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obsessedwithegos · 1 year

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Rescue? -Tiny Runa AU

CWs: Tiny whump, Mermaid whumpee, Fae carewhumper, Dog caretaker (?), Poor fish keeping conditions at a store, Starvation, Whumpee believing he’ll die, Whumpee being talked about like an animal at first, it/its pronouns used in an animal sense and unknown pronouns sense.

Runa: he/him Bebê: he/they Alure: she/her

~~~

It had only been a week since Runa was kidnapped from his home, yet here he was laying on the bottom of a small plastic cup.

He had the perfect view of people entering and exiting the store, but no longer had the strength to try to make himself seen in an attempt to get help. He was hungry, tired, and the water was growing stale as the oxygen in it was running out.

He closed his eyes as they stung once more with tears. He wanted to go home, but that wasn’t going to happen, was it?

He was just going to die here, on display at this store, wasn’t he?

He didn’t bother to open his eyes again, as he tried to focus on hearing the people in the store. The people that were just out of his reach.

“Alure we’ve already walked around the store once, are you sure you don’t just want a toy?” One voice asked before Runa felt his cup being moved.

Rapid sniffing was heard, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

“You.. Want a fish?” The voice asked.

The cup started to move as if being lifted, so he opened one of his eyes to see what was happening.

Two giant golden eyes stared at him. “This isn’t a fish..” The giant muttered before looking away from him. “Alure, are you positive? It looks pretty sick.”

The bark in response caused his ears to ring and his head to start spinning.

The giant sighed. “Alright. I did say I’d get you what you want. Let's go get some supplies for it.”

He closed his eye again, exhaustion starting to build more and more.

“I’ll be surprised if it makes it to tomorrow..” The giant commented.

As much as he wanted to keep listening, the exhaustion overcame him, causing everything to fade out as he unwillingly fell asleep.

~~~~

When Runa woke up he felt as though it was easier to breathe, and a pleasant smell was in the water. Though the material he was laying on wasn’t very comfortable.

Opening his eyes, he was met with a lot of pinks, oranges, and off whites outside of the.. Bowl? Was he in a bowl now?

Looking around he’d see that he was currently laying on colorful rocks, but not far from him was one familiar sight. A carrot slice.

It was enough to make his mouth water and to help him gather his strength to lift himself up to swim towards it. It was soft to the touch and still a bit warm, had it been boiled?

He didn’t care as he dug in, desperate for his first meal in days.

The sound of whining caught his attention, making him look around as he ate. He quickly spotted a very large fluffy dog that was staring right at him.

He didn’t have the energy to try to swim away from it, or to even feel scared. He just held onto the boiled carrot slice, hoping the dog wouldn’t take it somehow.

The dog would then turn away and run off to a figure in the room. A familiar figure, the giant from the store.

“What’s up Alure?” It asked, petting the dog as it looked away from the computer it was at. Then it looked over at the bowl; right at him.

“Well shit.. It’s awake.” It says, getting up from the computer and walking over to kneel in front of the bowl.

Runa managed to swim backwards a bit, taking another bite of his food.

“You’re alright for now.” The giant says, lowering its voice. “I would ask you some questions but you don’t look like you’re in the right state to answer. So.. I’ll introduce myself instead.”

He looks at it confused. Why does it have questions for him?

“I’m Bebê, I use they or he, and my dog is Alure. She’s a good girl.” Bebê introduces themself. “I don’t know much about mermaids, so. I hope carrots are okay for now.”

He slowly nods.

“Good! I want you to get better so I can learn more about you. You are utterly fascinating to look at.” They say, tapping the glass with their nail.

He flinches as the sound of the taps reverberating through the water.

“Sensitive to sound.. Noted.” They hum. “I’ll let you eat. I’ll bring another piece of carrot in a couple of minutes. Hopefully you’ll grow to like this place.”

~~~~~~~~~~

general: @emmettnet @blackberry-nightingale

Runa tag and tiny mer whump: @whumpsday

#trying to get back into the flow of creating after my break <3 #hoping this flows a lil better from past to present tense a lil better! thank you again for pointing that out Mill!#whump #whump tag #runa tag #Bebê tag #alure tag #tiny runa au #tiny whump #gt #gt whump #owe writing #mermaid whump #mer whump #ask to tag

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f-ngrl · 9 months

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youtube

바라클라바 REMIX (Feat. 스트릿 베이비, 제네 더 질라, 스키니 브라운, 카키, cwar, 김감전, 래원, 캄보, 던밀스) - 제이씨 유카, dnss | [DF LIVE]

Balaclava Remix (feat. Street Baby, Zene the Zilla, Skinny Brown, khakii, cwar, ksmartboi, Layone, Kambo, Don Mills) - Jayci yucca, dnss

#balaclava remix #jayci yucca #dnss #khh #khiphop #kambo! best flow 🤷‍♀️#don mills couldn't make it it seems #Youtube

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chrisshields18 · 6 months

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Life is a rhythm, but many, lack, flow.

If you need a person, to help you find, your flow, you ultimately never, had one. It’s a, borrowed, flow.

The key to your success, is to find, your, flow.

Single flow, is distinctively different, than relationship, flow.

Key to success, of moving forward, from exes, is stop, thinking and start realizing, the answer, is clear. In that case, move forward, and get your, flow, back.

#flow #rhythm #success #wind blow #breathe #wind mill #keep going #Holy Spirit #go with the flow

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tohokuu · 9 months

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put my playlist on shuffle and was listening to future and then it flipped to “it everyday bro” by jake paul 😓

#ITS EVERYDAY BRO #WITH THE DISNEY CHANNEL FLOW #FIVE MILL ON YOUTUBE #NEVER DONE BEFKRE #PASSED ALL THE COMPETITIIN MAN #PEWDIE IS NEXT #GOT THAT BRAND NEE ROLEX

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pseudowho · 5 months

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Ditch the Party

Nanami Kento hates parties; but the drinks? They make him...bold.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Nanami Kento is a horny drunk, just regular old smut here

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"Just...promise me you'll behave tonight," you beseeched Kento as you pressed your earrings into place. You saw Kento lean back into the bathroom on his way out, bristling, indignant. Your nose twitched in amusement as he caught your eye in the mirror, looking stern.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied stiffly. You scoffed.

"You absolutely do," you countered, turning, your hand on his chest. Looking him up and down, in a slim black suit and burgundy shirt, tie-less, you felt outdone.

As you leaned back on the bathroom counter, Kento's eyes had a naughty twinkle as he leaned down towards you. Your eyes narrowed with a smile of warning, and you pressed one finger to his lips. Tapping his nose as he opened his mouth to bite your finger, you reminded him.

"Come on, big guy. We'll be late. The taxi guy's probably sick of waiting for us." You slithered past Kento, feeling his fingers brush your waist for the barest of moments, as you gripped his hand and pulled him towards the door.

In the taxi, Kento gazed at the city lights, considering his life choices; "Why are we going to a party this evening? We don't even like parties." You laughed, reapplying your lipstick in a mirror.

"We don't, it's true. But it's a big birthday for my uncle, and we promised," you wheedled. Kento grunted his disapproval beside you. Your eyes narrowed at him again; "And, it's a family friendly event, so..."

Kento looked at you again, innocent but challenging. He let your statement hang; this time, it was you who was bristling, indignant.

The party had already begun by the time you arrived; held at your aunt and uncle's home, a warm orange glow and thrum of conversation spilled out from the kitchen to the garden, deep green hedges flickering with torchlights and tiny twinkling fairy lights. The music was low, the conversation easy and audible above it. A barbeque puffed out woody smoke. Drinks were flowing freely. You sighed as you approached, relieved.

"See? It's the good kind of party," you pressed, squeezing Kento's hand reassuringly. He sighed, unable to argue with you, reassuring you with a gentle smile that you didn't need to babysit him all evening for fear of him having a dreadful time in the company of others.

While Kento headed in to fetch drinks, you greeted family and friends. Kento returned soon after, with a large gin and tonic for you, and a larger whiskey for him. He slipped an arm firmly round your waist, pulling you flush to him as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

The night wore on, the conversation lubricated by alcohol, and small, tipsy groups milled around the garden fires. As food was served, an elderly aunt approached, and asked Kento how he was enjoying the meal.

"It's delicious, thank you," he replied low and smooth before leaning into your ear, whispering, "it almost tastes as good as yo--"

"I'm sorry, dear?" Kento leaned up, all smiles to your elderly aunt, as you blushed from your ears to your toes.

"I said, it tastes almost as good as your cooking, auntie," he lied and she chirped, flattered, patting him on the arm with a smile. Your auntie headed away, and you spun to Kento with a look of warning. He completely ignored you, honeyed eyes glowing in the firelight.

Eyes narrowing at him, you headed over to the table to fetch Kento a glass of water, and almost immediately felt him cage you against the table from behind, his sculpted shoulders leaning past you to rest on his knuckles on the tablecloth. You felt his warm, whiskey breath against your neck.

"We could always bend you over this table," he murmured, as you felt a throb of lust in your belly, "and see how hard we could make it shake." As you spun, still caged by Kento's arms, a family friend approached just beside you and offered you and Kento an uncertain smile. Kento plucked your hair clip off the table from behind you, holding it up with a cunning smile.

"There it is, darling," he said warmly, the family friend now less uncertain, "I told you we'd find it." The family friend left, and you hissed up at him.

"Kento. Behave." He fixed you with a look of faux-innocence as he stood, finishing his whiskey.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, smiling at your uncle, wishing him a happy birthday as he passed, and then leaned over you again, pulling you close to his chest as he rumbled, eyes hooded and glinting, "but then, you never do make much sense when I'm fucking you until you can't see straight."

You groaned against his chest, hand over your eyes, mortified. You heard your aunt gently asking Kento if you were alright.

"She's fine," he chuckled, "can't handle her drinks, I think." Your aunt cooed, sharing a joke with Kento, and you gaped up at Kento, who accepted another drink from your uncle, utterly shameless.

"Kento," you hissed again, "you are just a--"

"Menace?" He rumbled, ghosting his lips over yours, whispering, "I could be. Just give me a bit of time, and something to tie you up with, and--"

Your mother came over, greeting you both, and you were forced to play drunk, you were so flushed at this point, babysat by Kento as he rolled his eyes fondly at you and made small talk.

Kento slipped his hand lower and lower behind you as he talked with your mother, and you felt his long fingers trace your thigh, surreptitiously climbing upwards beneath your skirt to graze your arse, before creeping round again and you felt his fingers brush softly against your fol--

You squeaked, jumping, your drink sloshing over your toes. Kento flapped a hand above your head.

"Just a moth," he reassured you and your mother. Your mother gave your burning cheek a kiss. Kento waited just long enough for your mother to leave, before looping an arm round your waist, pulling you into the shadows, behind hedges further down the garden. You squeaked with alarm. Kento drained both of your drinks, and unceremoniously abandoned the glasses in a bush, before pulling you onto a sheltered bench by your uncle's koi carp pond.

You were thrumming with embarrassment at this point, and leapt off the bench, mortified by Kento's utter shamelessness and alcohol-loosened tongue, ready to chew him out...but...

Kento sat on the bench, legs spread wide in his tight black trousers, thick, toned arms stretched out across the back of the bench. He looked deeply into your eyes, chiselled face dramatised in the shadows. Slowly reaching a hand out, he pinched the top of your skirt, pulling you in between his spread legs, strong and determined.

"We don't like parties," he toned, low and sultry, as you were pulled into his lap, "but we do like it when you ride me until our clothes are ruined."

Kento grabbed your thighs, forcing your skirt up to your waist and parting your legs around his lap. He hesitated, changing his mind and lifting you off him briefly. With no argument, he stripped off your underwear, pressing it to his nose and breathing in with a groan and a shiver, eyes closed in ecstasy. You hissed to him again, terrified of being found, arse and pussy open to the world--

Kento pulled you back down to straddle his lap again, sinking his hand into the back of your hair and tipping your head back as he ran his tongue and teeth against your throat.

"Nobody else will be able to see that wet little pussy of yours...if it's as close as I want it." Slipping two fingers between your legs, Kento rubbed your clit in tight little circles, and you felt hard and fast pangs of pleasure through you as you trembled, gripping Kento's shoulders desperately.

"Someone will hear, Kento--" he bit your neck in warning, squeezing your arse hard as he moaned, shivering as he continued to press hard against your clit.

"Well then be quiet, my love." You mewled, muffling your face into his neck, quaking as his clever fingers dragged you to orgasm, stimulating you hard and fast until your thighs shook, and his hand was wet with your arousal.

Kento's eyes were dark and determined now, single-minded as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, solid and weeping pre-cum against his belly as he stroked it, lubricating himself with your cum. Locking his arms behind your back, he lifted you and slammed your sensitive pussy down onto himself, bottoming out immediately.

You shrieked, and Kento clapped a hand over your mouth, nipping your lips as he shot you a lustful, playful look. Hands then locked behind your hips again, he lifted you up and down with wet slaps, immediately seeing stars with the relentless pace, chasing your pussy with his hips as he bucked.

You gasped, breathless against his neck as his cock bullied into you, pliable and shaking as Kento groaned into you, unashamedly loud-- "harder," he insisted, increasing the pace with his hands clenching the fat of your hips, "harder."

His mouth pressed to yours, kisses hot and smoky with whiskey as he nipped at your bottom lip, his groans deep and guttural as he felt your pussy clench around him while you held onto his lapels, mewling, tipsy, completely fucked senseless, as promised.

Feeling the trembling of your plush walls around him (the nerves of his cock already electrified by the alcohol) had Kento reeling and he came, whimpering into your mouth as he ground your hips against his, bottomed out and warm shots of cum spurting directly against your cervix.

You both shook, tangled and sweaty, spent, while Kento chuckled and you slapped him on the chest. You heard voices approach; your uncle, excited to show someone his prized koi carp.

Kento threw you onto the bench beside him as you yanked down your skirt, and Kento zipped himself up, putting an arm around your shoulders.

Your uncle arrived, "Oh, hey kids! Enjoying my carp-- whose are those?"

Kento coughed delicately, eyeing your forgotten underwear at the side of the pond; "No idea," he said, coolly, "they were here when we arrived."

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Infiltration, Chapter 5: Breaking Point, IS coming this weekend as promised...but in the meantime

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likewater-radio · 1 year

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Meek Mill - God Did (Official Video)

#Meek Mill - God Did (Official Video)#flow clark #like water #playlist #music #radio #video

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

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FRUITY

A/N: here i am, writing yet another concept that origins from @harrysblackcoat i just couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write it

WORD COUNT: 677

SUMMARY: Italy, Harry, pregnancy cravings and an ice-cream crisis solved by your wonderful husband.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“Grazie mille.”

Harry nods at the man behind the counter after dropping three times more money into the man’s hand than what the two ice-creams actually cost.

“Grazie!” the man breathes out with a happy smile, waving after the two of you as you walk out of the tiny ice-cream shop.

It’s a hot day in Italy, your baby blue sundress delicately hugs on your frame, the fabric softly flows over your growing bump. A fan you bought at a souvenir shop the other day hangs from your wrist. You asked for pistachio and vanilla, the melting ice-cream is slowly dripping down the cone in your hand as you keep on walking down the cobbled street. You lick into the vanilla and it instantly pulls a frown from you.

Why did you even ask for pistachio and vanilla? You’d much rather eat something fruity and refreshing.

Glancing over at Harry you catch him licking into his own ice-cream, he asked for strawberry and lemon, your mouth waters at the sight of the colorful scoops. The hormones are playing you so badly, have been for the past months, especially since you’ve reached the second trimester. Your emotions tend to be all over the place and practically anything could get you to cry.

Your lips start to wobble as you look back at your ice-cream.

“How is it, babe?” Harry asks, oblivious to what just went down in you. Stopping in your tracks, you try to regulate your breathing and stop yourself from crying. Harry notices that you’ve stilled and when he looks at you he instantly realizes that something is wrong. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

Stepping closer he tries to find what could be wrong, his eyes frantically running up and down your body as his free hand cups your bump.

“No, nothing hurts,” you breathe out, your voice shaking from the tears that are already dwelling in your eyes.

“Then why are you crying, baby?”

“I just… I’m so stupid,” you look at him pouting.

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t want it,” you finally admit, looking at the melting ice-cream in your hand. “I wish I got something fruity, like you did.”

Harry blinks at you for a short second and then gently takes the cone from your hand, replacing it with his and your heart skips a beat.

“But it’s yours!” you protest, but Harry just shrugs, his free hand taking yours as he pulls you over to a bench. You’ve been walking around for quite some time, he knows your feet must feel sore by now. He’s right.

“It’s yours now.”

“Are you sure?” you ask with puppy eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods and leaning closer he kisses your lips shortly before licking into his new ice-cream.

You watch for a second, so thankful for having him, he is always so thoughtful, he just wants you to be happy and he cares about you, putting you above everything all the time. He is such a good man and you know he’ll be the best father.

You sit on the bench, enjoying the break from the walking as you finish the ice-creams and when yours (Harry’s) is gone, you let out a sigh. One single sigh.

Harry stands up and heads back in the direction you came from.

“Where are you going?” you call after him. Stopping, he looks back at you.

“You want more, right?”

“I, uh…” you trail off, ashamed to admit that you do in fact want more.

“Y/N, I know you,” he smiles at you. “Same flavors?”

“Yes please,” you smile at him shyly.

You watch him walk back up the hill and disappear in the tiny ice-cream shop and a few minutes later he emerges with another cone of icy happiness. Arriving back to you he hands you the ice-cream and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, you’re the best, H!” you let out a pleased sigh.

“Anything for my girls,” he smirks and watches you eat your second ice-cream with a bright, proud smile.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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madds-is-ace-trash · 1 year

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Nightwing why are you warring a cape? Well for the baby of course! Dcxdp

This takes place in the same universe as my fic Mother of the storm and her star child.

A few years have passed and Danny is completely settled in and moved to bulhaven with dick. Eventually around the time he’s Turing 9 he insists that he wants to go out at night with dick. Dick is hesitant but Danny insist, pointing out how his abilities would make him the perfect recon detective. Dick can no longer argue when Danny beats both Damian and Cass the first day of training and he is out out in the field.

Danny hose out in his ghost form and picks the name phantom because it feels right and now nightwing patrols with a bird if his very own for the first time in a while. Danny is very good on patrols, he sticks close to dick often clinging to him and hiding behind him when dick is interacting with people. He’ll often turn invisible but it still doesn’t fell like enough to dick. He quickly released that he missed the cape and the layer of securing it added when Damien was his Robin.

So nightwing starts wearing a cape, and the people of his city starts coming up with all sorts of theories for the sudden change. The range from him practicing because he’s taking over the cowl to him hiding new gadgets. Very few have seen Danny and those who have are often not believed because, “nightwing had glowing eyes under his cape!” Is not very believable.

He doesn’t wear the cape all the time just when he has Danny, the cape is long the outside is black but the inside has a blue and black feather design so it looks like wings when he glides. It has a feature where it retracts in to a role on his back when he need more freedom of movement. And I’m addition to the cape he now has an extra loop hanging form his belt for Danny to grab on to as the hop rooftops. (Danny can will him self to weigh nothing so dick tends to pull him along as he floats any way)

As the news of dicks sudden costume adjustment is circulating he has to come to the watchtower with B for a mission. Danny tags along hiding in his cape like all the Robin had before him with Bruce. Meanwhile Bruce is totally not going all mushy over his grandson he is totally normal about this. All of the Leagers keep giving dick looks.

Until flash finally ask

Wally: so um nightwing what’s with the cape? I thought you hated them?

Dick*with a bright smile across his face*: it’s for my shadow!

Wally: your shadow? How is a cape ganna hide your shadow.

Dick: no not my actual shadow it’s to hide my bird.

Diana: your bird?

*Dick flares one side of the cape revealing the feathered pattern underneath but nothing else is visible hidden under the cape*

Wally: I don’t se-

Dick: whistles like a bird call

Danny slowly fading in to view giving the league a small wave as he scrambles to hide behind dicks legs: Hello

Hal: really Bruce another one!?

Dick Smiling at the small boy in his cape before closing it : nope this one’s all mine!

Meanwhile John Constantine who is present for this mission is freaked the fuck out. Because that kid with the flowing white hair and glowing freckles is definitely not human. And worse than that from what he can sense it’s pretty darn powerful to. He watches as all of his coworkers are working to get the boy out from hiding cooing over him.

Clark: he’s looking a lot better nightwing

Wally: Waite you already new about him?

Clark: yes the boy is nightwings child I’m guessing he only is just now joining the team

Diana: what’s your name little one?

Danny poking his head out of the cape: phantom my name is phantom

Fuck why was that name familiar? Oh shit that’s right John had heard rumors of the new ghost king and a prince milling around the infinite realms this must be the little ghost prince. How the fuck did dick end up with him? Waite sups said that was dicks kid, hold did dick?

John: ha Oh my god! You crazy fucker you fucked the ghosts king!

#danny phantom #dc x dp #danny fenton #dp x dc #dp #phandom #ghost king danny #i write some times #dpxdc #ms&sc #dc x dp prompt #you can use it as one I don’t care #this will not be continued so feel free to steal the idea #I just want Danny to hide under his papas cape #dick is very confused #over what John siad #and now the league is side eyeing him #Wally ask Danny who his mom is and he just says ‘dead’#this dose not help dick trying to explain he did not fuck the god of the dead #eventually they ask Danny if he knows who the king is #and he just says ‘Yhea me!’ and the crown of fire just appears over his head #he smiles and shows of his little baby fangs #John is having a melt down #the league just thinks it makes him even cuter #Danny explains he’s only a prince now until he’s big enough #John has to explain that actually makes a lot of sense because the realms have been running them self for years #The whole team is now having a crisis because they realize that means Danny has died #Danny is surprisingly nonchalant about it #he turns human to show them he’s fine #Batman is desperately trying to get everyone back on track so they can get to the mission

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cosette141 · 1 year

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Give yourself permission to write garbage.

This is the best writing advice I have ever received. Ever.

Anytime I either find myself intimidated by writing something or I simply can’t seem to get words moving, I use this. It’s great for the run of the mill perfectionist, as well.

Giving yourself permission to write garbage means letting yourself do something imperfectly. I always use this when I can’t seem to find a place to start, and I set out to write the “worst version” of whatever I’m writing. Not only do I give myself permission to write badly; I ask myself to. Instead of writing something eloquent like “the banisters were carved straight out of Queen Victoria’s past” I’ll write “the banisters were fancy-looking and stuff”. Or rather than coming up with the beautiful world building of the setting, I’ll just start with “they’re outside and it’s pretty” and move on.

Every time I do this, perhaps the first line or two will be a little worse for wear, but as a whole, never comes out “bad”. You’re just giving yourself the opportunity to write a “first coat”, if you will, and then add onto it when you edit later. And often I just need this advice to write the first sentence, and then I’m in the flow again. For me, at least, if I didn’t do this when I needed it, I’d just sit paralyzed at my computer staring at a blinking cursor. I’d rather just type some garbage that I can edit later than have nothing at all.

It’s simple and it’s silly (and sometimes cringe-worthy), but it gets you writing and that’s all that matters.

#writing #writing advice #writers block #just writer things #creative writing #fanfiction writing #writing motivation #writeblr #original writing

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chrollohearttags · 10 months

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writing silly prompts with my OTP so you don’t have to • part one

content warning: exactly as it says, voyeurism, exhibitionism, reverse cowgirl, squirting

📝: I cannot explain this even if I wanted to. Sometimes, I have a lightbulb in my head, constantly flickering and other times, it’s nothing more than wind and baked beans up here so I need help jogging my brain muscles and reviving my creative spark. Don’t get me wrong, I love you guys’ asks and I’ll get to them, as well as the commissions, I swear but I need to get my juices flowing again 🫶🏾

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ahh! Shit…mmphm. Gonna make me come..”

“Go ahead, princess. Nut on this dick..better keep quiet though. You don’t want us to get caught..”

another peaceful Sunday stroll down South Beach’s Design District turned to a rather eventful outing. Of course, that was nothing out of the ordinary for the infamous couple. It wasn’t rare for the two of you to spend your very limited free time enjoying relaxing walks through the various shops in the heart of downtown..where you may have frequented your favorite stores and restaurants as a bit of routine in your very chaotic and ever changing schedules. It was the one constant that you could bet on in your hectic lives. However..as soothing as the mundane was sometimes…you both still craved that thrill. The excitement that came with doing something you had no business. That rush only grew tenfold when you considered the fact that you weren’t exactly inconspicuous..everyone in Miami and the world at this point knew EJ the Don and (y/n) (l/n). Everyone was looking for an excuse to photograph you two. So it was insane that you were so casually perched atop your man’s dick at a popular lounge on Ocean Drive; enjoying some semblance of privacy as you had rented out the rooftop area for yourselves but even so, if caught, you’d find yourselves front page on somebody’s blog. Right now, you just couldn’t be vexed to give a fuck. Instead…

“Fuck! I don’t care who sees, I just wanna keep—“

your words trailed off into a high pitched yelp as that tip poked the inner corner of your sensitive core. Being fucked up into like a jackhammer into concrete. A tattooed hand on your clothed tummy and inked fingers stroking your clit. All of this because you just had to wear..it. A regular, run of the mill sundress that you had probably gotten as part of PR from Fashion Nova or Shein a year ago and just decided to throw it on to combat this horrendous heat. And yet, it was getting your pussy pounded! Strutting around without so much as a thong on underneath, just in case the mood struck you. Of course, it didn’t take long for your husband to follow suit when saw the fat of that ass swaying from behind the clingy material and watched you bend over to retrieve something when that hem raised and that plump little cunt became visible..from there, neither of you could contain yourselves. Up and down with your legs propped onto the pool chair you went..rutting your hips in slow circular motions as you performed tricks on that dick. Smacking, wet noises filling the summer air. You were certain some attendee or waiter was lurking in the shadows, possibly jerking off or even filming you two but it didn’t even matter. Your only concern was coming all over him! That deep voice growling in your ear as he held you close to his chest and let you ride out your orgasm. Even shortly after, bending you over again so that he could see that ass moving against him. Shouting off expletives at each other..

“Give it to me! Fuck this pussy, daddy. Right there!..”

“Hold still, baby..gonna nut all in this shit!—“

before he could do so, you were already reaching a climatic high..clamping down on his shaft before springing up and spraying him with those sweet, divine juices. Groping one of your tits, Eren would cackle as he watched you come undone for him. Squirming all over the place with uncontrollable trembling from that powerful peak. You were still shooting out tiny streams of that squirt afterwards. Having been fucked so roughly with such impact but of course, it couldn’t be helped..

“Sorry, princess. You know what happens when you wear that shit around me. Can’t help myself..”

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underdark-dreams · 3 months

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This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog.

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least.

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest.

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery.

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.”

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship.

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find.

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short.

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes.

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster.

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand.

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking.

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures.

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression.

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself.

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable.

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years.

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page.

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss.

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #eventual smut #bg3 rolan #female tav #heat/rut cycles #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tiefling biology

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povlnfour · 6 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ END UP HERE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a night out, a long walk home, and a pretty stranger happy to accompany you.

word count:

content warnings: mentions of alcohol/being tipsy, not proof read bc authors dyslexia won

“how did we end up talking in the first place?” — end up here, 5 seconds of summer

“do you even know who that is?” was the first thing your friend had said when she dragged you away from the group gathered around you by the bar.

of course you didn’t know the names and faces of the all people who scattered the club. all you knew was that this was one of the hottest places in monaco, and it’s guest list bolstered some giants of the motorsports world, a fact you were well aware of before agreeing to join your friends for the night. the group were ecstatic to have received a private invite to such an exclusive place from one of your more grander friends, the prospect of mingling with celebrities certainly playing on their minds — but you were more bothered about trying as many cocktails on the long menu that the place offered.

what you hadn’t expected was to be a point of attraction the moment you walked in. you knew you stood out in here, dressing nothing like the celebrities and trust fund babies you mixed with, but you certainly didn’t anticipate this drawing people towards you.

a man had approached you as you ordered a round for the small collection of friends you had come with, asking for your name. wanting to pay no mind to potential suitors, you told him trouble, before a sharp tug on your arm to drag you back towards the dance floor (drink now in hand) had you being reprimanded by your friend.

“am i meant to?” you hissed close to your best friend’s ear, straining to be heard over the baseline.

“you’re hopeless.” she had groaned, swiftly merging back in with the other girls in attendance. the group was growing with every hour, the alcohol running through people’s veins allowing for more socialising with strangers.

the music blared on, and you suddenly realised you weren’t half as drunk as you had intended to be. there was a nice buzz below your skin, one that danced through your fingertips and let you lower your guard on the dancefloor, but it was clear you’d remember everything in the morning (which wasn’t your initial intention).

with a swift glance around the room, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. his face was recognisable, but not enough to put one of the aforementioned names to the sight. he was most likely another driver, as you recognised a few of his friends that milled to one side from the television.

the pretty stranger sent you a wink from where he lazed against a wall, your eyes grazing down his arms to the small glass of presumably whiskey he was nursing. you may have done something stupid, approached him on a whim, if it weren’t for your friend grabbing your arm once again and dragging you back into the action.

your bold decision had been interrupted, but it didn’t stop you from putting on a show. you were suddenly aware of the eyes following every move, ensuring that each roll of your hips was perfectly in his eyeline.

a few drinks more, and a lot of dancing later, people began to file out with each passing minute. one of the friends you had originally attended with left with a man she had met that night, another leaving to get food with a group you had met on the dancefloor, until it was just you and two others from the initial gang left. there were quite a few people fluttering around still, clearly determined to stay until doors closed.

you were tired by now, more than ready to call it a night despite the adrenaline still flowing through you. it was more that stage of just drunk enough that you could keep going if you wanted to, but sober enough to be somewhat responsible.

well, somewhat responsible.

when your remaining friends had expressed their interest in moving to a different club, you had politely declined the invite to join. it took some convincing that you’d be okay walking home to your apartment on your own, but once they were thoroughly convinced, they bid you adieu and left you alone.

alone, bar the presence of a certain handsome stranger still hovering in the guest area.

he was flanked by some of the same people from before, the crowd having dwindled enough that it no longer looked impenetrable. you recognised two of the men from the group who had approached you at the bar, confirming your suspicions the brunette from before was involved in racing one way or another. if you had half a sense, that information would have made you turn back and rethink your decision.

you were too far into your master plan now (also known as: not sober enough to make fully calculated decisions), and you knew what you wanted.

so with shoes noticeable tighter on your feet than they were at the beginning of the night, you took a heavy stride towards the collection of people chatting amongst themselves.

before you had even breached the small collection of chairs that held the strangers friends, they all seemed to notice your arrival and disperse as though commanded, leaving only you and your target. you barely had to look up to know his attention was all on you at the moment, and the alcohol in your system brought out an involuntary giggle at the thought of keeping him hanging all night.

“hello, trouble.” he spoke breezily, accent a lot more british than you were expecting.

“glad to know that got around.” you grinned, stopping just a foot ahead of him, distance close enough that he could touch if he really wanted to “wan’a keep calling me that, or should i put you out of your misery?”

the stranger was even more tanned up close, skin smooth and glowing under the club nights. his cheeks stretched with a smile under your attention, and you couldn’t help but mimic the action. “i could think of a few other things to call you, but your name would be nice”

“y/n.” you offered, taking the drink out of his hand and downing the remaining drop as a form of payment.

he laughed lowly, accepting the now empty glass back without batting an eyelid. “lando.”

“well, lando. it would appear all my friends are gone, and i have no one to walk me home,” you put on your best pout, jutting one hip out to the side to really emphasis just how distraught you were over the turn of events “care to do the honours?”

lando didn’t bother pretending to dwell it over, instead pushing himself off of the wall in one smooth action, and offering you an arm to lead. you took it gladly, expecting him to at least offer a goodbye to his friends. to your surprise, he did no such thing, leading you to an exit you certainly didn’t recognise.

when the fresh air hit you, your body relaxed in relief, entirely unaware just how stuffy the large yet crowded club had been for most of the night. the silence in the roads around your exit told you that lando had most likely guided you towards the back door of the club, a much easier escape into the main streets of monaco without the fear of the crowds. yet another sign he must be someone important. if you thought about it enough, you recognised his name from the world of motorsports, but you couldn’t entirely place him.

you didn’t care to ask for now, way too focused on tearing the heels off of your feet to feel the cold ground below. dangerous, yes, but well worth the relief you gained from the relief of release from such terrible choice in footwear.

glancing back at lando, you found him watching in amusement, leant against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised.

“i didn’t plan to be out this late.” you defended before he had even said anything.

lando raised his hands in a defence of his own “no judgement here. you were certainly putting in a shift on the dancefloor.”

humming, you began to step along the curb side that started your route home, passing lando a glance over your shoulder. “i knew you were watching.”

“yeah? putting on a show?” lando caught up with you despite your head start, probably made a lot easier by the fact you were practically pigeon stepping along the pavement, playing around with your own balancing skills. he was able to make up ground rather quickly.

the bars and casinos that littered the streets around you were still open and bustling, the bright lights of monaco all blurring together by now. you noticed a few cars go by, ones you didn’t recognise but could certainly admire, and it seemed your new friend was doing the same.

“yup!” you exclaimed, pointing down a street that held some of the now closed cafes “this way.”

lando turned easily, his hand coming up to rest on your waist as the stones dug into your heels and you stumbled as a result. you steadied yourself with a determined got it, but weren’t deterred at all — if you wanted to walk like this, you were going to walk like this!

… a thought that only lasted a few more seconds as you got fed up of such a slow pace. you took to skipping instead, hopping slightly in front of lando and turning to face him. you could see the amusement on his face mix with a certain fear, most likely over the fact you weren’t looking where you were going. you swung the hand up with your heels in it as you spoke again, narrowly missing hitting yourself in the face. “i like your shirt!”

lando laughed, quickening his pace to close the gap, and gently engulfing your hand in both of his. you were just about to ask him what he was doing when he cleverly dislodged your heels from your grip and took them himself. you would have pouted, poked fun at him not wanting to hold your hand, had he not slipped his spare one into yours, pulling both of your arms back to your side and leading you down the roadside facing the right way this time.

“boo,” you shoved at his shoulder ever so slightly “i thought you’d be more fun than this mr. lando.”

like anyone would with a petulant child, lando grinned and pushed you away, pulling you back suddenly via your fingers that were intertwined. the action made you squeal, gripping on to his shoulder when you returned to his side. you frowned at him, no real weight in the action, but it was worth it for the reaction when he poked the tip of your nose with a wide smile.

“you’re certainly living up to your nickname, trouble.” he added, and you began to swing your conjoined hands between your bodies, a pep in your step that he happily mimicked.

you giggled, pulling yourself back to briefly bury your face in the crook of his neck, cheeks heating up at the memory of what you had done tonight. “i’m so sorry to your friend who i entirely pied at the bar.”

lando laughed again, this time full bellied and hearty. you could feel him shaking his head in amusement, glancing up from where you hid your face to find him already smiling at you. “don’t be. george needs humbling.”

you stopped walking suddenly, face gone pale as you realised who that man had been, and why your friend was so shocked. lando got the memo, stopping in concern and prepared to help you out of any hypothetical crisis. “please do not tell me i told george russell my name was trouble, and ditched him at the bar.”

there was a beat of silence for just a second, lando keeping his composure, before he suddenly doubled over in violent shakes of laughter. you whined in instinct, pleading with him that it wasn’t that funny, but eventually humour won and you joined him in his joy.

“oh my god my friends are never going to let me live this down!” you shouted, leaning on his hunched over body for support.

you were getting a few looks from passersby, probably confused at to why two young people were practically keeled over in the middle of the busy streets in the early hours of the morning. it was funny, really, you hadn’t even noticed just how busy the streets around you actually were as others made their way home. you had been so transfixed on the man beside you for most of it.

“that’s— oh my god i’m not letting him live this down.” lando chuckled, slowly gaining his composure once more as he straightened up. you didn’t miss the way he had to wipe tears from his eyes, and you thought briefly you wouldn’t mind making him laugh like that again.

“well, now i’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly…” you began, lando grinning as he smoothly linked your hands back together and continued the route down the road, counting on you for guidance as to the direction of where you were staying.

you hummed to yourself as you kept walking, a tune that you had heard in passing at the club that night. lando recognised it almost instantly, head turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow “bon jovi?”

you smacked your lips together “is that who is by? i only know like three lyrics. something about living on a prayer.”

“that’s the one.” he smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight tooth gap that made his grin so adorable.

whilst this wasn’t the way you had initially seen your night going, you wouldn’t complain about being looked at like that. it was surprisingly easy to talk to the man, despite his obvious status and the fact that he was most likely famous. he hasn’t made you feel out of place, and it made you want the night to keep going.

so when you stopped in front of your hotel, building towering over you, there was a surprising ache in your chest that this could be it.

“well, this is me.”

lando looked just as disappointed as you, clearly hoping the jaunt would be longer. he didn’t fret, simply offering to walk you inside so that he could be sure you got in safe. you both knew he could simply watch you walk through the doors and be fine — what with the establishments security and all — but it was clear neither wanted the journey to end just yet.

you accepted, not one to turn down more time spent with a pretty person, and it was only when you called the elevator that you began to say your goodbyes.

“well, thank you for, uh, walking me home.” you shuffled, watching as the numbers decreased on the led screen to indicate the lift was getting closer.

“thank you for making my boring night a lot more interesting.” lando retaliated, hands slipped in the pockets of his jeans to feign nonchalance.

the telltale ding of the elevator doors opening made your heart drop. perhaps it was the remaining alcohol in your system despite how much you had sobered up by now, but a certain bravery was lingering.

“i’m gonna wonder where this boldness came from in the morning.” you started, barely registering the confused expression on lando’s face before you pulled him down and crashed your lips together.

lando reacted instantly, hands wrapping around your waist as your own tangled in the curls at the bottom of your neck. the heels he held in one hand collided with your body at the impact but you paid them no mind as he confidently walked you back into the elevator until your back was pressed against the large mirror. he wasted no time in pushing your bodies together, using his strength to tug your waist against his as he reluctantly broke the kiss, still remaining close enough to whisper against your skin, “what floor?”

“seven.” you responded, kissing him again within milliseconds of finishing. you could feel his hands fumbling around on the buttons, helplessly searching for your floor without turning his head before the doors closed and you were finally away from the prying eyes in reception. you had certainly given security a show.

that would be an embarrassment for the morning, for now you were significantly more focused on the way lando’s hands traced the curve of your ass. he gave a firm squeeze that had you gasping into his mouth, an action he took perfect advantage of.

any vertigo the elevator moving upwards may have brought you was grounded by the firm hold on your body and the tongue slipping into your mouth. he tasted vaguely of whiskey, dulled throughout the night, and you found yourself getting addicted to the feeling of his mouth of yours. you may have done something more scandalous right then and there had the lift not drawn to a stop and the doors beeped open.

the two of you turned, being met with a giant FLOOR 8 ahead of you — and that was when you lost in once more.

leaning on lando, you couldn’t help the uncontrollable giggles that slipped from your mouth as he selected the correct floor this time.

“in my defence, i was preoccupied.”

a/n: hello pals

i realise only now how similar this is to overdrive but,,, forgive me i wrote it in a meeting

me vs characters meeting lando on a night out and being obsessed immediately >>>

i also: heavily dislike this it just felt rushed so any comments appreciated as author is suffering. battling with my dyslexia every two seconds writing this

- gigi xx

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ works #lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris au #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris scenario #lando norris one shot

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icallhimjoey · 1 month

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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