Hello again loves, I have not slept yet but I have had a lot of coffee :)
Lesbians! again! basically 800 words of Vale eating pussy but they're daughters of industrialists in the 1800s and are in an orange orchard I do not know what else you want from me
She had gone to church and had heard the pastor’s sermon that abstinence and piety were the only way to heaven but she found that she and Sete could make heaven for themselves under orange trees. heaven is in her pliant mouth and the contours of her body, heaven is in the taste of her cunt and the softness of her thighs on her shoulder, heaven is in the orange that she carefully split in half for them to share, heaven is there's to share even if it's just a fleeting moment.
Everything smells like citrus; it hangs in the summer air and underneath her nails with the orange pith that gathers under it. Everything tastes of citrus too, Valentina could taste the orange on Sete’s tongue.
The orange trees form an orderly forest around them, violating nature with their man-made structure. Valentina and Sete violate nature too and in some odd sense, Valentina finds that they’re not that much different, they and the orange trees.
It seemed like there is no one else in the world here, surrounded by orange trees and no sight or sound of another person. The insects buzz in their ears, the sound of bumble bees drunk off of sugar, but no man is there to look at them in disgust as Valentina gets drunk off of Sete’s mouth and slips her hand underneath the waistband of the worn work pants that Sete is wearing just to teasingly trace her finger along her wetness.
With a frustrated whine that is swallowed by Valentina’s mouth, Sete tried unsuccessfully to pull Valentina’s shirt from where it is haphazardly tucked into her pants. Valentina detaches herself from Sete’s mouth and laughed, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet of their surroundings, before flipping them over so Valentina is caging Sete’s body between her arms with Sete laid down on the gingham picnic blanket.
It’s Sete’s turn to laugh this time, loud and rambunctious and so wholly herself in ways that they weren’t allowed to be anywhere else, and Valentina stares at her with a sort of all-consuming awe that seems ever present within her whenever she is with Sete. She throws her arms around Valentina’s neck and kisses her chaste and short once more, the remnants of her laugh still stuck to the corners of her mouth, before she lets Valentina go to have her way with her.
Valentina throws foreplay into the wind. Instead of slowly unbuttoning Sete’s pants and kissing down her neck and her collarbones down to her tits and the flat plane of her stomach where she would bite a gentle mark into the softness there as if to mark herself in Sete’s existence, she shucks Sete pants off with careless and shaking hands.
She runs her finger through Sete’s folds and licks the remnants of wetness she gathers with a wicked grin. Sete groans at the moan Valentina lets out at the taste of her, cursing under her breath and glaring at her, but before she could open her mouth to complain, Valentina is dipping down to give her clit a sharp suck that she knew would make Sete’s head buzz emptily.
With a gasp, Sete’s hand reaches down to twine with Valentina’s hair as if to keep steady. Valentina licks into her once, twice, making Sete lets out a litany of curses that would make a sailor blush before raising her finger to make tight circles against Sete’s clit. Sete bucked underneath her, pressing her hips to and away from Valentina’s fingers as if she didn’t know whether she wanted less or more before finishing on Valentina’s tounge
Raising herself back up, Valentina kisses Sete, letting the woman taste herself on Valentina’s tongue. Sete rolls them over again, her lips still against Valentina’s as she kisses her with an intent to devour as she presses her strong thigh against Valentina’s cunt. Grinding up to every press of Sete’s thigh, Valentina squeezes her eyes shut and lets her head fall to the ground before she lets a cut out groan and comes, ruining her pants and falling fully limp to the ground like a marionette doll with its strings cut off.
Sweat lines every crevice of her body and the summer heat felt even hotter against her feverish skin. Valentina is wrung out in that pleasant way one was after a high of an orgasm, the prettiest girl she had ever laid eyes on was lying next to her among an orchard of oranges, and all is almost right in the world.
She had gone to church and had heard the pastor’s sermon that abstinence and piety were the only way to heaven but she found that she and Sete could make heaven for themselves under orange trees. heaven is in her pliant mouth and the contours of her body, heaven is in the taste of her cunt and the softness of her thighs on her shoulder, heaven is in the orange that she carefully split in half for them to share, heaven is theirs to share even if it's just a fleeting moment.
“It’s such a beautiful sin, isn’t it?” Valentina asks, her eyes never leaving Sete’s face. The other woman turns to look at her, a small smile on her face and orgasm bliss in her eyes.
“What is?”
“This. Us.”
“In the crooks of your body, I find my religion," Sete croons with an impish grin, wide and nothing like the withdrawn, polite smile she gave the man at the ball.
“Sappho is a bit on the nose for the occasion, don’t you think?” Valentina asks and Sete laughs but doesn’t say much more. The sound of nature in all its cacophony envelops them again and Valentina stretches like a cat before letting her eyes wander just a little.
She catches sight of an orange which lies on the ground near them, the sweet stench of rot is slightly nauseating, but a swarm of ants cover it anyway, greedily taking every piece of it they can. Valentina watches it greedily, it feels like a premonition.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law/Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Vinsmoke Sanji
Additional Tags: Unspecified timeline but if Stampede can get shoehorned in so can this!, Character Study, Vaguelyyy., Little bit hurt/comforty but in an . introspective way, Sharing a Bed, :rolling_eyes:, Established Relationship, but also... vague relationships, Law is arospec as always!
Summary:
"Mm," Sanji presses a sloppy kiss beneath Law's ear, right at the point where his jaw meets his skull, "I like the way you talk."
pairing - narumiya mei x gn!reader
genre - fluff
wc - 700
ao3
There weren’t any secrets in your relationship with Mei. Well, weren’t many. There were definitely a few things you’d kept from him simply because you couldn’t imagine his reaction to them. Most were innocent, and the one that weighed most on you - simply due to how often it was close to being discovered - was your stuffed animal.
Most of them were tucked away in your closet, safe from pets and prying eyes. One, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to take off of your bed. It was relatively small, a little lamb with a pink felt face and thick, soft wool. He normally sat safely on your pillows when you weren’t sleeping, but when you were preparing for Mei to come over, he was between your bed and the wall, tucked safely into the sock container you had shoved underneath your bed.
He was an innocent little secret, but one you couldn’t bare a negative reaction to. So, you never let Mei see him. That night wasn’t going to be any different.
Sitting next to your boyfriend, propped up against the wall with pillows you stole from the couch, you scrolled aimlessly through the movies on TV.
“You’re sure you don’t have anything in mind?” You asked him.
Mei glanced up at the screen, taking a brief pause from scrolling through news articles in search of any familiar names. “Something interesting.”
“Ah yes, that helps my search immensely.”
He snorted indignantly, and you bumped your elbow into his side. He gasped, fumbling with his phone for a moment before it smacked against your wall and slid down.
“Oh?” you said, eyes wide.
“Rude!” he whined, shoving his hand down after it.
“Babe, wait, let me get it,” you insisted.
The last thing you needed was the risk and responsibility of injuring the hand of the Narumiya Mei.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he pressed, pushing you away with his free hand. “Don’t squish me.”
His expression turned confused, and you leaned away from his reach as he set his phone back on the bed before putting his hand right back down there.
“Mei!” you protested. “You got your phone, what the-”
Your voice died as you saw what he fished out.
“Is this…” He turned the stuffed animal around in his hands, brushing off a bit of dust stuck to the felt of its face.
“Nothing!” You insisted, pulling it out of his grasp and standing from your bed.
He scrambled after you as you opened your closet door, and set the stuffed animal on one of the shelves.
“Hey, wait, that’s kinda cute.” His arms came around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he reached for the stuffed animal again.
You gaped in shocked silence as he took a better look at it, picking lint and dust out of its fur. He cleaned it up until he noticed that you had turned your head to stare at him.
“What?” he asked. “It’s a plushy, for crying out loud, what’s wrong with that?”
Words failed to form in your head, so instead you stared at him, shock apparent at the utterly… mature reaction from him. You’d expected some laughing and teasing, maybe him taking it too far and making you insecure. Yet here he was, doing none of that.
“Huh,” you let out, baffling your boyfriend even further.
“Huh? What’s with that? Huh?”
You shifted in his loose grip, turning to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. “You’re more mature than I thought, Mei.”
“Says the one hiding a lamb under their bed!” He shot back. “Who do you think you are, doubting my maturity?”
“Mei, didn’t you literally make fun of my nightlight a week ago?”
He huffed, choosing not to answer as he lead you back to your bed. “Why don’t you just find a movie already, huh? I’ve been waiting forever.”
You snorted, rolling your eyes as you curled back up into his side on your bed, your lamb resting on your bedside table. Your boyfriend may be completely insufferable, but he was yours. Sooner or later you’d come to realize if that was a good or a bad thing.
They gaze into the darkness as the warm porch light illuminates their features and the red door behind them. One is smoking a joint, the other drinking a beer. They each put their respective instruments of intoxication to their lips, imbibe, put it down. Take a breath, let it out, rest in silence as the silver swirls about their forms. Synchronized contemplation.
“Do you think I’m vain,” asks the smoker, “Or introspective?”
The drinker takes another swig.
“Whatcha mean?”
“I was thinking about how I only really talk about myself,” the smoker explains, “Every time I talk it’s about something new I’ve learned about myself. Is that vanity? Or a sign I’m thinking deeply?”
“I… don’t think those two things are… what’s it called… mutually exclusive,” the drinker replies, swirling the beer by its neck.
“Is it self-centered?” The smoker presses on, “Or am I thinking too much?”
“You’re definitely thinking too much.”
The drinker smiles while the smoker frowns, putting the joint to their lips once more.
“I’ll take a hit,” the drinker says.
They grab for the joint and exchange the bottle. The smoker looks at the beer distastefully until the objects switch hands again.
“I just want… what is it,” the smoker begins again, “The rewards of being loved. So I submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. Right?”
“Right.”
“I can’t love my own self, so it’s not enough to simply know myself, I must be known by others.”
“You could though,” the drinker says.
“Could what?”
“Love yourself.”
“Well sure, but I don’t.”
“I think it’s a good thing, personally,” the drinker says, “You’re a moral person. You think a lot. It’s what I love about you.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“It’s true! I like to listen to you talk.”
“Well, I like to listen to you too.”
There’s a beat of silence in which the joint is smoked and the beer is drunk.
“What a delicate species humans are,” the drinker comments finally.
“You can say that again.”
“What a delicate-”
“Shut up.”
The drinker laughs.
“Just… fragile. Physically and emotionally.”
“It’s because we were meant to take care of each other,” the smoker replied, “We’re built to love, that’s obvious.”
“What a thing to say.”
“I’m serious!”
“Oh, I know you are.”
The smoker pouts.
“Why do you think people are so fragile, then?”
“I don’t think there has to be a why,” the drinker replies, “Sometimes things just are. The sky is dark, the snow is cold, and human beings are fragile creatures.”
“There are reasons for all of those things.”
“There’s always a reason, to you,” the drinker says.
“Is there?”
“Yes. Always a why.”
The smoker holds the joint halfway to their mouth in silence, before taking a draw.
“I didn’t know that about myself,” they say, “So I suppose you’re wrong.”
“About what.”
“Well, you said I can love myself.”
“Yes?”
“But I can’t if I don’t know myself.”
The drinker tips the bottle but there is less than a sip remaining.
“That’s what I’m here for,” the drinker says, “I teach you about yourself and you teach me about me.”
“I teach you about myself and you teach me about you.”
“And that’s love.”
The smoker coughs, and the drinker grabs the joint for themself.
“You’re out of beer,” the smoker observes when they take it back, “And I’m out of weed. You wanna go back inside?”
“We can stay out if you like.”
“No, I’m ready.”
The red door cracks open and for a moment the voices within escape, swirl around with the lingering smoke, before the door closes again to cut them off. Inside, undoubtedly, the process continues with the larger group: teaching, learning, loving.
Title: The Quiet
Characters: Carolina & Wash.
Word Count: Just over 700.
Notes: Once upon a time in late April, @annefiction wrote a thing, and I fell in love instantly. It was speculative for season 15 at the time, and though it was quickly confirmed to not be canon, it’s one of my favorite fanworks to come out of 15 so far--so much so that I didn’t make it 10 days before I began writing this. A million kudos to @anneapocalypse for taking this little surprise in stride, encouraging me to polish it up and get it posted, and generally being awesome.
I implore you to read “Don’t fucking do that” first. Credit goes to Anne for one of her timeline theories in the [spoiler] mention. Finally, for anyone curious, here’s the original song Wash is playing. And yes, there is ambient noise in this recording. You aren’t crazy.
He’s playing again.
Carolina knows Wash can play the guitar. She’s watched his fingers, calloused and sure, skip over the strings, watched the shy hint of a blush tinge his cheeks as he let his bangs hide his eyes from the gaze of his audience. He used to play before, on the Mother of Invention. Back when he had friends to play for. Before the Project tore them apart.
When Caboose presents Wash the weathered and creaking acoustic instrument in the New Republic base on Chorus, Carolina pretends she doesn’t know what the sudden thickness of Wash’s voice means. She hears notes carry out of the room he shares with Caboose and Tucker on occasion during her patrols—always quiet, always late at night.
But in the silence left in the wake of the disappearance of the Reds and Blues, the quiet strumming is unspeakably loud.
Carolina doesn’t always enjoy silence. It presents an undesired opportunity for what's between her ears to crawl out from the back of her mind. Silence reminds her of an empty home with two ghosts inside, waiting for a third that will never return; of the bottom of a frozen valley; of the fist that seized her throat a second time the day she asked Wash what happened to Maine, and the answer was, "he’s gone."
Of the endless space between those words and the rest as she pried when out of Wash: "A few days ago."
Carolina could’ve stopped it. Maybe not all of it--just one version of Tex could have been too much, she’s halfway willing to understand that now--but she could have stopped Maine from sinking to the bottom of icy waters.
Always too late.
There’s still no sign of Hargrove’s ship, and the people of Chorus no longer brace themselves for the worst. They’re moving on. The Reds and Blues will soon be hailed as heroes of the fallen kind. Lost in the furthest reaches of space, unlikely to return. Chorus has a world to rebuild, a civilization to shape from crumbling ashes. Sim troopers or not, this world must spin on.
But there are two among them who cannot let go.
Carolina is losing all memory of when attempting to sleep at night didn’t feel like lying down with a weight on her chest. Three weeks ago, they were at war. The only thing to fight against now is the prevailing sense of empty despair that follows her down the halls. Anger sank its hooks into her skin long ago, but it's always burned bright, fierce.
They have Epsilon.
That flame has died down.
She’s smoldering.
It’s yet another shared coffee break, another day she and Wash will talk about anything but the fact that it’s four in the morning and their friends are still missing. She’s never said anything about the lonely notes that float into her room, but she carries them with her, all the way to the tiny break room that serves as a caffeine dispensary when there’s no access to the mess hall. The notes seep out of her without her notice, and it isn’t until Wash’s steps halt behind her that she realizes she’s been exhaling them under her breath.
“Shit.” She looks over her shoulder. Wash is flushed to the tips of his ears. “I didn’t realize—I didn’t mean to keep you up.”
“I was awake.” She shrugs. “Besides, it’s nice. Better than the quiet.” Which is perhaps more of an admission than she would generally allow, but there it is, hanging in the air. Still and true. She leans against a counter and watches the words sink into him.
He fidgets. “You, uh. Don’t have to listen through the wall. If you don’t want to.” He looks like his skin is crawling. It probably is. Carolina can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes her at his obvious discomfort. He’s always been shy about this—but he’s still offering.
“Maybe I won’t.”
It’s days before she hears the low plucking of guitar strings next door again. But when she does, instead of lying there in the dark, Carolina gets up, pulls on a sweatshirt, pads to his door, and knocks twice.
pairing - yuuki tetsuya x isashiki jun
genre - fluff
wc - 822
ao3
When they first started dating, Tetsu didn’t even realize it. He wasn’t sure there was ever an official ‘go out with me’ spoken. The things they did together just faded into a romantic relationship, and he honestly had no complaints. Things were just as comfortable as they were before, but now Tetsu could hold Jun’s hand or kiss his cheek and get to see that look on his face when he gets embarrassed.
Then, Jun slowly got equally as comfortable. They would practice together as much as possible, then when Tetsu went home they’d text and call to make up for not being there with each other. He truly was the more sappy one in the relationship, but the borrowed Shoujou on Tetsu’s shelves meant that maybe he wasn’t so far away himself.
It was around midnight when he got the first text. Tetsu knew it was Jun from the ringtone, but even that couldn’t make him stir from his attempted sleep. He listened to the chime for a few minutes before he gave up, opening his phone to at least mute it.
The chat opened as he unlocked the screen, showing multiple photos of the cats Jun’s sisters just adopted dressed for the holiday season. Unbelievable. No, it was completely believable. He tried to formulate a response, wracking his tired, sleep-deprived brain of some coherent response to send to his partner.
Nothing came out. Sighing, he put his phone on silent, and decided to wait until morning to entertain Jun.
Just as he was about to finally drift off, his screen lit up with a call. He stared at it, willing it to go away so he could sleep.
After the second call, he finally picked up his phone again, texting his boyfriend.
‘jun is something wrong or are you just lonely’
The three dots in the corner came and went for a moment before a text was sent.
‘first of all, you just ignored my cats dressed as santa, so fuck you. secondly,’
Tetsu let out another sigh, burying his face in his pillow as he prepared himself to not sleep for a while. He adjusted himself, laying on his stomach to look at his phone without holding it up over his face.
‘jun please I’m trying to sleep’
‘yeah I’m lonely fucker we haven’t called in forever and I miss you.’
‘oh?’
Tetsu chuckled into his pillow, hoping he wouldn’t wake Masashi up. His phone lit up again, but this time he grabbed the headphones off of his nightstand and answered.
“Jun,” he muttered fondly, talking just loud enough for the microphone to pick him up.
“Tetsu,” Jun grumbled back, most likely embarrassed.
“I miss you too, Jun,” Tetsu admitted. “But we’ll see each other in the morning at practice.”
“Why can’t you just dorm here? What kind of selfish bastard leaves his boyfriend on campus alone?”
“The selfish bastard who doesn’t want to make his parents pay to room him at a campus five minutes away.”
Jun huffed on the other end, the sound of a door closing reaching Tetsu’s ears.
“Are you outside?” he asked.
“Kudou is still up, I don’t need him listening to my conversation,” he said. “Is Masashi asleep?”
Tetsu hummed in confirmation. “I have my headphones in. He’s a heavy sleeper anyways.”
There was a stretch of silence as Jun made his way over to the vending machines, trying to not run into anyone on his way. Tetsu wanted to speak, just say something that would get Jun talking, but he closed his eyes and rested his head, listening to his boyfriend’s breathing.
“You still there?” Jun asked, voice a little louder now that he was alone.
Tetsu let out an “mhmm,” and Jun snorted.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me, I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Cute,” Tetsu mumbled. “Do you miss me that much?”
He smiled at the indignant noises Jun made in response, loving the sound of him getting riled up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay later today, I had to make sure Masashi got a good dinner. He has a game tomorrow.”
“If you cooked, he’ll be benched for the first half of it. Or toilet-bound.”
“I’m not that bad, Jun.”
The two of them spoke until Tetsu didn’t even realize how incoherent his words were. Jun did his best to decipher what he was saying, but eventually it was all humming and mumbling.
“Oi, Tetsu.” Jun finally said, barely getting a sigh in response. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The captain finally managed a brief ‘love you,’ not wanting to end the call without flustering Jun one more time. He smiled at the protests, a ‘love you too’ in return mixed in, and found himself drifting towards sleep all the easier after he hung up. Looking at his screen once more, he had to admit that the Santa cats were kind of cute.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Izou/Thatch (One Piece)
Characters: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco, Portgas D. Ace, Izou (One Piece), Thatch (One Piece), Whitebeard Pirates, Just like. Assorted unnamed deckhands. You know.
Additional Tags: Fluff, Body Worship, But in a VERY not horny way. Just :), Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Warm & fuzzy tattoo feelings. Heh :), Li'l bit of banter because I'm predictable but. really almost none.
Summary:
"Oi, unfair, unfair."
(In which ink is as good as blood, and maybe means a little bit more.)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace
Characters: Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco, Masked Deuce, Mentions Whitebeard a little.
Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Alternate Universe - Circus, I don't get into that much but uhh. It's in that one.
Summary:
