#⸜❤︎⸝ reverie!

[yuukimiyas]

HIHI CHLOE !! i apologize it took me a sec to stop by your inbox, but i wanted to say rly nice to meet you, i love seeing your greeting posts everyday. 🥹 i hope tht you’re well & i cannot wait to get to know you & your favs !! <3 do you guys have anything cool planned for this winter?

hello new friend & neighbor reverie!! & omg what a LOVELY name!! - ̗̀(⌯'ᵕ'⌯) ̖́- no apologies necessary bby im just so happy you stopped by regardless ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა tysm!! i love wakin up & sayin mornie to all of my friends & checkin in :3 im happy you enjoy them too!! ooo this winter i def have some fun things on the agenda!!

mr kenyū & i will most def be attending the ballet to see the nutcracker ໒꒰ྀིㅅ´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა we absolutely ADORE it so we try & see it every few winters <33

reo & i will be no doubt attending lots of winter gala’s & ball’s for either soccer or business related things & its always a rlly run time to dress up!! (& boy does he clean up NICE!! ૮꒰ྀི ∩៸៸៸∩ ‎꒱ྀིა)

hmmm kaeya & i will keep up our yearly tradition of decorating the dawn winery & surprising diluc & our friends!! its our fave winter activity for sure!!

as for shinya & i we keep a v low profile (*ᴗˬᴗ) we take lots of snowy strolls when he’s off the clock & drink lots & lots of tea to keep us warm!! it rlly is the simple things w him & i adore him sm!!

eeep!! i love thinkin ab all of the fun winter things to do!! ٩(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )و im sure we’ll def do a ton more stuff too hehee! ty so so SM for writing this cutie lil love note + selfship q!! givin you a huge smooch!! (move over fyodor!!!!!) MWAH!!

[aureatchi]

a late birthday present finally came in. . . ᡣ𐭩 i’m so eager to read 🥹 ft the panel i’ve always wanted to see on page

[niiennieshi]

Neuvillette x Reader

The Chief Justice's Wife <3

★masterlist★

-> You offer to give your husband a relaxing massage. However, it turns you on but unfortunately, since you didn't want to bother Neuvillette during his work, you slipped away. That's when you make an annoying encounter, one that Neuvillette will deal with for you, as the caring and protective husband he is <3

No warnings, pure fluff but some sexual stuff implied at the end.

❤︎ Enjoy your reading! ❤︎

Sitting right on the lap of the Chief of Justice while he was working in the middle of the day in his office, you soon started to get bored. Well, bored to death, to be more precise. To tell the truth, the only thing he did --besides working-- was giving you soft kisses on your neck from time to time and caressing your waist thoroughly with his calloused and warm hand. Of course, that wasn't to displease you but it's not like it kept you entertained. And as you felt what was like his twentieth kiss, you wondered if you could do something for your lover. After all, you may be bored but at least you weren't working like Neuvillette. And if doing something for him meant that you wouldn't be bored anymore and please your husband, there wasn't any reason you wouldn't do it.

Since early this morning, your husband has been analysing multiple judiciary cases you wouldn't know a thing about. Can you imagine how tired he must be?

Fortunately, he's lucky to have such a caring wife as you are.

You got up from his lap, making him finally lift his eyes from all the papers displayed on his desk, going right behind him. "Would Monsieur Neuvillette let his dear wife give him a massage on those broad but oh so sore shoulders of his?" You suggested, placing your delicate hands on the place you promised to massage, giving his cheek a sweet kiss. "How could I say no to such a nice service offered by my wife herself?" He replied, instantly humming when he felt your soft hands, he much adored, working magic on his sore shoulders of a judge. Giggling a little, you kept massaging him, enjoying the feeling of his muscles against your more fragile hands.

Would it be humiliating if he knew that the more you felt his muscles and the more you started to get just a tiny bit aroused? There's no need to tell him though... I mean, touching a man's muscles, Neuvillette's muscles at that, was somehow enough to arouse you. Seeing his broad back and large shoulders makes you feel so vulnerable and tiny. And even more when he'd stand in front or behind you. You feel like he could do whatever he wants to you, that you just couldn't resist, physically speaking. First of all, he's a man. Compared to women, they just have so much more strength that it's terrifying. And it's not like Neuvillette is skinny or just toned, he's a well built and strong man. Fortunately, this fact does not scare you. On the contrary, with Neuvillette, you feel so safe thanks to his huge body, loving above all how he manhandles you so easily thanks to all the strength he's got.

Like those times in bed where he just throws you on the bed without any difficulty and- "Dear? Are you okay?" Neuvillette snaps you out of your lewd reverie, taking a hand of yours in his. "Oh hum, yes, why?" You ask, a little confused. "You stopped massaging me and I called your name but you didn't answer me. Is everything truly alright?" Oh, if only he knew. Did you lose yourself that much in your thoughts for you to not hear him call you until he took your hand? "Don't worry, hum... I was just lost in my thoughts..." You wanted to pick up where you left off, except, your lover is now standing in front of your little figure, his worried pupils looking down at yours whilst a strong hand comes rest en your cheek. "Darling, are you being honest with me? You should know that I know you by heart, my love." Seeing that look of his makes you feel a little guilty for interrupting him, when you were actually just fantasizing about his muscles and strength. But it's not like you were going to tell him, what would you look like? Well, you'd look exactly like a starving woman for her man. That wouldn't displease Neuvillette at all, but you fear that it could (it would) distract him from his work, meaning that he would end up leaving from work later than usual. Why? Well, he'd slam you straight on his desk and take good care of making your fantasies come true. "I know but really, there is nothing to worry about." You give him a sweet and reassuring smile. "How about I get you some coffee?" Neuvillette doesn't have the time to say a thing that you give him a soft quick kiss on your tiptoes and leave his office to go fetch him a drink.

That's for the best. At least, with Neuvillette not being around you anymore you don't take the risk to jump on him or bother him, thus distracting him from his duty as the Chief of Justice. It's a relief that you already calmed down and killed your appetite for you husband, now that there are a lot of people around you such as guards, other employees, janitors and so on. It isn't only your lover and you anymore.

Even though it's not the first time you visit Neuvillette here, since he was always by your side, you didn't really bother to remember what was where as he already did that for you. When you're in his company, all your attention goes to him, trusting your man with the rest, knowing he'd always be there for you. However, this time you are all alone and can't really remember where the cafeteria is. Naturally, you decide to ask someone who works here. That's where you spot a young man not that far from you. Compared to others, he didn't seem busy or whatever since he was just being on his phone, perhaps texting someone. That's great because otherwise you'd feel bad to disturb someone for such a trivial thing when you're not even actually supposed to be here. Gently tapping on his shoulder from with your finger, he first only turns his head with a confused look, but as he lowers his gaze on your figure, a smile draws itself on his face and he turns around completely. "Excuse me, I'm looking for the cafeteria, do you know where it is?" You asked gently with a polite smile. "Oh, sure, Iet me show you." He replied. "Oh you don't have to, you can just tell me the direction, I wouldn't bother you for that." You said gently. "Don't worry beautiful, I wasn't that busy, and I can always make some time for girls like you." The young man ended his sentence by a seductive wink. "Oh hum... Well, if you insist, thank you." You replied again with a polite smile, not giving too much thought to his flirting. Neuvillette surely wouldn't like that, but it's just a matter of a few minutes. Plus, you wouldn't want to bother someone who's really busy.

Walking side by side, you stay at a correct distance between strangers. However, it seems like someone else can't, or doesn' want to actually respect that. "By the way, what's your name, beautiful?" He asked, reducing the distance between the both of you little by little. As if you wouldn't notice. "I'm (y/n), so I'd appreciate if you could stop calling me beautiful, please." With an awkward smile, you distance yourself a bit more. But something you didn't expect, is his very hand coming rest on your shoulder and drag you closer to him. "Oh come on, I can assure you, you really are beautiful." His chuckle disgusted you. He's one of those men who don't respect boundaries or allow themselves to touch you. Nothing like your man, Neuvillette.

Immediately removing his hand, you contest. "That's not what I meant. I'm taken, so please stop with your flirting." When you lift your gaze, you notice that you've arrived at the cafeteria. "And where's the problem? Aren't we supposed to have fun in this life?" Oh right, he's still here. "You can have some fun with someone else, not me. Anyways, thank you, I should remember the way back." Turning around, he's finally gone from your sight. And what's even better than a cafeteria with no queue? "I'd like a black coffee without sugar, please." You request.

"How old are you to drink that, pretty?" The voice coming from your right, you're met with the man you thought you had left behind right when you turn your head. "I thought I told you to quit calling me that." Argh, he's persistent. "And I did. I called you pretty this time, not beautiful." Aaaand he laughs as if that was actually funny. "Anyway, don't you have some work to go back to? I've already thanked you for showing me the cafeteria." You say before you go sit on an empty chair at a table. "You could thank me by allowing me to keep you company, doesn't that sound nice? How come such a pretty lady like you is alone though?" He says, dragging a chair from another table to place it in front of your table, sitting on it. "I am not, my husband works here." You say, while texting your husband that you'll be back soon. "Oh wow, you're married at that? 'Makes things even more interesting~"

You sigh, you're just tired now. Thankfully, your phone almost immediately buzzes, distracting you from the annoying man in front of you. A smile spreads your cheeks sweetly when you read his text. "Thank you, but come back to me quick, my darling." Sigh, nothing like that guy. However, someone had to ruin that. "Is he that great in bed, really?" You sigh again, glaring at him. "More than you could ever be, if you ever are, that is." Putting your phone back in your purse, you stand up when you notice that your order is now ready.

"Ouch, that's mean, my lady!" For the nth time, you sigh. "'Don't care." You simply answer, dropping formalities. "Do you really plan to follow me everywhere? Now that really is bothering me, just leave me alone." You add, your steps quickening. Unfortunately, he catches up to you. "How could I leave such a gracious flower as you? 'Can't leave before I'm given a chance." You take your phone out to text Neuvillette again. "I already told you I'm married to someone. Just leave me alone now." You repeat yourself, without success.

Suddenly, you see yourself being caged between a wall and him, a few steps away from Neuvillette's office. "H-hey! What are you doin-" He doesn't let you finish, taking your chin in between his fingers. "That man really is lucky to have a girl like you, I'm jealous." You wanted to push him away, but since you have your lover's coffee in hand, you had to be cautious if you didn't want to spill it everywhere. "Back off!" You say as you try tu push him away with one hand only.

But like I said, men are just stronger. This man's strength is scary, but your man's is comforting. That's where all the difference lies.

"Calm down a little, beauty, I just want a taste." Any abrupt move could spill the coffe, and besides, you didn't want to make a scene or whatever by pouring it everywhere. (This is just a fiction but in real life, just make a scene ladies, pour the coffe on his face and beat that man's ass first before worrying about the rest. Stay safe<3) He slowly starts to lean in for a kiss. And that's it, you scream. "Neuvilleette!!" The man is surprised when he hears the name you call out. "W-wait what? That Neuvillette??" He looks at you with wide eyes, slowly starting to realize who's wife he messed up with. And before he does realize it, his shirt is being pulled on by your husband, who throws him effortlessly on the ground.

He. Looks. Furious.

He. IS. Furious.

The gaze that Neuvillette holds is darker than the deepest parts of the ocean. His jaw is clenched and his expression is firm. His brows slightly furrowed and his fists are solidly tight. "State the reason your filthy hands were on my wife. Now." He commands as you come by his side and take his arm, putting it close against your chest, now reassured by his presence that brings you a sense of security. "M-Monsieur Neuvillette?? I- I didn't know she was your wife! I promise!" Neuvillette, as the Chief of Justice, is a cold blooded person. However, with those narrowed eyebrows and terrifying dark gaze, everyone would think he was ready to kill the man who touched you, his wife, right here and now, totally forgetting about his position.

The guy was already shaking trying to protect himself with his arms above his head, ready to receive Neuvillette's fierce blows. Although you'd have loved to see him getting punched at least once, you couldn't let your husband hit him and risk to cause a scandal. How would the people of Fontaine react if their very Chief of Justice acted the way he was going to? "Love please, calm down. Just sue him for sexual harassment. You already scared him enough like that, I don't think he'd try this again." You assured, offering him your best fake smile while pulling gently on his arm. "How cute. But sweetheart, it still doesn't change the fact that he touched you, and I can't let that slide." He started approaching his trembling figure again and this time, you pulled his arm more firmly to try to stop him. But he just is so much stronger than you. "Neuvillette, you are the Iudex! How would your people think of you? Someone could even replace you!" The scumbag can't even get up from the floor, he really just is shaking like a leaf at the sight of your husband. "Sh-she's right!! I- I won't do it again! Ever! Please just sue me! Spare me, monsieur Neuvillette the Chief of Justice, the Iudex!!" Honestly, you can't help but let out a chuckle, even he is asking to get sued. How pitiful. "Neuvi, I have an idea." You say, stepping in front of your husband, handing him his coffee. He looks down at you with a confused look, but accepts to listen to you, and you only. "Since you can't really hit him due to your status, let me do it for you! We could simply determine it as an act of self-defence. Plus, there's no one around us, and you certainly wouldn't go against me, would you?" You say, sliding slowly your hand on his hard chest. "I-" He clears his throat. "I suppose it could work, yes. Then, let your blows be mighty, my love." You let escape a chuckle and peck his cheek, totally ignoring the guy on the floor this whole time. To tell the truth, you didn't plan to actually hit him, it was mainly to prevent Neuvillette from losing his position.

Kneeling in front of him, you simply start by talking. "Am I still as beautiful as you were saying, non-stop?" You asked, now smiling genuinely. You wanted to put him in trouble. To scare him enough that he wouldn't try it anymore with any woman. He immediately glanced at the Iudex, who's anger only grew. "Th-that's not true! I never s-said that!!" At that, Neuvillette's cane met the floor with a loud sound. "Are you implying that my wife is a liar?" He asked with a tone filled with authority. "N-no! Absolutely not! I wouldn't dare!!" You laugh a little again, pleased with the sight of him regretting what he did to you. Leaning closer to him, you let him believe that you'll be more gentle than Neuvillette, only to give him a good and nice slap on the face. "That's for touching me." You slap him again, on the other side. "And that's for ruining my lovely day with my husband." His face is now printed with the mark of both of your hands, and your soul is now lighter. "If I ever catch you acting the way you did again in my workplace, I won't be as lenient. Mark my words." Added Neuvillette, to conclude this matter. "Yes!! Of course, monsieur Neuvillette!! You won't ever hear of me again!!" And just like this, he gets up and trips right there and then before getting up again and running away.

Back in his office, he is now seating in the couch, your hands in his, while you stand between his legs. "Was what I saw the only things he did to you? Or was there more to that?" He started. There was indeed more but.. Is it necessary to tell him? I mean, it's now in the past and you had already dealt with him so... It would only make your lover angrier, at that. "He didn't do anyth-" Oops, he knows you far too well. "Don't lie, my love." He says, softly. You lower your head, defeated. "Okay, I'm sorry... At first, he was only flirty, complimenting me here and there but then, he took me by my shoulder, he sat with me at the cafeteria and then... you saw what happened, and what could have happened if it wasn't for you..." Whilst listening to what that bastard dared to do to you, his wife, he tightened his hands a little bit around yours, however not enough to hurt you. After all, he would never. Neuvillette sighs, looking away from you with an upset look, before he pulls on your hands and makes you fall into his warm embrace. "Didn't you inform him that you already belong to another man?" Your arms wrap by themselves around his neck, his being around your waist. "I did, but... He said that it only made things more interesting." Neuvillette's grip only tightens, his possessiveness expressing itself by a sudden hot kiss in your neck. "Neuvi-" The Chief of Justice's teeth plant themselves on your neck, claiming you as a whole. Soon after, his warm tongue slide against your soft skin before kissing, sucking, and biting it again. "Mmh..." You only let gasps and sounds of pleasure which go right into your dear strong man's pointy ears. Your fingers pull slightly on the roots of his shiny silver hair, resulting in grunts on his part. Neuvillette's soft lips capture yours il a loving kiss filled with burning desire, not allowing you a single moment, a second, to breathe. Fervorous kisses attack your poor mouth, trying to catch up with his rhythm but you can't. He is devouring his smaller wife's mouth as a starving husband. "Mmh- Neuvi, wait-" Nothing to do. As you try to speak against his hot lips, a huge hand of his draws her path to your butt, grabbing a handful of your right cheek. His other hand? He slides it on the small of your back to shift you in a laying position on the couch.

That day, everyone who walked by your husband's office knew who you were to him..

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 14

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: M (childbirth, PTSD, mentions of grief)

A/N: I tried to make this as non graphic as possible, focusing instead on the emotions of the characters. The entire reason I wrote this fic in the first place, I couldn't have made it through this chapter without the incredible suggestions, support and beta reading of @the-scandalorian and @the-ginger-hedge-witch. I truly hope you enjoy ❤❤

--

In the blue wash of time between the middle of the night and the dawn, he’s asleep next to you when the first pains start. 

Deep at the root of your spine, a low throb blooms. Fading in and out, you try to ignore the manageable ache and when you can’t, your first instinct is to curl in on yourself. So you do just that: rub the heel of your hand against your tailbone, letting your feet slide together in the same rhythmic figure eight you soothe yourself with when you’re really sick. 

That motion alone should have been a giveaway, but it doesn’t strike you until the sun is rising that this is something different. 

Still, you let him sleep. 

On an instinct to be alone, you slip from the bed to go sit out on the porch. Another swell of pain ripples across your back, the sensation still light enough to soothe with a steady rub, and a taut contraction stretches across your hips for a fleeting moment, then disappears. 

The sun peeking just above the horizon, you breath low and slow, watching as it makes a steady ascent. The peaceful setting seeps in, blanketing you in reassurance and comfort, and you’re remarkably calm when he comes out of the bedroom in search of you. 

Sleep mussed curls and a frown on his face, his arms are crossed tight over his chest as he wards off the morning chill. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice is husky and low, thick with sleep. 

“I think it’s gonna be today.”

—

He dresses immediately, setting his mind to tasks you’ve discussed for months beforehand in an attempt to calm his nerves. Still, his hands tremble when he walks down to the bank to fill pails with water. He balls them into fists and shakes them in frustration, willing them to stop. 

Hours, days: there is no way of knowing how long this is going to take. He hates the uncertainty of it, the edge of danger that you have to teeter upon while he is helpless to stop it. Anything, at any moment, could go wrong and he would have no way of knowing what or how to help you. 

He’d be fucking useless, just like he was before. 

The guilt he’s always felt creeps through his chest like the fungus that’s infected everything else, settling deep between his ribs. It branches up through his mind, invading his thoughts and the heavy weight of it pulls at him; his shoulders rounding in a slump. His eyes close tight, his fingers digging deep into the damp sand as he braces himself on the ground. 

The thick, suffocating terror he felt on Outbreak Day comes back to him easily, a different version of the same brand of helplessness he felt on the day Sarah was born. The same as what he feels now, he feels his chest tighten and constrict, his breathing getting shallower and shallower. 

No. 

Fighting against it, he shakes himself from the reverie of images: blood, pain, anguish, sobbing. An intensely feral need rises like bile; an urge to burn the world to the ground while screaming just to make sure nothing touches what is his. 

Useful to no one if he lets it take over, he pushes it all away. Practiced in remaining calm under pressure, he takes a deep breath, focusing on the water. 

In and out, in and out, timing each breath with the gentle lap of waves along the shore. 

He speaks silent affirmations to himself - prayers, if he was still a praying man. 

He can do this. He won’t fail. He can’t. 

Gathering himself, he stands. 

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, stepping back into the cabin. Shutting the door tight to keep out the spring chill, he sets the pails of water next to the wood stove and comes to sit next to you on the couch. 

“Yea, I’m good.” A grimace of pain flits across your face for a split second, and he shifts to make room for you as you recline on the couch. Grabbing the blanket from across the back, he settles it over you. 

“I think I should try to get some rest, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep.” Even as you say the words, a yawn breaks through. 

“You’ll probably need it. Might not be a bad idea, ‘specially if you can sleep through some of the pain.” He rifles through the mix of bottles in front of you on the coffee table, placed there earlier by himself. “I don’t have anything stronger than ibuprofen,” he says apologetically. “But you can have some if you want?”

You wave it away, sliding down on the couch to try and get comfortable. “No, it’s okay. I can do without it for now. It’s not so bad.”

He moves to give you room, and your hand reaches for his, holding it tight. 

“Stay with me? I don’t want to be alone when I wake up.”

The open vulnerability on your face pulls him in, the small way in which you ask breaking open his chest, and he immediately sits back, tugging your feet onto his lap. 

“Of course, honey. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

He smoothes over the arches of your small socked feet, letting go when you curl them together, clearly a means to comfort yourself. He instead rests his hand on your shin in a reassuring hold, and watching your eyes flutter shut as your breathing deepens and slows, his veil of control stays in place while his mind begins to free fall. 

Panic, guilt, nervous anticipation, panic. 

Again he resists, using the warmth of your shin as an anchor. 

He’s quiet: sitting with you for a bit, reading a little before giving up, double checking the supplies on the table. Making sure the bed in your old room is covered with a tarp from the shed, some old quilts piled on top of it. 

Pacing until he wills himself to stop. 

His eyes flick over to you every time he sees you shift in your sleep: your hand coming to rest on your belly, rubbing the underside with a fleeting wince of pain. He watches, and wishes he could take this all from you: every twinge of pain, everything that’s about to come. 

The guilt he feels at being responsible for putting you in this position is something he thought he made peace with a while ago, but it flares bright with every small frown between your brows and when you wake with a soft whine of discomfort, he strides to your side immediately, helping you sit up. 

Your pained sound grows louder, both of your hands splaying over the source as you clench your jaw, and feeling helpless, he does what he can, rubbing broad circles over your back. 

“I’m right here, honey. I’m right here.”

You seem to give into his touch, leaning against it for strength and your fingers dig into the meat of his thigh as you ride it out. 

He keeps rubbing, and the next few hours pass much the same: waiting and pain. 

–

“Can you hand me that rag?”

The bed dips with his weight as he sits next to you, and wringing out the damp scrap of fabric in his hands, he runs it along your hairline. 

“I can do it,” you protest, no real fight in the words as your eyes slip shut.

“I got it.”

You feel as wrung out as that rag, exhausted yet unable to rest. Keyed up with adrenaline, you’re trying to let your body take over and not fight every single contraction, but it’s hard - so hard. Each one wracks your body with a tight, seemingly endless crest of pain that steals the air from your lungs and makes it hard to breathe, forcing you to struggle on instinct alone.

He swipes the fabric along the bridge of your nose, gently guiding your face to the side so he can collect the sweat dusted across your cheeks. You focus on the delicate drag of the cloth, letting your body relax. 

“Thank you.”

Not for the first time, he looks at his watch as if it still worked and then immediately away, directing his gaze out the window. 

“Seems like they’re getting closer,” he remarks, his hand coming to rest on the hard swell of your stomach. “Does it feel like it?”

“I honestly…I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track.”

He nods and then leaves the room, coming back with a pencil and paper. 

“It’s late. ‘Round four, I think, so you’ve been at it about twelve hours. Let me know when the next one starts, and I’ll count it out. I’ll keep track on here.”

He sets the paper down on the bedside table, his hand poised to begin making a chart and you rest your hold on top of his. 

“I think…” you lick your dry lips, swallowing. “I think we just go with it. I feel like I’ll know when it’s time?”

If you don’t officially keep track of the time between them, you won’t officially know when it’s time to push but…something about it seems right to you, given the way you’ve learned to live without structured time. 

That, and without an official “start time”, you can force your nerves to the bottom of your mind, delaying inevitable pain. Even if only for a little longer. 

The stern look he gives you in response tells you how he feels about that answer, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s not just about knowin’ when it’s time. It’s about knowin’ when it’s been too long.”

His logic wins over your fear, and a weighted silence lingers between the two of you. Not wanting to acknowledge what that would mean, you let his hand go and curl onto your side. Facing him, you let him know when the next contraction starts, and while he sets his pencil down to hold your hand, you watch his lips move with silent counts. 

–

You just… let your body take over. 

Existing in a plane of never ending cresting waves of crippling pain that come closer and closer together, you squeeze his hand just as tight as you squeeze your eyes shut with every single one. The fight inside of you fades, instinct ruling instead and needing to have faith in your body to do the right thing without any knowledge to guide you, you just…give in. 

You should be terrified at the prospect of it, but you can’t seem to find the strength to care. Your body was built for this, designed for this, has done this very thing billions of times over throughout human existence and giving yourself over to that idea, you find yourself comforted, in a way.

You do what it tells you to do: take deep breaths when you can, curl onto your side into a tight ball when you need to, let tears fall freely from your eyes without embarrassment. You writhe and shift on the bed into whatever position feels comfortable, giving into the instinctual need to seek comfort at whatever cost. 

Daylight shifts into twilight shifts into nightfall, and he’s with you throughout the whole thing, as steadfast as he’s always been. 

At your side, like he’s always been. 

There, like he’s always been. 

With his reassuring presence beside you, you descend into a base version of yourself with his hand an anchor. 

–

A quiet, formidable strength greater than the brute type he’s capable of emerges, and Joel watches as you close your eyes and draw on resources he didn’t know your body still had. 

Underrated and overlooked in terms of survival, you may not have the physical skills he has but your internal strength and will to survive through hope and optimism are more valuable than his skills right now. Awestruck by the shift that happens before him, he wonders if that’s what's always subconsciously drawn him to you: this innate sense that you’ll fill in his blanks, bringing him a sense of peace when his life has known anything but. 

You take his weaknesses and mold them into something good instead of a liability, meeting them with strengths of your own. He is responsible for so many things when it comes to you: your life, your well being, your survival. Seeing you now, taking charge of every one of those things with a fierce strength that outmatches anything he can provide in this situation, he not only understands that you have his back just as much, but also that you’ve always had it.  

Two halves of a whole, your faith and his competence.

An equal partner, whose qualities shine bright in their quiet, unassuming way. 

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, you prop yourself up against the headboard of the bed with a low groan and tell him when you’re ready. 

“I think it’s time.” 

You barely get the words out before you’re bearing down in taut silence, your jaw clenched and he shifts on the bed, his hands molding over your knees to gently pull them apart. 

“Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

–

His voice calls to you from the depths of your pain, the sound of it muffled behind the blood rushing in your ears and you use it like a beacon, something to focus on. The contractions one on top of another, it’s well past dark outside the cabin when everything seems to happen all at once:

A dark, wet patch of hair emerging; Joel’s eyes widening as his fingers tentatively reach out to touch it. 

A sob catching in your throat; fluid soaking the blanket underneath you. 

Pain so fierce and overwhelming it makes you lightheaded; a pressure so blindingly sharp and heavy and full that you scream before it abruptly stops, everything sliding out in a slick rush. 

“You did it, honey,” he praises you, his head down as he cradles the baby in his hands. “You did it. She’s out.”

She. The sobs you let out are involuntary, a mixture of immense relief and joy paired with the crash of adrenaline and your limbs shake with exhaustion, your head falling back into the pillow he’s propped beneath your head.

It’s only then that the silence in the room comes to your attention. 

“Joel?” You wearily push yourself up, trying to see her. 

He’s looking down at the mattress with a deep frown of focus, his skin ashen and gray and your stomach bottoms out, panic flooding your chest. Limited as your knowledge is about babies, you know you should be hearing her make a sound right now. Any sound. 

“Why isn’t she crying?” you ask, a slight tremble catching the end of the sentence. 

He doesn’t answer you, instead staying focused on her, his hands smeared and glistening with blood as one splays over her impossibly tiny chest, his fingers rubbing along the dip of her sternum. 

“Come on. Come on.” 

His words have a frantic edge to them, one you can hear even with how he’s murmuring the near silent chant to himself and you mirror it, doing the same. 

“Come on, baby. Come on.”

A thin whimper breaks the tense silence, her limbs suddenly flaring out in a silent fight against the world, and her timid cry blooms into a bright wail that pierces the air. 

Relief floods out of you in sob, his own breaking free in the rush of a heavy exhale, and when he scoops her up, unshed tears glisten in his eyes. Handing her wet body to you, she’s matted and smeared with blood and slick, and she squirms on your bare chest for a moment, your arms automatically cradling her close. 

Impossible tiny, just like he said. 

“A she.” Your voice thick with tears, you look up at him and he grins down at you, his smile shining bright with pride. 

“A she.”

Your cheek comes to rest on the crown of her head when he bends to press a kiss to your forehead and his murmurs against the sweat damp skin there make you cry even more. 

“You did it, my girl. You did it.”

–

A slight tremble to his hands as he finishes tying off the umbilical cord, he gently hands her back to you and reaches for the bucket near the side of the bed. 

“I’m gonna go empty this, but I’ll be right back.”

You acknowledge him, your arms tightening in their hold on her as you scoot back in your bed. Tucked safely against your chest, she’s already sliding into sleep and you join her, closing your eyes. Fixing the blanket around you, he picks up the bucket and leaves the room. 

Night darkens the path as he makes his way down to the water, the setting around him awash in muted colors. Animals moving in their quest to hunt for the night, the fresh spring breeze rustles the new growth on the trees that surround him, but he sees and hears none of it, his vision beginning to tunnel. 

Black gathers around the edges of the world, the basin in his hands falling onto the grass. His boots sinking into the sand, he barely makes it to the bank before he’s buckling, knees hitting the soft ground. 

The image of the two of you sleeping flashes through his mind, and the pressure in his chest swells and overcomes him, emotion choking his airway. The intensity of the last twenty four hours seeps out of him, the image of her still body as he rubbed life into her fixed behind his clenched shut eyes and finally - finally - he lets it go with big, wracking sobs that pour out, a sound he tries to muffle with his hands. 

Relief, relief. 

–

June Miller. 

A basin of warm water between the two of you on the bed, you watch as he cradles her endlessly moving body in his large hands and bathes her. Her limbs stretch and flex slowly, testing their newfound boundaries and not being able to decide on which face you want to look at more, you shift your gaze back and forth between her scrunched one and his more focused, intent one. He’s careful yet steady with his movements, the gentle splash of water the backdrop to the tiny squawks of protest she lets out. 

The lantern illuminates them, a circle of light surrounding their figures in an intensely intimate way and you watch glistening drops of water slide down over his thick wrist as he cups some, pouring it over her hair. 

“I know you don’t like it. I know.”

It’s innate, his soothing. 

Second nature from the first time he held her and spoke to her, you could tell he’d done this before. His body curled protectively around her as he held her to his broad chest, his movements practiced and confident and you watched as it happened without him even realizing, like he didn’t have to think about caring for someone else - just doing it, as if he couldn’t help it. 

Finishing bathing her with the fresh basin of water he brought back from the river, she keeps her eyes closed against the light of the world as he sets her in her cradle, turning to help you from the bed. You brace your hand on his solid shoulder as he kneels, exhaustion thickly blanketing your body as you feel soothing, firm wipes of wet warmth on your skin. He’s just as careful and detailed with it as he was with her, and after he dries and settles you in the bedroom you share with him, he crawls in after you, closing his eyes. 

Dawn is breaking when you wake to the sound of a restless, small cry and you leave him sleeping when you go to grab her, bringing her back to bed. Brushing aside the soft blanket that covers her cheek, you look down and see two dark eyes blinking back up at you. Shaped just like his, they stay open. 

You want to wake him because it feels…significant, this moment. She’s tiny — dark eyes, a button nose, a dot of a mouth and full little cheeks. Her eyes are open and so are yours and the two of you sit there and just — look. Basking in the strange sensation of silently learning each other, yet knowing each other so well already. 

You remember what Joel said, about you and them and the peaceful stillness of sitting in the quiet and your vision waters, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. More joy than you’ve felt in your whole life, the emotion is overwhelming - as if a beacon of pure, unfiltered light has flooded your entire body, lighting you from the inside out. 

She keeps looking, her tiny brow scrunching and you smile down at her, another tear sliding free. 

“Joel,” you whisper, and he’s up in an instant. 

“Yea?”

It takes you a minute to speak, and his face shifts into alarm.

“What’s the matter? She okay?”

He sits up quickly, scooting closer to see her more clearly. 

“Yea,” you reply, sniffing. “Look at her.”

She looks like you, like him, like her own self and you can’t stop looking at her, trying to find fleeting traces of every version. 

Mesmerized, he strokes the soft back of her tiny hand over and over with his thumb, and his voice is a low gravel, full of soothing adoration.

“Hey, baby girl.”

[anyamaris]

Between Friends

Word Count-3400+ (I got a little carried away, sorries)

Summary-Three friends make the most of a late night together.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Smut, dp, unprotected sex (no! BAD!) oral sex, lots of smutty things that you should be careful before reading. Very naughty.

Pairing: Seonghwa!au x f!reader x Hongjoong!au

I got a little carried away and I haven't edited, if I don't post now I won't have the courage. This was a little more than I intended when I started so....have ...fun? ❤ you all

Naughties NSFW below cut

`

The party had long ago died down and you found yourself picking up random cups and trash here and there. There were a few people left lingering, slowly making their way out, saying goodbye as they left the house.

You'd been excited to come visit your friend at her college, but she'd hooked up with a guy earlier and you hadn't seen her since. Luckily, the party had taken place in the house of two of your friends from high school. You weren't sure if you could really call Hongjoong your 'ex' as you'd just messed around when you were younger and had always stayed friends.

Seonghwa, on the other hand....you'd had a crush on him since you can remember. Even when you were messing with Hongjoong, he knew about your crush. You both had actually started the whole silly 'relationship' to try to see if Hwa would get jealous, but he'd really not paid much attention, to your utter angsty heartbreak.

You smile at the memories, at what a silly little girl you'd been. You definitely still had a crush on Hwa but you'd long since abandoned the longing and the hope that anything could happen. Hongjoong had tried to encourage you, then he'd comforted you through physical pleasures. It hadn't been all bad, of course. You'd also gained a lot of confidence through his 'friendship' with you. And now that you were out, away from home, your life had changed. You'd dated, you'd worked on your social skills and your shyness. You'd even started doing your makeup and hair and some friends tonight hadn't recognized the new you from the mousy little nerdy girl they used to hang out with.

Pulling yourself out of your reverie, Joong comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're here, seriously." You smirk and turn your head to look up at him. "You're just saying that cause I'm helping you clean!" He laughs and gives you a peck on your forehead. "Well, of course!"

He goes and grabs two beers, opening them and patting the couch next to him as he sits down. Taking one of the beers, you sit and take a long sip. You'd had plenty to drink most of the night, but now that it was quiet, just some music playing and the sounds of Hwa in the other room saying goodbye to people and doing his own cleaning, it was a nice moment of lucidity.

"You really do look totally different, it's crazy! Did you see people's faces tonight?" Hongjoong asks and you nod and smile limply. "I'm glad... but also, did I look so horrible before?" His silly smile turning to a frown, he turns your head towards him and says, "Absolutely not, Y/n. Don't even think that. Honestly, it's just some makeup, but the big difference is a bit more confidence. That can stand out a lot more that physical changes. I have always thought you looked beautiful." He tilts your chin towards him and gives you a quick peck. Smiling, you cheers him and take a deep swig of your beer, happy to be home for a bit.

Seonghwa was making his way back in from saying goodbye to the last person and was ready to just chill for a bit. "Joong?" He says and he hears the answering call from the living room. Hongjoong was on the couch with you. He stops in the doorway and watches Hongjoong and you on the couch, pondering.

After you'd left for college out of state, Hongjoong had finally told Seonghwa that he and you hadn't really dated. And that you'd always had it bad for Seonghwa. It came as a complete shock to him, as you'd always been quiet and hadn't spoken much to him. And now that you were back, he couldn't help but be drawn into how you smiled and laughed, noticing how pretty you were. You'd always been cute to him but now he found himself more..... interested.

Hongjoong finally notices Seonghwa standing in the doorway and gestures him over. "Hwa, come hang. Y/n is only back in town for a few days and we should chill as much as possible." Hwa makes his way and sits on the opposite side of you as Hongjoong.

You look at Hwa and feel your heart flutter a bit. Silly girl, you think and then just give him a big smile. You're an adult now, not a silly girl, just be friendly. "Hi! You were busy all night so I didn't get a good chance to say hello and all that. Thanks for inviting me." Hwa nods and glances at Hongjoong over your head, who just gives him a little wink and nod. Hwa leans back and gets comfortable next to you, letting his arm rest behind you. Hongjoong's hand was petting your hair and you all of a sudden feel overwhelmed at the proximity of these two gorgeous men.

You'd messed around with Hongjoong before but you'd never had sex. Just shy of. You'd ended up sleeping with a few guys in the year you'd been away and they'd been all fairly ....fine. But now between these two men, you found your more erotic fantasies kicking in. Calm it down girl, sheesh, you think, adjusting a bit and taking a big sip.

"Um so..." you gulp and Seonghwa's arm drops behind your back and his warm hand is on your shoulder now. "So, Hongjoong told me that you used to have a crush on me, Y/n." He says, smiling at you. You feel your face turn red and turn towards Joong, embarassed. "JOONG! What the fuck!" You yell and Seonghwa's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back gently, almost into his lap. Your eyes get wide and Hongjoong glares at Hwa before looking back at you. "Don't be mad! He wasn't supposed to SAY anything, damnit!" He's gritting his teeth at Hwa and trying to placate you at the same time.

"Why shouldn't I know? I find it flattering, really. But why'd you date Hongjoong when you liked me?" Hwa's hand is now drawing circles in the bare skin peeking between your jeans and your shirt, making you freeze and shiver at the same time. "I..." "Oh stop teasing her, Hwa. I told you why." Hongjoong says, his hand now running through your hair.

You find yourself in a surreal headspace, with both of them on either side, them both touching you. And you are overwhelmed when Seonghwa leans over and whispers in your ear, "So....was he a good kisser? I bet I kiss better." His tongue flicks out and licks his bottom lip, drawing your eyes. "I...wouldn't know...about that..." you mumble, totally distracted by the famous Hwa tongue antics that used to roam your fantasies at night. (Who are we kidding, they still do.)

"Would you like to know?" He asks, leaning in and bringing his mouth close, almost touching yours. Startled, your eyes flick over to Hongjoong and his eyes are hooded, looking at you both with interest. He gives you a small nod and you say, "Yes...."

Then Seonghwa's grasping your chin and drawing your face back towards him, his soft lips brushing against yours before you open your mouth to his, his tongue immediately darting into your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you feel yourself being pushed back a little, into Hongjoong's lap. His arms go around you and Seonghwa's hand goes into your hair. Oh my god, you think and then Hongjoong's hands are sliding underneath your shirt.

Breaking away from the kiss, Seonghwa's eyes are cloudy with lust and you are out of breath. "Mmm you taste sweet, Y/n." He says and you just gulp. "Y/n," You feel Hongjoong whisper against your ear. "I'd like to see if I can do better. Is that ok with you?" His hands are trailing circles on your bare stomach, your shirt partially raised up and leaving goosebumps. "Yessss..." You draw out, wanting nothing more. This was a dream, surely. And you were going to savor every single moment of it.

Tilting your head back, Hongjoong's mouth meets yours and his lips are not as soft as Hwa's but just as sexy. Hwa is passionate and Joong is intense. You gasp into his mouth as you feel another pair of hands slide your shirt up over your bra. "Mmm can I undress you, Y/n? I'd love to see your naked tits right now." Murmuring consent, Hongjoong momentarily releases you so Hwa can pull your top off, then he pulls you back to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. "Oh my god..." you mutter and Seonghwa's hands are slowly running up your sides to the sides of your breasts, slowly moving in to cup them before he presses his face between them, inhaling you.

"mmmm Y/n, your skin is so soft and you smell so good." Then he's pulling down one of the cups of your bra and his tongue is flicking against your already hardened nipple. Gasping, your body arches up and Hongjoong moans into your mouth. "You like that, don't you?" He says against your cheek as you're looking down at Hwa, who's now got his lips around your nipple and is nipping and sucking on it, looking up at you both. "Fuck..." you say and Hongjoong laughs softly. He brings his hand up to the other breast, sliding it under the material and he's kneading your soft flesh, pinching and making you gasp.

"So who's better, Y/n? Hongjoong or me..." Seonghwa says between nibbles. Unable to answer, you just shake your head at him and let out a pitiful whimper as he lets your nipple pop out of his mouth then breathes on it lightly.

"Hmmm....what else have you done with her, Joong?" You glance back up at Joong and he smiles. "Everything but....." "Ahhh..." Seonghwa says. "Not fair.." You mutter and Hwa frowns. "What's not fair, baby?" While Hongjoong is humming in your ear from behind. "Hmmm? Tell us."

"Clothes...off.." You manage and the both chuckle. "Ok, that is only fair." Hwa says and stands up, removing his shirt. Hongjoong gently leans you up as he removes his and then he's pulling you back further on the couch, so he's laying back with your back against his chest and you're between his legs. His hands come up to cup your breasts and now you can feel his hardness pressing against your lower back. His mouth is on your neck and he's kissing and breathing lightly, making you squirm.

You can't take your eyes off Hwa as he walks towards you both, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down, leaving him in only a pair of boxers. His cock was completely tenting them, making you almost lose it for a moment. Oh my god...Hwa is....we are...oh my god. I won't pass out! He crawls between your legs on the couch, sliding his hands along your pants before unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. Hongjoong is groaning every so often and you can feel his hardness throb under you.

Once your pants are gone, Hwa is running his hands up your bare thighs, parting them when you'd tried to close them from slight embarassment. "No no, I want to see you. We want to see you, don't we, Hongjoong?" Hwa says, looking at the man behind you. "Mmmm" Hongjoong says into your ear, nipping the lobe. "Yes, I want to see. Show her to me, Hwa."

Feeling utterly overwhelmed and in complete awe at the turn of events of the night, you and Hongjoong watch as Seonghwa brings his hands up to your hips, sliding his hands up and down for a moment, watching you both. Then he's sliding one hand in between your thighs, sliding your panties to the side. "Mmmm... sexy lace panties, I love them." Hwa says and then he's slowly drawing one fingertip along the inside of your folds, right up to your clit, rubbing in a circle gently, before bringing his finger back down. You can feel your legs quivering slightly and you can't control the little muttering moans and gasps coming out of your mouth.

"Can you hear that, Hongjoong? You hear how wet she is for us?" And then his finger is slipping inside of you. "Oh fuck..." you gasp and arch a bit, Hongjoong gasping against your ear as he watches Hwa. "Mmm, louder Hwa. I want to hear...." Hongjoong says and Seonghwa nods, slipping another finger in before starting to slide both in and out of you. You're dripping wet and your walls are clenching around his fingers. You'd dreamt about those fingers but this was better than every single dream you'd had about them combined. "Oh fuck yes, now I can hear you baby." Hongjoong whispers in your ear as Seonghwa slips in a third finger. "Hwa!" You yell as he starts picking up the pace, and he's breathing heavier as he fucks you with his fingers.

Stopping suddenly, Hwa slides his fingers out of you slowly and smiles at you. He brings a finger to his mouth and sucks on it. "Mmm I knew you'd taste amazing." Hwa says and then laughing, he says, "What's wrong, Hongjoong? Jealous?" "Hmmm" Joong hums, "Yes, I am, I want to taste her too." And then Hwa is climbing up you, kissing along your stomach up to your chin, then your mouth, before bringing the fingers that were just inside you, still wet, to Hongjoong's mouth. "Taste her, then." He says and slides his fingers along Hongjoong's lips. "Mmm" Joong moans and then sucks on Hwa's fingers while Hwa is kissing you.

The next thing you know, you're being pulled forward into Seonghwa's lap, sitting up. Hongjoong stands up behind you and removes the rest of his clothes as Seonghwa brings you in for another deep kiss. You're straddling him, his hand on your lower back and the other running up your side and along the side of your breast, touching and trailing his fingers lightly. You can feel his rigid cock pressed against your core through the thin material of his boxers. Then you're being passed back to Hongjoong as Hwa stands up and removes his remaining clothing as well.

Hongjoong takes you in his arms, settling you into his lap with your back to his chest again. His hand dips down to your clit, spreading you open as he rubs and teases and pulls. His cock is pressed against your ass and you can feel the heat radiating as he's pulsing. In front of you, Seonghwa is completely naked now, as he takes his cock in his hand and slowly strokes himself up then down, taking in your body splayed open by Hongjoong.

"So fucking hot..." Hwa says and bites his lip before he walks forward. You find yourself reaching out for him, wanting to touch his skin, his beautiful body, his hardness. As he comes closer, you can see the tip glisten with the precum he's releasing. "Mmmmmmm" you moan and when he's within reaching distance you lean forward and bring the tip into your mouth. "Oh fuck!" Seonghwa gasps and watching it all, Hongjoong takes the opportunity to slip his fingers inside of you. "Hrrnnnmmm" You moan around Hwa's cock. You wrap your hand around him and slowly stroke up and down, sucking on just the head. Hongjoong slides his fingers out of you as he repositions you on his lap. Hwa is looking down at you and you can feel Hongjoong prodding at your entrance, sliding slowly into you as you lick and suck Hwa. Popping him out of your mouth, you let out a loud moan as Hongjoong slides all the way to the hilt inside of you, stretching you. "Oh fuck yeah" Seonghwa says, leaning back, looking between the two of you and where you are joined. Hongjoong grabs your hips, moving you on him. Taking some initiative, you adjust yourself so you can slide up and down on Hongjoong as you reach out for Seonghwa again, taking his cock back into your mouth, this time sliding him in til he hits the back of your throat.

Hongjoong is moaning behind you, fucking you, saying your name and Hwa is looking down at you as you're being fucked by his friend, as you suck his cock. "Joong, tell me how good she feels, tell me..." Hwa moans out and Hongjoong gasps before saying, "Fuck....Hwa she feels so fucking tight and wet around me.....fuck it feels so good... Hwa you need to fuck her...I want to see you fuck her...." Seonghwa cups your face softly, slowly pulling out of your mouth. "I want to fill you up with my cock now, Y/n." He says down at you, drawing his fingertip along your bottom lip and you nod at him. Slowly, Hongjoong eases you up off his lap and slides out of you. Seonghwa sits on the couch and beckons you to climb on his lap

Straddling him once more, he wraps an arm around your waist. Your breasts are pressed against his chest and you wrap your arms around his neck to hold onto him. Feeling bold at this point, you grasp his hair lightly and pull, not too hard but enough to tip his head back and get a cheeky grin. "Oohhh getting aggressive, I like this.." He murmurs then his mouth is on yours again as he rubs the head of his cock against your wet dripping entrance. "Hwa please..." You moan and he grins against your lips. "Hwa please...what....Y/n?" He's gasping now too and you can tell he's barely holding on. It's so sexy.

"Hwa...fuck me....please....I need you..." You moan and he suddenly guides himself into you before pulling you down hard onto his lap, completely burying himself inside of you. You both let out a loud moan, you almost screaming. "Oh fuck!" Hwa moans and then you feel your face being turned, Hongjoong standing above you and you open up for him. He starts rubbing his cock along your lips and letting you lick and suck the tip while Hwa starts pulling you up and down on top of him, much more aggressively than Hongjoong had. "Baby....oh baby you're so hot and tight, jesus....I want to fill you up so badly..." Hwa is moaning and his hand is between the two of you, rubbing your sensitive nub as he's grabbing your ass with his other hand. Joong is moaning as you suck and lick his cock, stroking himself as he watches the two of you.

Hwa's breath starts hitching and he throws his head back, watching your breasts bounce, watching you suck Hongjoong, moaning and then he's yelling; 'Fuck, fuck fuck fuck I'm gonna cum...oh fuck I'm cumming, I'm c--c-c- cummminnggg" And at the same time Hongjoong is panting and moaning along with Hwa as he releases his hot seed all over your face and chest, moaning your name as Hwa is filling you up. The timing of the two of the cumming together like that snaps something inside of you and you let loose a gutteral howl. Your walls clamp down around Hwa's cock which is still pulsing inside of you and he has to hold onto you so you don't buck off the top of him, you're shaking so much.

Panting turns into heavy breathing, then softs pants and little giggles and chuckles. Hongjoong sinks down behind you, putting his head against your back. Seonghwa's face is buried between your breasts again and his arms are around your waist. Your face is in Seonghwa's hair, one of your arms rubbing Hongjoong's arm to the side of you.

An unknown amount of time goes by, but eventually Hwa pulls his face back and smiles up at you. "Are you ok?" He asks, reaching up to cup your cheek. "mmmm" you say. "Joong?" He asks and Hongjoong just snorts and laughs, "Yeah...mmm good."

"I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry.....but first...we need to shower because....Y/n... you're a mess." Hwa says and you can feel how sticky and sweaty you are. "Um yeah.." And then you're being picked up in Hwa's arms, heading to the bathroom.

"Round 2!" Hwa yells and Hongjoong chimes in his agreement, causing you to giggle.

What great friends.

@veronicasawyerschainsaw @shinestarhwaa

[wxnheart]

*running footsteps rapidly approaching*

CRASH-- THUD--

yeah hi I'm here for a continuation of "Just Kingly Things" for horny husband König *fumbles with a piece of paper* let me see... ah! here we go: König seems like the type of househusband who loves to bake and wears a frilly apron that was handmade by his grandmother, and I'm begging for a scenario/headcanon where he's in the kitchen scraping a bowl with leftover chocolate ganache, we come in and leave him naked except for the apron and eat the ganache off his body, I wanna choke on him while he's death-gripping the counter, his lips kiss swollen and covered in chocolate - bless your soul, love your works, ok g o o d b y e e ❤

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐚 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: yeah, I used this pun. lmaooo. hope y'all enjoy.

Your lovely giant of a husband likes to keep his hands busy; it also helps keep his mind at ease. And what better way to knock out two birds with one stone than with one of his favorite pastimes: cooking?

Of course, it serves you well in the long term. König keeps you fed and you have the honor of admiring that juicy ass of his as he works his magic.

And TODAY was the day you managed to catch him in all his glory. In his favorite apron. Butt ass naked. Is that chocolate, love? Oh... Yessss.

And of course he'd be naked. You two spent the better part of the day in bed making each other very, very happy. You're surprised you're even standing what with the way König fucked you silly. (You'll keep the fact that you actually stumbled out of bed to yourself, though...)

And König, lovely chap that he is, thought to surprise you with some chocolatey goodness in bed but you have other ideas. Preferably involving him and his wonderful frame. You were never ashamed about openly admiring battle-hardened muscle and scars each telling their own unique story, stories that you'll never tire of hearing. But... later, darlings.

König who snaps out of his reverie when you smack his ass. Hard. König who, when he turns around, turns beet red with embarrassment at the realization of it all. Mein Gott, he's naked in his favorite frilly apron and you weren't supposed to be up just yet and shit, he needs to keep stirring the chocolate, and Schatz, you're supposed to still be asleep, dammit—"Nice apron."

—Huh? "...Cute, actually. But, uh... I know what'll look even cuter." König, who doesn't even register the apron is gone until he feels your bare skin against his, your fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

König, who gets one of the biggest shocks of his life when he sees the creamy goodness of what was your melted chocolate running down his chest in a steady stream. Wait... when did you—how did you...?! Goddamnit, Schatz! He could never stay mad at you long. Especially not now. Especially with the way you're eyeing him. His cheeks are burning.

König who should be embarrassed. And upset. That chocolate didn't come cheap. But he can't be. Not when you're looking at him like he's the most delicious thing you ever laid eyes on. And his interest is piqued.

König who shivers when you dip your head to savor the taste of chocolate against his skin. You lick a line up to his Adam’s apple and before he knows it, your tongue has made itself home in his mouth.

König who instantly melts under your ministrations, intoxicated by the taste of you and chocolate and shit. You're squeezing his ass. Hard. You're so turned on.

König who stifles a groan when you pull away and admire your work. And fuck, it's delicious. "Just like I like it..."

König who, lips swollen and aching for more, dives in and consumes you, chocolate-covered kisses galore.

König who laters marvels at the fact he didn't crack the counter he was gripping it so tightly as you licked every inch of chocolate from his body.

And yeah, you'll have one hell of a mess to clean up later but it's worth the fine delicacy you're sampling right now. Just like you like it...

[avonne-writes]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! ❤️ I've been sitting on this for a while because my self-esteem has been horrible lately, but I'm trying to be kinder to myself tonight, so I thought I could finally answer this.

1. Reverie (Clegan) - 55.7k

Summary: In a universe where soulmates share dreams, Bucky finds the way to Gale's soul.

Reverie is the kind of fic I always wanted to write. I enjoy exploring elements of surrealism, recurring themes and the connection between the past and the future. Writing this story sometimes felt like writing poetry, and I poured a lot of emotion into it. I'm glad that I finished it and that I'm satisfied with it.

2. Broken Things (Clegan) - 5.8k

Summary: When his alcoholic father relapses again, Gale wants to end the pain forever.

A pivotal moment in my High School AU. It’s a very angsty story of Gale going through a crisis, and I was hesitant to post it at first and change the tone of the AU, but I'm so glad I did because it led me to expand this universe and to make it a serious series. This fic is also personally special to me, so it will stay among my favourites for a long time.

3. Cascade (Drarry fic!) - 18.7k

Summary: Harry wants to touch, and Draco wants to be touched. If only they could figure it out.

This was intended as a comfort fic, a story of healing and gently growing love. To me, its memory is like warm sunshine on an early autumn day. The response this fic keeps receiving to this day fills me with joy. It has one of my favourite first kiss scenes out of the ones I've written.

4. The Art of Letting Go (Clegan) - 5.8k

Summary: When Gale has a bad day, Bucky is there to help him let go.

My Gale in subspace fic. This is one of my favourites because this wasn’t a dynamic that I had explored before but I'm pleased with the final fic. I liked writing Gale's thoughts as they get fuzzier the deeper he goes into that mindspace. I feel like it’s ultimately a comforting fic too.

5. Scorpion Grass (Lokius fic!) - 36.4k

Summary: When Loki is dragged along on a family vacation to Santa Cruz, he expects to be bored out of his mind, but a close call in the water turns everything on its head, and he's swept into the whirlwind of a summer romance.

I was on the fence about picking this one because it's 3.5 years old and I'm sure I'd cringe if I read my own old writing, but this is such a special fic to me. I wrote it during Covid lockdowns, when it was difficult to travel, and I put a lot of research into it to make the settings as realistic as possible. I wanted it to feel like a California vacation, with real locations and everything. Since some locals actually asked if I was from there, I felt like I succeeded.

+ Honorable mentions:

Symmetry (Clegan) - 5.2k

Summary: Not all of Gale's scars are from shrapnel wounds.

Aubade (Clegan) - 7.1k

Summary: A few weeks after Buck and Bucky became lovers, they have an opportunity to spend another leave together and take the next step in their relationship. Desire is only one thing though - the matters of the heart are much harder to express.

[bpdamaged]

❣︎ જ⁀➴ 20yr nonbinary. they/them. biromantic* demisexual. divine royalty. not in a relationship. monogamous.

❣︎ જ⁀➴ bpd. lovesick. OLD. irl yandere <3

❣︎ જ⁀➴ yandere 4 yandere

❤︎ yandere types - monopoly + restraints + delusional + dependent + loneliness inducing + obsessive ❤︎ rdhs - reverent delusional honest strict (yandere mbti) ❤︎ 146 (yandere enneagram) ❤︎ odiar - open direct intense agreeable resilient (yandere big 5) ❤︎ lsmt - lucid submissive manipulative tame (yandere mbti types) ❤︎ cdwi - covert distant wary impulsive (soft yandere mbti) ❤︎ edca - expression¹ determination² cognition³ aggression⁴ (yandere psyche)

♡ damaged pages — yandere posts ♡ handwritten notes — personal posts ♡ scented letters — asks ♡ rbs — reblogs ♡ romantic reverie — things i want to hear or see from a beloved ♡ musings — poetry and typography

gif credit 𓆩❤︎𓆪 divider credit

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 5 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and now featuring @tammykelly

Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

Lovely Readers! You can now follow the tag # Wicked Johnson Fic to follow along more easily! ❤❤❤

Johnwickb1tsch:

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

You sit there for a good few minutes--- letting yourself just feel and realise what has happened.

No, because you realise it now-- so much has happened, you have sort of developed a temporary immunity to it all. A coping mechanism for your mind.

That is what it does when things go very wrong very quickly-- bolt out of the blue? Worry not, you won't even register it properly.

That is how your works, you realise as you slowly begin to dress yourself again. The slick between your thighs is hard to ignore but the ignited desire begins to subdue as you focus on making yourself aware-- really aware of what has happened.

John's words regarding Bradford felt like a promise and as you realise that he is gone, you fear he has gone after the agent.

You hope and pray that he is not as impulsive as you consider him to be because, with your time spent with Bradford, you have come to know of two things-- one, he is very resourceful, and second, he is no fool. He is an exceptionally intelligent, stubborn man-- whom you considered to be moral, almost idealistic. So, his betrayal has come as a shock to you.

You can't swallow it, somehow-- and his actions are not helping either. If John has bribed him and he accpeted-- why is he still messing with them, then?

What does he really want?

He has a family--

You blink.

Teenagers, he said. He isn't that old. Until...

Until he was a college dad or something. He never even mentioned a wife.

You lick your lips dress yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of the room. Finding Tex in the kitchen, you almost call for him.

Almost because you stop.

Baffled at your own instincts.

What are you doing? Don't you miss your previous life? Don't you want to be free again?

You realise you still do but you can't see them hurt. You don't want them hurt, in any way, under any circumstances.

They make you feel like a battlefield-- a battlefield for your mind, heart and body. You just stare on, lost in thoughts and questions. But Tex senses your presence.

"Sit down, accidentally added an extra egg to my omelette." He says while plating an omelette and bringing it to you-- it does not look like an accidental extra, but you chose not to comment. "Why aren't you sat?" He asks with a tilt of his head, but amusement is dancing in his orbs.

And he's back at his assholery again, just when you begin to think of him as 'not too bad'.

You sigh, too many thoughts running around to even try wiping off that annoying smirk out of his unfairly gorgeous face. You simply steel yourself and sit down-- refusing to give him the satisfaction of any reaction from you. You grind your teeth in silence, tensing up at the ache when you feel the cushioned surface against your clothed rear-- at least it isn't only wood-- that would have been way more painful. But it still hurts. Yet, you don't show it.

You've had enough of their games. Whatever they are doing, you realise that they are, perhaps winning at it. You were going to warn Tex about Bradford? You don't want John to go after Bradford-- and the first reason you think of is 'What if it's a trap'? And not 'What if Bradford dies?'

This change concerns you. You still haven't decided what you wish to do. Tell them that Bradford's actually too young to have teenagers? Are they foolish enough to not cross-check? You decide on a different approach.

"Where did John go?"

The question comes off in low, uncertain whisper, but Tex is already seated beside you with his own plate.

When did he even do that?

Tex raises an eyebrow and scoffs but holds your gaze for a moment.

"You're not worried about that agent, are ya?"

His ability to guess your thoughts (partially, to your fortune) catches you off guard and of course, it shows on your dumb face as he smirks. This time though, it does not seem as playful as before. This time, it puts you on edge as you let out a measured breath, feeling more alert than you have been in John's silent presence before.

"No--I...." You almost spill out the truth, before breaking the eye-contact and getting some hold on yourself "I was just...wondering."

"Don't worry, he went to get you somethin' to wear, so that you don't keep dirtying ours."

Your hold on the spoon tightens at that jab. It's lighter than most of his earlier ones but it somehow irks you to a certain point of burn.

You assume he is clever enough to not give you a fork because, at the moment, you want to poke him with one.

"I'm done."

You declare curtly before letting your spoon fall on the plate and pushing it away. You need some time away from their overpowering presence, you need your sanity, your rationality intact, after all.

Rising from your seat, you rush towards the bedroom with the hope of some solitude. You need that.

Tammykelly:

You barely get to the bedroom on the second floor, the forever lingering ache between your legs and anger in your heart not letting you think about anything else but a much needed distraction.

This bastard is fucking diabolical, you think to yourself, hoping the negative energy of your denial will give strength to your knees and outweigh how much your body is screaming at you to take care of the little, annoyingly loud problem created by Tex. God, they’ve trained you well.

After you’ve freshened up in the master bathroom, you sit down in a big armchair, next to the bed, still feeling frustrated, though mostly at yourself and the hopelessness of your situation.

You glance around the room once again, remembering where they’ve locked their tools, including knives that you’re pretty sure are sharp enough to cut through anything with ease. You lean back, lost in thoughts, letting your back rest against the soft cushion. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing pattern, after a while feeling like your body reflexes have started to calm down and the blood in your veins has acquired breath of its own, as you begin to watch yourself, as if from the third person pov.

The shrunken space of your focus seems to have been expanded, simultaneously, the room seems to have been sealed in a vacuum bubble, it’s just you and the memory of where the knives lay. You get up with determination, feeling confident enough to try anything within the boundaries of what’s allowed but timid enough to be mindful about possible consequences.

You can surely just look at them, they won’t punish you if you don’t use them.

You think about an array of ways how you’d break the lock before opening the cabinet, and run your fingers over the blades that you know could easily cut you in half through the application of force necessary to do so. You take one out, studying it, as if trying it on, wondering how much this razor-sharp knife has seen and will witness. You twirl it around, pondering whether you’d be brave enough to use it if the opportunity arises. You feel almost mesmerised by it, neither hearing anything, apart from the ringing in your ears, nor seeing anything, apart from your reflection on the blade.

“You’re sure you know how to handle it?” - a deep breathy voice comes from behind. You jump, almost dropping the knife, your eyes meet John’s obsidian ones, boring into you, making you feel like you’re being poked by the needles that lay in the cabinet next to the knives.

“Be careful not to cut yourself, rattlesnake”, - an amused voice adds and you watch Tex step into the room, as your cheeks flush red. “We were wondering how come it’s so quiet up here”, - he adds, not breaking the eye contact.

“I was napping” - you blurt out, quickly putting the knife down, nervously watching John walk closer in a lazy, almost calculating manner only a predator uses when the prey has been caught in a trap.

You catch his movements until he’s standing behind you, his chest touching your back, his arms on either side of you, capturing you in a cage that is his strong body against your frozen one. You look over to Tex and notice him leaned against the wall, watching you two with curiosity.

Fuck

John picks up the knife you’ve previously chosen and holds it in front of you, his lips close to your ear, his voice so dangerously low, you swear he sounds like he’s about to devour you in one bite.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” he nonchalantly whispers, sending cold shivers down your spine, his lips inch closer, “since you’re so curious about it”. You pray he doesn’t feel the deafening thumping of your heart.

“I was…just…uh…”, - words barely escape your dry throat. You hear Tex walk over and it makes you feel even more on the razor edge that is a mouse trap of your relationship with these men. You feel Tex’s fingers under your chin, when he pulls your face to look up at him.

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” - he clicks his tongue. His glimmering eyes shine with built-up darkness lay beneath, a hint of disappointment flashes through it when you don’t reply, “all talk, no action?”

Tex is akin to a fiery pit, predictably unpredictable in the sense that you have an idea of what to expect of him - stand too close and you get burned, bite too hard and you get splashed back with fire. But when you watch the flames, especially when he doesn’t notice you studying him or pretends not to, there’s a strangely comforting warmth to him, flickering through the coal cracks of his man-child nature. John, on the other hand, is akin to an abyss, swallowing you whole with his presence. He’s dangerous in a way that a calm untamed tiger is, for even domesticated, it still remains a threat at all times. You don’t see what’s beneath all the layers of what he masterfully conceals and you’re not sure you should want to find out how much of a predator he actually is.

“Make your choice” - you hear John’s raspy voice bring your attention back to him.

“What?” - you blink, your mind going over multitude of possibilities this could play out. Tex takes the knife out of the other man’s hands.

“Who do you prefer show you how to use it?” - he explains, but his expression says anything but teaching you about self-defence. You feel John protectively wrap around you and you don’t need him to say it. If Tex does anything out of line, this playground will become everything a human would fear to step into. You can see that the feeling’s mutual, in the way Tex glares at John.

Maybe this is the code to freedom, let them prey on each other.

Tex’s eyes move to yours, seeing the way you lean into the man behind you.

“Oh, you think Johnny boy will save you?”- he chuckles darkly, “dream on”, he tells you before motioning for John to bring you over to the bed. Your heart drops.

They sit you down on the bed, both of them circling you, akin to eager hawks, ready to rip apart and devour anything in their sight. Suddenly, you feel John’s hands lock yours in a tight grip behind your back, which makes panic arise in your chest.

“The fuck you’re doing?” - you want to sound mad but the voice that comes out of your mouth sounds like it belongs to someone else caught in a web of pretence and lies. Tex waves his hand for you to keep your mouth shut.

“You forget your place, rattlesnake”, - he laughs, though not an ounce of warmth strikes you, just sharp fire burns.

“You’re a fucking asshole”, - you growl lowly, looking him right in the crazed eyes, while John shifts to a more comfortable position to hold you still.

Bastard

“Touché”, - Tex brings his face close to yours, his hot breath on your skin making you flinch, “Biting won’t help, darlin’, you’re forgetting who you’re up against”, he finishes, placing the cold blade on your cheek before you start protesting, and moving it down your jawline, throat, collarbones and stopping at the hem of your shirt, tantalised, watching the way your chest rapidly rises and falls. He’s so gentle with it, though, but his eyes tell you he could switch up in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, John”, - Tex breaths out and doesn’t wait for either of you to reply, grabbing the fabric and making the blade slide through it with lightning speed like butter. Your wide open eyes look at him with shock, only now noticing John pressed up against your back, like an unmoving statue. You lean back, wiggling your body, seeing how hard it is for Tex to resist touching you with his hands. He extends his arm to place the knife onto your skin.

“Don’t fucking touch me”, - you glare up at him, which makes a loud bark of a chuckle escape his lips, though he doesn’t stop. You begin to shake your head and move your body, knowing he won’t do anything in this case, as not to hurt a single strand of hair on you, for John might kill him right then and there with that said knife, otherwise. Abruptly, your body freezes when Tex’s calloused hand find its place around your neck, urging you to hold your anger in and to look up at him.

“You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” - he growls, his fingers tight around your throat, “you can’t keep playing the game you can’t win”, he smiles, placing the blade in the centre of your breastbone, the coldness of steel arising goosebumps throughout your body. Your eyes lock on his, studying the way he’s holding back the desires that will leave him hanging onto the thread of life had he acted upon them. You want to believe he’d never hurt you but you never know how far his self control and possible feelings for you can contain the boundaries of his flames.

Is it your or John’s power over him?

Tex’s knee moves in between your legs, inching closer to where you needed him when he bent you over downstairs what feels like an eternity ago. But your body responds in raging flames, lit up by the myriad of matches that are the manifestation of his power over you.

His fingers inch the razor-sharp steel closer to the centre of your neck, so infinitely slow you think you might die just from waiting for what comes next.

And what comes next is John’s lips on your skin, your temple, behind your ear, on your shoulder, his tongue tasting the heat, engulfing your body, the effect of which comes off in a form of a shuddered breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Tex moves the blade up until it reaches your mouth, keeping it there, until you get the hint. You stare at his darkened, ravenously glowing eyes. You feel one of John’s hands come up gliding over your body up to your neck, tilting your head up, as he’s shifting his weight so you can look up into his eyes. The look you’re met with is not the one you were hoping to see, for instead of a soft and gentle one, your gaze gets sucked in by a black hole that is a pair of nearly jet-black, hungry, unmoving and barely patient eyes.

“Sorry, baby”, - John rasps.

You open your mouth, falling deeper into his void, before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, as your breath and racy heartbeat warn you to steady yourself before gradually coming back to a stable pace, as you lay in bed.

You listen in to the sounds of an awfully quiet house, making you wonder whether you’ve been left alone after all. The clock arms ticking rhythmically, blending in with the soft, almost faint whirring of the bedroom mini fridge where the boys keep cooled bottled water for you. The sound of electricity inside the walls and static in your ears suddenly becoming louder once you focus on it instead of the faint noise of the outside world. You look around, chasing the frisky sunset light, playing on the space around you through the cracks between the slightly moving curtains. You glance at expensive looking boutique shop bags standing near the wall. For the first time you pay attention to the way the colour palette of the place is almost seamlessly blended by the dreamy fog, though you’re not sure if it’s the floating in sunlight specks of dust or your own blurry vision, for you’d just woken up from your nap. You raise your hand to cover your eyes when the sunlight makes its way onto your face, then close your eyelids, folding your hands on your lap, letting yourself bask in the vague warmth. You take a deep breath in, your senses catching a very indistinct smell of the fresh evening air, when the wind outside blows through the trees, the rustling of which you can catch a sonic glimpse of, fresh laundry and the scent of your shampoo.

But the smell of two men pervades you the most, you can practically taste the last night with John and today’s morning with Tex on your tongue and skin. You’re sure you smell like them by now, akin to a cat acquiring the smell of its owners over time, becoming one with the small nuclear tribe. It’s shamefully intoxicating how well they’ve imbedded themselves onto your body and into your mind, molding a new, unrecognizable version of you, so perfectly suited for their needs.

And you’re sure they like everything about it, especially the way they can smell themselves off you, like you belong to them, cooped up in this place away from prying eyes, their $5 million secret, just for them to play with and ravish. You can feel it sometimes through the way they touch you when passionate waves are mercifully on hold, replaced by the monumental promise of another outburst. You remember the way their fingers linger on your skin a bit too long, the way they hug you close to their bodies late at night when they think you’re too fucked out to notice - John - in a protective embrace, Tex - more on the possessive side.

The way John gently brushes your hair after blow drying it and resists leaning in to smell your freshly showered self, for every time you can feel the heat of his body getting close to you and, regrettably to your disappointment, pulling away at the last moment. The way Tex traces his own bites and hickeys on your skin when you’re in the bathtub with him or glides his fingertips over them under the covers, thinking your blissfully unaware self doesn’t feel his surprisingly delicate leisure wandering. The way neither of them want to leave the bed in the early hours of the morning, too entranced by your warmth and the feel of your body against theirs. The way one day you made each of them sigh in surprise when you’d pulled them closer, praying they explain it as your sleepy subconscious making the decisions for you, when, in reality, it was you pulling the strings of blurry lines in between sanity and conscience mistake of trying to savour their comfortingly strong bodies. You couldn’t decide which one of the duo was worse. John, who treats you like a gentleman but often fucks you disrespectfully, or Tex, who annoyingly makes every particle of your body and soul boil in every sense possible.

You tip your head back, eyelids closed, taking deep breaths in to calm your heart and mind. You have no idea how long it’ll take for the masks of sanity to slip, revealing the true nature of those men. Whatever sanity means anymore in this situation. You start feeling like their influence on you begins to seep beyond physical form.

Suddenly, you hear John quietly calling out to you: “Y/n. You here?”

Your eyebrows slightly twitch, as your eyes open to the starry sky above the balcony where you and John are standing next to one another.

“It’s like you were just here and then you were gone”, - he chuckles, his voice soft and comfortingly deep.

Fuck, the mask’s slipping.

You take a long look at him before smiling, his eyes so gentle, you almost [want to] believe he’s not faking it for you.

It’s time for a cat to come out and play with fire.

“Hi”, - you tell him, reaching your fingers out to him, finding it so irresistibly hard not to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear when you see him admiring the perfect way the clothes he’d bought hug your body, as if tailored to your exact measurements but you don’t delve into it deeply for the sake of your sanity. “Hey”, - John replies, letting your hand slip back, not showing you how much he wants to catch it and kiss it.

The serenity of the passing intimate lace comes crumbling down when Tex cheerfully comes up from the back and hugs you from behind, loudly leaving a wet trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, so casually mundane, as if he’s been doing this for years.

“What are you two whispering about?” - he inquires, not removing his lips off you. “Certainly not you”, - you tease. “You don’t like me?” - he mumbles back. Now it’s your turn to laugh: “Why should I? This is just a transaction, no?”

Instead of pulling away, Tex grips you harder: “Aw, my rattlesnake, I was about to say how sweet you are when you don’t bite”.

“Thought you liked it?” - you let him feel you lean into him, which he eagerly reciprocates. “Oh, is that why you do it? You do it for me?” - he asks, as you turn around in his arms, tilting your face up, batting your eyelashes. “Dream on”, - you reply before breaking away from his embrace.

You walk over to the balcony sofa, sinking into the big pillows in a relaxed way that exudes you’re not afraid of either of the two. You let yourself be watched by their intense gazes, shamelessly scanning you up and down, as you throw one leg over the other. Moments pass before you speak again.

“I can’t quite crack the code”, - you tell them in the most couldn’t-care-less tone, “what is it that you get out of this? Apart from the obvious”. You trace your body with your fingers, John’s eyes on yours and Tex’s following your silhouette.

Tex is the first to reply: “You said it yourself, this is just a transaction”.

“Is it really?” - you inquire in a way that it sounds more like a statement.

“Why do you wanna know?” - Tex responds, keeping his eyes trailed on you.

You lean further into the cushions, trying to sound as innocuously as possible. “To manipulate you, of course”.

Silence hangs in the air, making your cheeks grow redder, though you hope they can’t tell under the starlight. Tex walks closer to you, saying: “Don’t get ideas into that pretty head of yours”, he grabs your face with one hand, “wouldn’t want you to get burned, mhhmm?”

You swallow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it”, - you tell him, holding the eye contact. Unexpectedly, Tex does nothing but lets you go and walks to the chair, near John. It makes you uncomfortable, their watchful eyes not leaving an ounce of your conscience not feeling exposed.

“What game are you playing at?” - John finally speaks up, his voice so quiet you know he’s not playing games with you anymore.

“Nothing”, - you simply say, your gaze locked on his. Hiding in plane sight, you think. Instead, you continue: “I can’t outplay the player when I got no game, yeah?”

Tex snorts: “Oh, you definitely do have game”, eyeing you. You turn your attention to him, scoffing just like he did: “Clearly, if that’s what you wanna call it”.

“I just want a lock in my room”, you add.

“My, my, Johnny boy, she not only bites but wants to have leverage over us”, - Tex chuckles.

“How’s having a lock mean leverage?” you bat your lashes.

Okay, playing dumb it is.

Tex doesn’t make you wait for his reply: “It’s not about the lock. It’s about access”.

Got you, you say to yourself.

“I’m sure other hunters, like you two, would just love that, access at all times”, - you muse, looking from one man to the other.

“We won’t let that happen”, - John’s stern whisper comes.

“Mhmhm, sure, with $5 million on the line”, - you shrug. You catch Tex’s eyes.

“Dream on, babygirl”, - he muses back.

You sigh, getting up, making your hips sway just a tiny bit more than usual. Your arm gets caught in Tex’s strong grip. “What are you doing?” - he growls, as you turn to look up at him. You look behind him at John, then back at the man in front of you. “Take a wild fucking guess”, - you retort. Tex steps closer, cornering you further to the glass door, leading into the house. “Use your pretty mouth like that, I won’t care if you’re sore or not anymore”, - he smiles sickly sweet, making your stomach turn. You ignore him and connect your eyes with John’s, who holds the same expression, not much different from Tex’s, letting you see in that moment, how titillated he is by you.

You’re fucked and you’ve walked right into it.

“Let me guess, “dream on”?” Tex mocks you, placing a hand on the glass, near your face.

You work up a smile, though you hope they can’t see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Aren’t you boys coming?” you purr, before wiggling your way out of Tex’s arms. The men look at each other before following suit, exchanging malevolent glances.

The code is crackable. For it’s not the “how” but the question of who’ll be the first to crack.

Tex. John. Or you.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Goddamnit. Where is the motherfucking pancake batter? Does John not have PANCAKE BATTER in his goddamn house? What are you supposed to do? Make pancakes from scratch? Fuck.

Your internal thoughts are being monologued by a sailor, apparently - and he’s in a shit mood. You woke up lying in vacant sheets, minus either of your human heaters, shivering in the conditioned air.

Your bargain was simple, or at least you thought so - they could keep the temp at 62 degrees in this room (psychos) if they both slept beside you and warmed you cozy. So, when you found out they were gone and didn’t even bother to pull a blanket over your naked body in their haste to leave - okay, maybe it was actually you that kicked the comforter off, but you’re still gonna blame them - you got heated, and not in a good way.

Pretty soon, and far too late, you realized that you felt abandoned without them snuggling you like two big, bed hogging dogs, and that made you much more angry because… Well. If you’re being honest with yourself, you are far too attached to these men. In too deep. “Dug up more snakes than you can kill,” as Tex would say. You can barely function when they’re not around. So much for strong, independent woman. You’re a whitehead on the face of feminism.

And now you can’t even make pancakes. Out of frustration, you slam a cupboard shut and bustle a carton of eggs off the counter. And, of course, they land face down with the top open wide. “Fuck. Me.”

“Bad day?”

You spin on your heel, hip catching the counter painfully, although you barely register the sting, too busy clenching fists at your sides from the immediate recognition of that voice. You glare at Bradford, lip curling into a little snarl, the rattlesnake in you coming to bat. “It is now,” you snap.

Bradford sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t be like that. I told you I’d protect you, y/n, and that’s what I’m here to do.”

You burst into a crazed giggle fit, fists clutching at the sundress fabric over your belly, eyes watering from the sheer audacity of fucking men. It takes you a minute to collect yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you pompous asshole.” You’re still smiling at him, that little leftover sanity and hope slipping right through your fingers and landing in a sticky puddle with the smashed eggs.

He frowns, hands jammed into his pockets, this stupid look of concern coming over his face that makes you want to choke it right off. “Listen, y/n, whatever they did to you - however they hurt you - it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here to take you away and undo all this shit they’ve put in your head.”

“You think that’s going to work on me after what you did?!” You hardly recognize your own shrill screech, don’t realize you’re jamming a finger into his chest until your toe to toe with him. “They might be assholes and manipulators, sure, Bradford, but you-“ You poke his sternum hard, make him wince and love that pained look on his face more than you should - “you’re much fucking worse. Because at least they care about something other than themselves.”

His expression is one of pity, like he’s looking at an abused, bite happy dog about to be put down. “You think they care about you?” His voice is quiet, sympathetic, overly kind, it makes your stomach turn. “Oh, sweetheart-“

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mock, the acid in your body leaking and bubbling from your throat. “Do me a favor and get out. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

He seems entirely unaffected by you. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

You feel a tiny sting in your shoulder, look down to see a needled splinter sticking out, reach to pull it free, but it’s far too late, because your hand doesn’t work. And neither do your legs. You black out before landing face first into the eggs.

They’ve got you trussed up again. Pretty silk ropes dimple your skin. John finishes the knots on your thighs, fingers tickling lazily over the fabric and making you squirm and whine. “Comfy?” He asks, kissing your cheekbone and smiling at you.

You nod, pull at your bonds, become thrilled when you realize you’re not going anywhere. You wiggle your toes, testing circulation by gauging feeling to your digits. Perfect, as always. John’s handiwork is unmatched. And you are absolutely drenched and throbbing by the time he gets done tightening his last little tie.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose into your hairline. You shudder and giggle, melting under that praise he has grown fond of giving. His balmy voice gets your toes curling instead of flexing.

Tex comes back into the room with the bottle of sandalwood and vanilla oils. It smells heavenly and makes you clench hellishly as he works it into his bulky palms and grins at his favorite girl. “You ready for that massage, pumpkin?”

Something slams violently close to your ear, startling you out of the dreaming memory, making you gasp and flinch. You can’t go far, because you’re handcuffed to a metal chair. Hands and feet. Too tight. Fingers and toes already numb and cold. Your face feels sticky and itchy. Metal scrapes metal in a terrible symphony that jabs behind your eyes and gets them open.

You’re in a white, windowless room, far from John and Tex, but close to agent Bradford. He’s smiling now, pleased about something, leaning over the silver table to examine your face. “That’s a nasty bruise, kid,” he says, pointing to his own forehead. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you.”

You scowl at him. “Yeah, whatever.” Your head does hurt, though, and you feel like you’ve been run over by a monster truck again. Still, that fire in you doesn’t seem to want to die, and you’re incredibly grateful for whatever miracle furnace is fueling it. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here? Or just stare at me like a fucking creep?”

He chuckles. “Do you know where you are?”

“Oh yeah,” you spit, “I definitely remember this windowless white fucking room from good times growing up.” Rolling your eyes hurts more than you think it will.

“You’re under possession of the FBI, y/n, and if I were you, I’d be grateful we didn’t just hand you over to the Bratva ourselves. Because they would have done much worse to you than we’re about to do.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

As your mind clears from the drugs Bradford gave you, you start to think a bit more critically about your situation. The fact that he has taken you hostage without the fanfare of an official FBI raid suggests he's still working under the radar. He must have baited your boys with some convincing ruse to make them both leave the house.

"You should really do yourself a favor, and return me to them," you advise. You flex against the cuffs, trying to get circulation. They really are too tight, and you can't help but compare it to the careful way John always bound you. Who is the bad guy here? All the lines have blurred.

"I can't help but notice you're not asking to just be let go."

It's a development that surprises you too, but you don't feel like analyzing it right now. All you know is that you miss them, like a crucial piece of your heart has been plucked from you. And maybe it's fucked up, but you want the man responsible to pay.

"I'm not as stupid as you are, apparently. Don't you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Tex Johnson, former Marine, dishonorable discharge in his first tour of Iraq, turned Hollywood stunt man and mafia hitman. John Wick is harder to put a thumb down on. Bogus birth certificate, it's doubtful it's his real name. He was probably trafficked into the country as a child from the Soviet Union by one of the syndicates. He's been associated with various underworld groups since he was a teen."

This was, in fact, way more than you knew about your boys, but you were loathe to admit it.

"What I mean, is if you keep this up you're a dead man walking. They'll do anything to get me back."

"It sounds like you want them to get you back."

"At this point? I like them a lot better than you."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty cozy there. I think you have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome."

The thought of this man, of all people, moralizing at you and basically calling you mentally ill, pisses you off even more.

"Did you know Stockholm Syndrome is a bullshit diagnosis favored by law enforcement, invented by two male psychologists to describe a woman who had been in a hostage situation, who they had never even met? She was held hostage by a bank robber in Sweden, and as she watched the police completely bungle the situation she was afraid they would come charging in and kill everyone in a hail of bullets. She advocated for a more peaceful solution that didn't involve her getting shot, and was branded as neurotically sympathetic to her captor for it. But you've been through Quantico. You should already know this."

Bradford frowns down at you, and your inconvenient penchant for facts.

"Alright, smarty pants, be that way. But when the media gets a hold of you after this, you're going to want something to blame, believe me."

"How about you, you crooked son of a bitch?"

"Me? I'm going to be the agent who single handedly brought down the Nobokov Bratva, two wanted contract killers, and saved their hostage. I'll be a hero."

"What about the money you took?"

"Playing a role, all part of my master plan."

He smirks at you, letting you know that at least some of that money is not going to make it into evidence.

"Wait...isn't Dmitri Nobokov dead?"

"As a doornail. But his son is still around, and he wants blood."

You think about this a moment.

"And you're using me as bait?"

"Now you're catching on. You've got a date with Igor Nobokov tonight."

"And you're counting on...them all killing each other?"

"Something like that."

You just laugh.

"Right? I think it's funny too."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"No?"

"No. I'm laughing because my boys are going to fucking kill you all."

You find that you truly believe it, to the marrow of your bones.

Bradford just smirks. "We'll see."

You certainly would.

His phone starts ringing, and he reaches into his pocket for it. "Bradford."

"Well hello, Agent Dipshit."

"Tex. Thought you'd never call."

gif by johnswick

Just hearing his ridiculous, stupid, wonderful voice, even tinny through the phone, sends a wave of relief through you.

"Gotta say, I took you for smarter than this."

"How you figure?"

"You're an FBI hotshot with a fancy degree. I'm sure you've got a profile on me. Narcissistic psychopath, is what Uncle Sam told me. That means there aren't many things in this world I care about outside of yours truly, but you've managed to take one of 'em from me. Can't say that bodes well for you."

"I guess that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Johnson."

"Proof of life?"

"She's right here. Say hello, y/n."

Glaring at Bradford, you speak into his outstretched phone. "Tex, it's a trap!"

Bradford reaches out to smack you in the mouth, staring you down.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

For a moment there is a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"My turn. Say hello, Mrs. Bradford."

Bradford's face goes white as a sheet. "Anthony? I'm scared. Please, just do whatever they say."

"Veronica? It's going to be ok, honey, just stay calm. If you fuckers hurt her so help me God--"

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. All depends on you, son. So listen close."

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

"Who knew this AI shit could be so handy?"

John just nods, utterly stoic, closing the laptop. After feeding multiple insufferable Facebook videos about cooking and keeping house by the lovely Mrs. Bradford through a program, they were able to create a perfect facsimile of her voice, good enough to fool her husband over the phone.

Now Bradford would meet them in a location of their choosing. The advantage was theirs.

Or so they hoped.

Either way, Bradford was dead meat.

[gatitties]

Hiiii gatties hope your day is going lovely happy to see that request are open now.!!! I got this idea so I was wondering if I could please request reader(fem) x whitebeard pirates(ft red hair pirates) the reader has the mizu mizu no mi (water water no mi devil fruit) and knows all types of haki(advanced form) to add to that is a pro at fishmen karate. Mainly fignt with a morning star(it is a type of kanabo search it up if you don't know what it is) +haki and devil. In a scenario flash backs of with the whitebeard pirates before and after marineford and cut back to present time where reader finds her self with the red hair pirates(for whatever reason) and than you can write the rest however you like!

Thanks for your work! Have a amazing day!❤💗💗��💌

⚠️(you don't have to accept my request tho I understand if you don't wanna write for it)

—Whitebeard Pirates & Red Hair Pirates x reader

—Summary: Some changes happen due to the war in Marineford, you move forward and keep your loved ones present even if they are no longer there

—Warnings: none

op reader I see 🙈, really sorry for all the delay :(

You sat with your eyes closed, legs and arms crossed as you stabilized your breathing, letting all the weight of your shoulders disappear for a few moments, trying to go blank and relax, but your mind kept working and sending memories one after another.

“Come on, why don't we do a second round? Are you tired already?”

Ace looked at you from the ground, his accelerated breathing and sweaty forehead indicated the wear and tear that the training generated, you were also tired but you didn't care to break the tie in the little competition.

“No way, my stomach is killing me, otherwise I'll die”

“You're as dramatic as a bride”

You smiled, offering your hand for him to get up from the ground, he shook it and jumped up, just in time for Marco to tell you that Thatch had finished preparing the food.

Time seemed to slow down as the conversations slowly died down, just as your forehead directly hit Whitebeard's grave, you snapped out of your reverie and returned to harsh reality.

“I wish I could go back in time and change the present…”

With your mind still a little clouded by memories, you began to change the flowers that had begun to rot, replacing them with new and fresh ones to remember all those who fell at Marineford, but especially your former captain and companion.

You looked at the large cross with longing, still feeling the bitter taste of losing a loved one, with the helplessness of knowing that there is no turning back and that time will continue to move forward without them.

“Your Haki control has improved, I have nothing else I can teach you, you have already surpassed this old sea dog.”

“I don't believe you, but I'll let it go for now.”

You glanced at Whitebeard, more focused on the sunset than on his flattering words, he laughed silently, letting the peaceful atmosphere absorb you two completely after a little chat about your Haki.

Lately you hadn't felt so confident about your abilities and you sought to improve, in Karate, as well as in your skills with your devil fruit and of course, Haki. Which led you to talk to your captain to give you some advice, honestly it ended up not being much help because he tell you that you didn't need to be stronger.

“If I had been stronger surely neither you nor Ace, nor many others would have lost their lives in this stupid war.”

The past faded away again, looking beyond, in the distance you could still see the battlefield, feel the screams, the agitation, the euphoria... the memories are still vivid but little by little you forget small details, you prefer it that way if it makes you stay stuck in that time.

You hugged yourself when a cold breeze made you shrink in your spot, without realizing the sun had disappeared, so absorbed in your own mind that you didn't notice how the warmth of the sun had vanished.

You took it as a sign to return to your small boat, Shanks, your current captain had been kind enough to lend it to you, since they were near the now practically abandoned Marineford, you decided to stop by to clean the graves of your former comrades.

“I'm glad to see you're back, is everything okay?”

Benn was the first to greet you after you arrived at the main ship of the redhair pirates, you gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, did anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing special, I think Shanks was asking about you a while ago.”

You nodded at the information, finishing the knot to keep the boat by your side, you walked through the ship looking for your captain. It was pure chance that you ended up with them, but it was a unique opportunity that you shouldn’t waste even in the miserable state you were in back then.

You had always been an ambitious person, and even though Whitebeard denied that you needed to improve your skills, you always sought to apply yourself as much as possible, Shanks letting you join them only reinforced your desire to achieve impeccable handling of your powers and fighting styles.

“Ah, there you are! I thought you would never come back and that you had abandoned the crew.”

“I left for a couple of days Shanks, you’re being dramatic."

“Maybe hehe.”

“And you were looking for me to…?”

“Well, I thought you would arrive sooner, I wanted to practice karate, but it’s too late now.”

“Oh, you’re still hurt because I beat you last time.”

“Eh, of course not! I just want to polish my flaws, but now is not the time, come on, let’s go to dinner or Lucky Roux will eat everything.”

You smiled unconsciously at the little pushes your captain gave you, a fairly common feeling, Ace used to do the same thing.

Your life kept moving forward, the dead will not come back to life but neither will it make you stagnate if you keep them in mind, after all people only die if they are forgotten, and you do not plan to forget a single memory of your old comrades no matter how bitter it may be, you will live for them with your head held high.

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ SPEAK NO EViL ₎⁠₎ ~ CH. 1

[ a kylian mbappe series ]

SYNOPSiS ! it's summer break, where, yes, academic freedom ensues, but for stellar, upcoming young football stars, an unmissable opportunity springs. bondy elite summer academy prepares its youth for the professional world, and inevitably, everybody is hungry to succeed. girl or boy. life isn't kind to 18 year old kylian mbappe, and being mute seems to be a limiting factor of his progress. but once he's accepted into the football camp, he's determined to prove that his football speaks for itself. yet, in the midst of fatal determination and apathetic competitiveness, he doesn't expect to grow intrigue for [y/n], a profound player in the camp's feminine unit, whose kindness and exquisite skill awakens a visceral feeling within kylian, showing him someone else that he could love in a world filled with hate.

PAiRiNG ! mute!kylian x fem!reader | fem!reader x oc!boyfriend

A/N ! FIRST CHAP!!! bro im actually excited for this series, there's alot in store heheh. this chapter- moreover, the whole damn story lol- is mainly kylian-centric, but dw, reader has her little spotlight in this chap too, and will be more integrated into kylian's very life soon 👀 see this chapter as establishing context/introducing the characters, so it isn't necessarily long (3.3k-ish), and i am expecting to make them longer (hopefully >5k) anyways, i hope you enjoyyyy ❤

SERiES MASTERLiST ! here!

TAGLiST ! [ ask here, those in bold i couldn't tag ] @sad1esgf @ts1mp0ne @fezlvr @ippid @kyksgirl @user6373738 @kenjekwownwjn @lalunaenamoradasworld @mywhimsyjournal

“[y/n].”

it takes a while for the girl to respond, and even, she does so with a near-muted hum. the navy blue envelope stares back at her, rich in elitism, unopened. she doesn’t know why she’s hesitant to read it, she hadn’t cared much about her fate with bondy, applied for the sake of doing so, but deep inhibition craves the word ‘congratulations’ at the top of the sheet. 

“[y/n], babe, open it.”

the voice that comes from beside her, galvanises her conscience out of its reverie, and nimble fingers slowly dig into the fused flap, tearing it. slips the paper out of its casing, stares at it, but shakes her head, giving it to her boyfriend instead.

“i can’t do it- you do it-”

zion laughs, taking it from her hands as he begins to unfold it, “i thought you didn’t care.”

“well i do,” she fiddles with the rings on her fingers, “get on with it, zion.”

quietude absorbs the space as zion reads the words on paper, face neutral so as to not reflect any emotion of what he scrutinises, and it propels [y/n]’s palpitations. 

“what does it say?”

her boyfriend stays silent, and her fingers begin to vibrate anxiously, “zion, what does  it say?”

the smile that inculcates his face showers [y/n] in relief, and in the process, her first instinct is to laugh heartily.

“no way!”

“you got in, babe, you got in!” in an instant, his arms rope themselves around his girlfriend, squeezing her tightly as her giggles seem to be endless. 

“now you don’t have to worry about going alone,” [y/n] jokes as she unravels herself from her boyfriend’s embrace, pinching his cheek. he slaps her grip away, rolling his eyes before pulling her in for a cuddle, “worry? i can do just fine without you.”

his statement triggers a loud snort and a questioning glance from the girl. they both knew that him lacking her presence could result in endless amount of calls, all of which could last for hours. 

“zion. don’t lie.”

he sighs, “fine.”

they don’t talk for a few minutes, seeking solitude in the warmth of each other. the excitement that broods within the both of them is inexplicable; proceeding into a new stage, a momentous opportunity, with their lover was something that they had always wanted. and now that it was finally in fruition, they were impatient for the 5 weeks to pass. 

“imagine how powerful us as a football couple will be,” zion says.

[y/n] shuffles a bit in his arms, “indescribable, i suppose. though, people will love me more.”

zion scoffs, “don’t shit yourself, [y/n]. i’m better than you at football– and don’t lie!”

“yeah, yeah whatever,” she brushes him off, “literally hate you.”

he presses a kiss into her cheek, hard and sloppy, “love you too babe.”

+_-

“kylian.”

the boy stares, astonished, at the piece of paper in his hands, and his eyes rake over the words countlessly as if to permanently imprint them in his brain. though, he thinks that if he does it enough times, the letters would swirl into an incomprehensible smudge of black and he would wake up from this too real dream. 

his mother calls him again, and he grants her the etiquette of looking at her. 

the smile on her face is soft, fragile, like it is inches away from crumbling into a relieved sob. kylian rules the probability of that happening not entirely impossible, his mother is, afterall, renowned for being overly emotional.  

“are you happy?” she asks. he nods, reading the paper again before hurriedly pulling his mother into a tight hug. she laughs, circling her arms around her son; savours the warmth that emanates through his skin into hers. it’s scarce that kylian initiates any touch, and when he does, it is overwhelmingly grounding. 

“i’m proud of you.”

he untangles himself from his mother’s embrace, grin gleaming so brightly, and it makes her heart swell. 

“thank you,” kylian signs, “couldn’t have done it without you. or dad. or ethan.”

his blunder evokes a chuckle from his mum, and she brings him into another tight hug. kylian feels the tender tremble of her arms and jokingly rolls his eyes, “you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“why won’t i be, ky? you’re growing up-”

“not about that.”

his mum sighs, breaking the hug as she takes her son’s hand into her palms. she notices how her’s only takes up half of his and it’s gratifying, the realisation that kylian was no longer her waist’s height. 

“i will be fine maman, you don’t need to worry.” a charming smile crawls its way onto his lips. his mother tries to render it convincing, but every bad what if runs through her head in that instance, and she can’t help but grow anxious. yet she knows how much this opportunity means to kylian, which had, in the past, seemed like an unobtainable chance for a boy who loved football just as much as any other, but was just a bit too different to be deemed right. 

a period of silence passes as his mother ponders and weighs her thoughts, then kylian’s voice snaps her back. 

“maman?”

the frown that dips her lips diminishes quickly.

“sorry i… zoned out.”

kylian exhaled, “you’re overthinking again, don’t do that or i’ll find myself bound at home when i’m supposed to be meeting ronaldo.”

his mother laughs at his words, “you think you’ll meet him there? i haven’t heard of such a thing.”

the boy walks over to the sink, grabs a glass, and starts filling it with water, “it’s bondy academy,” he shrugs, “anything can happen.”

eyeing her son as he gulps down his drink, she shakes her head whimsically, leaning against the counter, “you stay focused when you’re there, okay? i don’t want you to give them a reason to not refer you.”

kylian makes a face, as if her words were pungent, “it’s just me and football there, can’t and won’t give them what they want.”

it isn’t the first time kylian had applied, but with how competitive the spots were, and after being, inevitably, incapable of undergoing an interview, he had been rejected 2 years in a row. he finds it rather bewildering how, after all these years, he is being considered to become a bondy elite, and knows that he will need to try twice- or even thrice- as hard as the rest to prove his deserved place there. 

“you know, they will do anything to throw you off, right?” his mother’s tone hardens as her face falls stoic. 

“i know,” he drags a chair, sitting on it backwards, before his shoulders rise and fall, “and i’ll prove to them that i’m stronger than i may seem.” 

he barely finishes as his mother’s phone rings. she excuses herself, picking the call, and as he hears her accent grow thick with familiarity, he rules the caller as one of her close peers. she leaves the kitchen, but no more than a second later, ethan shuffles in, legs sluggish and eyes barely open,manoeuvring around the room as if by muscle memory. kylian glances at the time and sees the clock both hands pointing at 12. 

“what time do you call this?” kylian playfully reprimands. knows that his brother takes advantage of the lenience of summer break, sleeping in until the sun was way too alive and excited to greet any late-risers. frankly speaking, the extra 3 hours he had stayed in bed for, in kylian’s eyes, could’ve snuck in a good practice session. 

“i care for my rest, kylian.” 

the older boy perks up an eyebrow, vision trailing the mass of flesh and bones of his brother, “but until 12pm?”

ethan stops his movements, turning around to glare at kylian, before the distasteful ripple of a ravenous stomach reminds him of his initial intentions in the kitchen, “if i wasn’t so hungry, i would be in for longer.”

kylian throws him a disgruntled look, rolling his eyes, “so what time then? the summer doesn’t give you the excuse of sleeping in so late. i say it every year and will continue to do so.”

ethan groans. he’s endured too much hellish education during the year to suffer through the same routine during the holidays and waking up at 12pm, which wasn’t even that serious, is the least kylian should worry about. 

“you know training went over time yesterday. i literally walked through the doors at 10pm last night!”

“as if anything would’ve changed if you came home normally, ethan,” kylian deadpans. by now, he has walked over to the fridge, reaching in to grab a drink. he feeds off of lucozade, however unhealthy it may be. 

ethan ignores him, pouring milk into a bowl. he sits down by the table, about to shove a spoonful of cereal into his mouth before he notices the letter, opened and bearing the unmistakable inscription from a football camp that he has garnered too much disdain for over the years.

he sighs, dropping the spoon, “don’t tell me you signed up for bondy and allowed yourself to be rejected… again?” he sounds as if he is all too familiar with the ordeal, face unamused, “i thought you agreed to not sign up this year…”

ethan loves his brother too dearly to put up with his crushed mood, extending over days where he refused to communicate verbally and resulted to signing, even which was lacklustre and was scarce of its normal gusto. bondy is a dream for any teenager within the precinct, and was undeniably kylian’s also, yet it were times like this, when the summer begins and he’s still met with a deflated kylian every morning (afternoon), that makes ethan come to terms with the fact that football was structured against anybody who didn’t fit their ideal, no matter how small a difference may be. 

but what he doesn’t expect to see is a smile beaming on the face of his brother, and his initial thought is no. way. 

“read it, ethan.”

he doesn’t hesitate to, snatching the paper from the table with neck-snapping velocity, and kylian watches on with an undying grin as ethan’s eyes rapidly scan the words on the page. they widen with every passing second, and the next, kylian feels winded as his brother crashes into him with a bone-slamming hug. can’t dissipate the laughter erupts out of his throat; it’s endearing, how much this means to his brother, and it’s not even him that’s going (and truthfully, he never plans to). 

“alright, alright, you can let go of me now,” kylian’s hands press into his brother’s shoulders to push him away, but is met with an even stronger force as ethan tightens the hug, replying with a muffled, “no way.”

he doesn’t fight his brother’s resistance, and rather basks in the affection for a little bit longer. it’s not always they hug like this, but when they do, it's a feeling kylian likes to revel within for as long as he can. 

he’s released from the hug, not long after, ethan looking at him with something that could equate to pride, he doesn’t know what, yet it makes him want to cry. 

“you did it, bro.” then a soft punch to the shoulder. kylian just smiles back and says, “yeah, finally.”

ethan doesn’t stop looking at him as his face glazes over with earnest, “be strong, yeah? get through those 5 weeks and come home with a referral.”

“that’s my aim,” kylian’s gaze drops, but he picks it up again. he doesn’t want to reflect any hesitation or chances of second thoughts. wants to show ethan that he's ready, upfront in whatever battle may come in due time. 

“brice will probably be there with me, you know he gets accepted every year,” kylian attempts to reassure his brother when notices his eyes flicker with worry, but ethan shakes his head. 

“and even if he isn’t there, i know you can-”

“okay, maybe not that far yet,” kylian is fast to quench ethan’s thoughts. he’s aware that life is fast paced, he’s already 18 and classified as an adult. knows that soon, he’d need to survive the world by himself, but there is an ever undercurrent of anxiety that hums through his veins anytime he would think about it. wishes that he could suck it up, but he knew he wasn’t ready. like he physically could not. 

“soon, ethan,” kylian murmurs, “soon.”

his younger brother exhales, nods, then reaches out to initiate a bump of fists. 

“proud of you.”

+_-

when brice calls, kylian is knowing of the words that he greets him with. an exchange that occurs every year, for the past 2, on the same day, as if he hasn’t been told many times and is already forecasting what is to be said. 

“got the letter from bondy again. i’m turning it down-”

“like you do every year, i know brice.”

the other side of the phone is silent. kylian hears indistinct shuffling, before, “why do you sound so… gleeful?”

“what? is it a crime to be happy?”

brice scoffs, “i’m not saying that. it’s just… you’re not normally this happy when i tell you.”

kylian, in his room, slumps into his bed, back against the mattress as he stares at the ceiling. the exhilaration in his flesh is omnipresent, “you don’t need to do that this time.”

“what?” brice’s voice lacks amplitude but is riddled with utter shock. kylian can imagine the boy, mouth agape, eyes disclosing their tinted scleras.

“i’ll be joining you this year, brice.” when they undulate into the air, the words sound so foreign to kylian. he’s waiting for the pinch to his skin that would wake him up, but it never comes. 

“i don’t believe you,” brice says, absolute, “i need to see the letter for myself, send a picture- no actually, i’m coming over.”

kylian laughs at his friend’s antics as he rolls his eyes, “yeah no. you stay where you are and i’ll send you a picture of it.” brice has the tendency to invite himself over, unannounced. conjures excuses that don’t make half sense to give him a reason why he’s doing so. kylian would never admit it, but he finds it endearing. 

“aw come on,” brice whines, “i’m just a street away. it would save you from wasting your energy, you’ll need it for summer camp, you know.”

kylian just sighs, giving in, but decides it comes with a cost, “fine, since you want to come over so bad, do so. but whilst you’re here, you might as well help me pack.”

“and i now don’t have packing to do?”

“please, brice, who are you kidding? you’ll leave it until the last minute,” kylian expresses monotonously. he hears the boy grumble over the phone, then a slam of the door follows shortly after.

“get off my phone. i’ll meet you in 2 minutes.”

kylian snickers, then slips in a “gladly,” before cutting the line. the doorbell shrills the second he does, and he thinks that brice had speed walked there. his predictions are correct as he tumbles down the stairs, opening the door to see an out-of-breath brice before him.

“you’re more eager than me.”

brice says nothing, shoving him out the way inside. the cool air that bleeds out of the air con and diffuses around the house presses comfort into his skin. he makes a cry of satisfaction, standing in front of the conditioner placed near the front door.

“i love how you’re using me for thermal advantages.”

brice closes his eyes, tilting his head as the chilled air blows in his face, “i will pretend i never heard that- matter of fact,” he suddenly opens his eyes, “where’s that damned letter?” he doesn’t wait for kylian to tell him where it is, and makes a beeline for his room. 

“it’s… upstairs…” kylian shakes his head, smiling softly, then follows his friend. 

by the time he gets there, he sees brice already studying the paper, mouth mumbling the words that he reads. a grin accumulates gradually on his lips, “i can’t believe it. after 2 tedious years,” he folds the paper into its habitual creases,”but… why now? not that i’m questioning your ability or anything, you know how good you are.”

“no, i understand where you’re coming from,” kylian exhales as he sits on the edge of his bed. brice joins him.

“i’m still wondering why they’re now accepting me, but they have, so i’m not worried about it.”

a hand comes to ruffle his hair, kylian shoves the boy off instinctively, “bro- what are you doing?”

“i’m so proud of you kylian!” 

“thank you, but hello? my hair?”

brice waves him off, standing up again as he walks toward the wardrobe, “you’ll get over it,” kylian does not. he glares at the boy before him, reaching for the table beside his bed to grab his brush, smoothing his hair down. 

“where’s this suitcase that we need to pack?”

“look up, brice.”

he does, and notices the luggage bag resting upon the wardrobe. makes a noise of surprise before turning to his friend, “so, are you going to help me or not?”

huffing, kylian aids the boy to drag the case down, flipping it open as brice digs through the pile of clothes situated in a drawer, “you don’t need that many clothes,” he tosses a few pairs of jeans to kylian, “they have washing machines there.”

kylian looks at the jeans, perplexed, “then why do i need 3 if i’m barely gonna wear them?”

brice doesn’t respond, just smiles, and continues rummaging.

“brice.”

“kylian.” he doesn’t look up and instead, excavates a couple of graphic t shirts that he hurls in his friend’s direction. the shit-eating grin that scours his face doesn’t dissipate, leaving kylian in deeper scepticism.

“stop looking at me like that, k, you’ll find out soon enough.”

kylian’s face flashes one devoid of humour, “you make it hard to forget that you’ve been to bondy before.”

“you’ll thank me for my experiences soon enough,” brice chides and kylian shakes his head, “it’s been like, what? 2 years since you last went? how can you remember anything?”

brice huffs out a laugh, “oh trust me, bondy is one hell of an experience,” throws another faded garment at kylian, who takes one look at it and chucks it back, “doesn’t fit me.”

“why is it still in here then?” brice sounded like a chastising mother, and it evokes a chuckle out of his friend.

“dunno,” kylian starts to fold, or rather roll, his clothes, situating them neatly in his suitcase, “and even so, didn’t you last go when you were a junior? elite camp is obviously different-”

“in terms of training intensity and expectation, yes,” brice educates, “but i can assure you, the same shit goes down in elite camp just as in junior– probably just a bit more… thrilling, if you will.”

“you mean dangerous, riddled with debauchery.”

brice feigns contemplation, then nods, “absolutely.”

a grimace makes its way upon kylian’s face, “don’t make me have second thoughts, i’m only there to play football and get referred.”

“and so is everyone else,” brice is helping kylian fold now, “just that teenagers like to mesh ambition and fun into a hellish, potentially fatal mix.” 

he then stops, half creased shirt in hand, and looks kylian dead in the eye, “just hope you get out of there alive.”

brice notices kylian’s muscles tense and cease, then starts laughing. kylian shoves him roughly, “i didn’t find that funny.”

it takes a while for brice to settle down again, apologising with sorries that he didn’t half mean. kylian, disgruntled, ignores the boy in front of him, shoving items upon the growing pile. 

he doesn’t know why he tolerates the guy.

[nightmarereverie]

⋆˙⟡♡✧˖°

Past usernames: Nightmareseditingpngs, and my current one, nightmarereverie.

This is a side-blog, not a main one (unfortunately), so I follow and like from @ashestoshadows, my main blog. 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

You may call me Nightmare (or Reverie)! I'm 17 years old, so if you're 18+ please don't touch my posts, especially if you have NSFW stuff! My editing tag is my old URL: #nightmareseditingpngs.

I post pngs of stuff I like, and I do requests, my queue is currently set at seven posts a day. I do not have a specific “aesthetic” I just post random stuff, including anime figures, memes, plushies, trinkets and more.

Posts that features a “♡” are faves of mine, and I might end up making tags specifically for my favourites and just in general because I tag with mainly tags everyone else uses, minus the “nightmareseditingpngs” tag. Block “#not pngs” to only see pngs and nothing random.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ♡ — More info under the cut! — ♡ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

I made this side blog to use as an archive for my PNGs and stuff. (And reaction images and sometimes even memes because I like memes.)

For clarification most of my pngs are free of use, I don't need credit, unless it's a PNG of a figure (like a hatsune miku one for example), or something I've done by hand, which I put more effort and time into. And any banners, dividers, or profile pictures I make and post here I would very much encourage credit for, as again: I made them, I feel I deserve credit if they're posted elsewhere.

A public playlist of my favourite music, if you would like to listen:

[chuuyrr]

good luck w/ school tomorrow niki !! ohmygosh 13 hours sounds so crazy but i just wanted to send you some encouragement, you got this !! ❤︎₊ ⊹ stay hydrated so you don’t get headaches throughout the day ᰔᩚ

chuuya will be waiting to pick you up outside in the evening as soon as you’re done !! and he’ll spoil you with so many kisses because of how long you were away—he missed you so much !!

REVERIE !! sorry for the late reply the 13 hour class was so hectic earlier even if was just orientation ngl (deadass had a bad tummy ache earlier because the first meal i ate was at 11:30am due to lack of breaks in between lectures smh, and commuting is not vv ideal either since i wake up around 4:45am only to arrive 6:30am for 7am, so yeah-)

so thank u sm, really !! i feel happy to be home and spoiled again by chuuya's kisses :< but most importantly, i feel even more happy to see u in my inbox as always—jumping and tackling you in hug while chuuya's looking away ⊹.(づᴗ˂⁎)˚ <3

[oblivions-dawn]

Wednesday More Like MENACE DAY

Hey, hi, hello, it is Wednesday. And I am once again choosing violence. Not tagging anyone this time for this WIP Wednesday, so if YOU see this and wish to participate, please do! ❤ Admittedly I've . . . struggled. Immensely. With the second part of this chapter. I'm incredibly frustrated with the quality of my writing and with how often I'm getting stumped or caught up on parts that I simply dislike. It has tempted me to delete everything and start again, but alas, I'm prevailing to the best of my ability. So, I'll share this little scene that I've been trying to perfect, even if it currently still feels somewhat weird or wrong or bad to me . . . . I hope you enjoy it, even with its mistakes.

Vigdis stopped in her tracks—Serana tripped over her boots and almost collided into her.

“Hey—”

The hunter spun around and snatched the vampire’s arm, forcing them both to crouch down. Serana, baffled by the sudden movement and closeness, opened her mouth again—but Vigdis lifted a single freckled finger to her thin pink lips. Serana’s breath hitched as the hunter’s earthy, sweat-tinged scent wafted to her nostrils. Her thoughts vanished instantly.

“Be quiet,” Vigdis warned lowly, her ice-blue eyes sharp beneath dipped red brows.

The vampire slowly closed her mouth and held her breath. Glowing persimmon eyes bored into icy blue as the tense silence between them lingered a moment too long. Finally, the hunter released Serana’s arm, her expression hardened in annoyance.

“And stay close.”

Serana snapped out of her reverie and scoffed. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

[krsnaradhika]

The Two Prime Consorts ❤︎

Rukmini and Satyabhama spare some time with each other in Dvaraka, post a work day.

When Suryanarayana's chariot rode below the horizon in the city of gates, the shades of saffron and dark mingling in one against the canvas of the welkin glimmered against the fair visage of the Narayani, the chief among the Ashtapatni of Keshava, who blessed the sun lord once before the lunar god arrived for his shift.

Rukmini's smile exuded the semblance of a fully bloomed water lily, bright pink and one dripping honey, much like her lotus eyes that crinkled in merry. Rolling back the dried scrolls, she interlocked her slender fingers against each other and gave a stretch, yawning with tears clinging to the corner of her eyes and a half-fatigued look eclipsing her usual Chanchala-ness.

Something swished against the shadows of Dvaravati castle's cloisters forged with finesse, quick to gain her attention. It played around on the whims of Vayu before a hand smothered it, deliberately camouflaging in the silence and semi-murk of the eventide. Krishnatmika frowned momentarily, eyebrows puckering before they rose again in glee. Grinning from ear to ear, she languidly shifted again in her seat, craning her neck to get a better look at whatever shenanigans Bhulakshmi was now upto.

"Ayi, I am not Bhanu to accompany his father in their monkey business. I am his mother, Rukku Jiji!" The unladly-like squeak that then addressed her, had Vaidarbhi doubling over as a pouting Satyabhama stepped out of the shadows; her hands on her hips with a look of betrayal and disbelief on her countenance.

"Very well, it's you after Kanha I see." She snorted, adding fuel to the mirth of her elder co-wife whose shoulders trembled by the laughter she tried subduing but to no avail.

"Aww, darling little Bhame, please have a seat. How may I assist you, my queen?" Rukmini pursed her lips, pushing back her amusement as Satyabhama rolled her eyes once more, shaking her head fondly; headstrong on maintaining the pseudo act of being offended but failed eventually. The latter moved around in unrushed steps, stationing more oil lamps in the corners of the council hall that contained no one but them for then, murmuring a hymn to the goddess of time.

"Samba was asking for his Jyeshtha Maa. Jamba Jiji told him she's got a more darling child," Satyabhama giggled while spinning on her heels, as a horrified Rukmini felt bad for snickering again. "He's been ceaselessly wailing like a typical child since, and needless to say, Yamuna's enjoying it. She even teased him for his other favourite Maa's too busy with Satyaa's little one." She mimicked the lisp of the Krishnaputra in the end, an exasperating amusement in her demeanour as Rukmini for the perhaps the first time in her life, was at a loss of words.

"Leave you, it's Kalindi who has unofficially vowed to not let me live in peace for once."

"No no, that designation is mine. I'll fight Yama to have his twin in place you see."

A short snug silence filled their space, an ecstasy in their hearts as was their nature. Satyabhama returned to Rukmini with a dramatic look of conflict in her eyes and a bowl of heated oil in her hand.

Bhudevi seated herself on a couch placed at a corner, before enthroning Rukmini's head on her lap, letting the latter's tresses loose to sprawl around like tendrils of forest vegetation, jasmine flowers caged in them at irregular intervals. The vermillion smeared forehead of the princess of Shrikshetra gave the image of the sun itself, eyes like stars curtained with a thin stretch of coral tinctured flesh. She was as precious to Madhava as the moon was to the poets, her bracing aura eternally enrapturing the patron of sustenance.

Prathama Dvarakeshvari studied the half-glare thrown her way before blinking, hauling her soul sister from the reverie of admiration she retained for her, "What are you looking at, Bhame?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do I love you for not pulling your ears for being late, big sister?" Varahi shook her head from side to side, experiencing irk and affection at once.

Krishnatmika flushed sheepishly before cheekily smiling as a pair of fingers slid in her scalp, the empyrean aroma of camphor infused almond oil wafting in the air around and having her almost melt like butter, "10 on 10, Vasundhare. You'll punish me, your beloved Shri? Will you not think of my darling ears?"

Satyabhama continued with her work, her doting eyes softening further as she felt Rukmini gradually flop, exhaling a sigh of relief and burying her face in the former's lap, "I shall have you locked away from the council for a week, do not forget that Mata Kokila's ferral cat is here to endorse and assist my shenanigans too."

'This scion of the flames is beholden to your majesty for thy exquisite choice of words recounting my magnificence, Shri Shri Dvaraka Maharani. It's a shame I am not as competent as you in terms of analogies and vocabulary. Grant this servant with leniency, good lady.’ A mordant smile flashed from the other end of the mind bond as Satyabhama bowed in her sitting position, putting a hand on her chest in comic gratitude.

'You're welcome and pardoned, peasant.'

Rukmini smiled again, thoroughly relishing the repartee as the other Bharyas too joined in from different parts of the castle itself, each with more audacious, either too advanced or lame humoured responses to the other's teasing.

What would she do without these brats?

[aureatchi]

REV DROP THE FEDYA N U LORE RNNNNNN

i hope your bed is extra comfy tonight & you get the best rest eva bcz you decided to let me ramble about us ₊˚⊹ ᰔ !!

our timeline? we got acquainted in europe under some foreign secret organization tht isn’t relevant, except the fact tht it sealed our fate. i always knew he had grandiose aspirations, and he of course saw through tht i was a girl of reveries. we were both big thinkers, reflected in our shared interest in philosophy, future-oriented mindsets, etc. however, even so, he had a goal which didn’t match up w/ my morals…(yes this is him being the super evil bad >:( guy) so one day, he disappeared. left the organization (he was only using it anyway, per usual) & i never saw him again until i was in yokohama’s PM and he decided to find me himself. we came…a long way !! (aka slowburn enemies to lovers)

maybe he still is the super evil bad guy, but he has a soft side too. fedya dances with me in halls only lit by candles if we’re both still up past midnight. his love language is def words of affirmation, but he’s also still annoying so he writes everything in russian, making me solve even more puzzles to read his words. (very worth it though ‪‪❤︎‬). and of course…he loves to sketch me, esp when he catches me doing anything i’m passionate about. :)