you let me take you out to dinner?"

You looked up at him and your smile took on a teasing note. "Should I?"

His smile grew into a grin, eyes glowing just a little brighter. "I’d say so. I could take you somewhere cozy and private or fancy and expensive. I do have company money to spend." His grin got a little toothy at those words. "Or I can go and cook you something, set up my little backyard with fairy lights and flowers and in the end we’ll still eat on the couch because Powder will trap one of us the second we dare to sit down inside."

You felt yourself softening. "I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in forever," you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His hand shifted, his fingers interlacing with yours. 

For once you didn’t need a reminder that the ring was gone and no longer needed, not when his skin pressed warm against yours, his hold secure. There was no space for dinged, cold iron.

"Then I better do my best," he said softly. "Maybe I’ll even get you to fall in love with me one of these days."

You didn’t tell him that you were halfway in love with him already. That you had been for months and that, once you had worked through a large part of the emotions of the ring incident, those feelings had slowly, gently, bubbled to the surface again.

"Maybe it won’t take as much effort as you think to get there," you said and when you glanced at him, his expression was so open it almost hurt to look at.

"Darling Nemesis," he said, quiet and reverent and so very lovingly. "You are truly the brightest, most amazing person I ever met." He reached up with his free hand and you realized you had stopped walking. His fingertips brushed your cheek, leaving streaks of warmth behind.

"My perfect nemesis," he whispered. "If only you knew how brightly you shine in my eyes."

And when you tugged him a little closer, shifting up to meet him, he pressed a warm, smiling kiss against your cheek. Maybe not everything was perfect, you certainly had some shit to work through together, but you knew you could do it.

His hand was gentle, his touch loving, his fingers elegant and strong between yours and you smiled at the lack of rings you felt, the warmth that was there instead.

Yeah, things were going to be just fine.

*

Taglist:

@permanentlydepressedpigeon @thesaltofcarthage @those-damn-snippets

#my writing #short stories #short story #heroes and villains #hero x villain #this one became very soft #and very long #but what else is new #will I ever write things that aren't soft? #who knows #I certainly dont #I hope this was a fun read! #and that I didn't overlook too many spelling mistakes #i had a blast writing this

[collisvng]

BIOLUMINESCENCE.

1.9k words and a whole lot of fluff.

Inspired by this song. Reminded me of the aquatic ambiance at an aquarium.

You always wanted to see the lights on Christmas.

But not the kind of lights one would expect.

Ever since a new exhibit opened up at the aquarium, it was all you could think about.

Lucky for you, your best friend Bangchan just so happened to be free this holiday.

It was a last-second decision.

Your family couldn’t make the trip down this year and you didn’t want to go alone.

It was a traditional sort of thing; you’d go to the aquarium and at the end, your mother would get you whatever plush you wanted from any of the gift shops.

You’d always leave with some sort of deep sea creature plush—mostly jellyfish.

Which was ironic considering there weren’t many jellyfish at the aquarium for most of your youth.

Chan once asked you why you had so many jelly plushies when he stopped by your apartment once and you went on a full-on explanation on the different species each one was.

Bangchan never stopped you or tried to sway the conversation.

He would just sit there and smile and ask questions when he wanted to.

He never made it seem like you were annoying him or that he was disinterested—quite the contrary actually.

If anything, he found the way you celebrated the holiday to be quite charming.

For him, Christmas was always seen as a couples holiday. He always seemed to prefer to spend it with his family in the end, but there were a few times he would try to go out on dates. He admired you having a tradition that brought you so close to the people you loved, all while it pertained to a special interest of yours.

Which is why when you heard a new deep-sea exhibit would be opening up at the aquarium on Christmas Eve, you knew exactly who to ask to hang with so you wouldn’t have to go alone.

And lucky for you, Bangchan didn’t have a Christmas date this year.

At first you were scared of it being weird between you two. I mean, friendship dates were common amongst you both but for some reason because it was Christmas it felt different. There was also the undeniable truth of your feelings for him that you so desperately hid and would never admit to him.

What if you would make things awkward?

But when he showed up at your door with his little Santa hat on and the brightest smile that almost reached his eyes—holding out a reindeer antler headband for you to wear and giggling…

Your worries seemed to melt away.

… Just kidding, he was so cute you wanted to combust right there.

BUT ANYWAYS—

You were the one to drive you both to the aquarium.

(I mean of course; Christopher, the passenger princess prevails.)

And the entire way from the parking lot to the aquarium mans kept singing the baby shark song for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

He kept going until you guys made it inside, following the crowd of people flowing into the main hall.

A sigh of relief would escape your lips when he finally stopped, and he would just smile at the satisfaction of properly annoying you.

Little did he know that you found his irksome behavior endearing.

And little did you know, he found the tiny roll of your eyes to be adorable.

You traveled around the aquarium for god knows how long, explaining to Chan different facts about different sea creatures. It was dark, and calming, and the music that played throughout the whole building was strangely cathartic.

He would make some dad jokes here and there, getting a slight chuckle out of you (which he was very proud of). And every once in a while he would make some comment about you leading him through each exhibit. When you turned to him and asked what he meant, he smiled.

“You’re like my little reindeer guiding me through the night,” he laughed as he flicked the headband you were wearing. “Lead the way little Rudolph!”

When you reached the jellyfish, Bangchan was so enamored with how you lit up. With each random factoid, an answer of his questions, and the way you would eagerly push forward through the crowd to show him the next set of jellyfish—he seemed to fall deeper and deeper. 

You were so cute and excited; it was so different then just you explaining things to him while hanging out in your bedroom.

And when you stood in front of the Moon jellies—your favorite jellyfish, he remembered—he just watched you. Your eyes were so lost in the beauty of the jellies, but his eyes were so lost in the beauty of you.

When you turned and caught him staring, he could feel himself blushing. Thank goodness it was too dark for you to see. You just assumed he was getting tired and was starting to zone out.

“Come on sleepy head,” you said as you grabbed ahold of his arm once again. “We have one last exhibit and it’ll be the end”

The only thing is, he really didn’t want it to end.

And in all honesty, neither did you.

When you guys finally got to the new deep sea exhibit, your eyes illuminated. The room was completely dark, but the tanks were lit and filled with the most beautiful creatures you had ever seen.

Bangchan walked over to one of the tall, thin tanks and cocked his head to the side.

“What’s this one?”

“They’re called Comb jellies,” you explained. “They have this thing in their genes that produce photoproteins which makes them glow.”

“I think these are my favorite,” he grinned. “The little vibrations and stuff… it’s so cute.”

You both were standing on opposite sides of the tank, giving you a full view of Chan through the glass as he intensely stared at one of the jellies, observing how their cilia moved and reflected light.

He looked so focused and amazed. And the way he squinted and slightly puckered his lips while trying to get a better look absolutely made your heart explode.

When he caught heed of you observing him, he decided to make a silly face to catch you off-guard. 

And as you covered your smile and looked away, Bangchan noticed a blue light flash behind you.

He grabbed your hand and led you to a black wall. It was dark, it was in a small corner, and it was so secluded that there weren't many people in the same area. You were standing there in the center of an unlit room, holding Banchan’s hand as he swore up and down he saw something there.

And just as you were about to pull him away to keep going through the exhibit… It finally happened.

A light. A small dot. A glowing blue speck appeared on the screen.

Then suddenly, one speck turned into another… and another… and another… Until there was an array of blue scattered dots lighting up the screen, sparkling in the darkness.

Then they vanished again.

Bangchan let out a slight huff in disbelief while you remained in your spot in silence just staring ahead.

When the little dots reappeared, they weren’t just scattered sparkles this time though; they were creating shapes. Creating different types of jellyfish.

The small, blue lights began to gather into small clumps until there were what felt like a million little Beaded comb jellies sparkling and covering the once pitch-dark room. They appeared one by one until the darkness was filled with the twinkle of the formations.

Then they would be gone again.

When the formations dissipated, the blue dots began flying around like little fireflies until a group of them clustered together in a different spot to form a new type of jellyfish before dissipating again. 

The jellies would be created, then vanish, leaving the glowing blue dots to scatter; floating to a new part of the wall to do the same thing but create something different.

You and Chan stood there for god knows how long, losing track of time. 

Hand in hand, completely mesmerized. 

Eventually, Bangchan zoned out so much that it felt as if no one else existed.

The other exhibits, the other people in the room, the sound of people talking and kids screaming—they had all vanished in his eyes. 

There was no screen. Nothing was 2D. There was only you, him, and blue lights that almost seemed to be floating around the room at this point. It was like a movie in his head, where the lights just simply swirled around the both of you like little fairies only bringing you closer and closer together.

It wasn’t until some of the little blue lights changed colors did you finally let go of Chan’s hand.

In the sea of blue sparkles, a few gold ones appeared and formed a Moon jellyfish.

A breath hitched in your throat as you walked up to it in the darkness. It swam for a second or two, and as your hand instinctively reached out to touch it, the creature turned into dispersed sparkles.

You smiled in that moment. It was like that moment was meant to happen. That was something that happened for you and only for you. 

Bangchan thought the same thing, but he couldn’t comprehend words. He was just staring at you with admiration in his eyes. The sparkle in your eyes when you saw the jellyfish appear. How you seemed so entranced it was like you were being drawn forward. The cute little laugh you let out when you almost touched the formation before it disappeared…

…And when you turned to smile at him, he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t explain the feeling. It was more than a friendly feeling. More than a simple feeling any basic human could have. He knew it was some form of love. But how can one properly describe an ethereal kind of love?

He didn’t know.

So instead he just shyly smiled back.

That night when you drove Chan home, he was more silent than usual. It worried you, so you made it a point to walk him to his front door in order to have an excuse for some small talk.

When you asked him if he was feeling okay, he immediately pulled you into a hug.

You were confused but didn’t question anything. You just closed your eyes and just enjoyed being enveloped in his arms. His jacket was warm, he lightly smelled of cologne, and you could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Thank you for asking me to come with you today,” he whispered.

Bangchan pulled back from the hug enough to give you a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling you back in once again. It caught you by surprise, and you could feel Chan breathing even harder now.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a plushie this year,” he sighed. “I meant to buy you one since you told me that’s what your parents do. But I got a little distracted.”

The grin on your face and the tears starting to form in your eyes were all hidden as your face was buried into Chan’s chest. But your sudden choked sob that escaped your lips as you let out a slight laugh was enough for him to notice.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled against him. “For some reason, I feel like I got a better gift this year.”

Chan smiled. You were right about that, actually. You just didn’t know.

Bangchan realized he was in love with you. And that would eventually go on to be one the best gifts you could have ever gotten.

#➴collisvng writes #bangchan #bangchan drabbles #bangchan thoughts #bang chan imagines #bangchan fluff #bangchan x reader #stray kids #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids thoughts #skz fluff #skz x reader

[grottylittlefox]

How could I ever forget you? Chapter 14

Sebastian Sallow/Professor Sallow × f!MC / reader

Slow burn/fluff/angst, aged up characters 18-mid 20s

Somehow it had taken until your final day at Hogwarts to finally show Sebastian how you felt, and by then it was too late. Years pass and your distance grows stronger, despite your many efforts for him. A surprise encounter at a new job could change things forever. Finding each other once again at the very place you first met, Hogwarts.

Chapter 1: "I guess this is it"

Chapter 2: "Oh how I missed you"

Chapter 3: "Goodbye, Sebastian"

Chapter 4: " think it's time you move on"

Chapter 5: "Professor Sallow?"

Chapter 6: "Welcome Home"

Chapter 7: "You're my good luck charm"

Chapter 8: "I'm more of a butterfly person"

Chapter 9: “What have you become?”

Chapter 10: “I have something for you”

Chapter 11: “Curious”

Chapter 12: “I can never stay away from you”

Chapter 13: “Meet me in the undercroft”

Chapter 14: “Shall we dance?”

Today was the day, dinner with Professor Weasley.

That morning you awoke to a blanket of snow upon the rolling hills outside of your bedroom window. The cold glass pressed against your head as you rested in thought, your gaze following the dancing snowflakes swirling down onto the rooftops below.

Your imagination wandered for a while, preparing you for the night ahead, how you would approach the situation that Professor Fig had been so ominous about. You had visited his portrait multiple times since, eager for some kind of explanation, but alas, it remained empty.

And of course, that string of thought always pulled you back to Sebastian, as much as you resisted. The memory of him leaving, barging past you in a hurry, after witnessing Garreth’s lips upon yours.

Him getting Ostara back.

He had been gone for some time now, with no letters and nowhere to send an owl too. Of course you had left him notes on your parchment, multiple in fact. But still the paper remained free of his touch.

Your eyes wandered to the edge of the horizon, tucked behind silvery mountains and the haze of gentle snowfall. He was out there, somewhere, slipping away.

~~~

You simply couldn’t resist going out and enjoying the weather, it rarely snowed in London, and oh how you had missed Hogwarts in the wintertime.

You set out onto the castle grounds, making your way out for a chilly walk around the Hogwarts Valley, giving you some more time to contemplate your plan for the evening. Your favourite green scarf wrapped around your neck, matched with a cosy hat and gloves.

Your breath clouded in front of you as you peered out over the wooden beams of the bridge at the edge of the castle. The views were simply glorious, and for that small moment, you had at last cleared your head. Nothing but the whooshing sound of the wind, and the burning nip at the tip of your nose.

Suddenly a pair of hands gripped onto your waist, pulling you backwards as a chin rested gently on your shoulder, snapping you back into reality.

“Guess who?” A friendly voice whispered.

“Garreth,” you grinned, turning to him.

How was it that he was everywhere?

He looked down at you, curls of auburn hair falling beside his mossy green eyes. The edge of his lip twitching up into a smile.

“Excited for tonight?” He asked, before planting a little kiss onto your icy lips, quickly heating up your face.

That guilty lump returned to your throat. You had continued to pursue Garreth in Sebastian’s absence, you had no choice. This dinner was the only chance you had to get the information that could save Sebastian, and you would go to any length to do so.

“Can’t wait,” you smiled, performing.

“I too can’t wait, to show you off that is,” Garreth teased.

That guilty lump dissolved in an instant, the warmth travelling up to your cheeks, pulling that forced smile into something more real.

To show you off?

A little tingle flipped in your stomach.

Somebody wanted to show you off.

It made practically no sense that you felt this way. The last time Garreth had ‘shown you off’ you felt humiliated, being under Sebastian’s prying eyes.

But, Sebastian was gone. Sebastian, he would never show you off.

Perhaps it was his absence, perhaps it was that you finally felt seen. But Garreth…. made you feel something.

“I’m just heading into the castle, to get everything ready for dinner,” he smiled, stepping back. “I’ll see you tonight, MC.”

You watched as he set off across the bridge, turning back to flash you one last smile, which once again sent tiny little tingles rushing through you.

Were you starting to like Garreth after all?

~~~

A familiar reflection stared back at you, hair pulled into an ornate bun accompanied by the most luscious dress in deep hues of green. Perfectly matching the palette of Garreths charming, gentle eyes. You watched yourself smile as you fiddled at the necklace holding Sebastian’s precious ring, trying to ignore the lingering doubts about your feelings that tormented you more with every passing second.

It was time. You took a final deep breath, analysing the way your body moved with the fabric, before heading to the door of your cosy Hogwarts bedroom. Hesitating, you turned back, glancing across the moonlit desk in the corner. The enchanted parchment lie there, waiting patiently for a response. You had been hung up on it every day, constantly checking, carrying it with you wherever you went. And this was to be no different. The parchment was soon stuffed in your purse, accompanying you to dinner.

As you made your way down the grand staircase, you felt the array of heads turning, watching as you strolled by. These were not students heads however, they were portraits, eyeing you up in your new look.

“You look lovely!” A voice called out from above.

You looked up, to find a portrait of a young girl staring back at you. A portrait you must have passed hundreds, if not thousands of times, yet somehow never even noticed.

“Thank you,” you said as a gentle smile slipped your lips, carefully holding up your skirt in order not to trip.

You finally arrived at the great hall, completely unprepared for what to expect. You did however find it rather amusing that the students were so blissfully unaware of such events happening, as they all resided in their dorms. You wondered what sorts of things the staff got up too when you were a student. And what it might be like to see them tonight, without the restrictions of their office and classroom walls.

Standing outside of the large door, you adjusted your dress, listening in to the hustle and bustle of commotion on the other side.

The door slowly began to open, letting the boom of chatter and music slip out with the light.

A mop of ginger hair peered around the door, followed by a smile and a rather elaborate coat and tie.

“Look at you!”

“It’s nothing,” you gushed. “Just something I had laying around-“

“You look devine,” he muttered, reaching out a hand and guiding you inside, revealing the most exquisite display of feast you had ever laid eyes on.

The smell of warm food was enchanting, and the food itself a sight to behold. Instead of four long tables, the hall was centred by one large round table, topped with delicious treats accompanied by absurd amounts of alcohol.

Almost the entire faculty of Hogwarts was already digging in, laughing and chatting away. Only four empty seats remained. Two beside each other for you and Garreth, one for Professor Black, who would likely not show up, and one at the other side of the table, reserved for Sebastian.

You were thrilled to find you were also sat beside Professor Garlick, or Mirabel as you now called her. However you were utterly distressed that Professor Weasley had been sat at the other side of Garreth, making it practically impossible to converse with her. The entire purpose of this plan was to find out what she knew, and now that task had become just a little bit more tedious.

And so you began to dig in, watching as the enchanted wine bottles poured endless amounts of glasses around the table.

You had spent most of the evening chatting to Professors Garlick than actually communicating with Garreth at all. He was far too deep in debate with Professor Sharp, who was beginning to slur his words about potions. And now no longer being a student it seemed Garreth could finally speak his mind, which was certainly taking priority over talking to you. This was all much to the dismay of Professor Weasley, who was visibly uncomfortable to be sat between the two of them.

You stood up from your chair and approached the Professor from behind, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Care to join me for a stroll?” You smiled.

“I could use some air,” she replied giving Garreth a scolding look.

The two of you headed out of the door leading to the gardens, that sat above your old common room. The warm light from inside illuminated the darkness from below, matching the twinkling stars up above that left a sparkle on the snowy ground.

“I can only apologise for my nephews behaviour in there, it seems the drinks have gotten to his head-“

“It’s alright, he’s very passionate about Potions,” you chuckled.

“That he is. I’m thrilled to hear he is opening up shop in Hogsmeade… and I see the two of you have been getting close.”

“We,” you paused, trying to muster the right thing to say. “We have. Perhaps we could collaborate on some kind of healing potion, in the future.”

There it was, the perfect diversion.

“Certainly, you have made strides for healing in the wizarding world, who knew that muggle methods could be so effective?”

“They are, however, there are

certain types of magic that I think could be just as powerful, it’s just a matter of finding them.”

Something occurred to you in that moment, hearing yourself speak of this.

Isidora, using ancient magic to take away pain.

It was awfully similar to what you had been doing all this time, without the magic of course.

How had everything you’d been through somehow lead to this? Was it more than a coincidence?

The Professor raised an eyebrow, seeming eager to hear more about the magic you spoke of.

“In my research,” you continued. “I heard about some sort of item belonging to Salazar Slytherin that was hidden in the castle, having some kind of healing abilities. It certainly sounded interesting, perhaps it’s worth investigating some day.” You spoke ever so casually, in order to be cautious.

“My dear,” the Professor chucked. “Do not waste your time. I don’t think such an item exists.”

She seemed awfully certain of that, perhaps a little too certain.

“- and even if it did,” she continued. “It would have since been moved.”

“Moved? What do you mean?” You queried, desperate for even a crumb of information.

“Professor Black is a keen collector of such items. I had to essentially run the school myself while he spent months finding every last trace of Salazar Slytherin that remained in these walls, to keep in his personal collection.”

She turned away from you, glancing out at the black lake.

“His findings are very well secured.” She muttered, as her eyes fixated on the little island surrounded by the dark murky water.

Suddenly the blaring sound of trumpets swept the air from behind you, causing you to jump in surprise.

“Let us head back inside, Garreth will be looking for you. You certainly don’t want to miss the dancing,” the Professor smiled, linking your arms together as she took you back into the party.

Oh how it pained you that your conversation had to be cut short, and all for dancing. However this did confirm what Professor Fig had said, but what else? That the collection is secure? But where?

Your thoughts raced, analysing every detail of your conversion.

She looked at the lake.

Could it be in the lake?

~~~

A band of floating instruments had appeared in the corner of the hall, playing an upbeat tune. You watched as Professor Ronen was jigging around in his best robes, clearly having an incredible time. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself watching him rhythmically dart around, you could only imagine what it would be like to be that carefree.

Suddenly he turned, making direct eye contact with you. You bowed your head, peering down at the purse in your hands to ease the awkwardness.

Peeking out was the parchment you had stuffed in there earlier, only now it looked different. A message inked into the paper.

‘It’s over’

What’s over? You spiralled, instantly thinking of the worse case scenario.

“Shall we dance?” A voice interrupted your panic.

Before you even had a second to respond, Professor Ronen had already dragged you into a spin, causing you to laugh despite the torment in your head.

You soon found yourself doing that same carefree jig you were admiring just moments ago, with every note of the music pulling you further away from the torturous thoughts of Sebastian. Perhaps the drinks were starting to get to your head too.

“You and Weasley, eh? Must say I’m surprised,” Professor Ronen teased.

“As am I,”

“I thought you were more of a Slytherin fan,” he wiggled his eyebrows, almost flirtatiously.

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was teasing you about Sebastian or if he really did have too much to drink. Either way, you found yourself in a fit of laughter at his comment as the room was spinning around you.

“May I?” Interrupted your fun, it was Garreth.

“She’s all yours,” the Professor winked, stumbling away.

You glanced around the room at the rest of the staff who were now far beyond a sober state, a sight you never thought you’d witness. You once again spat out a giggle as Garreth wrapped his arms around you to sway you into dance. The music slowed as the lighting dimmed, leaving only gentle candlelight across the hall.

“What’s so funny?” He teased. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” you chuckled again, placing your arms around Garreths neck and leaning into his chest. Breathing in the stench of alcohol on his robes. Your thoughts of Sebastian now far gone, in fact most of your thoughts too.

Garreth glided you across the hall for what felt like forever. It was peaceful, like dancing on a cloud. You gazed up at the starry sky above, getting lost in the lights as they moved, blurring your vision.

A warm breath grazed your ear, lingering for a moment.

“Shall we take this someplace more private?” Garreth whispered.

You eyes fluttered, tingles dotting across your cheeks. With a breath, your lips parted, about to provide an answer.

Suddenly a loud creek made you pull away, scorching your ears from the gentle music. Still in Garreths arms, you turned towards the large door as it slowly opened, revealing a silhouette.

Sebastian stood there, panting.

You instantly sobered up, feeling a rush of emotion flood you.

He’s okay. He’s alive.

Chapter 15

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic

[gaia-bb]

werewolf!eren x black reader

↺ warnings: none :) ↺ drabble. this is hella indulgent idc i NEEDED to see more werewolf eren content so i took matters into my own hands >:)

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werewolf!eren who lives inside a cabin, smack in the forest thats right next to your little village, a small, close-knit community that prefers to live in harmony with nature than to conquer it to build concrete skyscrapers

werewolf!eren who is like a great myth to those who in live in your village. every child has heard his tale by the time they reach 5. no one has seem him in years, but the knowledge of his whereabouts looms like a word about to be spoken. he is both revered and feared.

werewolf!eren who doesn't like humans, like at all. he hates living anywhere in close proximity to them, but his home is all he has left of his mother. so he's made a pact with the village leaders: as long as no human crosses into his part of the forest, there won't be a problem

werewolf!eren who, while going out for a hunt one day, sees a human in his part of the forest. cream-colored frills, and lightweight fabric billow over the grass as you walk. smooth, dark arms glow in the sunlight as you bend down to pluck various flowers, placing them into a woven basket on the ground next to you. his ears perk up at the sounds of soft humming drifting in the breeze. he can't help but feel disgust flooding his chest.

werewolf!eren who appears suddenly in his human form - warns this entitled human with a growl. "get out of my forest and get out now". dirt smears on your dress as you scramble suddenly. warm, deep brown eyes flit around his frame hurriedly. you take him in, his rough, ragged appearance, wild brown hair and fierce eyes. werewolf!eren who, when greeted by a pleading, stumbling apology, starts to inspect the young girl more closely in turn. green eyes roam over hair that is neatly tucked away in fluffy rows on your scalp, nimble hands are gripping the woven basket deathly tight, and those eyes. those brown eyes of yours. they hold nothing but awe and regret.

werewolf!eren who is decreasingly miffed at this girl's presence, asks you what you're doing in his forest. a soft, shaky voice reaches his ears, and messy, unorganized explanations about "missing the scent markings" and "needing poppies for a hat i'm weaving" are given.

werewolf!eren, who is now hesitant to be appreciative of your earnest, is caught off guard at the request for his name. no one has asked him anything about himself or cared to see him other than a monster. it doesn't seem right. this encounter is taking too long.

werewolf!eren, who isn't fooled by your tricks, tells you to get out of his sight. if you think that you can sway him with a quiet demeanor and innocent act, then you're not very clever. he's lived a long life and knows all too well about the cunning ways of your kind.

werewolf!eren is once again responded to with an apology, and this time, a promise: that it will never happen again. you bid him goodbye, thank him for sparing you, and rush back along the dirt pathway, taking a quick glance back at him before disappearing between the bushes and branches.

werewolf!eren, can't seem to shake the encounter he had with that girl. days later, he is....looking for you. he still remembers the song he heard when he saw you. he frequents that spot, by the cluster of poppies, near the dirt pathway.

werewolf!eren who, while hunting one day, is engulfed by nostalgia as a new, fresh wave of your scent floods his nose. he runs to the spot where you two first met. he sees a patch of new, neatly planted poppy seeds in the spot you had plucked.

werewolf!eren can't help but smile at the quiet gesture. maybe you had some manners after all.

werewolf!eren who decides that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't mind if that odd stranger wandered back into his part of the forest again. perhaps he had some extra poppies he could give you for your hat.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren smut #eren yeager #aot smut #werewolf eren #eren jaeger smut #eren x black y/n #eren headcanons #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #aot #snk

[kanmom51]

JK live 18 July 2023

cr./to the creators of the media used in this post.

So folks, I guess we can add this one to the long list of JM leaves, JK goes live, right?

What can you say about JK and this live?

Tired. Like REALLY TIRED.

A little sick.

And yet looking really happy.

Did someone say afterglow again?

This up there is from taili_jp's IG story yesterday btw.

JK being JK. Weird and quirky.

I ask you: how can this be the same man we see on stage?

The way he starts off the live with the hat on.

Why's that?

Was he trying to show us he has that hat he was seen in on their way to their Silver day dinner, was he?

I'm going with that explanation, given, as per usual, there were those claiming it's not them.

The hat comes off 1:30 minutes into the live, and most of the live is done without it on.

So yeah, I guess the hat was on for a purpose.

As mentioned in my post yesterday, JK showed up to the live in a Mihara Yasuhiro shirt. Seems to be a brand both him and JM are liking lately. JK wore another shirt from same brand and their shoes for his radio interview earlier that day, and also wore the brand for his Spotify clips, and JM wore same brand shirt for his flight back to Seoul (oh, and wore same shoes that JK did yesterday in one of his pre-Face dance clips) and several times before that too (google it, you'll see). So, either ambassadorship on the way or just a brand liked in their household. I'm going with the latter. I'd even go so far as to say that the this is JM's doing. We all know what JK's fave brand is.

A little sum up of our timeline before we start.

So yeah, JK says he really turned on Weverse live but he's really tired (told you so, lol).

Are we surprised JK didn't get much sleep last night? Really? I'd say the answer to that is

A-ha. Yep. As expected...

He starts with "whasup?" and "good to see you guys"...

He is trying, bless his heart.

Omg, and then he goes off with "woof woof woof woof", he's absolutely hilarious. But there's a background story to this, lol. He was literally barked at by the crowd at the GMA recording and later on he repeated it during the Stationhead broadcast. But god, he's so funny.

He also tries to read the comments in English. Like

and

and

Poor snively JK.

The fact that this man is going through his promotions while sick, performing while sick, spending the weekend holidaying with his partner while sick, hat off to him I say.

Lol, he likes the nasally sound to his voice.

Talking about holidaying with his partner...

Can't help but wonder if we'll hear or see JM in the next few days and just how sore his throat or runny his nose will be, lol.

What do you think? Will JM go live anytime soon?

BBC Radio 1 live lounge schedule for next week:

One of these I'm willing to bet will be JK. And I dare JM to show up live after and hype his bf up.

Guess we'll wait and see.

He says he knew the reaction would be good.

Just in case we couldn't tell he was sick and tired (not as in sick and tired of us, lol)...

Seriously, that man needed to sleep. He just couldn't stop yawning.

But I guess habits are hard to shake. You know, JM leaves JK goes live. He just couldn't help himself, lol.

I guess that was off the table given it was only around 1pm KST, lmao.

I thought I was going to rofl when he tells us how he washed up after dinner and he is feeling real refreshed looking like this:

I guess our ideas of refreshed are kind of different, lol.

Nah, but the man was so damn tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. At one point it really did look like he's going to fall asleep, again, during a live, lol.

Someone in the comments asks if there is anything fun, and he answers there is nothing fun in the room.

Well, now that JM's gone that is.

He did this:

Even if this wasn't done on purpose, as in not mimicking JM during his playlist video, it sure is a cute coincidence.

But now, what if it was?

The way he makes that sound and the way he puts down the bottle on the table, not placing it quietly, makes you think: "was he maybe, just maybe, re-enacting that part of JM's playlist video?" It wouldn't be that far fetched. The man knows JM's content off by heart. Food for thought.

JK performed Seven for us.

He's an actual menace that man, lol.

He's so overjoyed by the fact that he's singing 'fucking', lol. He is now officially an adult. Not only does he have an explicit version to his song, but he literally sang "fucking" live on Weverse.

Can you imagine JM's reaction?

Scandalous.

LMAO.

And this part here:

Followed by changing back to "loving you right"... was he telling us/ someone else (specifically the person that shows so very boldly on his hand right there) something?

OMG, and those eye exercises he was doing. He is so adorable and quirky and genuine and we are blessed that he feels that he can share himself with us.

As usual JK's sweet and thankful goodbyes to us.

Thanks to Army he is having very happy days.

Literally. With Army, because of Army (take your pick which army we are discussing here...)

It wasn't a long live. Just over 17 minutes. But once again we get to see JK, real JK. He's so real, so accessible I think is the way to put it. There is just something about him, how he talks to us, what he shares with us, how comfortable he feels to do these things with his fans, let us in the way he does. He isn't afraid to show us he's just like us, he's human and flawed and happy or sad and just let us in to see him as he is. He has this special connection with these people that are utter strangers to him, but at the same time he feels this deep love towards them.

Precious is the word I feel describes him.

He is precious.

#Jungkook #JK #JK live #JK Seven #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM

[eiilese]

Love the designs and descriptions you did for the straw hats!! I do want to ask, since they all have different roles and skills do they meet the crew at different points in the story? Like, since Robin is the shipwright would she have met the crew at Water 7 or would it still be Alabasta but under different circumstances? Since she’s not an archeologist she wouldn’t have been raised on O’Hara, right?

Just curious to see what your thoughts are😊 - thanks.

thank you so much for the ask!! sorry this took so long to answer it took awhile to gather my ideas. i’m so happy with how well this au thing was received ;u; TY to people who left tags and replies!! i read everything 🫶

here is the original post for role swap! this post has explanations for backstories! i really did try to have drawings to go with everything but i burned out as this month went on so not every character has doodles :(

—

i kept everything mostly the same in terms of when the strawhats meet each person. i didn’t want to change too much to avoid changing important character moments that happen in canon

this isn’t a super heavy rewrite, there’s a lot of backstory to juggle and i’m not equipped to write such an in-depth au rn 😭 but i might make separate posts for arcs like water 7 or wci!! though i kept a lot of backstory the same theres a lot of rewrite potential for those sagas

i hope these are fun to read about nonetheless ^_^ i included some stuff from @flute-of-pan pan and @onethousandsunnies because they left tags on the original post that were cool ideas

nami, vice capt.

not much changes!! instead of forcing her to chart maps, arlong might just have her around as a servant girl. regardless, the deal to buy back cocoyashi village still stands and nami works hard for it

generally i think her selflessness and loyalty to her village makes her fit to be a vice captain. she looks out for people at her own detriment and was willing to take the fall for such much ahhh

in my opinion she’s good vice captain material!! perhaps a cowardly one but still reliable. also a good treasurer for the crew as always

zoro, cook

zoro grew up training to be a swordsman and competes against kuina, but he also has a knack for cooking as a hobby. he’s mostly the same but sanji’s “stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean with zeff” happens to him instead (flute-of-pan suggested the cook always suffers the fate of starvation)

kuina decides to run away and zoro is roped into her plans. it goes wrong and they get stranded on a rock, eventually arguing and ending up on opposite sides of the rock with the little food they brought

zoro finds out kuina gave him everything they had soon after she stops replying to him. he’s rescued thanks to kuina’s dad, who tracked them down with vivre cards. kuina’s had long since burned up

similar to canon, zoro continues striving to become the world’s strongest after her death. i think this backstory coupled with him eating those stomped riceballs at the very beginning of the story is so….(GESTURE) it’s very reminiscent of sanji’s no-waste-policy which he would absolutely also have

sanji, sniper

germa 66 has a mafia aesthetic now 👍i only have the willpower to draw reiju here she ended up kind of cluttered but i like my vision

sanji’s backstory is mostly the same: he and his siblings are genetically modified to be the perfect soldiers, but he had a kind nature that made him the target of abuse. after reiju helps him escape, he ends up with zeff and worked as a janitor. zeff loses his leg while trying to save sanji in a maritime accident; though they don’t get stranded anywhere, sanji has to be indebted to him somehow

when the baratie is opened, he works as a busser/guard against unruly guests. flute-of-pan mentioned that he could fire the canons of the ship

when the strawhats meet him on the baratie, sanji still gives don krieg’s crew food. i don’t think his kindness around that would disappear just bc he doesn’t have a whole starving incident

usopp, navigator

on top of bluffing about being the leader of a huge pirate army, he would create fake maps and brag to everyone in syrup village (especially kaya) about these places he so evidently visited. kaya loved his drawings even if the places weren’t real

his dream is to create a Real map of the whole world, not a fake map that he makes up out of stories. drafting the real world makes him a brave explorer of the seas, which he also wants to become :)

when the strawhats meet him, they were basically relying on nami’s limited sailing skills to get around. not only do they get the going merry but they have a real, reliable navigator now! AND he’s multitalented B)

chopper, helmsman

from a young age he set his sights on sailing the seas to escape from the isolation he faced on drum island. he would routinely make little boats for himself to escape the island on, failing each time, and hiriluk would always nurse him back to health

instead of studying to be a doctor, chopper has a general desire to be helpful and acted as an assistant to hiriluk’s medical endeavors

both flute-of-pan and onethousandsunnies pitched that chopper studied stuff like ocean currents!! overall he studied the ocean real hard but would never leave the island without hiriluk

hiriluk’s death would glue him to doctor kureha’s side and it isn’t until the strawhats come that he has the courage to embark on a new journey

franky, muscian

bro grew up running around water 7 trying to get people to join his band. tom and iceberg are still his family. his shipbuilding skills don’t go past an amateur level in this au. he would develop a line of dinky guitars (or instruments in general) that also had lasers/canons/confetti in them. his dream is A FRANKY WORLD TOUR 🤞FREE ADMISSION

many of his weaponized instruments littered the shipyard, spandam uses them in his attack

after the whole tom/spandam situation unfolds, iceberg is the one to find and reconstruct franky into a cyborg after getting run over by the sea train. but he won’t implement piano key abs no matter how much franky asks 🙄

the newly formed franky family protect the city and throw unsolicited concerts in the middle of the street B)

robin, shipwright

though she’s not an archeologist, she still grew up on ohara! instead of archeology, she’s a gifted engineer. her devil fruit made her an outcast and her strange, misunderstood inventions did not help her case

when jaguar d saul gets stranded on ohara, robin constructs the raft for him :) the buster call unfolds the same as canon except this time, everyone’s actually not lying when they say robin can’t read poneglyphs! she never learned!! again flute-of-pan had the cool idea that she is wrongly accused. still, she’s pursued and branded as a devil child

she ends up with crocodile, who believes she can read poneglyphs. she takes advantage of this and earns his protection from the government but her ruse is uncovered when she lies to croc about what alabasta’s poneglyph says (girl cannot read that!)

robin dreams of creating a ship that can carry her and the friends she wishes to have. after meeting robin in alabasta she joins the strawhats!!

brook, doctor

he was the doctor of the rumbar pirates. an injured laboon came to like brook after he nursed him back to health!! when yorki became sick from disease brook tried his hardest to cure him, but failed :(

he was doomed to watch his crewmates die to poison that he cannot hope to cure because he himself was also dying. when he came back thru his fruit it was already too late :( the rumbar pirates Do record a song for laboon though this event cannot be edited 🤞

met in thriller bark; ik that’s a long ass time to go without a real doctor on board

by the time they meet brook everyone’s already so battered that he has to go to town on them with gauze and stitches. the company delights him ^_^

jinbei, archeologist

i mentioned this in the first post abt this au but his interest in history sparked thanks to the history of joyboy and fishman island being so intertwined. at some point in his youth, jinbei frequently visited ohara (prior to the buster call) and grew a strong relationship with the scholars there (i’m just assuming they wouldn’t be racists 🤪) he runs into robin a handful of times

he secretly learns how to read poneglyphs here leading up to the buster call. he wasn’t on the island when it happened so he managed to avoid robin’s fate

his story proceeds the same from there with the neptune army, joining fisher tiger, meeting koala, etc…

i enjoy the idea of getting invited to be a warlord by the government while simultaneously being one of the most wanted people in the world for knowing poneglyph secrets

—

also i’m sorry if there are things i forgot about or details that don’t make sense >—>o

the anime’s pacing has ruined my enthusiasm for awhile lol and i’ve consumed a lot of media since catching up!! everyone’s backstories/canon events aren’t too fresh in my memory but i did some researching to remedy it 🫡

#one piece #art #ei98 art #one piece usopp #nico robin #one piece fanart #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #nami #franky one piece #one piece brook #one piece jinbe #tony tony chopper #one piece sanji #vinsmoke reiju #role swap au

[accio-victuuri]

part ii of the hat cpn. 👒inspired by the washing done, i decided to share other stuff that i’ve missed from the initial post. tho i think that the first post is more than enough to make a case. i think that if you are a cpf who don’t find this plausible from the first, a second one will do very little to sway your decision. but since this cpn is becoming a popular one, it’s only fitting that it gets more than one discussion post. ✌🏼

one that i forgot to add is how much YBO, across all platforms have posted material from gq moty which includes that hat. even if they probably know the conversation going around it. fans are interpreting this as him showing off, kinda like how he did it with the panther.

just going by the frequency on YBO weibo account. GQ = 9 iqiyi scream night = 5 redmi conference = 2 GRA = 5 Chanel Shenzhen= 2. WYB’s Paris trip has 11 but that’s understandable cause an overseas event like that warrants lots of posts. so for GQ which is a usual event in WYB’s standards, the amount of content is more than usual. we don’t know if this is because they shot a lot of material or he has some sort of requirement from them on how many posts to share. tho i doubt they could require that of him and his team.

cpn or not, we do appreciate all the content YBO has blessed us. 🙏🏼

another thing is when this first came out, people were likening it to Nanyang style of fashion which includes the hat. even people at the event noticed. this kind of style is tied to SG. and who was recently there? if you had a hat shop located in a prominent hotel singapore that also has cultural significance, wouldn’t it be best to have that kind of piece on hand? i’m also thinking about how thoughtful xz is in giving gifts. in this case, he knew wyb’s preference and at the same time it has something to do with the place he visited.

the use of card point 18:55 by YBO on posts related to gq moty and the hat. 18 is of course YIBO. 55 on the other hand was explained before in TTXS by feng ge. Tho his explanation is kinda sus because it’s about two people interlocking their hands like couples do. this episode was in 2018, and we think it made an impression on WYB.

this other one is also a coincidence, years ago 12/10 on 18:55 XZ posted the below message and it’s so fitting to whatever is going on right now. the same is true with them. tho they cannot be as vocal because of their status as celebrities — i’d like to think that sometimes they let things slip. they can’t help it. they are just living their life to the fullest and chose each other cause it is what makes them happy. i hope that it’s the same for us. that our loyalty remains with them and their love 💛

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Ilyecham

Presenting the results for the Ilyecham -- a name which continues to look wrong in Tumblr's sans-serif font. That's:

Ilyecham

There we go. As usual, if you're not sure what this is about, you may find an explanation at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting . The text from which the artists are working is here:

I saw one post saying something along the lines of "if these things are going to keep being birds, I'm going to have to learn more about bird-drawing." I regret to tell you that the Aberdeen Bestiary has a whole section on birds, so they are indeed going to keep coming up. They make up, like, a third of the entries I have queued. Sorry. Or, if you wanted motivation to practice your avian drawing skills, you're welcome.

Also, sorry this post is a couple hours later than usual -- I had Other Obligations this evening.

Anyway, here's the art, in roughly chronological order as per usual.

@embervoices (link to post here) has drawn both a colorful adult and a less-colorful juvenile, and moreover provides us with a quick vocabulary lesson, which I always enjoy because I'm a language nerd. (They also wrote their own image description -- thank you for that, saves me some time.) I absolutely love that the Ilyecham "greedily seizing larger birds" is here represented by a hatchling aggressively going after a "bewildered goose". The linked post includes some notes on design decisions also.

@miapcain (link to post here) has done another beautifully stylized picture, showing multiple Ilyechams and their aggressive behavior. I love the style of course, and I also like that these have an almost sandpiper-like body plan with long beaks, which they apparently use to stab other birds -- or at least I think that's what the one in the bottom right is doing, which I think is pretty cool. The blue heads are a nice visual touch also, I think. The kind of tiled geometric background feels very period-appropriate, exactly the sort of thing you'd see in a particularly richly-illuminated manuscript.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) notes that there aren't many visual details in the description, so she decided to draw a regular bird of prey and then add a wizard hat to indicate that it is armed with spirit, which I love. I actually laughed out loud when I saw her explanation of why the hat. Excellent choices, no notes. Also I think this is a pretty good bird drawing on its own merits, hat aside.

I continue to enjoy @rautavaara's drawing style (link to post here). I really like the way the rays of the sun are drawn here, specifically. Their Ilyecham is molting in an extremely dramatic fashion, missing whole clumps of feathers, which I think looks quite cool and communicates the idea well. (I worry a little bit about how long it's going to be able to stay in the sky with so many wing feathers missing, but they're apparently quite unpleasant birds, so maybe a rough landing is well deserved.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has drawn us a whole family of Ilyechams. Also in excellent medieval style, as usual -- the stylized drawing are kind of all in a cluster in this post. I like the plants; coolest-capybara is quite good at drawing plants in a way that looks just like the Unidentifiable Medieval Foliage you'd expect in a manuscript. We can see one parent exhibiting its molting behavior, another fighting a much larger bird, and three poor little juveniles walking off looking a bit dejected. Hits all the highlights of the description very well, I think. The linked post includes a brief description and a few close-up details of the image.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) would like to acknowledge that this is "kind of a mess" and "the wings are just gonna look like that", which I think is an example of artists holding themselves to very high standards because this looks very realistically rendered to me and I have no idea what might be wrong with it. That's a damn fine bird drawing right there. The linked post includes a pretty thoughtful explanation of which behaviors in the provided description are reminiscent of which birds, and how silverhart has combined elements of a few different birds to make this one.

@karthara (link to post here) has drawn us what is unmistakably a bird of prey, and briefly explains in the linked post what birds this is inspired by. I think the feather pattern is very interesting, particularly the blue on the head. Something about the way the shape of the pattern interacts with the bird's eye looks very cool. A certain je ne sais quoi, if you will.

@hairycarrot (link to post here) has done a pretty cool-looking sun in the corner of the page. One of the unexpected things I'm enjoying about these is that multiple artists decided to have fun with how to draw the sunshine in which the Ilyecham spreads its wings. Poor little guy falling out of the nest there... buddy I don't think that one is quite ready to fly.

@treesurface (link to post here) shows us an Ilyecham creating a breeze by beating their wings, as described in the entry, which I like. Their Ilyecham is equipped with a dangerous-looking pointed beak for the purpose of fighting larger birds, and the look in its eyes definitely helps with that impression. The linked post provides an explanation of design decisions.

@strixcattus (link to post here) notes that the description provided reminds them of a number of small raptors, but that all of those raptors look kind of alike, so they've given their Ilyecham a striking feather pattern to stand out from the crowd. I really like it, the pattern is excellent. I also like that we're seeing the return of an animal from a previous entry: that thing it's grabbing in its claws is a Holghras chick from a couple weeks ago. (Though I'm slightly torn because I like those little muppets, and the Holghras has enough problems without being attacked by an Ilyecham.) Strixcattus has again provided us with a modernized description of the creature in question, which is amazing as always. If any of y'all enjoy worldbuilding half as much as I do, you owe it to yourself to read these.

@moustawott (link to post here) has drawn us a very small-looking bird here, performing stationary flight to aid in its molting behavior. The feather pattern is very good, in my opinion, and I like how the molted feathers are kind of blowing away behind it. Also an excellently-rendered bird in general.

@pomrania (link to post here) envisions the Ilyecham as looking old and grumpy to fit the vibe of its described behavior -- an early draft of this drawing includes a speech bubble reading "get a job you freeloaders", which I think hits the mark pretty well. (For early drafts and additional commentary on the design, see the linked post) I like the eyebrows, I like the severe color scheme over most of the body paired with the colorful wings, and I like that this is the closest to what I pictured when I read about the Ilyecham, namely this:

(Not that it's an eagle, but you know. Vibes.)

@mobileleprechaun (link to post here) has very clearly depicted a small bird attacking a larger one. They note "heavy Season’s Greason’s inspo" and you know what? I totally see it. I also enjoy the decision to make the larger bird a dodo.

Another cool pen drawing from @cheapsweets (link to post here), who also has some thoughts about how this particular nib works for drawing. Pretty well done birds, I think. I enjoy the one on the right just shoving the juvenile out of the nest, and the stylized sun is also pretty cool. The linked post includes a detailed explanation of the design decisions, and also has some questions about the entry that are probably rhetorical, but I figure I can try and shed some light on a couple of them anyway.

Again, we have a lot of behaviours, but nothing in terms of a physical description… Did the author just thing ‘everyone knows what birds look like’, was this just a bird that the reader was expected to be familiar with, or were they all like 'I’m not describing yet another bird… :p’?

I think it's a little of all of those, and also that the author tends to be more concerned with the symbolism of the animal than naturalistic description. So if, say, the color of its feathers doesn't have a symbolic meaning attached to it, the author won't bother to tell you. Related to that...

Hang on, this is going to be some kind of inspirational virtuous animal thing, isn’t is… :p I can imagine some medieval scribe writing 'and so, the ilyecham represents the cardinal virtue of fortitude’ or something…

Interestingly, this bird's parenting style is basically the only part of its description that doesn't have any symbolic explication attached. The molting in the south wind gets, like, pages of material though, including the fantastic assertion that it's the south wind because God comes from the south but the Devil comes from the north. Literally, that's what it says:

God, it is said, will come from the south. The Devil from the north; God from the south.

Moving on, let's take a look at the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration.

Honestly, that also kind of looks like Sam the Eagle.

However, this is the entry for the Hawk. Yep. Turns out hawks are inherently opposed to the welfare state, which... actually lines up more than it should with present-day politics.

I don't have much more to add here, because most of my thoughts on hawks boil down to "Tobias was a pretty good character in the Animorphs series".

Pretty sure that's not how wings work, anatomically. But nevertheless. End of post.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #ilyecham

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Characters With An S/O Who Has OCD

mentioned: bo sinclair, lester sinclair, brahms heelshire, adam stanheight, lawrence gordon

warnings: implied contamination ocd, mentions of hand washing, mentions of injuries (cuts on hands), checking compulsions, counting compulsions, hurt/comfort

a/n: so this is probably one of the most personal things i'm gonna post on here since i actually do struggle with ocd but i hope you enjoy! also, lawrence and adam might not be 100% accurate because i'm only just starting out writing for them.

Bo Sinclair

Initially, you intended to keep the fact that you had OCD hidden from him, but you were eventually forced to tell him when he spotted the bloody cuts that covered your hands one day.

"The hell's wrong with your hands?" He asked, his face twisting in disgust as he pointed to the raw skin there.

"It's nothing." You said, shrugging him off.

But he wouldn't leave it alone. "Bullshit, ain't no way that's nothin'."

Eventually he wore you down and you tried to explain that it was from excessive hand-washing, to which he simply pulled a face, obviously confused.

There was no way he would sit down and listen to you explain in full though, so you opted to give him a brief explanation of your disorder before walking away, too scared to see his reaction.

Little did you know, he'd later show up to your room with what looked to be some sort of pharmacy bag.

"Look, I don't understand why the hell you'd do that to yourself, but it looks like it hurts." He said, awkwardly adjusting the hat on his head. "So I went out, got you some stuff."

He dumped the contents of the bag onto your bed, revealing an assortment of lotions and creams, and finally a roll of bandages, before stepping towards you slightly. "Didn't really know what you'd need, so I hope this is alright."

You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips as you looked up at him, his simple gesture making you feel less alone in your struggles. "Thank you."

He just shrugged it off before proceeding to silently take care of your injured hands.

Lester Sinclair

You told him pretty early in your relationship about your OCD and whilst he didn't fully understand it, he still supported you nonetheless.

He knew that you would often have bad days so he always made sure to ask how you were doing, sometimes offering to take you for a drive to help clear your head.

He could always tell when you were struggling because he'd notice how you would suddenly become reserved, quiet.

"You want some water?" He'd ask. "Or we could go into town for a little bit?"

He couldn't even begin to understand what you were going through but that didn't stop him from trying to help in any way that he could. And you definitely appreciated his kindness.

Brahms Heelshire

Honestly, when you first told Brahms you had OCD, he'd never even heard the term. But once you explained it to him, he immediately related to your need for control.

Obviously, not in the exact same way, but he understood how it could be distressing to go against certain routines, considering that was how he felt if he didn't stick to his own routines.

He didn't really understand what OCD was and he struggled to understand just how it affected you, but he understood that sometimes you would need space, time alone until you could get back on your feet.

He noticed how when you were having a bad day, you would be less physically affectionate with him, avoiding hugs and any close contact.

He wasn't a huge fan of the limited hugs or kisses and although his kiss goodnight had become an integral part of his nighttime routine, he tried to be okay with it not happening sometimes.

Brahms loved you and only wanted the best for you. He wanted to make sure you were okay and if giving you the space you needed was what helped, then he would definitely make himself scarce, probably retreating into the walls for a while until you were okay to spend time with him again.

And you would always assure him that he wasn't doing anything wrong and that you just weren't doing too good, and that you still loved him.

Adam Stanheight

For the first few months of your relationship, you decided to keep your disorder a secret from Adam, worried that he wouldn't understand and you would simply embarrass yourself.

But when you finally did tell him, well, he seemed pretty confused.

"So like what, you're a clean freak?"He asked, his brows still knitted together in confusion.

Your immediate thought was to get angry at him for saying such an insensitive thing, but Adam had seemed so kind during the months you'd been together so he surely didn't intend for it to be so insensitive.

You took a breath, proceeding to calmly explain to him that it was much more than just being a germophobe, which prompted him to begin asking a whole array of questions.

"Have you had this your whole life?" "If it hurts, why do you keep doing it?" "Have you talked to someone about it?" "Does that mean you don't like it when I hug you?"

And finally, "Are you okay?"

You couldn't control the smile on your face as you looked at him, the confusion still evident in his eyes even though he just spent the last ten minutes bombarding you with questions.

You told him that you were okay and that you had coping tools, but sometimes you would just have bad days.

He then joked that he was dating a superhero because it takes a strong person to live with something like that.

And then he ended with one final question. "Can I kiss you?"

Lawrence Gordon

There was never any hiding your disorder from Lawrence. He wasn't necessarily a psychiatrist, but he was still a doctor. The second he spotted all the repetitive behaviours he realised something was wrong.

He would often notice you checking the locks at night when he stayed over, or your countless trips to the bathroom, or the fact that it always took you exactly twenty seconds before you could walk away from the light switch.

He knew you were showing signs of OCD, he just didn't know if you knew.

One day whilst you were in the kitchen together, he brought it up. "I think you need to go and talk to someone."

You were slightly confused and a little taken aback at his sudden comment. "What?"

"I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to intrude, but I've seen your behaviour and I'm worried about you."

You just gave him a nervous laugh, knowing exactly what he was trying to say now. "What do you mean?"

He took a short breath before speaking again, as though he were giving a patient bad news. "I think you might have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

"Oh, I know." You answered. Now he was the one who was confused.

"What?"

"I didn't wanna say anything because I knew you'd probably just go into doctor mode and start treating me like a patient. And I didn't want that."

You both left the conversation like that, and you assumed that things would probably be awkward between you two now.

But the next morning, you walked into your kitchen to find Lawrence stumbling about as he attempted to plate up what looked like pancakes.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, I really need to learn not to bring my work home with me." He explained, an apologetic smile on his face. "I thought I'd make you breakfast, if you're up for it."

You offered him a small smile as you sat down with him, a warmth filling you at the sight of the misshapen pancake on the plate.

"Thank you for making breakfast." You told him. "And thank you for trying to diagnose me yesterday. I really do appreciate that you were just trying to help."

"If you ever need anything, you can come to me okay? I promise I won't treat you like a patient. I don't see you like that."

"Thank you."

[Main Masterlist]

#bo sinclair #lester sinclair #brahms heelshire #adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #bo sinclair headcanons #lester sinclair headcanons #brahms heelshire headcanons #adam stanheight headcanons #lawrence gordon headcanons #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x reader #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelshire x reader #adam stanheight x you #adam stanheight x reader #lawrence gordon x you #lawrence gordon x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher headcanons #horror #horror headcanons #hurt/comfort #horror movies

[mamamittens]

Fun little headcanons before bed that I've had on my mind for a while.

How would (X) handle you not being able to look/talk to them because you think they're too pretty?

(it's me, I can't look and talk to people I think are really pretty. Don't look at me with your pretty eyes damnit 😭)

Marco

Now, quite reasonably, Marco is going to assume you're just intimidated (and he's not... Wrong???) And give you space. This is assuming you're on the same ship and prone to running into each other otherwise he wouldn't need to think about it much at all.

This does get troublesome when time doesn't fix the issue. Unless he's your direct commander it just gets... Frustrating. Sure you're not together all the time but he gets a bit tired of being treated like he has the plague. Eventually, he's going to confront you about hating him.

Only to be baffled by how you're studiously avoiding eye contact. And you're blushing madly. And can't seem to string together sentences.

Oh.

Now, he gets a little mean. Screw him. He thought you hated his guts for the longest time. He milks it a little, just enough to see you sweat that he's definitely onto you. But if it approaches real anxiety or fear he takes a step back and handles it differently. He doesn't want you to be uncomfortable after all.

Ends up having a small but genuine conversation with your backs to each other.

Afterwards, he's preening to himself.

You really thought he was so damn pretty you couldn't talk to him.

Luckily, he thinks you're pretty cute too.

Ace

Immediately assumes you hate him totally and completely. So much so that it takes some time for people to figure out who's avoiding whom. And it takes even longer for someone to convince Ace that there's something going on. But once that idea is planted in his head he's going to worry over it. Constantly. It will literally haunt him.

He needs answers.

He's going in a tad aggressive, demanding answers so he can make peace with the obvious truth that you hate him. Getting pissed off that you won't look at him--clearly you're disgusted by him. Fuck, can't you at least have the balls to say it to his face??? What's he gotta do to get you to admit how much you hate him?

Then he sees how hard your blushing, face hot as you hide behind your hands. And he assumes that he's effectively been bullying you and maybe you don't hate him but clearly you're terrified of him (so close yet so far...)

So now he's apologizing, getting all worked up himself because now you definitely have to hate him! He's just going to... Go now. Sorry...

It's only when his back is turned that you can string together a response to explain that he's too pretty to handle.

It's a solid two minutes before he can think again, he's so fucking thrown by your explanation. Turning on instinct before remembering the problem so he hides his face in his hat, which is great cause his face is bright enough to function as a lighthouse.

Face now hidden behind a hat he gets to the bottom of it. He's... Absolutely baffled and almost doesn't believe you but the sheer awkwardness is convincing enough on its own.

Now he's got a new problem.

How does he get you used to his face so he can see your cute face himself whenever he wants?

Thatch

Immediately he wants to solve the issue. He may not know what it is but he certainly isn't a shrinking violet! It's actually kind of impressive how persistent he is given your determination to not be confronted with him in person. He constantly laments that he can't hold a conversation with you now matter how hard he tries! That you always end up running from him--he's not that rough looking is he? Is it the hair? Please don't be the hair he might actually cry

Finally, after turning in some favors, he essentially corners you. Turning up the charm (oh sweet summer child that is not helping) to talk through this little issue between you. But! You're not looking at him! How will you know he's being sincere if you can't see his face?!?

And hey... You're looking kinda flushed you good? Are you sick?

He goes in to coddle you a little and is startled at the dying sound that slips out, your hand immediately covering your face in sheer embarrassment.

Oh... Oh?!? OH?!?!

He wastes no time preening to himself, instantly figuring it out while asking if there's anything he can do to make it easier to talk (batting his eyes like a nerd). You're so damn cute he pulls you in for a hug while laughing a bit.

All those plans for nothing! You didn't hate him not were you scared of him (sorta).

Looks like he's gotta make new plans so he can see more of your cute reactions for himself.

Now imma pass out for work in... 5 hours lol, no wonder I sleep for 17 hours on the weekend, yikes 😬

#one piece #one piece headcanons #thatch one piece #portgas d ace #marco the phoenix #back on my bullshit