#they need to see each other as much as possible

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part two

part two.

word count: 10.8k

Warnings: wee bit angsty (an argument), mentions of sex + pregnancy

The repercussions of Lewis' birthday night are not as sweet.

You don't remember anything after your life-changing orgasm. You vaguely recall Lewis standing bare and walking into the bathroom. Your eyes were low and droopy, and you could only offer him a loving smile that had his cheeks burning. 

"M'gonna clean you up for a second, okay."

You only hum, allowing him to spread you open; this time, it's not sexual at all; it's romantic. Oh god, you thought. You should've known the sex with Lewis would make you go mad. 

He swipes the warm cloth between your legs, wiping the glistening remainder of your arousal away.

The sight of his cum oozing from your hole has him taking a harsh gulp. He'd have to remind you to take whatever precautions you found necessary in the morning. 

If you weren't so burned out and exhausted, the sight of him walking around in the nude with his golden and tatted-on skin display would've had you jumping his bones again.

You can't help but laugh at yourself as he returns from cleaning himself up. 

"What you laughing about?" He grins, hovering over you. You smile, looking at him like he's hung the moon and the stars. "Myself."

The two of you look like two love-sick high schoolers, completely enamored with each other. 

Lewis lowers and captures your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. One peck after the other before his weight is on top of you. He rolls off of you with a groan, turning you so that you're face to-face with him on your side. 

His hand falls to your bare waist, pulling you against him.

"We need t'sleep."

He sits up, chuckling as you whine from losing his body heat. With one arm, he gently hoists your legs up enough to pull the comforter from underneath your body. He is back in his place instantly, the cover now offering another layer of warmth.

You're trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and stay in this moment because you'll probably never get to experience Lewis like this again, this loving and intimate. 

"Going to be right here in the morning; go to sleep, bunny."

Like he had a spell over you, your eyes close for the final time, and you feel his palm cup your face.

Lewis can't help but watch you fall into slumber. His finger prods against your face, tracing your mouth, eyebrows, and nose. He could already remember every detail of your face. If he were a blind man, he thinks he'd have no problem telling you apart from the rest of the world. 

He didn't think it was possible to love you more than he already does, but feeling the way his heart reacts wildly to you laying flush against him naked and comfortable has him ready to read his (prewritten) vows to you in the morning.

He doesn't want to sleep; he wants to stay here and take it all in. He's probably moving too fast, but he can't wait to tell your friends, your guys' family, hell, even the world, that you love him.

Hearing those words from you detonated the lengthiest, most robust orgasm from him that he'd ever experienced. He'd never come so much, so hard in his life. 

Hearing you say you love him in your angelic whimpers, tears falling out the corner of your eyes, holding onto him so tight, fuck, he's hard again just thinking about it.

"I love you," he whispers into the night, kissing your forehead before turning off the lights.

-

You awake first in the morning, dazed and confused. You feel a heavy mass weighing you down. You squint, open your eyes, and you see him. Lewis, your best friend, face nuzzled in your neck, his arm thrown over your waist, holding you tight as if you were going to float away from him in your sleep.

"Oh fuck," you groan lowly as last night's events seep back into you like scenes from a movie.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You gently reach for his arm, carefully lifting it off your body. You pull a pillow from your side, pushing it under his neck as you slide away and gently drop his arm.

You were unsure of how to go about this whole situation. Would he remember it when he woke up? The passionate sex? The beautiful night? You two were off-your-face drunk. Would he laugh at the words you shared? Brush it off. You wouldn't blame him, it'd hurt for you to hear, but logically, it'd make sense; he was in a sex stupor, drunk and horny, and that'd lead to all kinds of words coming out in a daze.

There's no telling how long you stood there like a deer caught in headlights before you began pulling his shirt over your frame. You crept into his closet, thanking God for the array of shoes and clothing of your own filling his space. You tugged on a pair of Nike crew socks and a pair of boyshorts, reaching for the pair of black Ugg Tasmans Lewis had gotten. 

You stood in his walk-in closet, staring at yourself in the full mirror, and sighed.

What the fuck were you supposed to do? You were sure you crossed the line this time and abandoned boundaries that were needed in order to keep your feelings at bay. You knew you couldn't keep putting yourself through the same demise. 

You didn't know how you would handle the situation when it approached, but in the meantime, you knew you needed to get away from Lewis. You needed to leave his home and be far away from him before you did or said something to ruin your guys' friendship for good.

You creep from the closet quickly, not sparing a glance at the man on the bed; as you grip the handle to his bedroom door, he speaks up from behind you.

He is sat up, back against his headboard, watching you try to leave, "Just going to leave?"

You turn to him awkwardly, hand dropping from the handle, "I-uh, didn't know what you'd want, wasn't sure how to go about-"

"You're not a fucking booty call, Y/n," he says it like you're the most ridiculous person alive like he can't fathom the words coming from your mouth; because he can't.

"Just going to leave me after fucking me? Without a word, while I'm still asleep, that was your plan?"

Your mouth plops open and closed like a fish, searching for the words you stammer out incoherent excuses. Lord, he's got such a dirty mouth.

"Get back in the bed." He cuts you off. 

Like a dog to a bone, you stride over to the bed, kicking off your slippers, and you're beside him again.

You're staring at the door, and he is staring at you. The covers hang low over his body, only just covering what had you going crazy last night.

You clear your throat, waiting for him to put you out of your misery. Get it over with, you thought to yourself as you braced for impact.

"Last night was fun," He hummed.

You let out a stifled laugh, finally turning to look at him. His face was still covered in morning haze, and his voice was extra raspy and groggy. He smiles as you, eyes low and droopy.

"I want to address what we-"

You thought you'd be able to take it. You aren't that fucking strong.

"Yeah, no, it's fine." you laugh awkwardly. "I understand. I feel the same way." You don't, but you continue anyway. "We were drunk and in a mad sex stupor, I'm not holding it against you."

"I don't-"

"It was a mistake," you rambled on.

Lewis' mouth plops shut, and he can't tell if his mouth has been dry from his sleep or if the words you're speaking to him have done it.

"You didn't want it?" He question abruptly, putting an end to your nervous break.

"I mean, of course, I wanted it; I initiated it. I was just drunk and turned on; no need to make it a big deal is what I'm saying; we're both off the hook."

Lewis stands from the bed, his bare body on full display. He wants to tell you to shut up and stop downplaying the night he spent with you. He wants you to say to him that you're lying, but you don't, and it's making him angrier as the second goes on.

There are so many sentences he wants to respond to, but he can only grapple with one at a time. You're talking too much, and he's talking too little.

"I was just going to make it easier for you. Usually, you prefer if girls leave, right? That's what you said."

He has said that, but why the fuck would he be talking about you. Why the fuck would other girls include you.

He looks like a wild man, and you look like his blubbering bunny. 

"Why do you say shit like that?" He shouts. 

His loud tone takes you aback, and your head cranes to watch him incredulously. "What are you talking about?" You fire back.

"You say stupid shit like that all of the time like I'm some kind of fucking manwhore."

You scoff, standing up from the mattress as well. At this point, you are glaring at each other from across the bed.

"You think I don't get enough of it, huh? Do you think I don't get sick of hearing you guys laugh at me? I can't help-"

"I'm not picking at you, Lew, I didn't-"

"But you look at me like that. That's how you feel?" 

He wants to know if that is the reason his words went in one ear and out the other. 

"Oh please, I've always told you how I feel. If I viewed you as some slut I would've said it." You wave your hand; this had to have been the stupidest argument ever, Lew knew your character, and he knew how much you admired him and his; he'd have to be a fool to think that you'd ever demean him.

"It's not about what you say! It's what you do!"

"Exactly!" you holler back. "I don't fucking laugh at you, Lew! I don't fucking kiki with the rest of the friends when they point out your new fucking flavor of the month! I defend you. You can't control it. You can't help it! You said it yourself it's in your fucking blood to fuck everything with two legs. Like having an itch, you can't scratch. I don't fucking judge you. It's just who you are." You snap. And you hate getting mad because it makes you go on and on.

"Don't even know my character enough to believe I would say some shit about you; supposed to be my best friend, and you can't even properly gauge who I am." It comes out as an angry sneer, and you're right back to slipping on your shoes. 

Lewis pulls on a pair of sweats, clamoring over to you; his hand grasps your wrist before you harshly pull it away.

"Last night," he shouts, "I'm not defiling your character; you said it last night."

"Lew, last night." you laugh, you genuinely cackle. "This is because I joked that you ran rabid after leaving Nicole? You did! I was there with you, do you not fucking remember, every night someone new! Just because you slowed down doesn't mean it ever stopped."

"You called me a fucking slut, y/n! Like a fucking bitch, I wouldn't date you, Lew; you're a manwhore." He mocks.

"You called yourself that; I said if the condom fits! You're upset because I said you made it easy for me not to want to be with you? If your ego is bruised, just say that!"

And you're missing the point he is bruised yes, but because he wants you to want him and you don't. Lewis is mad that you don't want to be with him. He is hurt and bothered by the fact that you can brush off the night you spent together like it's nothing.

And you're right; Lewis knows you're right, and he's just trying to find any reason to be mad at you. Of course, you wouldn't return his feelings; when you had them, he gave his affection to other women.

But hearing the person he loves call him out for it doesn't hurt any less. He feels like an idiot now, starting an argument over a situation that wasn't even relevant. He should be telling you he loves you, but now he's gotten you fired up and knows you're hard to diffuse.

You mutter curse words under your breath, frustrated, as your shaking hands keep you from slipping on your shoes. You were never a good angry person, so you'd rather avoid conflict completely. But when your frustrations began ticking inside of you, it was only a matter of time before you finally blew.

"All of this because I answered a fucking question you asked me last night, drunk ass motherfucker! I should've never fucking told you; look where the fuck that's got us, arguing over a relationship that never even happened that we're not even fucking in, so fucking stupid! The fuck do I look like trying to keep a man who doesn't wanna be kept? I'm supposed to wait around and pine after you? No fucking way, I've had my fair share of men like you." You're not saying these words directly to Lewis; he can hear them as you get increasingly frustrated. "Fucking idiot. Calling me out my name because your feelings are hurt; if it was such a fucking issue, you would've addressed it last night. Really you should have fucking addressed everyone else."

Finally, you spin around when the slipper is on, not expecting him to be so close. You jab a finger in his chest, looking up at him. "Yeah, you've pissed me off; this is not because you think I called you a manwhore. You know you sleep around. We all know it; I never said it was a bad thing. What are you really mad at, huh, Lewis? Say it!"

He says nothing, but his brain screams the words over and over: I love you.

You let out a bitter laugh, and you're relatively calm for how fired up you had been seconds ago. "Your anger is misdirected, and I'm not going to take it. So when you figure out what's got you so pissy, talk to me because I'm not here for you to yell at."

You're leaving his room in an instant. He can hear your footfall declining down his stairs and the way you snatch your keys from the hook. You don't slam his door, but from his window, he watches as you angrily march to your car, slamming your door and reversing from his driveway way too fast. It has his heart dropping as you nearly ram into another car.

He sighs as you pull down the street and disappear from his sight. "Fuck!" He roars, his fist shooting into his wall. He lets out a deep breath, his hand coming to rub over his face. Fuck.

He feels choked up and tingly as his eyes water. The two of you had never fought this bad, which says a lot, especially for how long you've been friends. He's never called you out of your name, and today he called you a bitch. You were far from a bitch, you were his sweet bunny. 

You just wanted to make sure he was comfortable and that you stayed within the bounds. How were you to know that he didn't want you to leave? 

You're a mess as you drive home, tears streaming down your face. Surprised you even made it there safely. 

When you're home and starting your shower, you see all of the evidence Lewis left behind on your skin, and it breaks you down into a fit of tears. You wish you had never crossed the lines because you were sure the two of you wouldn't return from this. 

-

Lewis has yet to contact you. It's been two weeks since that day. You tried to go about life as normal, but it was hard when you had spent every waking day talking to Lewis. You hadn't seen Roscoe since Lewis' birthday either, and that tore an entirely new part of your heart. Roscoe was like your child; he was with you when Lewis had to be on the road, so essentially, you spent an abundance of time with your four-legged friend. 

You could reach out to him, but you'd be dammed if you put your pride to the side to alleviate your best friend's superiority complex.

He yelled at you, calling you out of your name first. Call it childish, but it wasn't your job to apologize first. Of course, you planned on apologizing for your own actions, for calling him an idiot, because you truly regretted it, and it has been hanging heavy over your head ever since then. But he had to give in first.

You haven't gone out with your friends as a group since then either, opting to go on your regular outing with one or two of them at a time. You've seen in Miles' story that Lewis has been out with them many times. You try not to cry as you see Lewis in the background of a video chatting up another girl in Daniel's close friends. After the initial gloom, you felt infuriated.

Here you were giving him grace, withholding time with your friends so as not to make him uncomfortable and to give him time to come to his own senses and the whole time, he's out committing the same crime that made him blow up at you. Here you were suffering because after all of these years, he still didn't show you the same grace he shows others when it comes to communicating. Why does he shut down when it comes to you but is so vocal and mature with his feelings to other people. Two things were obvious, you weren't kids anymore, and he wasn't to be coddled by you anymore. And secondly, you were done making deluded excuses for this man. He'd take accountability when it came to you. 

-

Lewis awakes with his head pounding; he is in a random hotel, a random woman atop his chest in deep slumber. He sneaks from the bed, searching for his phone and tugging on his clothes. 

He was drunk off his ass and chatting her up because she looked like you, and in the end, when they made it back to her room, he couldn't get hard without thinking about you, and by that time, he was over it, not wanting to do anything with the woman at all. You really fucked him up.

When Lewis arrives home, he is barely sober. He pours food into Roscoe's bowl, rubbing his head.

Roscoe has been feeling the impact of your departure, too. Could Lewis even say you left him? He sighs as Roscoe whines, nudging your walking shoes left by the front door. "I know, boy. I miss her too."

Lewis didn't know why he couldn't just call you and tell you he was sorry. You left the ball in his court, so obviously, you were open to having a mature conversation with him. But as the days went on and he still hadn't called, he began to realize that perhaps he had waited too long, and it was doing more damage than good. 

He stumbles up to his room, stripping from his clothes and plopping onto his bead, Roscoe is up and beside him in an instant, snuggling into his side. Like routine, his hand reaches over to his nightstand, rustling through the stack of papers until he finds one of the many letters you'd gifted him for his birthday.

Lewis always kept your letters, especially when he was far away and traveling; nothing made him happier as a kid than his dad arriving with handwritten messages for him when you couldn't make it to his races. Your birthday gift, though, was a collection of unsent letters you'd had for years, dating back to as early as high school. He reread them all, scanning every word like they were the bible. He never told you this, but he kept them in a folder that traveled everywhere with him when he had to be gone for longer periods of time.

The letter he rereads now has been attached to him since the day you left, which was from your second year in high school. 

Hello Lewis,

I won't be able to make it to your race next week. Get this, I'm on punishment at sixteen years old! You're always getting me in trouble, and you're not even here :( Do you remember Henry Glasgow? Let's just say he's finally gotten what he deserved. No matter what anyone says, your work is paying off, and you're doing great! I saw you on the TV the other day, and boy, did you look great out there. Mum recorded it for me, so I rewatch it so many times a day like a weirdo. I miss you tons, Lew, but I'm so very happy that you were able to get out of this forsaken city. Don't worry; I'm still defending your honor while you're away; let Henry's nose be proof of that. I've made a friend since you've gone away, her name's Whitney but I call her whit whit just like you're my lewlew; I can't wait for you to meet her. She's very bold and different from what we're used to, but she's a sweetheart. I love her to pieces, but I love you wholly, so she's not really doing much to heal how much I miss you, Lew. This is the longest we've been away from each other, and although we talk on the telly every day, I would like to be with you again. But nevertheless, I am so very proud of you, and I support you full send. I know you can be the greatest you already are if you ask me. But I can't wait until the world knows your name. Just promise you won't leave me behind when it does, yeah? Keep moving fast; Pops likes to brag about you everywhere we go, and I love to hear anyone hype you up like you deserve; plus, I bet twenty bucks on you to win next week, and my allowance is already gone, so make me some money. I can only give you the same words of encouragement you've heard a million times, I am truly my father's daughter. You're a cheetah, Lew: move silently and let your actions do the talking. Make quick decisions, but move even quicker. I know it's hard, but don't ever let what they say get to you; you've got a greater mission to accomplish. There are people out there who admire you and have faith in you. Let me be proof of that. Always remember that what you can't say, I will. 

Love you more than you'll ever know, Lew.

p.s tell Nico that unless he wants me to go broke, he needs to push it a little harder. 

From Bunny. <3

-

One day of no contact became a week, and a week became a month; soon, he was in the Middle East racing in the first grand prix of the season two months later, and he still hadn't heard from you. He was racing terribly, and he couldn't even blame it on the car. On the track, he wasn't focused; he could only think about you. And that had put him into the wall (literally) more times than he could count. He had let the best person in the world slip from his grasp, and his mind couldn't grasp that.

His friends knew something was up between the two of you and for the first time ever they decided not to meddle, and he appreciated it just as he was sure you did too. That didn't mean that he didn't ask about you.

Every call home to his mum he asks about you. He sits on the phone with your dad listening to updates on your life. They never question anything between you and him so he assumes you haven't disclosed your argument to anyone. But they know, they always know.

He could tell you were taking every step in order to ensure that you wouldn't run into him. When your family came out to see him you were miracously always busy with work. When your friends invited you out you were never feeling well. 

He felt bad that you felt you had to sacrifice your enjoyment just to not be around him.

He revels in the glimpses he gets of you on your friends story, chuckles at the constant pictures Daniel posts of you that you obviously wouldn't have agreed to. He knows you probably threatened to kill him everytime. He likes every picture. 

He nearly cries as he watches you from a fan account, bouncing Nicholas up and down as he places on podium in one of his own races. 

Your dad's birthday was next week, and he knew you weren't going to miss it. He also knew he wasn't going to skip out on your father, so he mentally prepared himself to be a man and get his shit together. There was no way you could avoid him when you were stuck with him for a week. 

*

You, Miles, and Nicholas had been out and about all day exploring the town before you finally decided to head back to the villa. When you three initially left, everyone else was bunkering down for a post-flight nap.

When you opened the door, you froze in your tracks as you saw Lewis hugging your dad in greeting. You don't know why you figured he wouldn't show, but when he wasn't on the flight with the rest of you guys, it had your hopes high. 

Everyone's head swivels toward the front door as you emerge, he makes eye contact with you and even goes as far to offer you a smile. You don't return it. Nicholas rushes pass you to hug his brother jostling the many bags in your arm as he passes by. 

Lewis hugs him, but his eyes once again fleet back to you.

You suck your teeth, looking away from him and waltzing up the stairs and towards the back of the house where you had claimed your room.

You hardly had the time or the energy to worry about Lewis. You were tired, and the Brazilian heat had you going through it. You kick your bedroom door closed and drop your bags onto your bed. 

All you had to do was get through a week of being in his presence. You had your friends and family here with you. It wouldn't be too hard to stay away from him. You shower and then get dressed right in time for dinner. 

The sun was still out by the time you descended the stairs; everyone had been lounging around in the living room waiting for you to finish.

Lewis feels like a starved bear as the dress sways against your thighs. Like always, you look beautiful.

"And the princess has arrived!" Your cousin shouts, "Girl, hurry your ass up, we've been waiting on you. I'm hungry." The room erupts in laughter as you pause on the stairs and shoot her the middle finger.

"Doesn't the princess deserve a grand entrance?"

Your head immediately turns to Lewis as if you can feel his stare on you. He sits, legs spread open, hands folded in his lap, and looks at you like he had had the night of his birthday. Like he wants to devour you. 

You shake the memory from your head as everyone heads out of the door and piles into the three sprinters out front. 

"Aw, twins!" Whit coos, pointing between you and Lewis, "So in sync."

You let out the fakest laugh he's ever heard, wiping the smile clean from his face, "Ah ha ha, let's go."

When it's your time to pass through the door, you feel a presence behind you, and you know it's Lewis as his signature cologne wafts through your nostrils. As you descend down the front steps, you feel his hand come up to rest against your lower back.

A part of you wants to tell him to back up and that you don't need his assistance, but the soft spot you'll always have for him has you accepting his graces. 

You freeze, watching as two of the three vehicles pull off, fuck. 

So much for being able to avoid him.

You can still feel him hot on your trail as you waddle to the last sprinter. You're helped up by the driver, offering him a sweet smile. Ironically enough, the last two seats are side by side in the back row.

You groan internally, slipping into the seat by the window. Lewis follows after you, slipping between you and Miles.

"So what? This is the kid's bus?" You joke, leaning over the seat in front of you to tug on your cousin's braids. "Be happy it is." She grins, pulling a bottle of Clase Azul from the floor. Everyone erupts into cheers as she passes the bottle around. She hands it to you first, but you quickly pass it on to Lewis. You hadn't drunk alcohol since that night, and when you tried, the smell of it physically made you sick. You were convinced that the stress of that night had made your brain repel your favorite pastime. 

"Girl." Whitney gasped, "You're not drinking?"

"Hell no, I gag just thinking about that shit."

It's been so long since Lewis last heard your voice and seen you so carefree he wants to shout out his praises as you start a conversation within the van.

Your leg is flush against his, your thigh rubbing against his own with every jostle you take down the bumpy roads. 

You don't speak to Lewis throughout the entire ride. When he speaks, you tune into your phone or manage another conversation with those around you. Though it does bring you an unwanted sense of comfort to hear his childlike giggles again. You'd missed them just as much as you missed him.

This time, when the doors open, they are opened on your side, and you cheerfully hop out, wrapping your arms around your girls and skidding to the dock where you can see a great portion of your family and friends already loaded onto the yacht. 

You loved celebrating; it was no secret you were the life of the party anywhere you went, which is why you were always so grand when it came to spending time with the people you loved. Life is beautiful, as your father would say; you might as well live like it. 

Lewis and the guys exit behind you all, he watches you scamper off with that stunning smile on your face waving to the family members and friends you hadn't saw yet. 

An hour goes on of everyone mixing and mingling; your family is technically Lewis' as well, so it's no surprise when he is pulled into hugs and smooches left and right. It makes it easy to avoid him every time you sense him getting closer. You see him catching up with your grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. 

He is close to your entire family, which made it even more annoying for you to be asked about Lewis in damn near every conversation. You were never nasty about it because, after all, you two shared the same relationships, so you simply smiled and directed your family toward him with every inquiry. You didn't expect his relationship with your family to end just because you two weren't...you two?

And then another wave of questioning is aiding in your irritated mood, we're the two of you even best friends anymore. Best friends don't go months without speaking to each other. 

Lewis can't help but watch your every move. It's obvious to everyone that there is a lingering tension between you two. There has never been a moment where the two of you weren't connected at the hip. So, the safe distance you're keeping between the two of you is making questions arise. He is standing off to the side, his mind running; he's never once felt like an outsider in your life more than now. His feelings were hurt because, for the first time, he was getting updates about you from others rather than being the one dishing the facts out. He's used to knowing everything when it comes to you, and now it feels like he's chapters behind in a book everyone else is close to finishing.

"I know my daughter." Your dad speaks up from behind Lewis as he watches him watch you. Lewis turns his head, catching sight of your father before walking and leaning his back onto the railing beside him. "And I know you just as well; why are you two acting like divorcée?"

"What's happened, my boy?"

Lewis shakes his head, eyes downcast to the glass in his hand. He couldn't tell your father that he'd spent the night of his birthday making love to you and having the most romantic twilight he'd ever experienced. He couldn't tell him that he spewed out his true feelings in the midst of it and fucked shit up the next morning.

"We haven't talked in months," Lewis admits.

Your dad leans away from Lewis, eyes set in disbelief. "Months?" 

Lewis only nods, looking straight ahead at you. You're standing with his father infront of a group, his arm thrown over your shoulder, yours wrapped around his waist, his father is obviously a wee bit tipsy as he laughs boisterously, you're supporting his frame throwing in side comments to whatever story his father was telling.

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why are you not?" He inquires like it's all so simple.

"Because it's your daughter," he scoffs. "And when she's mad, she's mad. It's not that easy."

You father laughs, "She is her mother's daughter." He corrects. "You know her, eventually she always puts her pride to the side. She's waiting for you to talk to her first. Have you tried."

"No, sir."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has a sheepish smile skittering onto Lewis' face. 

"You're too old to still be scared of my baby. My best advice is this: you lot know each other better than anyone in the world and love each other more than anyone in the world. If you think she's willing to give that up and vice versa, you're both idiots."

Lewis nods. They stand in contemplative silence as the older man's hand comes up to clap against his shoulder, where he holds onto Lewis as they sip from their glasses. 

"You know," Lewis lights up, "that's where she gets that shit from; she called me an idiot when we argued."

"And were you being an idiot?" He queries.

"Well, Yes, sir."

"Okay then." He walks away not sparing so much as another word to Lewis and he is once again left alone.

You were relieved when dinner started, only to approach the table and see name cards posted in front of every seat. Just your luck. Right next to your seat, the postcard next to you reads Sir Lewis. 

This time, you physically couldn't control your reaction as you threw your hands on your hips, your eyes searching for someone to switch with. Just as you reached over to swap Lewis' and Anthony's place cards, the group approached, and everyone stared at you with inquisitive eyes as you slowly dropped them back into place.

You smiled, sliding into your designated seat, eyes straight ahead as your father and Lewis slipped into their own.

Lewis side-eyes you as he sees that it was his name you tried to swap. You were always so petty. 

You feel his stare on you and give him your back to face as you focus on your father who stands tapping his wine glass with a knife.

Like always your father begins to give a speech. You loved listening to him speak, even if he was lecturing you, he always managed to engrain some life lesson into your memory. 

"Welcome, family and friends. I want to first start off by saying I appreciate you all for coming; if you're here today, you're either family or a friend, so in the end, that makes you all family. No matter when or how I met you, you have touched a special place in my heart, and you've made this life of mine beautiful. We've all become connected somewhere along the line, and now, hopefully, we're stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. As each year goes on and I grow older with it, I am reminded of just how meaningful it is to carry relationships on with you from one year to the next. We've done that." He laughs.

"Most of us have been in each other's lives since the beginning, Anthony has been my best friend since we were nine." He chuckled tilting his glass at Lewis' dad. Anthony raises his own right back at him. 

"We've done everything together, damn near walked through each part of our lives together. He had a son, and months later, I had my daughter. Bam!" he laughs, and the table laughs with him. You smile at the mention of your father and his best friend; they were truly a pair like no other.

"Our friendship continues on through our children; we pass on our camaraderie; through our kids, we get more kids." He motions around to your friends. "And our family is even bigger. I've got my family, I've got my wife's family, Anthony's family, our children's family, and we're all now family. We've got each other for life! We're proof of that; we stick together and treat each other right, and if we don't, we always find our way back together again and start over because that's what a family does. Every year, you guys show up for me, and I show up for you. And I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than with you. Life is beautiful and even more beautiful when you're spending it with the right people. So I thank you for being the right people."

There are no dry eyes after his speech. You reach over to hug him when he sits, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I love you, Dad."

Chatter emerges as everyone marvels at your dad's words. To your left, Lewis is quite emotional. His dad's arm comes up to pull his son into his side, and for the first time today, you watch him with no shame. He looks like a kid again in his dad's arms as he gets emotional, and your heart breaks.

It's not in your character to be mean to Lewis. You know this, which is why you haven't even bothered being a bitch to him, even though a part of you desperately craves to hurt his feelings like yours has been for the last two months. You pull your phone from your purse, and before you unlock it, his reflection glares at you from your blank screen. He isn't facing you but staring blankly ahead, and your resolve crumbles slightly.

He looks like little Lew, face set in a frown and tuned out to the world around him. You think back to all of the times he'd get into his own head, bothered about why the other kids didn't talk to him and why they were nasty to him when they did. How many times he's nestled into you the same way when he felt his heart take a hit.

He's always been a softie. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, it was one of the things you admired about him so much. His ability to let people see him fully. You were never good at that. If you were, you could gaurantee that you and Lewis wouldn't even be in this situation to begin with.

You are sure that you can hear your heart beating rapidly as you reach down and grasp onto his hand. You pretend to scroll mindlessly through your phone when you hear his breath hitch. Lewis struggles to keep his resolve as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He could cry again right now. 

Your dad was right; he'd always been right. You think back to the times when you were younger when you would tell him why you and Lewis were sitting so far apart. 

"Baby," he would lift your head with a gentle smile, "You know how many times Anthony got on my damn nerves or we had a quarrel, even with your mother. Just have to talk it out, right? That's the kind of friendship you don't let slip away, no matter what. And if he's mad at you, you fight for him. If you're mad at him, you fight for him. Don't ever let something ruin it when you could fix it before it gets bad."

When the food comes out, your stomach flips, sushi lines the table, and your insides feel like they're being shaken. You snatch your hand from Lewis' and toss it over your mouth as the fish is placed in front of you. 

"Baby, you love sushi." Your dad says, pushing your plate away from you.

"I don't know what-" You don't finish your sentence rushing away from the table in a put together manner, you hurry to the other side of the boat where you make it just in time to empty your stomach. Nothing comes out as you dry heave over the water. A hand comes to rub at your back and your hair is being held back.

"Hey, you okay?" It's Lewis and his tone is full of concern as his hand constanly moves in caring circles. 

You jump away from his comforting hands, throwing a glare in his direction. 

"What do you want?" you hiss, preparing to step down from the altitude of the railing. 

He holds out his hand ready to help you down and you almost reach for it before huffing and turning baack around folding your arms over the railing. If the sushi wasn't going to have you throwing up Lewis prescence surly would. You felt overwhelmed as he speaks up from behind you.

"Wow."

"Wow, what, Lewis?"

"So I'm Lewis now?" 

"Is that not your name?" You snap back.

You feel his body heat behind you, this time closer.

"Not to you, you know that though."

"Nicknames are for friends." 

"Shut up." He smacks his teeth.

"No!" you argue, turning around your chest bumps into his, "You shut up!"

 you both childishly bicker back and forth.

“What are you being mean to me for, huh? Don't say that."

"I've got a right to be mean to you."

"I don't got time for your nasty ass attitude right now." He says.

"Good. The fuck." you ramble, turning around, "nobody asked you to follow me."

"I followed you because you're still my best friend, stubborn ass."

"Couldn't tell." You rebutted.

"See, I'm trying to talk to you, y/n. Why say something like that? Stop acting like-." He groans.

"Like what, like a bitch?" You look at him over your shoulder, watching his face drop. "That's what I thought."

"I wasn't about to call you a bitch." 

Yeah, again, you think. 

You stand in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the water sloshing against the boat.

"Your dad has a knick for speeches." He announces, "Always targeting us, huh?"

"That's my dad for you."

"I-, you're still my best friend, that will never change. No matter how long we go without talking to each other."

"I know." It comes out as a sigh and you let out a groan, dropping your head into your folded arms.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask, "I waited for you to call."

"I was scared, I knew I fucked up, and I think us having sex created a weird dynamic with it. I kinda felt like a booty call or something, I don't know; you trying to leave triggered something in me, made me feel like it wasn't..."

He lets out a sigh, and you know he has that hard thinking face on. "meaningful what we did together." He finally concludes.

"I thought that's what you would've wanted, I'm sorry."

"For other people, yes. But not my best friend."

And there are those two words again, like two blades slicing you in half, best friend, that's all you'd ever be.

Lewis was your best friend, nothing less, nothing more. This is all it'd ever be, and that thought alone, although valid, had you knuckling at your eyes.

"You okay, bunny?"

You can't help the sad smile that appears or the way your heart flutters at the nickname; no matter the situation, you'll always be his bunny.

You slump back against his chest as you step back from the railing. "I'm fucking dying," you whine, and he laughs at your dramatics. 

"You're not dying, love." He chuckles. He stands flush behind you, one arm coming around to dangle off your shoulder, the other holding your hand at your side. "How are you going to tell me?" You huff, and it seems as if nothing ever happened between you two as he turns you around and holds you close; he throws both of his arms over your shoulder, wrapping you into his tight embrace, and your face is crammed in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

And in that moment, you both could've sworn fireworks erupt in the sky as your hearts beat against each other's chest. It feels like the missing piece in your lives from the last two months has been returned, and the machine is running excellently.

"Because I know you, what's wrong, huh? Got a tummy ache." He coos. And his soft, caring tone has your stomach doing flips.

You don't know how long you stand there in his embrace before you finally wrap your arms around his torso.

"I'm still mad at you." You declare.

"I know." 

"I still want an apology."

"I'm sorry."

You feel your nausea ease away as you sway to the beat of his heart against your chest.

This is the first moment of relief Lewis has felt in two months, his heart is not in a panicked state and his mind is even better off. 

"I'm sorry for calling you an idiot. It's been bothering me since I said it." You announce, "I don't think you're an idiot. I still think you're the smartest person in the world."

Your eyes water as you apologize, and Lewis hears the sniffle you let out. You remember how much it hurt your heart to see Lewis struggle to catch on in school as a kid, the words the teachers would spit at him, and how he'd let it get to him. You never wanted to make him feel the same way.

"I don't want you to think of me like the rest of them."

Lewis grasps your shoulders, inching you away softly, "I'd never look at you that way," he declares. "I was being an idiot, I know how you meant it, bunny. I should be apologizing for what I said to you. I don't think you were being a bitch; I've never in my life thought about you that way or even remotely considered calling you out of your name. I was just mad."

His hands come up to cup your face, and his thumbs swipe away the wetness underneath your eyes. He sighs, pulling you back into him. "I don't ever wanna not talk to you again, fucked me up."

"But you never called me."

"Didn't think you wanted me to, didn't know what to do, you'd never been that mad at me before, was scared." He admitted.

"I thought you were finally done with me."

"Never that."

"Are we okay?" You examine.

"We're always going to be more than okay. It feels right with me still, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, we're back like it never happened." He assured. 

And he thinks he can stay like this forever, you in his arms as the sunsets on the boat. He can't think of anything more peaceful than watching the sky change colors and the warm hues making your skin glow in the softest way as he revels in the comfort of your warm body and beating heart.

He wants to unleash his feelings right then and there, "I love you."

"I love you more." 

You both speak honestly, wishing that the other would return the same affection. Your parents watch on from above. 

"Wouldn't know if it hit them over the head." Your mom shakes her head sipping her wine.

"So in their face." Anthony exhales, throwing his hand up, "Mhmm, mhm, mhm."

"Those are our kids, damn idiots." Your dad finishes, but unlike his counterparts, he wears a knowing smile on his face. 

-

"There are a few things we need to clarify before we move on from this." You announce before you rejoin your family and friends.

"What's that?"

"That was a one-time thing for the sake of our friendship; no more sex, no more mentioning it; it never happened."

Lewis freezes in his spot, his arm falling from your shoulder as you take another step. You, too, freeze, turning around to take him in. 

He is standing, his eyes furrowed like he's in deep thought.

That would be an easy rule for him to follow if he wasn't struggling as you speak to think about anything other than you every day and how great you felt around him. 

"What?" You question.

"I-" he coughs, "I can do that."

"Don't make it weird." You warn, eyeing him.

"Was the best sex I've ever had in my life, though." He admits with a smirk. You push him away as he tries to wrap his arm around you again. 

"Goodbye, Lewis." You laughed, walking ahead of him.

He happily stays behind you, watching the way your bottom moves in the dress, and once again, he feels the same burning desire. He could get by without mentioning it if you wanted, but he was absolutely and completely sure you ruined him for anyone else. 

Ever since he could remember, his passionate moments never ensued without you flickering through his mind at least once to jump-start him. But actually having you, God he was sure he'd never see another woman again.

As you rejoin everyone else at the front of the boat, you once again see everyone spread out, and you realize just how long you'd been marveling at Lewis' presence as you notice the appearance of the moon.

You gasp as you see a serving bowl full of mango calling your name as you pass by the treat table. You pick it up with ease, stuffing your mouth as you approach your friends who, like always, have banded together in their own little world.

You make eye contact with Whitney, who is looking at you in pure wonder. You shoot her your own look of inquisition. When you take the empty seat beside her, she is still eyeing you like you have two heads.

"Girl, what?" you whisper, your mouth full of mango.

She shakes her head at you, turning and muttering under her breath. You slap her bare thigh, "what?" you whisper shout. 

"We'll talk about it later." She declares, throwing back two shots back to back.

"Whit," you whine, "you know I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, but trust me, later is better."

You sigh, turning away from her and getting back to eating your fruit as Lewis approaches the group and takes the seat beside Mori. "Someone’s happy." Miles teases.

You look up at him, and sure enough, there is a shit-eating grin covering his face. "More than happy."

Whit is still mumbling to herself as you stare back at Lewis, when you look at her she is digging through her bag, "No, there's just now way."

-

Sure enough, as soon as you make your way back to the villa, Whitney is dragging you away from the rest of the group and into your bedroom. Lewis shoots you a questioning look as she yanks you from your seat. You can only shrug at him as you trip over your own two feet.

 She opens the door to your connecting bathroom, waving her arms for you to enter dramatically after you just stand there and stare at her.

"Ouu, girl." You warn, walking past her, "I need you to start using some words."

When you step foot into the bathroom, she pushes something into your palm.

You angle your head down, realizing that what lies in your hand is a pregnancy test. You throw it at her in shock. "Eww bitch."

"It's not used, dummy." Whit catches it.

You gasp, reaching for her hands, "Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" You whisper shout, excitement seeping through.

"No!" She shouts back in a whisper closing your bathroom door. Your hands are cupped in front of your chest like an exicited child. She turns to face you again only this time she's adorning the most serious look she's ever given you. 

"I think you are, though."

Your hands drop down to your sides, one going to your hip that pokes out as you scoff.

"Whit." It's all you say.

"Y/n. Please just take it, ease my mind."

"What even makes you think I could be pregant whit." You huff pulling the stick from her waiting hand.

She sits on the side of the bathtub as you lift your dress and plop down onto the toilet.

"You've been feeling out of it for a while; at first, I thought it was the heat, but you've been having nausea and headaches long before this trip. The smell of alcohol makes you sick, and you're a fucking alcoholic, c'mon now-"

"I am not a fucking alcoholic-"

"The sushi! You fucking love sushi. Out of everything to eat, an entire fucking serving bowl of mangoes, so many fucking mangoes, Y/n!"

As she continues, you begin to feel nerves bubble in your gut as you tinkle onto the test.

Your heart drops to your ass as you put the pieces together. 

You haven't had a period in two months, which didn't raise any alarms before; irregularity was common for you. But now that you think about it, you have been unusually sick in the mornings and around certain foods and smells. You have been craving some things more than usual, and your scale shows a tiny bit of weight gain. 

Two months ago you had sex with Lewis. With no condom, and he came inside of you. He most definitely fucked his cum back into you. The memory has you clutching your chest with a gasp that made Whit reach out to catch you just in case you toppled over.

"Oh my fucking god." you gasp, pulling the stick from beneath you and tossing it onto the sink. You wipe yourself and then stand to wash your hands.

"Oh fuck." you panic, and your hands are coming up to grasp your head.

"On the bright side, if it's positive, you're a mommy. You've always wanted to be a mom!" Whit cheers softly.

You turn to her with quickness. "Yes, Whit! When I'm fucking married and settled down, not when I fucking-"

The alarm tone from Whit's phone has you shutting up mid-sentence.

"I set the alarm when you peed," she whispered meekly.

She motions for you to pick up the test, and you wanna tell her to get out when you see the excitement covering her face. 

You reach behind you, hand tapping blindly against the counter until the stick is in your hand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose.

When you open your eyes, you see the result clear as day, which has you clutching your pearls.

"I'm going to pass out, I can't breathe."

"Let me see!" Whit all but shouts, jumping up, but you're already reaching for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" She shrieks as you swing the door open, leaving her behind.

"I need to tell Lewis."

"Oh boo," she pouts, "I understand he's your best friend and all, but at least tell me first, I'm the one who brought the test."

You turn to her with watery eyes and a look that tells her all she needs to know.

"Lewis is the baby's father?" She whisper shouts, jumping back like you've thrown cold water in her face.

"What the fuck? When did you sleep with fucking Lewis?" She ponders aloud. "Oh my god, is this why you two haven't been you two?"

"Whit," you groan. "I promise, I don't have the mental capacity to unpack all of this with you right now. There's a fucking baby growing inside of me, my best friend's baby and I don't know what to do with myself."

"Yeah," she nods sympathetically, "I'm sorry, yeah. You talk to Lewis and when you're ready I'll be here for you to lean on." She pulls you into a hig before grasping you by the shoulders. 

"Whatever you decide just remeber it's your choice, okay? You call the shots Y/n. You know I'll support you either way, and you know Lewis, he'll understand."

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm.

"Get yourself together, mama, I'm going to send him in, okay?"

You nod and rush over to your closet. You pull a pair of sweats on and then pull off your dress and toss on an oversized hoodie.

There is a knock on your door before it gently creaks open. Lewis pokes his head through with a gentle smile.

"Hey, everything okay? Whit told me to meet you in here, I didn't know if she wanted to strangle me or hug me, but she said it was urgent."

You shove the pregnancy test into the pocket of your hoodie, stepping out of the closet.

He enters the room, gently closing the door. He approaches you with his arms already open, seeing the teary expression.

"Lewis, can you actually sit down for me. I have to talk to you about something."

He's not sure what he expects to come from your mouth, but it wasn't what he heard.

"I'm pregnant. It's yours."

You surely weren't expecting him to look so relieved. "Why are you looking so-"

"Are you sure?"

You scoff, crossing your arms, "Yes, I'm sure it's yours, you dick. I don't sleep around-"

"What, no! Are you positive that you're pregnant?"

"Oh." You halt, and you pull the test from your hoodie, watching as he approaches you. He takes it from your hands, looking at it with sparkling eyes, "Wow."

"Wow?" You question, "Lewis, I'm pregnant with your child. Freak out a little."

"Why," he asks, "Are you freaking out? How do you feel?" His eyes are no longer on the test in his hands but staring intently into yours.

"Yes, I am freaking out, there is a fetus in my womb."

"Yeah, yeah." He breathes. "Whew, talk to me. What do you want?"

"I- I want to." You shake your head, pushing past him to sit on your bed. He follows after kneeling in front of you and placing the test beside you.

"I am with whatever you want, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but."

"But nothing," Lewis states. "If you want to keep our baby, you keep it. I know you've always wanted a family."

"Exactly," you sigh, "a family."

"Bunny, we're already a family. I'll be there you know I will."

"What about everyone else? What will they say?"

"I don't care about other people or what they have to say. I only care about you and what you want."

"I want to keep it, and I understand if it's not something you want. Won't hold it against you; you didn't ask for-"

"You're losing me. I'm not just going to let you raise our kid on your own. I want people to know it's my child."

"Lewis, they're going to-"

"Once again, I don't care what people think."

"Oh my god, I'm going to be prancing around all jolly and happy carrying your child, and when people ask, I'll just say, oh yeah, Lewis and I had very erotic sex, and now I'm carrying his illegitimate child."

"Don't call my child illegitimate. What the fuck?" He smacks his teeth.

"My child," you state, mushing his head back.

His hands reach up and rest on each of your thighs. "Our child."

"Still illegitimate," you sigh. "What if I find a man who'll marry me pregnant? Does that still-"

"I'm the Dad." Lewis asserts, he knows you're joking, but the idea of another man marrying you, let alone claiming his child, has him ready to kill a man who doesn't even exist. Besides, he would marry you in a heartbeat.

This is all too real for you at the moment, and you find yourself letting out another whine, "My job, I have a job, Lew."

"You and I both know that I make more money than I can spend." He assures you, his hands now rubbing up and down your legs.

He looks like an excited puppy waiting at your feet.

"Lew, that's not realistic."

"Why not?" He scoffs.

"Because what if one day you start hating me and them I'm left alone with-"

"That could never happen, bunny, that'll never happen."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I've never had a baby before."

He laughs, pulling himself up onto the bed beside you and cupping your hands in his. "We'll figure it out together. Gonna be the best parents in the world."

"Our parents are going to die." You laugh.

"Your mom probably overheard the others chatting about how we'd probably end up having a family one day." 

"My dad still thinks we're going to marry each other one day. Ew, he's going to know I had sex with you." You cringe.

"Don't say it like you didn't enjoy it." He feigns offense.

"We know who enjoyed it more, Sir."

"I'm not denying it, don't call me that." His arm reaches back and pulls one of your pillows onto his lap.

"You horny fuck." You cackle, watching the sheepish look blanket his expression.

"I can't help it; you're calling me sir; you're carrying my child. That's two kinks in one." 

"Lewis!" you shriek, whacking him with your own pillow. 

"You do realize having sex has brought a lot of sexual tension to the surface, or is that just me?" 

You could talk about things with Lewis that would make other people uncomfortable without there being any problems at all.

"It was very charged." You agree, looking back at him as he leans back, his elbows holding him up.

"Just charged? I gave you my all, Girl." He flicks your head.

"Don't hit me, I'm with child." You joke, and he lets out a genuine laugh, his head falling back. "If I'm being honest, it was the best sex I've ever had, too."

He smirked at you, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal. "Yeah, get told that a lot, so."

You snatch the pillow from his lap launching it at his face as you laugh with him, "I bet. I always thought if we were to have kids they'd be best friends like us, now we're having a kid together."

Lewis always hoped that he had kids with you, so in a way this was a dream come true, he was one step closer to having you in every way he wanted. He had an inkling now that the possibility of the two of you being together was becoming more realistic than it'd ever been. 

You were agreeing to bring a life into this world with him, and he knows he's said it a million times, but this time he was absolutely sure, there was nothing and he means nothing that could ever make his love for you fade. He'd never stop loving you, if anything this announcement has made his desires increase tenfold. 

And he could only hope it'd possibly open your eyes to your own, there was no way a person could speak to another like that if it wasn't real. There was no way you could be so open to bringing a child into this world with him if you didn't treasure him too. 

Case in point, Lewis was done waiting on the sidelines.

I luv luv luv y'all.

so here's part two!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

#black reader #L #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lewis ham #lewis hamilton imagine

[applejuicebegood]

Could you possibly write some more headcanons for how Jason Todd would slowly warm up to affection? I know you mentioned it briefly in a previous post if I'm remembering correctly but I just need more on him possibly not even notices how his behavior around reader begins to change!!!! (This is all prior to a relationship)

A/N: Mmmmm very sweet indeed, I love writing for this idiot sm. Thank you so much for requesting dude! I really hope that you like it!!

He first thought of it as impossible that someone as soft and as sweet as you could ever fit into his life of grit, violence and blood. He knew you as an opposite - a total contrast to the rough edges that fitted his body and world. But love is stubborn, and so were you.

The first major change you unintentionally enacted was the bettering of his sleeping habits. After your fifth date, you asked if he had been sleeping enough and if everything was ok. Your concern bubbling over at the sight of his lush green eyes now sunken in by a surrounding deep purple. His shoulders were slumped forward and his steps stumbled as you walked next to him down the library shelves. He perked up, the sweet trill of your voice drawing him out from his drowsy state. He was used to pulling all-nighters, his job practically required it. But it was the first time he felt guilty about it. He laughed it off, assuring you that he just couldn't sleep the other night.

Only when he clicked his apartment door close after walking you home, did he reflect on how little he actually slept in general. And never wanting to see that fearful empathy in your eyes again, he started sleeping at least more than an hour each day. It took time to fight back the creeping guilt of supposedly neglecting his duties in protecting Gotham but he would rather revel in that guilt then make you worry about him.

Once you two started officially dating, the second major change was his discovering of his love of your touch. The quickness of your shoulders bumping or you playfully hitting his arm in a fit of laughter was the purest form of electricity and warmth burrowing into his skin and settling into his bones. Your gentleness was so foreign to him. His skin throbbing in bruises or his muscles stinging in agony was familiar. The gentle brush of your warm hand over the side of his face, was not.

It took time for him to grow comfortable with your physical affection - but when he did, god, it was like discovering a limitless source of vitality, all wrapped up in the most flawlessly beautiful of persons. He longed for the closeness of your skin if he was gone for long missions. He would cry into the circle of your arms, all of his unexpressed gratitude and love for you boiling over in hiccuped sobs.

He leans into your touch like a cat leans into ear scratches. He'll nuzzle his cold cheeks into the softness of your palms as you brush his tangled black locks back up over his forehead. He squeezes your hand to silently signal when you both need to cross a street or just to remind him that your still by his side.

From you he learned how easy it was to smile at the world. You reintroduced him back into the reality of natural goodness existing around him. This translated back into his Red-Hooding, of now seeing a city worth protecting. Not just because your in it, but because he now knows of the beauty and the laughter it holds. Within the graffitied concrete walls and stretches of hidden art galleries and grassroots community centres. Of the small queer clubs and community bookstores both of you would frequent. He learned to fall in love with Gotham because he fell in love with you.

Before going public with your relationship to his family, the sudden shift in his stern behaviour was glaring. Jason was gentler and actually trying, although awkwardly, to deepen his connection to his little brothers and sisters. You said that he was going to be stuck with them anyway, so he should learn to see them as the family he always deserved to have. Tim and Duke tease him, egging him on to explain why he decided to show up with a Tupperware of hand-baked velvet cookies for Steph and Cass (no, he didn't let Tim and Duke have any). He could throw a pillow at them and chase them through the manor, telling them to shut their faces, but nothing could distract anybody from the fact that someone was bringing back a Jason both Dick and Bruce thought they had buried.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #red hood x fem!reader #red hood #dc robin #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #robin jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd comfort #jason peter todd #nightwing #red robin #reverse robins

[cherrycrushes]

only on camera - headcanons

(separate) alastor, lucifer, vox, angel, striker x camgirl!reader.

a/n: starting to get into making headcanons! lowk fun. also slight maturity warning

alastor

✮ you guys probably met upon his arrival at the hotel

✮ you being angel's close friend because your line of work

✮ he didn't know what a camgirl was until a very awkward conversation explaining what your job was to him

✮ he was shocked to say the least

✮ to imagine people would pay just to see you touching yourself was definitely an odd thing for him

✮ he definetely acted weird around you

✮ but throughout multiple conversations, he realized you were much smarter than he thought, despite your occupation

✮ you had to explain to him certain marketing strategies you did just to lure people into subscribing and paying for you

✮ he respected the hustle, but definetely left you alone when working

✮ after doing a live stream, he would provide aftercare

✮ giving you water and food after

✮ he's actually very sweet about it!

lucifer

✮ i'd like to think being a camgirl was only your part-time job

✮ your main job being a mechanic

✮ he was at your shop, waiting for you to fix a mechanical duck he made but couldn't fix

✮ and attempted to make awkward small talk!

✮ when you told him what you did, he chuckled awkwardly

✮ he was supportive!!

✮ and when you two had started dating, the sugar baby accusations came in

✮ it only slightly affected your relationship, having to clear up the rumors

✮ to combat them, you showed the press how much you made on your own

✮ just to prove to them you had enough sugar, and there wasn't any need for a rich man

✮ you were the rich man

✮ lucifer only fell harder for you at this attitude

✮ the public eating it up as more pda showed from the two of you

✮ him proudly showing you off

vox

✮ he probably watched your work and reached out to you

✮ he defo jacked off to it but whatever!

✮ he reached out to you seeing the amount of viewers you had each stream

✮ you being on the leader-board for one of the top camgirls

✮ he promised you eternal fame for your soul

✮ you were much smarter than that, and you turned him down

✮ this only made him want you more (eugh men)

✮ but you made a deal with HIM, promising him to be the face of some of his products if he gave you more subscribers

✮ he gave in, and started falling in love with your business demeanor

✮ he secretly joined in some of your streams, his face not showing

angel

✮ he defo met you through valentino

✮ but you guys connected through sharing similar experiences

✮ helping each other fend off creeps whenever going out

✮ especially helping each other if he had to film and you had to stream

✮ i'd imagine your relationship would have little to no sex at all

✮ just pure fluff and cuddles :))

✮ eventually Valentino would invite you to film with angel

✮ more likely, he would force you to film with angel

✮ to which you had to agree to (or angel would have to face the consequences)

✮ angel would say it was fine and you didn't have to

✮ but you did it for him

✮ being as soft as possible

✮ angel remembers the experience as one of his best on set, even if the film had less views as the others

✮ lots and lots of aftercare!!

striker

✮ he probably didn't know what it was until he asked

✮ and when he did find out, he teased you mercilessly

✮ but you endured it, only snapping when he called you something of a slut

✮ oooo heavy enemies to lovers vibes here

✮ ygs going band for band LMFAO

✮ he falls in love with your feisty personality

✮ always having a comeback when he mentioned something about your job

✮ you guys surprisingly have a lot in common

✮ him killing people for money, you fucking yourself for money

✮ definitely a lot in common!

✮ actually helping you film a stream that had bondage in it

✮ people noticing more streams with a gun kink theme around it hehe

#☎️ cherry’s line! #hazbin hotel x reader #hevulla boss x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #angel dust x reader #striker x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hevulla striker x reader

[sincerelyrki]

everyone should know

your boyfriend couldn’t just sit around and watch another man shamelessly flirt with you. he had to do something, even if it meant revealing your relationship.

pairing : idol!secretbf!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings + genre : suggestive themes. secret relationship. jealousy. reader is said to have hair long enough to braid.

wc : 626

a/n : i struggle with writing drabbles but i hope this one turned out alright <3 i’m trying to update (almost) everyday whether it be a new miniskirt chapter or a oneshot (tmr it will be a miniskirt update, promise)

perm written taglist : @vousty

Sunghoon’s unmoving glare seemed to have no effect on his eldest member, his attention drawn to you like a moth. 

A flirty smile sat on Heeseung’s lips the entire time the two of you conversed, knees bumping as your body was bent toward each other.

The entire dinner Sunghoon had to listen to your cute giggles, watching as you playfully knocked your shoulders against the man sitting directly beside you.

He struggled with restraining himself, his legs almost shaking the entire table as they unrelentlessly bounced. 

His hands were in no better condition, knuckles ghostly white as he clutched his utensils tight in his palms. 

“Your hair is so pretty, did you braid it yourself?” The second Heeseung’s hand gently tugged on one of your braids, Sunghoon snapped.

The entire table flinched in shock as Sunghoon’s fork came slamming down, his plate chattering due to the force that suddenly came down around it.

Sunghoon rounded the table, his fingers wrapping around Heeseung’s wrist as he pulled his hand away from you.

 “I did it.” He declared a little bit too loud, looks getting thrown your way from the staff sitting around the neighbouring tables. 

Heeseung raised his hands in retreat, eyebrows raised as he matched Sunghoon’s look. “It looks good, but I think I could’ve done better.”

He gave you one more glance, winking at you as he finished his sentence, “much better.”

Everyone shared a look, their legs pushing their chairs out as they prepared to jump in between the two males before they could begin fighting in front of their entire staff.

“Oh really?” Sunghoon mused, head tilting to the side as he pretended to think about the possibility of Heeseung’s words being true.

Heeseung confidently nodded his head, his hands lowering to cross across his chest, his chin held high as he looked up at the two of you. 

Sunghoon moved his head to face you, his hand coming up to trace along one of the braids. “Now that you mention it, she was moving quite a lot.” 

Your jaw dropped at Sunghoon’s obvious innuendo, heat rushing throughout your body as everyone seemed to understand what he was referring to.

Sunghoon didn’t wait to see Heeseung’s response, turning his back to him as he gently entwined your hands. 

He led you back to his seat, his hand never leaving yours as he once again sat down.

He spread his legs, his knees separating as he slid his hips lower down the chair. “Sit,” He patted his thigh once, his hand tugging against yours as he pulled you forward.

Sunghoon helped you sit across him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged your back taut against his chest. 

“Isn’t it so much more comfortable over here?” Sunghoon purposely breathed down your neck, his cocky smile growing as he felt your body shiver. 

“I guess he hasn’t realized that you’re my girl yet, I think we need to make it a little more…” He trailed off, his hands tightening around your waist before he began placing small pecks along the base of your neck, “obvious.”

“No one knew, they wouldn’t have sat me beside someone else if they did.” You almost started defending your close friend but automatically backtracked after realizing how angry Sunghoon was.

“That’s the problem, everyone should know.” 

“Should they?” Sunghoon knew you were just teasing him at this point, riling him up for your amusement. But he still took your words seriously, imagining the look on Heeseung’s face after he finds out about the sincerity of your relationship.

“They’ll all know by tonight.” 

It was safe to say that they all knew about the two of you by the time the sun set, Heeseung getting the hint right away.

#sincerelyrki #sincerelyrki : one shots #enhypen scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #park sunghoon #enhypen suggestive oneshot #one shot #enha oneshots #park sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshots #kpop oneshots #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #sunghoon fics #boyfriend sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x female reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #park sunghoon drabble #sunghoon #enha drabbles #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enha x you #enha park sunghoon

[exhaslo]

Firstly I would like to say that I love your writing.When you can, I would like to know if it would be possible for you to write a story where Y/n works at the Spider Society and Miguel O'Hara is jealous of her with other spiders and decides to declare himself to y/n, who responds by kissing him and this ends in 🔥🔥🔥

Thank you!!! It means a lot when people like my writing!!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, jealously, almost caught

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

There were a vast amount of different variants of Peter Parker within the Spider Society. Amongst the variants were a few Mary Janes, a few Gwen Stacys and even a few others. At least 95% of Spider People were related to Peter.

But, there was that 5%.

Including you.

You were not a variant of Peter Parker, nor someone who was related to him in any way. You were one of the few special cases, much like your leader, Miguel O'Hara. You were a unique case and a very unique Spider-Woman.

Miguel had his eyes on you since the moment he recruited you. Call it a spark, but Miguel felt an urge to have you by his side. You were talented, so it was quick work to have you within his inner circle for the tough missions.

Now, Miguel would never call himself possessive. Nor would he call himself a jealous man. He just liked having what was his close. Nor did he like it when others would get near was belonged to him.

Now, approaching you on the matter was difficult. Miguel couldn't just outright tell you that you weren't allowed to talk to any of the Spider people. He couldn't tell you that you should only be talking and hanging out with him.

That would make Miguel look bad.

Miguel would just have to watch you from the sidelines, growing weary and frustrated with every passing second. How Miguel wished he could pin you against the wall and ravish your every being. Whisper about how every part of you belonged to him.

Watch you whimper and cry his name as his cock buried so deep in you that you saw stars. Just the thought of you squeezing him, holding him and giving yourself to him brought Miguel to ruin. How Miguel wished to see your fucked out expression.

These thoughts plagued Miguel. Each passing day grew worse. Miguel's hand could only do so much. Every day you came to the Spider Society drove Miguel mad.

He needed you.

He wanted you.

Hovering over his desk, Miguel groaned and grunted as he watched you over the cameras. You were smiling brightly as you spoke with Peter variants. That smile should be for him. Unable to hold himself back, Miguel called for you via watch.

----------

You were having a great time. Your life back home was running smoothly for once and you had plenty of like-minded friends in the Spider Society. You were enjoying yourself.

Plus, you had a huge crush on Miguel O'Hara.

The leader of the Spider Society was on another level. Miguel was tall, fit and hella handsome. The amount of nights you dreamed of him hovering over your body, pounding you endlessly was getting a little out of hand.

Snapping out of those lewd thoughts, you refocused on what one of the Peter's was saying. Your cheeks were turning red as Peter mentioned your watch going off.

"(Y/N), come to my office." Miguel said hastily.

"Ohhhhhh, someone's in trouble." The Peter's all cooed, snickering to themsevles.

"Am not! Maybe....there is a special mission?" You muttered.

Your heart was racing a mile a minute. What could Miguel need from you? Lyla was normally the one who would send you on missions per Miguel. So to be request by him personally, oh you were going to have good dreams tonight.

Approaching Miguel's office, you tried to compose yourself. Your thoughts were raging and your panties were damp. Taking deep breathes, you entered his office and searched for your tall, handsome leader.

"Miguel? Hello?" You called out.

"(Y/N)," Miguel appeared behind you, his rasp voice against your ear. You shuddered,

"M-Miguel, hey! I got your message-" Your eyes widen as Miguel's hand stroked your cheek,

"Are the Peter's more entertaining than me?"

"Huh?"

You were caught off guard by Miguel's question. Honestly, you were drawn to the look he was giving you. It felt lustful. The warmth of his hand comforting you in ways you could have only dreamed.

"Do you like hanging out with everyone else? What seems to be the problem with me? Am I not good enough?" Miguel's tone was getting a little harsh.

"No, that's not it. I, uh-"

"(Y/N)," Miguel's thumb started to stroke your cheek more, "Why won't you give me the same smile? Those Peters don't love you the same way I do."

You felt your jaw drop slightly. Was Miguel really confessing to you this way? In a small jealous fit? This was super cute. As Miguel gave you his intense stare, you decided to be brave.

Using his shoulders for support, you used Miguel as a ladder to reach his lips, kissing him.

The sweet kiss didn't last long. Miguel's hands gripped your waist as he licked your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You gasped slightly, shivering at his forceful attack. His tongue ravishing your mouth, leaving nothing untouched.

"Mhm, Miguel," You muttered between kisses.

"Hm? Do you want me to stop?" Miguel asked. You held his hands, taking the moment to catch your breathe,

"No, but...I just wanted to say," You pouted as Miguel brought you in for another desperate kiss, "Mhm, I....love....you."

"Ah, music to my ears."

Miguel had you pinned against the wall, his kisses moving down to your neck. His large hands stroking the sides of your body as you started to tremble from his touch. You gasped softly as his hands cupped your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

"You're mine, (Y/N). I want you only to come to me, understood?"

"Mhm, yes sir," You whimpered.

Honestly, you found jealous Miguel really hot. His kisses trailed down your neck, sucking and biting until you whined. His hands roamed your body as if trying to find a way to take off your suit. Unable to handle the anticipation, you decided to help him.

Miguel whispered thanks repeatedly as he watched your suit come undone. His hands grabbed your waist, lifting you up so that your clothed cunt met his growing erection. Grunts were exchanged as Miguel grinded against you while his lips met yours again.

"Only I can touch you like this," Miguel whispered, his words growing sweeter yet more possessive by the second.

"Mhm~ Only you." You cooed. Miguel groaned as he made his suit disappear around his hands, trailing them towards your clit,

"Already so wet. How long have you've been wanting this?"

"I-I'll tell only if you do," You huffed, feeling your growing embarrassment.

Miguel only grunted in response before flicking your sensitive bud. You let out a sharp gasp, holding onto Miguel as he toyed with your clit. Soft moans escaped your lips as jolts of pleasure coursed throughout your body.

"You sound so sweet. How long again?" Miguel questioned against your ear.

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Months~"

"Hm, months. So I have months of making up then," Miguel chuckled lowly as he nibbled against your ear, "Months that can be redeemed easily."

"Ah~" You gasped as Miguel's fingers entered your soaked cunt.

You held onto Miguel, riding against his hand as pleasure took over you mind. His thick fingers making a mess of your pussy easily. The tight burning knot within you was about to burst with each curl of his fingers.

Biting your lower lip, you arched your chest against his. Your body shaking from pleasure as you felt your high approaching. Miguel must have noticed since his fingers started to work faster. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you cried out a loud moan.

"Ah~ Miguel!"

"Thaaaat's right. Only I can do this," Miguel hummed as you cam against his fingers, "That's my girl."

You panted heavily as Miguel licked his fingers. His hips lifting yours slightly as he started to reveal his massive cock. You could only whimper, ready to be devoured by Miguel.

"Miguel, are you in here?" Peter B. Parker called out.

"Aye, fucking timing." Miguel hissed lowly, "Fix yourself up, I'll deal with him first."

"Mhpm!" You pouted angrily, grabbing Miguel's wrist, "Don't keep me waiting. You said you had months of making up to do." You said with a whine.

Miguel's smirk widen as he kissed you hungrily. His talons ripping your suit slightly,

"I do. And I have to make up for this," He chuckled, tearing your suit some more, "Go hide while I deal with him."

"My suit!!" You cried before running off.

Miguel just watched you, his smile never fading. Hiding his erection, Miguel hurried to deal with Peter.

He couldn't keep you waiting after all.

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

I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[prosciuttoon]

Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #toshiro nakamoto #shuro dungeon meshi

[buckttommy]

Fuck the end of season 8. I want meaningful looks and unspoken ‘oh’ moments in season 7.

Mmm. No. This realization doesn't change anything.

Buck and Eddie still need to simmer. It would have been one thing if Buddie went canon at the end of Season 4, because Buck would have just had his realization about his worth in Buck Begins, and Eddie—after having been shot—would have been on the verge of his own healing era. With these factors considered, and with the way Eddie's arc culminated in that conversation with his father, they could have reasonably gotten together by the end of 5B.

But things are different now.

Their arcs are different and their characters are in enormous states of flux, so smushing them together now would, honestly, be painfully rushed and sloppy. And after waiting so long for the validation of seeing their love story unfold, I want the writers to take their time and be oh so delicate with rebuilding this story so that, when Buck and Eddie's love for each other is realized, it happens in the most gratifying way possible. But that can't happen right now. Buck needs to learn how to be Queer (because it is, indeed, a learning curve) and Eddie? Whew. Eddie has a lot to parse through, starting with the fact that we're six seasons deep into his character's existence and he's only now uttered the words "Catholic guilt."

I know the realization that Buddie was supposed to go canon ages ago has lit a fire underneath everyone's asses regarding seeing it come to fruition now that the show has been liberated to ABC, but honestly? Buck and Eddie's Season 2-Season 4 arc was so meticulous and so, so lovingly crafted that it's going to take time (and a full, non-truncated season) to reconstruct something like that again. So when they do finally come together, their first kiss or feelings reveal will have just as much—if not more—of an emotional impact as the shooting.

I know that sucks to hear, but patience really, really will win out in this situation in the end. Trust me on that. "Instant-but-not-instant gratification" is not the route they need to go for this. We just need to sit and wait.

#jack answers mail

[dearbraus]

— Ajax

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!reader, sfw, mentions of wounds, coerion, and debt, set after the 4.2 archon quest. ⊹ Run time. 2.6k ⊹ Note. This has been in the drafts since October and I just decided life is too short to keep everything in the drafts, enjoy

❝Your next form of repayment comes in the form of a half dead harbinger on your doorstep.❞

masterlist || next part

The knock comes long after the sun has sunk beneath the lip of Stormbearers Point. You nearly mistake it for the rough pounding of wind and rain that pounds against your windows, rattling the glass, but the fist comes down once more with enough force to splinter the frame. The soles of your slippers slap against the aged oak wood as you rush over with nothing but a single candle to light the way. Your power blew out hours ago, leaving you with only the glow of your vision and the few spare candles to illuminate your home. A chill shoots through you as the door swings open with the force of the ferocious wind. Rain splatters against your face, nearly extinguishing your candle as you peer into the night.

Two low-ranking Fatui men stood on the other side of the door, they barged into your space without a word, tracking in mud and leaving puddles with each heavy stomp of their boots. Between them lay a man on a flimsy put-together cot, his skin was pale and damp. You hoped to wash your hands clean of them long ago but it seemed that once your limbs were caught within the Tsarita’s web there was no escape. The man's bright ginger was matted against his forehead and he shivered uncomfortably in his slumber. Rolling your sleeves up to your elbows, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“We’ll be back for him when he’s in peak condition,” the man with the garish top hat muttered gruffly as they dropped the cot down in the middle of your living room, “Don’t contact us before then.”

The thinly veiled threat and finality to his voice made your shoulders shake. They were left without sparing so much as a second glance towards their comrade who let out a pained groan as his body was carelessly thrown to the floor. You kept your expression school into a façade of neutrality. The few minutes that passed felt closer to an eternity as you held your breath, your chest burning from the tension. Wrapping your fingers around the stem of your candle stick, you rushed over to the living room. In the dim light, all you could see was the faint rise and fall of his chest. He appeared far weaker than he did before as you sunk into the plush floral rug that was soaking up the stormwater that soaked the man’s clothing.

His vision weakly pulsated, the rich blue glow growing faint, “Archons above, just what have I gotten myself into …” you grumble, pressing the back of your hand to the man's clammy skin. He was warm, too warm  but still he shivered in his restless sleep.

Wax dripped over your knuckles as you hastily shoved it onto your side table. Hissing beneath your breath, you rushed over to your fireplace. There were few logs left to burn but they’d be enough to tide you until morning came and the storm subsided, then you could hike over to Springvale and haggle Draff to part with his store of dry wood. He didn’t need it when he spent most nights passed out at the Angel’s Share. Your frigid fingers fumble with the matches, you snap two of them in half from the rough way you drag them against the matchbox before you manage to light one. The flames are slow to grow but they’re willing to work with you so long as you gently stoke the embers. You silently thank Barbatos, casting a quick look behind you.

You’d need to strip him of his wet clothing and wrap him in something warm. The thought made your stomach churn uncomfortably. Even if it were possible to rouse the man from his fever induced slumber, it’d be unkind. You wished in that moment your vision would morph from dendro to pyro. At least then you’d be able to dry his clothing whilst preserving his modesty, well whatever modicum of modesty a man could have when all he wore were tattered, blood stained clothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through gritted teeth as you peel back the remains of his grey jacket. There was a soaked glob of gauze sloppily tied around his torso. 

You didn’t want to remove the bandage, you knew whatever it covered was likely to be infected. The longer you remained ignorant to his condition, the closer he came to death's door. Would that have been such a bad thing? For this man, yes, but for you? Finally, you’d be freed from this so called debt that left you on the Fatui’s roster but it was a cruel thought. This stranger did not deserve death because of your own stupidity and selfishness. The gaping hole of fissured flesh that ate away at the mans milky, freckled skin was infected. Sickly green pus oozes out when you lifted the soiled gauze. The urge to wretch rolls through your stomach. 

“You poor thing,” you mumble as you bury your nose into your shoulder, “They really did a number on you.”

The man makes no sound, he hardly stirs at the sound of your voice. Your heart sinks further into your chest, his condition was far worse than you were prepared for. It takes you three hours to remove the shoddy field job, disinfect his wounds, and wrap them once more. His wet clothing lies in tatters around him. They weren’t in very good condition but your guilt ate away at you as he lay bare before you with only a small fur blanket to keep him warm. Perhaps Draff or one of the other hunters may have some clothing to spare, if not, you were sure the Cathedral would have something lingering in the lost and found.

Your knees creak obnoxiously as you rise from the floor. Sunlight has begun to bleed through your windows as morning crept over the horizon and the storm has dwindled to a light spattering of rain. Grabbing his belt from the mess of fabric that soaked your carpet, you furrowed your brow. The light in his vision still weakly pulsed but as you turned it over, the swirling blue that belonged to hydro morphed into a deep crimson. Stamped in the middle was a symbol you were familiar with, it’s what was brandished by the men who barged into your house– it was the Fatui emblem. He must have possessed a delusion; that confirmed some of your suspicions, whoever this man was, he must have been high ranking within the Fatui. 

Fear rolled through your belly as you peered at the man's face. As he lay like this, he looked rather innocent. The telltale signs of time had yet to visit him. His cheeks were still round with youth, in spite of the many scars that littered his freckled skin. Shaking your head, you frowned a bit. You could not allow your guard to fall. You knew nothing of this man and a seemingly innocent expression did not mean cruelty didn’t live within him. Retching your gaze away, you pad down the hall to your bedroom. The trip into Springvale would be long but if you left soon, you’d catch the hunters before they embarked for the day.

You catch sight of your expression out of the corner of your eyes. Your mirror reflects your frail visage like a taunting mirage. Peering at the worn wood of your bedroom floor, you striped your soiled sleepwear. The white cotton is stained with mud and splotches of blood. You allow the cloth to fall to the ground with little fanfare. You’d deal with it whenever you returned home. It’d make fine kindling if you couldn’t scrub the stains out. Noelle, your friend and knight in training, might be able to clean them but she’d worry far too much about why you found yourself covered in blood. 

The cold tile of your bathroom is not welcoming. Goosebumps erupt along the expanse of your bare skin, the hair on the back of your neck rises as you step into the space. You can’t avoid the imposing reflection of your mirror, your blank expression haunts you as you putter around. Your tub fills slowly, the water is always tepid, it never grows warm enough for you to feel clean but it’s the price you pay for the solace of solidarity. Daring to look into your mirror, you size up your reflection. The dark circles that ring around your eyes seemed to have deepened, your eyes sinking sadly into your skill. Your skin is dull and lifeless but that was nothing new. 

Rolling your eyes, you turn away and dip your feet into the tub before the water has filled half way. The porcelain digs uncomfortably into your ribs as you lean over the edge, a heaving sigh passing your lips. You feel grimy, the filth clings to you like a second skin that cannot be cleaved away. 

Your bath leaves you unsatisfied. You gag on the scent of your valberry soap, it’s nauseatingly sweet. The leather of your hiking boots rubs against your skin in a way that makes you want to claw out your eyeballs. Still, you shove your sock clad feet inside and tightly lace them over the hem of your pants. The patches you used to cover up a few holes have begun to fray around the edges, you momentarily pause to poke at them. They’d need to be replaced soon.

The man is still resting peacefully when you pass through the living room. Though it’s unlikely, you write him a quick note, just in case he were to wake. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you note that he’s become less clammy. You hope that it’s a good sign.

As always, the trek from Stormbearers Point to civilization is long. You snack on nuts and berries as you descend the mountain. The air is damp and humidity hangs low but the sun is bright enough for you to momentarily forget your worries and appreciate the beauty of Mondstadt. In all your years, travelling across Teyvat, nothing could ever quite compare to home. Some days, you wish you had realised that before heading off with nothing but a couple hundred mora to your name and a dream to become a famous writer. If you kept your roots planted in the pot you were raised in, maybe that Harbinger wouldn’t have been able to take advantage of a green nineteen year old in desperate need. 

You sigh to yourself, willing away thoughts of the dark haired man with glasses who kept your soul caged within his fist. Your name is called before you’re able to register the town sign, “Good mornin’ to ya!” Draff shouts, his hand is pressed against his brow to block out the sun, “It’s been a while since ya came ‘round these parts!”

He seemed chipper. With the storm he likely couldn’t indulge in his nightly cap at the Angel’s Share. You shrink in on yourself, hoping that the others milling about the gate would be too busy to notice your presence. 

“Good morning,” you return the greeting once you’re close enough that he could hear you without shouting, “I was hoping you’d have some things for me?”

“Aye, you’re out of wood?”

You nod your head, peering around him to get a closer look at the stock he’s piled beneath the wooden stall. There’s a few half plucked pheasants splayed across a sheet, a crate of sunsettia’s, and a rather lofty pile of dried firewood. Shoving your hand into your pocket, you curl your fingers around the pouch of mora that felt far too light for your liking. Straightening your shoulders, you offer Draff a smile.

“I’m out of everything,” you admit with a nervous laugh, “But I’ll settle on as much wood as I can carry, medical supplies, and some clothing if Allan or Jotun can part with anything.”

Draff gives you a quizzical look, “Why not head into the city?” He asks, rubbing his calloused hands across his scraggly goatee, “If clothing’s what you’re looking for.”

“Ah well, I’m not looking for anything fancy!” You exclaim, your cheeks filling with embarrassment, “I just need some new clothes to muck around in the garden and can’t really afford to shell out the mora.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you, kid.”

Draff gives you a smile like he feels some kind of fatherly affection for you. It makes your skin crawl. His own child spent most nights alone in the city scheming in an effort to force him to curb his alcohol addiction. If he did feel something for you, even if it was pity, you didn’t want it. The stench of faux fatherly care makes your stomach roll as a new wave of nausea crashes into your belly.

“Thanks,” the smile you force burns the muscles in your face. 

You watch with tired eyes as he scurries away, rounding up a few familiar faces before disappearing into his meat shed. Your expression quickly drops as you plop yourself onto the closet tree stump you could find. Exhaustion tugs at your heart strings, begging for the solace of your bed, even with all the lumps and bumps of your worn mattress.

Marla and Brook pass you with a smile and a cart of freshly washed produce in tow. They carted goods into town for Blanche at the start of every week. With the Summer Solstice on the cusp of the horizon, and the heat of the new season pressing closer, Blanche and Mondstadt’s fruit vendors took smaller shipments throughout the week, lest they wanted their produce to spoil from sitting in the sun all day. Brook only pauses half way down the path to toss you a lustrous red apple with a toothy grin before leaving you to your lonesome. 

Turning the apple over in your hand, you examine the pattern in the smooth, silken skin to bid your time. Sweat gathers at the nape of your neck and dribbles down the curve of your spine. No matter how you twist and turn, there's no comfort to be found beneath the brutal beating sun and a sweat damp shirt. 

Morning melds into the afternoon as you sit in wait, watching the people of Springvale come together to offer you what little they had. Your stomach twists uncomfortably with each smile and quick, “Thank You” and empty promises of repayment that you press into the palm of their hands. You trek home with a heavy wagon and an even heavier heart. Mentally catalogue how long you’ll be able to stretch your supplies if the man's wound was not as bad it looked. A melody of brains stain your lips, one to Barbatos, another to Rex Lapis, a third to Beezelbub, to any Archon that may receive them and return your wishes swiftly.

By the time you’ve returned home, exhaustion has carved out a space between your bones. Your clothing clings uncomfortably but there is no cool bath in your future. Kicking off your muddied boots, you to look the living room where he lays. His chest slowly rises and falls with each shallow breath he takes. He didn’t die while you were away. You wonder if that was a good sign. The floorboards creak beneath your socked feet as you step closer to him, kneeling into the plush of your rug. You’d need to throw it away, it’s stained with his blood. Reaching out to brush back a few sweat soaked curls you freeze in shock.

A pair of bloodshot, dull blue eyes stare groggily back at you.

He was awake.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

networks: @enchantedforest-network

#tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #childe x reader #genshin x reader #gi x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #tartaglia x you #childe x you #half moonshine; full eclipse

[2309analysis]

Luffy smut — My Sweet Cherry ⟢

This was very indulgent. I was extremely horny, and I wanted to see a very specific submissive Luffy. So, I just decided to make it myself. (It’s hard to find sub!Luffy) I’m very satisfied with how this has turned out. I think it’s one of the best, if not the best things I’ve written.

Word count: 3351. Pages: 6. TWs: Pegging (possibly thinking about getting rid of it), overstimulation, shaking orgasm, chokehold, restraints, cussing, begging, blow job (head), fingering, male receiving, mentions of edging, edging.

Sweating, aching dick, constant denial. He was on the verge of begging and losing his sanity for you. Tied up, on your lap, close to your face. Both noses practically grazing each other. Heavy breathes. Squirming with anticipation. A firm hand holding his neck on the side. Caressing his firm skin.

“You’re such a good boy. You’re so pretty like this. Strapped up against the bed frame, edged against your will. Ooh, baby, you’re wonderful. You’re all mine. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. You’re way too precious for anyone else’s eyes.” You don’t exactly praise, nor egg on, but it gets him panting. He’s shaking just by your words, weak, and delicate, sensitive as hell.

Naked for only your view. Hickey’s all over. Drool running from his mouth on all ends. “P-please, mommy, just relieve me. I-I can’t focus like this. You’re too much — uhghhh! M-mommy…” You softly touch his nipples, and sucking on the other one. Taking him by surprise, sending chills down his spin. He shivers through the coldness and warmth of your mouth.

Twitches. Slight twitches from his legs kneeled on your lap. Your free hand over his mouth, preventing him from turning into a moaning mess. You’ve edged him all week. Pinning him to a wall and giving him a quickie before his high. Then suddenly return to your other duties. Almost trembling, he blushes fiercely and shakily walks off.

“Oh, my baby… are you having a rough time? You’re too adorable to just please immediately. I want to help, but first, I want to experiment. Break you. Weaken your senses. Make you dizzy. Fill you up with so much pleasure you will go drunk just from touch. I’m obsessed with you. You’re all I need. You’re my sanity.” Softly massaging his back. With cold hands, he squirms some more. Blushing like hell, and embarrassed, he closes his eyes to avoid eye-contact.

“N-nghhh… please, please, please, please, please just fuck me already!” He squirms under your touch. You smile even wider. “Be patient, my cherry.” You whisper to his ears. Softly licking them. He feverishly whines and whimpers. “Ugh… how long do I need to wait? I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I?” You seductively hold up his chin and force him to watch you smirk and sexily stare him down.

“Yes, my baby boy. You have. Although, teasing you is so much funnier than just hitting it off. Wouldn’t you agree? I love you so much. I’d do anything for you, but to edge you on, oh, baby, that’s my favorite part.” He wraps his legs around your waist. Giving in. Yearning for at least a kiss. “Can I at least get a kiss to ease my pain? Please, mommy, I want you so bad…” You kiss his neck, and cheeks. “Mmmmh, maybe, but I want to search your body s’more.”

As you kiss his delicate, and desperate body, he starts to gulp and sweat more. “Oh, god. You’re so good… it’s almost not fair. You take it so well. You make me go feral, y’know that?” He pants while your voice memorizes his ears. He’ll worship it. Your voice is like heaven to his ears. Can’t live one day without it. As he bites his lips from your touch. He tightens his grip around your waist with his legs, shaking.

Hitching under his breaths, face heated up, “M-m-mommy… please… just, uuuhhh.” Barely slurring out his sentence, panting like a dog, sweating bullets, shaking violently from every touch. Emotions swelling and tying knots in his stomach, embarrassed but loves this side. He loves you dominating him. He loves the way you make him weak, the way you ferally devour anything and everything out of him. He can’t live without you. He’s too developed around your façade, touch, demeanor. He desires you like no other, nothing could or can compare to you. You please him through the heavens.

His dependency on you is like life-support. You softly smooch his lips. “I love you. That will never change. You’re too good to leave. I can’t live without you, I need you, I need you. Ooh, you don’t understand.” You worship his grace. His heart jumps out of his chest, panting, just barely holding on the threads of sanity. He adores you so fucking much. “I-I do too, mommy. I understand well, too. I know much more than you anticipated… but… I need you more. I crave for you. You’re my only solution, the reason I can be pleased. You’re perfect.”

His intensity on you gives you chills. Lust swirling in each other’s eyes. Precum sits bedazzling on his dick. His bulging is just enough to soak you up. “Mmmmmh, am I ready? Mommy? Will you please fuck me now? I’m dying here. I need you. Please, please, please.” You chuckle from his constant begging. “Oh, I’m having too much fun to just stop. I’m going to rile you up to the point when I finally relieve you, you’re cumming by the first touch.” You kiss his neck some more, and softly trail some drool to decorate his neck.

“M-ngh…” his hands grip hard on the rails of the bed frame. He wants you so bad, he needs you so badly. He doesn’t know how much longer he can last before going into a fully moaning and begging to be fucked mess. “Pleeaase!! Ju-jus… haaaaah,” groaning from a few soft and light touches. You’re trailing your nail over his tip, teasing him to the point he’ll break. Growing teary from all the teasing, squirming intensely, sweating to the point where you can smell his bodily fluids.

“Baby, do you know how cute you are? Sometimes I wonder if I’m the one who’s really going insane right now. I wish you could be like this all day, every day, but you’re too good for that. You’re way too amazing for anyone else to be able to see you like this. My cherry.” His eyes spells out things his trembling mouth couldn’t admit. He yearns for a kiss. The kiss full of lust and desire from you both. He’s earned it. He’s been such a good boy for you. Oh, how wonderful and sweet he is. Almost hurts.

“Baby, do you want that kiss? I think you’ve been patient enough.” You chuckle, practically touching his lips with yours. Closing the space between you two, he inches closer. You back away a little, “Awh, don’t rush things. It’s not fun when you get whatever you want without any fight. I want to drain your fight, drain the sanity left. I want your mind and brain to only circulate around the arousal of my pleasure. You’re so radiant. I can’t stand not teasing you, you’re so pretty… oh, you’re too enchanting for my brain. You make me go crazy, to touch you like this, to even see you like this, to be the reason you’re like this. Do you realize how much that arousals me?! How much it turns me on? You’re so damn luxurious, it’s too good. Way too good. You can’t leave without atoning for the vile crime you’ve committed. You made me obsessed.”

You caress his hair. Trailing your fingers along his face, his skin tensing after each agonizingly slow embrace of your finger. You slowly feel his lips, deeply staring into his eyes, his low and unsteady breathing fills the air. The silence. It’s too much for you two. You’re wanting to take him whole, but know it’s better to take bites. “You’re my salvation.” After mindlessly whispering it into his ear, you roughly kiss him. Leaving him no time to react, choking on his breathe, eyes widening. “M-mhmhm…” His chest tightens up, arching his back, deeply engraving to your kiss. He can barely keep up with your pace. Your right arm cradled around his neck, intensely looking deeply into your lover’s eyes.

He’s feral at this point. Dripping from arousal, intoxicated by your touch, your voice, how you make his heart race. Tongues intertwined with each other’s drool. Hard panting’s from both of you, on the verge of losing your breath. Both of your mind’s on the tip of losing it all for each other. You softly depart from the kiss. “Let me feel you,” like animal instinct, he sits prettily, mouth open, letting you dig your fingers inside. Circling his tongue with your index finger, softly kissing his mouth with the taste. You toy around with his drool on your fingers, tangling it inside your tongue, you rub his lips with his drool. Swiftly kissing his sweet nectar.

“You taste is so elegantly sweet. I can’t have enough, I need to seep through everything. You’re so possessively sexy. You have me under shackles. I can’t stand to not look at you. You’re too glamorous. Glorious, even. My dear, sweet, Cher’.” You passionately dive through his shoulders, caressing them with your kisses. He softly gasps, you can feel his trembling arms. His mind seeps farther and farther from sanity. Head pricked up, back arched, arching legs, sore arms & hands.

He was on the brink of moaning your name, gushing out his groans, he needed you more than anything. “Y-Y/N… please… I beg of you, just touch me! Fuck me, fuck me until morning. I don’t care anymore. I need it, I need you.” His achingly whiny voice seduces the drums of your heart. His head bobs up from the bliss of pleasure as you lick his scared chest. “Haaah… mommy…” you perk up, enchanted by his pureness. “You’re the best… so pretty.” His shaky head angled down back at your body on top of his. Lustful eyes connect with yours.

You lean into his face. You decided to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, and softly kiss his lips. He was motionless to all of this. Covered by exhaustion, panting, and sweating like he’s been in lava. “I don’t c-care anymore… please… just take me a-already.” You smirk slyly, “in time, darling. You’re being so good. If you can feel how enchanting you are to me. You have me bound by bliss and desire.”

His shaky legs were screaming silently for your touch. He was so ready for you. He desired you, yearned for you, enchanted by you. You brought your right hand down to his thigh, slowly massaging it, inching closer and closer to his dick. “I think you’ve earned some pleasure, wouldn’t you say?” He pants. Teary-eyed, “m-mom— uuuuhhhhhggggg…” you softly brought your hand to his dick. Slowly, and agonizingly caressing it.

“You’ve been such a good boy. You’re so dazzling, tied up, helpless, gorgeously vulnerable. Oh, it just gets me soaking without even trying. You’re too enchanting. Watching you pant like this, effortlessly look so prettily and captivating. It gets more going, cherry.” You dazzle your way up to his head while still deeply staring into his eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut after he feels your sensation on the tip.

Swirling your index finger lightly around his dick, he pants even harder. More drool dropping off the edges of his mouth. Perked up lips forbidding to moan anymore. He was quite embarrassed, even more so than if he would lose a fight. Embarrassed about how all easy this was. Exhaustingly trying to feel everything you’re doing. “M-mommy… haaah, please, please, please, please, please, just fuck me already!! I’m too tired of waiting. I need you. I’m begging. I surrender! What else is there for me to do?”

He dizzily demands. Tired, panting, sweating like an animal, feral enough to moan out in pleasure just from mere sight. The sight of your lover being this needy and eager to have you fuck him was so captivating. Like a moth luring into an open flame. Yet, for the moment all you do is smirk and softly dangle your fingers around his precum. Making him softly mewl in response. His eyes hazily peering onto your figure. He has his legs laying down, making it easier for you to play with him. He opens up his neck some more causing you to lick your lower lip narrowing your stare.

You kiss his chest leading it up to his beautiful and bare neck. You run your nuzzled nose around his neck’s edge. Caressing his beauty with your nose, absorbing his undeniable scented body. You kiss his cheeks and run your free hand through his hair. Feeling his lips, he softly gapes his mouth open for your entry. “For a second there, I thought you were going for my neck. Heh, way to fool me.” You chuckle as you softly kiss his lips. Yet, he’s left breathless, fully aware of the effects you have on him.

It will never matter how prepared he’ll be. You’ll always captivate him and leave him huffing for more. Earning an extra satisfaction out of you. You knew that he practically needed you at this point, but always was so embarrassed for it. It always aroused you. His effortless way to captivate you had you outmatched from the very beginning. What can you do without him? Absolutely nothing. At least, it’s what you convince yourself. You’re in such awe with his beauty you can’t even imagine a life without him in it.

I’ll make build-up after I finish the fic, and post that alongside pinning the posts all together.

#writing #one piece #one shot #one piece smut #smut #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #luffy smut #headcanon #luffy #straw hat luffy #luffy x you #one piece x reader #op x you

[giamee]

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🎐 )

even though you don't talk, they'll still find a way to listen

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | mute reader, jus some fluff really, bit on the short side

requested by @/anon

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ ok i should nawtttt have used this colour scheme im squinting like a rat at my screen tryna see what i'm saying. the title is 'cigarettes out the window' (shoutout tv girl) if u couldnt read it which i do not hold against u

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

it's simply in his nature to look out for others, to ensure that everyone is alright. and when he meets you, he's thrown for a loop a little. because you are fine.

the first time he sees you is in serval's workshop- you're just leaving, and something compels him to make sure that he speaks to you, even if it's for a few fleeting moments before you leave and he most likely never sees you again.

it's a simple question of how your day is, but you simply offer him a small smile before ducking past him, scurrying out of the door that he held open.

he's puzzled at first- maybe it's something to do with him? did you not want to talk to him? but then his sister explains that you're mute, and now he feels like a fool.

and thus begins his attempts to talk to you.

he writes you little notes to begin with. luckily for him, you're a regular at serval's shop, always seemingly having some device or another broken and in need of repairing. serval rolls her eyes at the pair of you- at gepard for being an idiot (you can still hear, you don't need notes), and at you for your attempts to run into her brother as often as possible (those machines weren't really broken).

despite this, it was somewhat amusing to watch the pair of you attempt to flirt with each other. and somewhat cute when your attempts worked.

you kept each and every one of gepard's notes to you, as redundant as they were. his handwriting was a little scruffy, and if you looked at them hard enough you could spot the little tremors where he tried to make the lettering neat.

a special treat was when he decided to add little doodles to them. it was anyone's guess as to what they were supposed to be- you were pretty sure that one of them was supposed to be you- and your heart warmed amidst the chicken scratch and stick figures.

you decide to write your own note back to him. in the top right corner is a little sketch of him, on a similar level to his own creations, that you hope he'll appreciate alongside the note.

you give it to him along with your best smile, mentally capturing the look of joy on gepard's fave at your little gift to him. you were gone by then, shyness overtaking your urge to stay, so you could only imagined his face when he realised that what you had written to him was a formal request to take him out on a date.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DAN HENG.

for dan heng to open up to someone new, several criteria have to be met.

for starters, he had to be at least a little bit comfortable around you. receptive, but not too probing or overbearing. rational, but not judgmental. open, but not too much.

in many ways, he was like a cat. you had to let him come to you.

and luckily for you, you seemed to fulfil those criteria.

as one of the newest additions to the astral express, you were in some sort of in-between phase of being one of them and a stranger. you communicated in your own ways, but you found yourself withdrawing to your room. it was overwhelming, this new environment.

it was only natural that you felt more drawn to dan heng more than anyone else. he had similar qualities to you- more introverted, tended to keep to himself. and, as you later found out, you both had a tendency to burn the midnight oil.

it became almost routine to run into him when you're both up late, wandering the astral express for some peace of mind. brief encounters with little nods sent your direction gradually evolved into longer moments spent basking in each other's presence, mostly in silence. but not always.

you both had your reasons to be up late- on the nights where dan heng looked more frazzled, a certain look in his eye, is when you began to piece him together.

he'd lend you some information of his own volition occasionally, telling you about the nightmare he had, recurring or not. there was just this certain quality to you, a look in your eye that made him feel like you truly did listen to him.

and he wouldn't trade your late-night rendevous for the world.

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

#୨୧ gia.txt :: gepard #୨୧ gia.txt :: dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #gepard fluff #gepard landau fluff #hsr gepard fluff #hsr dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng x reader fluff

[merbear25]

Reigniting an old flame (Mihawk)

Prompt 18 requested by @thesunxwentblack

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting this, especially with Mihawk! I had a blast, so I hope you enjoy what I've written for you 💜💜

CW: NSFW!! MDNI!! fem!reader, fluffy smut, established relationship, vaginal penetration, slightly rough sex

Sharing your life with someone never appeared to be in the cards for either of you. However, your paths intersected, giving you a chance at love. Understandably, neither of you held out hope for your relationship to survive the countless fire it'd undoubtedly be under, but it turned out that anything was possible.

Despite the shaky circumstances, your love was worth holding onto—such devotion was difficult to come by in this world. Wanting nothing more than your safety, Mihawk urged you to distance yourself from him, at least until he managed to get everything under control.

However, seeing how distraught you were by the whole ordeal made it seem as if this decision was the wrong one. Holding you closely, he reassured you that your love was meant to flourish. Handing you a small piece of paper, you noticed the address written on it—a type of safe haven for you to fly under the radar.

Pushing your heartbreak aside, thinking that this could be the final time you see each other, your trust in him remained unwavering. Tearfully agreeing to the conditions, you departed. Watching the life you'd just begun together become more distant, the serverity of reality was almost proving too much to bear.

With days turning into weeks and weeks into months, gnawing dread that something had happened ate away at you until a piece of mail appeared: one holding neither a return address nor signature, yet an abundance of clues. The envelope contained postcards with nothing written on them but a note about the supposed journey that alluded to the true origins of post. Trusting your gut, you answered, sending it to a place that was starting to feel more and more like a shot in the dark.

Only when another arrived, were your doubts set to rest. With the illusion of secrecy kept, it was obvious to the both of you that your adoration new no bounds. In spite of the small glimmers of joy you'd get receiving and sending mail to each other, the extended period of doing so was weighing on you, leaving you wondering if you'd ever get the chance to hold each other again, to allow your love to flourish in the way it was supposed to.

With the last two years passing by in a haze, the next piece of mail sparked hope. Sifting through the hints, he gave you notice of his current whereabouts, extending an invitation. Elation of being reunited coarsed through you, your feet and the sails of the ships being unable to carry you as quickly as you needed.

Upon seeing him, there was no chance you'd hold yourself back from running into his arms. The feeling of him wrapping you up in an embrace—one which he'd be sure could never allow you to slip through—allowed your souls to meld together. Granting himself this moment of weakness, he swept you off your feet and carried you into your new home, peppering your sweet face with much deserved affection.

Placing you down on the bed, you had a silent understanding that everything else could wait, for now getting lost in the pits of your desire took priority.

As the fires of your passion increased with each searing kiss, your body arched with each touch, each grope, beckoning for him to ravish you. Trailing kisses down your neck, removed your delicates with ease. Pinning your legs back, your needy slit was on full display, which only whetted the appetite that'd gone without satisfaction for far too long.

Unleashing his arousal, he teased your pearl with its tip, sending waves of anticipation deep into your desperate walls. Easing himself into you, he reveled in the sensation your twitching form was so eager to give him.

Picking up the pace, he bucked in and out of you with a clear goal: letting the dry spell come to a crashing halt by surrendering yourselves to the uncharted depths of euphoria.

Your moans were growing more and more frantic, sounding off in the room like sweet melodies. The sight of you losing all sense of self on him made you even more irresistible. Leaning over you, your lip lock was feverish yet firm. As his length forced itself deeper, your groans at taking the full extent of his lust mixed with his.

Such thrills were building up to an explosive irruption, one which would quake the earth surrounding it. Fully letting go of any of the sorrow and uncertainty you once had, an earth shattering revilation freed you from those shackles.

Now with more clarity, the two of you could give yourselves entry into the other's life, no longer needing to hide.

Leaving you with a kiss on your forehead, he excused himself momentarily, giving you full reign of the bedroom.

Taking liberty to look around at the different knick knacks he had scattered about, a red velvet box caught your eye. Admiring the delicately crafted lining, you unclasped it. You were met with a stack of postcards and notes.

Holding each note up, you could barely make out that they were yours due to the tears flooding your eyes. Such tenderness that you never knew he was capable of sent your heart soaring.

When he reentered the room and caught you looking at his keepsake, he gently placed a hand on your lower back.

"You mean to tell me you've kept every single note?"

Cupping your face, he spoke with complete certainty, "A love like yours is meant to be cherished."

Being given the chance to fan the flames of your passion, letting it reach new hights was an opportunity you'd never take for granted. Wrapping your arms around him, you gave yourselves a few more moments to let those bright embers dance between you.

#follower event #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece imagine #op #mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece smut #op mihawk #op smut

[technicallyvivi]

NSFW WARNING!

wooyoung shower sex

its a cold day in the middle of december, you and wooyoung were on vacation and planned to go eat some korean barbecue with your friends mingi and jongho, who were waiting in their hotel room for you guys. you took your clothes out setting them on the bed so you could change into them later. “woo!” you called and his head popped out from the living room, he walked over and wrapped his hands around your waist. “yes princess, what do you need?” he asked getting a smile out of you. “do you want me to grab your clothes too?” he shook his head staring intently at your lips, “are you even listening?” he shook his head again kissing your neck softly, nibbling the skin under your ear. he moves his kisses up and smiles. “how about we take that shower together?” you roll your eyes but comply anyways and take his hand to lead him into the bathroom. its almost like no time had passed and you were both bare and pressed up against each other making out. wooyoung bit your bottom lip for entry but you pulled back, before he could protest you got into the shower and turned the water on, signaling him to join you. he hopped in and pushed you against the shower wall, you kissed him gently and pulled away. “make it quick.” he scoffed “i make the rules here angel. ill take however long i want.” his words make you feel small, vulnerable, and god do they make you wet. your pussy clenches around nothing as you start feeling more and more desperate, kissing isnt enough. “woo, p-please.” you beg holding onto his neck. he laughs “tell me what you want baby, use that pretty mouth of yours.” you close your thighs to rub them together hoping that itll relieve you to some extent. “in me.” you manage to say but hes already flipping you on your back and going in, raw. you grip onto nothing trying to steady yourself on the wall, its a miracle hes holding onto your hips tightly or you wouldve fallen. you whimper spreading your legs more and more until it almost hurts. “shh.. one second, let yourself adjust.” he says rubbing small circles on your hips and kissing down your back as he bottoms out. “ah..! f-fuck.” you exclaim when you feel him twitch inside you. “sorry pretty, tell me when youre ready.” you can tell hes trying to hold back. even though you cant see him you can imagine his eyebrows being furrowed as he tries to focus and not ram into you. “ready.” you say and with no hesitation he pulls out until just the tip is inside you, and pushes back in with forces making you bounce into the wall but he pushes your hips back onto him and starts building up a rhythm, your eyes tear up and its already getting too much even thought he just started. “i.. ah!! woo!” you moan trembling in his hands. “you’re taking me so good yeah? being such a good girl just for me to use you however i want.” you nod frantically letting him control you fully, his groans and grunts fill your head and everything feels foggy. “j-just for fuck! just for you!” you cry out holding onto the wall for support. he takes your hands and puts them behind your back, you already feel the knot in your stomach and he can tell, you clench tightly around him almost pushing him out, he hisses. “shit baby dont do that.” he holds you closer ramming into you faster and harder “mm so warm.” he grunts. and that’s when you hear it. the door opens and you panic trying to get up but wooyoung hold you down still fucking you rough. mingi’s voice can be heard pretty loudly “y/n?” he asks and you plead for woo to stop so you dont embarrass yourself. “arent you gonna answer him baby?” your legs tremble harder, partly from how hard but slow he’s still going and partly from the anxiety of mingi walking in on wooyoung having you bent over in the shower. your voice shakes but you manage to speak as clearly as it is possible when you’re getting fucked. “u-uh ngh.. yeah?” you answer speaking just as loudly as he did. wooyoung intertwined his fingers through your hair speeding up his pace but not going as hard. you whimper and whisper “woo..” you hear mingis footsteps and his voice is suddenly closer.

“are you okay?” he asks “y-yeah.” you cant help but stutter, “ask him what he wants.” wooyoung demands and you know better than to disobey him. “what do uh! do you want?” you can sense that mingi knows he’s interrupting something, he knows you all too well, he also knows wooyoung too well, you’re starting to get frustrated, wooyoung isnt fast enough and you need to cum, your high is so close but its not enough. you whimper a little too loud so he covers your mouth “shut up baby, dont want him knowing whats happening do you?” you shake your head. but like you said, mingi knows something is wrong, so he just decides to leave. “um nothing, ill just wait till you get to jongho and i’s place” and just like that his footsteps start moving further and further away, and the door locks. wooyoung kisses the back of your neck, leaving his mark and going back to his animalistic pace. “good girl. you did so good.” he growls in your ear and you cant take it anymore, you scream his name as loud as you can not even giving him a warning just cumming all over his fat cock. “ah! ah! wooyoung!” your legs shake violently and you chant his name repeatedly. you swear you can feel yourself swallow some water since your mouth is open so wide in a silent moan. it only takes wooyoung a couple thrusts to grip your hips as hard as he can and cum deep inside you, you can see it dripping down your thighs. “fuck.” he groans letting you go, he cant hold on much longer, his strength and energy giving out. so you both fall to sit at the bottom of the tub. he pulls you closer washing the cum off your thighs as gently as he can. “youre the most beautiful girl you know that right? the best just for me.” he smiles holding you close and washing you off.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez hard thoughts #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #yunho smut #hongjoong smut #jongho smut #ateez #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz smut #atz #atz imagines #atz wooyoung #atz hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez seonghwa

[kfedup]

Regretsy no more

Hey, y'all. It's the lurker here.

I've been in the funkiest of funkless funks for the past few months and over the past few weeks, I've been unpacking why. Seeing how much I'm isolating because of a constellation of health-related issues and generalized depression. Have been considering trying meds. But one thing keeps coming to the surface and I finally decided it's time to deal with it.

The one thing is the only thing in my life that I regret. That thing is never having finished my bachelor's degree.

I'm twice divorced, have lost several important friendships, and moved more times than I can count to places I didn't really want to live to maintain relationships I should have never entered in the first place, but I wouldn't trade any of those things. I don't feel regret about them. Why would I? I discovered who I am and who I am not because I experienced those things. Each of them allowed me to learn how to repair what's possible and how to let go of that which is complete.

I'm very good at this marketing copywriting work but I'm bored senseless. I want to challenge myself and taking online workshops is fine but it's just more interacting through a screen and lord love a duck, my spirit needs more. Plus, I am not using my gifts of communication, empathy, mirroring, and holding space for others in the way I know I am meant to use them. For two years I've felt like I'm wasting what's left of my life.

I am so afraid I will die full of this regret.

The cost has kept me from pulling the trigger on this dream for several years. I wish I started sooner, but clearly, I wasn't miserable enough yet. I'm well and truly stuck in the muck at the bottom of the lake about it now. There's nothing left to do but swim to the surface, so here I go.

Today I applied as a transfer student to the Psychology program at Kent State University to start classes this summer. It will probably take me 3 years to finish the 2 years I have left because I'm a single-income household and will have to work. I'm terrified I won't be able to manage both, but I hope I can rally.

I'm not sure if I'll continue on to get the Psych MA at KSU or go elsewhere to get an MA in Art Therapy after I finish the BA. I also want to get certified in Internal Family Systems therapy, so I'll be 63ish or older starting a new career as a therapist and I feel excited about my future for the first time in... well... I don't even know. A very long time.

I want a career that feels meaningful to me, helps people instead of businesses, and lets me use my gifts. One I can do until I'm dead because I'mma need to work until they're spreading my ashes.

I plan to take a class this summer to dip my toes in.

Holy shit, y'all. Lila will be a senior and I will be a junior on the same campus. She's so supportive and I've been crying happy-scared-overwhelmed-curious-excited tears all day.

Kelly's going back to college. Holy shit.

#it's been 35 years #that's a hell of a gap #my student loan debt can fucking die with me #no more thinking about it #time to grab it by the balls and swing

[demonslayedher]

Nerdy cultural details about the word "Hashira"

Some details can be hard to pick up without context or in translation. I recently went over a few details about the Hashira's names, Breaths, or symbols, but today I want to focus on the word "Hashira."

To get this out of the way, I use "Pillar" all over this blog because I thought that's what they were called. I was astounded that phrase was not translated, as it is a (somewhat rare) case of a one-to-one translation equivalent. They are the pillars that support the Demon Slayer Corp, after all. The kanji for it (柱) very literally means "pillar" in any modern day Japanese to English dictionary. But since you all know the word "Hashira," let's climb up and see where it takes us! First, the kanji itself (brought over from China and given the Japanese pronunciation "hashira," based on the existing spoken Japanese language), is composed of 木 for "tree" and 主 for "master" or "main/principal," among other semi-literal or more widely applicable possible meanings in modern kanji dictionaries. However, Prof. Owada Tetsuo, a retired university professor who published an unofficial book of his own Kimetsu no Yaiba interpretations based on Japanese demon slaying folklore, points out that 主 can also be interpreted as a still flame atop a candlestick, and that 柱 (hashira) is a tree that cannot be moved. (I'll continue to use a lot of Prof. Owada's details in this explanation, as well as details I have picked up in other research.) That makes 柱 closely associated with holy trees found in, or treated as, Shinto shrines throughout Japan. As Shinto is a nature-based belief system, trees are often something that a kami (deity) will inhabit. Keep Shinto in mind, because we're going to focus on that a lot.

Before that, let's finish up with the kanji 柱. According to the first official fanbook, there is an upper limit of nine Hashira because there are nine strokes in the 柱 kanji. (See this dictionary entry for a breakdown of those nine strokes.)

Now that the easy official tidbit is out of the way, back to the Shinto fun stuff and conjecture! We need to dive a bit more into the spoken Japanese language, from which a lot of Shinto terms derive. For starters, the Japanese language uses counter words for when you say a certain number of beings or objects. You could think of this as "a sheet of paper" or "three rolls of tape." It is an annoying part of starting out your study of the language because there are a lot to memorize based on sizes, shapes, types of animals, etc. Deities also have their own counter word: 柱 (hashira). This goes to show how the Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corp are something more than human, what with how much power they possess.

Now if we think about the pronunciation of the spoken Japanese word from long before a Chinese written character was assigned to it, the "hashi" of "hashira" is a "bridge." Clever ones among you might know that "hashi" also means "chopsticks." But even chopsticks have the same effect as a bridge! They serve as a connection, bridging the gap between you and what was another living thing, that which will become a part of you as your sustenance. "Hashira," as pillars, are likewise something that serve as a connection, in this case, a vertical one. They are that which connect us with the heavens, or in the case of the Demon Slayer Corp, they bridge the gap between the limits of human strength and the inhuman strength of demons.

As another Shinto tie, one of the connections that Prof. Owada and I both made was that there are nine pillars that support the main sanctuary in shrine architecture like that of Izumo Taisha Grand Shrine. Or rather, in the case of at least one of the historical iterations of Izumo Taisha, there were nine groups of three massive tree trunks each, resulting in a shrine over 48 meters in height (see here for photos of how big the remains of those pillars are and how exciting the archaeology is). These pillars give you a sense of awe for just how powerful pillars can be, especially when you have a spread of nine to distribute the weight. Now, there's more that Prof. Owada and I would both say about how Izumo Taisha also ties in with the "Ubuyashiki" surname or the "yakata" title by which the Hashira address him, but that's a dose of nerdery for some other time.

#kny nerdery #kny reference #kny references #I forget which tag and I'm sticking it in there for the official fanbook bit #otherwise this is what My Research makes possible #thank you My Research #and thank you Prof. Owada's Research even though I think you're stretching too far to make connections #for the sake of talking about other nerdy folklore stuff in a KnY themed book

[lau219]

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Part 10

Previous part here

…………………………………………………………………………….

Stacy: Sure, no problem. Are you ok? Do you want me to talk to him?

Y/N read Stacy’s text message response before quickly typing out a reply. She’d messaged Stacy, explaining that she and Emmett had gotten in a pretty bad argument the previous night, and asking her if she could please come and get the boys and watch them at her house tomorrow, and for the next several nights. Y/N had no idea what she’d do after then, but she was just focused on the immediate future for the time being.

Y/N: No, that’s ok, thanks. I think we just need to have some distance between us for a while. I’m so sorry to ask you, but I didn’t know what else to do.

Stacy: Don’t worry; it’s totally fine. But just for the record, I think you two will come to an understanding much quicker if you just talk rather than avoid each other.

Y/N: Thanks, I’ll think about it.

Y/N set her phone back down on the nightstand after closing out of Stacy’s message and still not responding to the one Emmett had sent her earlier that day asking her if they could talk. She hadn’t answered the phone the two times he’d tried calling her, either.

Now early evening, she was starving, as she’d stayed holed up in her room all day watching TV to avoid being seen by him through her downstairs windows. But as it began to feel like her stomach was eating itself, she discreetly made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t happen to see her from across the driveway.

After what happened in her kitchen the previous night, she’d completely avoided Emmett after dashing back outside. She was both absolutely mortified, as well as completely confused, and she hadn’t even fully believed that what had happened actually happened, until she’d changed her clothes later on and the proof of their little rendezvous was evident on her panties. She’d blushed every possible shade of red as she’d dropped them in the washing machine, and she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror, which was still the case today.

She was mortified because she couldn’t believe how easily she’d given in the second Emmett had grabbed her. Despite the way he’d spoken to her, the pull she felt to him was irresistible, and as soon as his lips had touched hers, she’d only wanted more. It was pathetic how easily she’d melted.

But it was also just such an awkward situation. They had still been fighting literally as they were having sex, and she’d willingly given in to the possessiveness and control Emmett had shown, and she was so embarrassed by how turned on she’d been. She couldn’t get the feel of his hands on her or the sound of his voice out of her head.

But she also couldn’t understand why it had happened at all, and why Emmett was so upset that she had agreed to Stacy’s set up when he had neither said nor done anything else prior to their little encounter to show that he was interested in her. She figured it was some weird, territorial guy thing – he didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her. Well, she wasn’t interested in any of the drama or heartache that came with that scenario. She refused to be in another situation where she hoped for bliss but was treated like garbage. If he didn’t want her, then he couldn’t have her.

Now, she just had to try and get rid of her unreciprocated feelings.

———————————————

Emmett had been completely restless since the moment Y/N had walked out on him the night prior. They’d been interrupted before he’d had a chance to explain anything to her, and after going back outside to the party, she’d made sure there was at least five yards of space between them for the rest of the night. Any time it was evident he was going to try to approach her to talk, Y/N moved away, her face flushing and refusing to meet his eyes as she wove her way around people and tables. Eventually, she’d called it a night and gone back inside her house, turning off every light, and when he’d tried to get in touch with her several times today, he got no response. He wasn’t even sure if she was home now, as there’d been no sign of life at her house all day.

He figured she was confused, and he couldn’t blame her. Remembering how she’d said that it was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her, he realized that the way he’d gone from pulling back to then suddenly being jealous, scolding her, and kissing her wouldn’t make much sense to anybody.

Well, he’d done a lot more than just kiss her, and as wild as the situation had been, Emmett couldn’t help but still be insanely turned on by the entire thing. He’d been on the verge of grabbing her the whole night, and once he’d heard about her date and had her alone in that kitchen, he wasn’t leaving, no matter how mad at him she was.

He knew he’d been out of line with how he’d spoken to her, but in the moment, he’d been too wrapped up in jealousy to care, and something between them drew out a side of him that wanted nothing more than to both worship her and put her in her place at the same time. He couldn’t get the feel of her body against his or the sound of her desperate little gasps out of his head, and that, combined with how he felt about her, was making this silent treatment she was giving him unbearable. He needed to talk to her so that they could clear things up, and if she wasn’t going to answer her phone, he’d have to figure something else out.

———————————————

Y/N was incredibly grateful when Monday finally rolled around and she had the distraction of work to keep her from thinking about Emmett too much. They still hadn’t spoken or seen each other, and she’d asked Stacy to come up with some explanation to tell Henry and Max as to why Y/N wouldn’t be around for them this week.

After returning to the ER after lunch, Y/N was quickly approached by Melissa, who hastily handed her a blood pressure cuff as she spoke.

“There’s a guy in Bay 12 with a bad laceration on his arm, but I just got called over to help prep for an emergency surgery. Can you go see him?”

“Sure,” Y/N replied as she put her stethoscope around her neck. “Any other info on this guy?”

“No,” Melissa shook her head. “He just got here; reception is still entering his intake form.”

“Ok,” Y/N replied as she picked up an exam clipboard. “Go ahead; I’ve got it.”

“Thanks,” Melissa smiled at her and then headed off through the double doors.

Walking down the hallway to the end of the large room, Y/N stopped in front of Bay 12 and looked down at the clipboard in her hand as she reached up with her other hand to grab the privacy curtain. Her head still down, she pulled the curtain back slightly and stepped into the bay, beginning to speak as she readjusted the piece of paper on her clipboard.

“Ok, so, I understand you hurt your arm,” she started. “Let’s have a look.”

As she finished her sentence, Y/N finally lifted her head, and her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw Emmett sitting on the edge of the hospital bed in front of her. There was a moment of silence as their eyes met and she registered that it was him, and when she spoke, her throat suddenly felt very dry.

“I’m gonna go get someone else to help you,” she said, and she began to turn again.

“Y/N, wait,” Emmett said, and she stopped. “Please, will you just do it? I’ve already been sitting here for 30 minutes and this hurts like hell.”

Facing him once more, Y/N looked at him for a moment. He was holding a paper towel to his forearm, and despite how badly she wanted to get out of there, she knew she couldn’t leave him if he really was hurt. Inhaling a deep breath, she set the clipboard down on the counter before she silently walked up to Emmett and stopped beside him at the bed. Avoiding his eyes, she opened the drawer of the nearby cabinet and pulled out some rubber gloves, feeling him watching her as she put them on. It was silent for a moment, and then Emmett spoke.

“Y/N, listen, the other night—" he began as he looked at her, her head still down. But she cut him off before he could finish.

“Sorry, there’s no talking allowed back here,” she said, shaking her head as she pulled some cleansing pads and gauze from the drawer. She still refused to meet his eyes.

“Y/N, we need to ta—”

“Shhh!” she cut him off again, her face burning with embarrassment.

“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually,” he said.

She just shook her head and pursed her lips, saying nothing as she gingerly gripped his hand and lifted it along with the paper towel he was holding to his forearm. But upon revealing his arm, she saw that he had nothing more than a small scratch that had barely even drawn blood, let alone required an ER visit. Lifting her head slowly, she narrowed her eyes at him as she realized the trick he’d played.

“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” he said by way of explanation, but Y/N just narrowed her eyes again.

“You can leave the same way you came in,” she said as she pulled off her gloves. She would kill Melissa for helping him pull this little stunt and sending her to see him.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” Emmett responded.

“Then you’re gonna be here a while,” Y/N replied, and she began to turn around. But before she could take a full step, Emmett reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“We need to talk about what happened the other night,” he said.

She shook her head feverishly.

“No, we don’t. We never need to talk about it. In fact, forget it even happened.”

Emmett looked her in the eyes.

“There’s no way I’m ever going to forget it,” he said. “And I don’t want to.”

Y/N felt the blush creep from the base of her throat to the roots of her hair.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him, pulling her wrist out of his grasp. “Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” Emmett said. “I’m trying to explain myself.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Y/N replied. “I know it was just some territorial thing. But if you don’t want me, then you don’t get to do that.”

“Who said I don’t want you?” Emmett responded, looking into her eyes.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she stared back at him, speechless.

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured,” Emmett began explaining. “I know what you’ve been through, and even though it seemed like we were on the same page, I didn’t know for sure, and so I thought I should give you space.” He paused. “But then, I found out you agreed to Stacy’s set up.”

Turning, Y/N began to put the supplies she’d retrieved back in the drawer, not looking at him.

“Yes, I did, but not because I wanted to,” she said.

“Then why did you?” Emmett asked her.

Y/N turned back towards him but looked down at the floor.

“I was trying to get over you,” she replied quietly. “I thought maybe something was…happening with us, but then you got distant, and so I figured you decided you didn’t really want me.”

At that, Emmett reached out and gently grabbed her hand, and Y/N lifted her head to look at him.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said to her.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as they looked at each other and he pulled her slightly closer.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he continued, his voice lowered, conscious of the fact of where they were, but needing to tell her nonetheless. “And if anything I did made you question that or start putting yourself down, then I need to know how to convince you that you’re perfect, because I know how you talk down to yourself.”

Y/N blushed and shook her head, unsure how to respond. Absentmindedly, she began moving her hand around in his, their fingers playing together as she looked down.

“I’m not perfect,” she said quietly. “Not even close.”

Emmett pulled her even closer, bringing her between his legs before tugging his hand out of hers and instead lifting it to her face. As he cupped her cheek, he could feel the heat from her blush as he looked into her eyes.

“A woman who’s completely selfless, warm, loving to a fault, and sexy?” he raised his eyebrows and paused for emphasis. “I think that’s the definition of perfect.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding so hard that she guessed the thumping of her chest was visible under her scrub top. Emmett then gave her a small smile as he quickly looked down at her lips, and then back up to her eyes again.

“The added fact that you’re a sassy little piece of work just means there’s never a dull moment,” he finished.

Y/N’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red as she remembered how he’d called her sassy as he’d been between her legs in her kitchen the other night. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was remembering the same moment, but before she could let herself get any more embarrassed, Emmett pulled her the rest of the way to him and gently placed his lips on hers.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her, and when he slipped his other arm around her waist, she lifted a hand and braced it on his chest. Kissing him, his arm around her, felt like finally arriving somewhere she was meant to be, and she didn’t want it to end. When Emmett eventually pulled back, he smiled again as she opened her eyes.

“I know you hate having me as a neighbor, my hands are never clean enough, and you’re a better parent to my own kids than I am, but is there any chance you’d consider canceling that blind date?” he said to her.

But Y/N suddenly frowned and looked at him in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” she asked him incredulously. “You are an amazing father.”

Emmett just scoffed and shook his head.

“You are,” Y/N said. “Emmett, the fact that you have raised them on your own for this long, and they have turned into such wonderful kids, is just proof of how amazing of a father you are. I know firsthand how hard you work, and how much you’re there for them. If you think you’re not doing a great job, then maybe I should send you down the hall to have an MRI, because clearly, there’s something wrong in your head.”

At that, Emmett breathed out a laugh and pulled her closer again.

“How can you put yourself down so much but then say something like that about me?” he asked her.

“Because it’s true,” she replied as she looked at him. “You’re teaching them to be just as hardworking, kind, and good as you are. I’ve seen it. And if you weren’t so great, they wouldn’t be, either. But they are.”

Emmett squeezed her waist as he looked at her.

“You realize the impact you’ve had on them?” he said. “They adore you.”

The love was obvious in Y/N’s eyes.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever overstepped,” she said gently. “But I just can’t help but want to take care of them.”

Emmett didn’t know how it was possible for someone to be so incredible, but he did know that he would do whatever he could to try and show her how amazing she was.

“What about you?” he said. “If you ask me, it’s about time someone took care of you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Emmett continued before she could say anything.

“And don’t you dare say you’re not important,” he said.

Y/N pursed her lips, as that was exactly what she was about to say.

“We’re gonna have to fix that,” Emmett finished, referring to the way she belittled herself.

He then pulled her closer once more and kissed her again, and as Y/N leaned into him, his hands rested on her hips. After a moment, he pulled away just enough for their lips to part, and he spoke again.

“Come over tonight,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy. “No expectations – I just want to be around you.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding again.

“What about the boys?” she said, her voice a little breathy.

“I’ll ask Stacy to keep ‘em tonight...or for the next month.”

Y/N giggled, and then she looked down at Emmett’s arm and ran her finger over the small scratch he had.

“I don’t know if you’re in any kind of shape for visitors,” she said teasingly. “You’ve been through quite the trauma here.”

“If it’s as bad as you say, then I definitely shouldn’t be alone,” he replied, playing along. “Do you make house calls?”

“Not usually,” Y/N said. She reached over to the counter and picked up a discharge sheet, gently shoving it into his chest and then pulling away from him. As she drew back the privacy curtain and stepped back into the hallway, she spoke once more, giving him a coy little smile before she turned away.

“But I’m willing to make an exception,” she said.

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