#(Also this is still me; I just moved all my muses across to my main blog instead ^^)

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[thetriumphantpanda]

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

For our favorite boy Javier Peña 🧎‍♀️

Thank you anon, and shoutout to the other anon in my inbox who asked for the exact same prompt for Javier Peña - I am only too happy to oblige.

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings | light fingering, dirty talk and mentions of sex acts but nothing too explicit.

Word Count | 465

This is part of my 500 followers celebration. If you want to request a 500 word Drabble, check out this post and head into my ask box. The more the merrier.

Main Masterlist

Birds are chirping outside the window and there’s a light breeze that’s fluttering the curtains open as you wake up that morning. You languidly stretch out your body as your eyes open to the warm light of the morning. Your back is aching and there’s a delicious soreness between your legs as you roll over and curl into Javier’s side. He’s still fast asleep, led on his back with one arm resting on his lower belly, the other wrapped around your shoulders as you burrow yourself closer into his side. 

You like looking at him like this. In the morning before the day has a chance to remind him of his past life, of Colombia. His features are soft, his hair mused through sleep, and he looks peaceful. He’s also quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

You lift your head and press an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t stir, so you continue moving across his shoulder, moving as softly as you can so you don’t wake him, until you’re towering above him for a change, kisses placed all over his exposed chest, until you’re dragging them down lower and lower, if he can just stay asleep for a few moments more, you can wake him up in just his favourite way, with your lips wrapped around his cock. 

“You’re still horny?” Comes his deep voice from above you, you stop your ministrations and look up at him through your eyelashes from your place by his hips, “Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” 

You stop for a moment, trying to decide how you want to play this, before deciding it’s the kind of morning where you want to bait him a little, “No, as a matter of fact, you didn’t.” 

You wink at him before sinking your teeth into the meat of his thigh, sucking to leave your mark as you always do. Out of sight from everyone else, but there for him to know you’ve marked him as yours. He lets you continue your ministrations for a little while longer, before you’re suddenly flipped onto your back with him settled between your thighs, his hard cock nudging at your already seeping pussy, as he trails hot, wet kisses over your collarbone and up to your ear. 

“You going to let me make up for disappointing you last night?” He teases with his breath in your ear, his hand sliding down to sink two fingers into your wet heat, it causes a moan and a slight grimace of pain, but in no time at all you’re grinding yourself down on his fingers and begging him to use his other hand to give attention to your clit. 

“I fucked you plenty hard enough last night, you’re just greedy.” 

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part three)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, guns, violence, kidnapping, mention of death, head injuries, choking, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, alcohol, bounty hunters, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: part three. this section is a little shorter but next weeks part is the longest in the whole series :) let me know your thoughts. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen, Mister.”

You held your gun steady as the man took slow, deliberate steps towards you, tsking with a shake of his head. Rocks and flecks of sand crunched beneath his leather boots, spurs jingling softly with each step. As he grew closer, you drew your rifle higher and closer, aiming at the point between his eyes. 

These were the group of men from Crimson Junction—the ones who were always followed by a cloud of smoke. The ones Barnes had been wary of. The ones he had warned you of. 

Bounty hunters. 

“I acknowledge that you’ve done well, Miss…?” He trailed off in question, his hands motioning outward on either side of his hips. You could see the glint of metal attached to his belt. 

“Nellie. Nellie Chase” You lied curtly, raising your chin. 

“Miss Chase… well. Like I said, I acknowledge that you’ve done well, but… I’ve been trackin’ this man for weeks now, and all that effort can’t go to waste now. I’m sure you understand.” The man provided you with a beaming smile as he spoke, his yellow-stained teeth glinting in the light. One of his companions to his side loudly chewed his tobacco with a cruel smirk, the other crudely hacking and spitting onto the ground in front of you. 

You narrow your eyes at their group. Your heart was in your throat, but nevertheless, you persisted. “You don’t think I’ve also been trackin’ him for weeks? I got here first; you’ll just have to move on, friends.”

The man chuckles, shaking his head. “Listen. This is how I see it. You ain’t gonna be able to bring in this vermin by yerself… I mean, look at’chu.”

“I think you would be singin’ a different song if I were a man.” You counter, cocking your head to the side. The men bark out a laugh at your words, one going as far to clutch his stomach as if winded. 

“Oh, Miss! This is not’uh case of your sex! I am speakin’ facts, this man here, this outlaw…” He gestures at Bucky, who remains on his stomach with a scowl etched across his face. “Why he is what, twice yer size, triple? How is a little thang like’chu gonna march him all the way to a jailhouse?”

You were beginning to think this bounty hunter was rather too fond of the sound of his own voice. 

“Yah look like a bright young thang, yah must know where I’m comin’ from… a good place—a, uh… place of concern. Wouldn’t want a pretty young thang like yerself gettin’ hurt by a brute like him, now would we?” 

You exhale sharply through your nose, your posture still poised and stiff as you keep your distance. “Well, I might say I am thankful for your concern, but I fear it’s misplaced. I do not need assistance; what I need is for you and your men to get out of my way.”

“Ah. Stubborn. I suppose you couldn’t get far in this nasty bounty business without having some guts.” He pauses, as if musing. “Say, I will make you an offer, Miss.”

You paused at that. Did these men truly think you were like them? A bounty hunter? In your silks and lace, neatly swept-up hair, and adorned with jewels? Maybe they thought you were deep under-cover to disarm him with your wit and charms. But you weren’t playing a character, despite the small lies about your name and background. This is who you were raised to be. 

In that moment, you decided it might be best to keep up your cool and collected charade. God forbid, these men thought you were anything different. Any woman knew the risk of being vulnerable around men who claimed to be gentlemanly—that instinct reached further than just the west. It rang true in any city or country. 

“I hope that offer is you leavin’, or I will be forced to shoot.” You threaten.

“Now, now. I was going to offer you a cut of his bounty, right here and now. All you have to do is hand him over… consider it a formality for findin’ him first.”

Mind racing, you consider your words carefully and play along. “How much of a cut?”

“Hmm… say, what, ten percent?” The man offers.

You shake your head, continuing to play along until you can come up with something better. “Ten? I put in as much hard work as you trackin’ him.”

“I admit, trackin’ is hard work, but we both know that once you’ve caught them, keeping them caught is harder. Don’t be a fool, take the cut so this don’t get messy, darlin’.”

The man chuckled, though you knew his patience was growing thin. His men looked at you with features akin to a snarl. You doubted you could shoot them all in enough time without taking a bullet yourself—nor could you run away with Barnes in tow without a fight. You chest twinged in response to these thoughts. A few weeks in the desert, and you were already contemplating murder. 

These people had corrupted you. 

Due to your focus being solely on one another, none of you noticed as Barnes raised himself from his belly and sprinted deeper into the canyons. 

There was a momentary lull, a calm before the storm, the men’s mouths agape in shock. You all watched, locked in place, as the outlaw zig-zagged between rocks and vanished behind a sharp clifface. You had to suppress a laugh at the obscenity of it—three bounty hunters so busy bickering with you that the bounty had slipped away.

“After him, you fuckin’ fools!” The leader growled at his men, who hurriedly turned on their heels and chased after Barnes. “And don’t shoot him! We need him alive!” 

As the man faced you once more, you could see that any gentlemanliness or amusement had been washed away. A fierce rage marked his features, creases deep in his forehead as he scowled at you. His eyes narrowed as he took you in, still poised with your rifle. 

“As for you, you had your chance.”

He moved towards you swiftly, making wide strides, shortening the distance between you in mere seconds. Caught off guard, you fumbled with your rifle. You hadn’t quite been given the time to process the inevitability of shooting a man. You were not a killer. You were raised to defend yourself, yes, but a murderer you were not. The brief pause you took to mourn your innocence was futile because, as you committed to a life with your hands bloodstained, you found you were already too late. The man grasped the barrel with his large palm, twisting it from your grip with a grunt. The two of you wrestled before you realised he was easily overpowering you. 

Releasing the rifle, you turned to retreat in the direction of your mare, who stood patiently waiting. The man pursued you with unwavering persistence, grasping your arm as he tugged you backwards. Instinctively, you yanked your arm back vigorously, so hard that you feared you had ripped it from its socket. Muscles and tendons ached at the sudden force, the momentum sending you stumbling over your own feet. Falling to your knees, the earth bites painfully into your bones, sending a shock wave strong enough to clatter your teeth. 

Mouth agape, you look up at your attacker, unarmed and defenceless. He raises the rifle in one solid swing, bringing the butt down against your temple. You register a deafening crack, followed by an overwhelming pain that hurtles down your skull and spine. Your head jolts as the world turns sideways. You don’t feel yourself falling. Everything goes black. 

—

The first thing you noticed was the scent of smoke.

You clung to it—the earthy, smouldering taste that overpowered your senses. You were half caught in a dream, half caught in reality. You were aware of the voices that circled you, the crackle of fire, and the howling of the wind through the canyons. A blissful ignorance engulfed your being, accepting the darkness as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Only as the struggle to open your eyes became alarming, an up-tick of your heart did you truly begin to question everything. You didn’t recall lighting a fire or falling asleep. There was a drilling pain that radiated across your skull, and the skin around your temple and cheek was itchy and tight. 

The crackle of the logs burning was muffled, and the distant sound of talking and laughter finally startled you from your sluggish state. You didn’t recall lighting a fire or falling asleep. You did not recall having company either. Bleary-eyed you blinked. The sky was dark, with a few stars glittering overhead. The warm glow of the fire illuminated a set of tents, and three men huddled around, drinks in hand. 

Your head lulled, pain radiating down your shoulders and spine as you dared to take in more of your environment. Your vision was sideways, curved, and hard to interpret. Shapes and static swam across your view. Your brows drew together, a frown across your face as you stared at a man sat tied to a post only a few paces away. You squinted at him, trying to focus. He stared back at you blankly. Barnes.

You knew him. The outlaw fleeing west. How many times had you looked across at a bounty board and seen his likeness? You held onto his name, repeating the syllable over and over in your mind. You could remember the metal of your gun in your hands, the heat of the sun… then that searing, cracking pain that arced across your skull. The events mere hours earlier clicked into place

The fogginess cleared, replaced by the biting chill of the evening wind. The cool air was sobering, as if your entire body had been dipped into a cold bath. The ache in your skull grew, and you winced, dried blood cracking as your skin pinched. 

You went to move, only to find your hands tied tightly at the wrist, the layers of rope intricately wound over your skin. With a small groan, you rolled yourself onto your back, trying to find a point where the world didn’t spin so vigorously as to assess your rapidly concerning situation. 

“Yer awake. Damn, sweetheart, thought I’d near killed ya. You were out fer so long.” The sneering voice of the bounty hunter spoke from over your shoulder, the scent of whiskey strong on his breath. 

With slow, deliberate steps, he walked around you. You kept your mouth shut as he crouched down in front of you with a sigh. His dirty hand reached out, pushing a fallen strand of hair from your face. You swallowed hard, keeping his gaze. His hands grazed over the dried blood across your cheek and temple, and he chuckled as you flinched away. 

“I did think about leavin’ ya, after all the trouble ya caused us. Nearly lettin’ Barnes over there escape because you was too busy yappin’. But I am a gentleman. Couldn’t leave a pretty lady like yerself injured and defenceless in the desert… where anyone could find you.” He leant over you as he spoke, his head tilting as he inspected your head wound. You grit your teeth, your gaze fixed on the stars in the far distance. 

“Figured you’d be less trouble like this. Couldn’t have ya followin’ after us when you woke up and tryna steal Barnes from under our nose, now could we?” The man takes a long swig from a metal flask. 

He stands once more, and you expect him to leave you in your misery. Instead, much to your horror, he grips your shoulder as he tugs you into a sitting position. A small gasp leaves you as you are jolted upright, your neck and head stinging, and the world swirls around you. 

Your captor laughs at you before offering the metal flask to you with a sneer. 

It takes a few seconds for your vision to stabilise. Your eyes focus on his gesture; hesitantly leaning forward, you opt to accept the small kindness. Maybe the whiskey would help with the headache beginning to pound behind your eyes. The man chuckles, tipping the liquid into your mouth. You swallow it down with a slight wince. It burns your throat. 

“Good girl.” He mutters, patting your thigh through your ruined skirts. The whiskey turns sour in your chest, and a nauseating feeling of repulsion rises at his words. You grimace as the man leans towards you once more, towering over you with an ugly sneer. His hand grips your chin, forcing your face upward as his breath fans across your face. You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sure havin’ a pretty lady like yourself around will lift morale, huh?”

The burning nausea rises from your chest into your esophagus, your heart pounding in your ears as you feel him grow closer and closer until his face is inches away from yours. You contemplate squirming, maybe even lashing out, but you are frozen in horror. The sickening sensation rises higher and higher in your throat, dread settling comfortably across your bones. By some miracle, he pulls away. The chill of the night fills the space where he once stood. 

You peek through your lashes, watching as he looks at you over his shoulder, illuminated by the firelight. "Oh, and you better not run, sweet girl. ‘Cause next time I won’t hesitate puttin’ a bullet in that pretty skull of yers.” 

You look away, your eyes searching for some type of escape. Despite your desperation, all your stare manages to find is Barnes, who had front row seats to all that had happened. You meet his gaze and find that his usual stoic nature is replaced with a look of rage.

You did not know if that fury was directed at yourself or your captors, but you did not dare to speculate, let alone ask. 

—

You desperately wished to be rid of the dress you wore. Your outfit had worked well for keeping away the chill of the night, but now the layers of fabric were suffocating in the desert sun. You longed for some looser or even a wide-brimmed hat. You only had a handkerchief to keep the sun off your neck. Your face and head were exposed to the beating rays, and your skull felt as if warm soup sloshed around inside. Your hair was half-loose and matted with dust and blood; the once elaborate style and pins were lost in the mess.

You could not imagine you were pleasant to look at, but it did not seem to change your captors attitudes. 

You sat squeezed atop an unfamiliar horse. Your hands were bound, looped over the horn of the saddle. One of your captors, the leader who you had come to know as Pierce, sat behind you, his arms looped around your waist, one hand squeezing your thigh. 

They did not allow you to ride alone, out of fear that you would somehow manage to bolt. Instead, you were subjected to hours of cramped riding, with the stench of whiskey, gunpowder, and sweat overwhelming your senses. The man claimed to be a gentleman, but you could not notice how his hands often wordlessly wandered across your body—your thighs, waist, and chest. It was as if he were creating a map, a perfect image of what he believed lay beneath the fabric. 

For hours, you envisioned all the ways you could kill him. You hoped he would choke on the whiskey he so cherished or fall from his horse and crack his head open from the fall. You hoped his friends would turn on him and put a bullet into his gut. Then you would question those violent thoughts, were you growing corrupted by these men, as you had feared? Or was it the sun and misery aiding the frustration and rage that bubbled beneath? Sometimes you hoped Barnes might escape and somehow kill the men who tormented you both, just so you could avoid the consequences. 

You could not imagine why your thoughts drifted to him so often. Maybe it was his long stares and his quiet observance of everything unfolding. You imagined that if he did somehow escape, he would not offer you much pity. 

Even if you were treated without much respect, Barnes’ predicament was far worse than your own. His hands were bound behind his back, and a noose was around his neck. He walked on foot behind the horses, sometimes tugged along by the captors if he lingered too far behind. Once he had tripped, he was dragged across the ground, rocks cutting into his skin, until he found his footing once more. You had only been able to watch on in horror, stuck in the saddle as he struggled, breath choked by the noose. 

And for the first time, you felt a small piece of sympathy for the outlaw. 

Maybe a quick death for him out in the desert would be a mercy.

PART FOUR

[nerdieforpedro]

III - Back

Only Parts of you Mr. Morales

Frankie Morales x Belinda (plus size OFC)

Word Count: 734

Summary: Even Belinda's ex-fiance is aware of how broad Frankie Morales' back is.

Warnings: Confrontation, Infidelity mention, one threat, spoons, angst and a dash of possessiveness.

Notes: Frankie's back holds a lot of things. I would also like to whichever spoon he'd like. That is all. Special thanks to @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for helping me find a better picture of Frankie’s back. 😊

Main Masterlist/ Frankie "Catfish" Morales Masterlist/ Only Parts of You Mr. Morales Series

Frankie’s finishing up his final reports from his flights for today. He’s six months out from having his full license back. He just needs to continue to focus. He’s told by the secretary that a man is here to see him. Fish is expecting Pope, Will or Benny. 

Not him. He never expected to see him again.

Belinda’s ex-fiance is here at his job. She left him two months ago. Why would he come here?

“Are you proud of yourself Frankie? Fish? Whichever you go by.” He’s a whisp of a man, slender. Frankie didn’t get what Belinda saw in him other than he treated her well. Maybe that’s all she wanted. But if it was, why would she have agreed that night?

The slight man isn’t sure why he came here. He’d spoken to Belinda, always felt like he didn’t have all of her. It was the last few months when he finally noticed it, where her gaze always fell. 

Morales’ back.

He was broader than him, even if he hadn’t been some ex-military super secret whatever, he’d likely still be more solid than him. Whenever there was a gathering, he’d watch as Belinda would greet him one of two ways: a hug chest to chest with her hands massaging his shoulder blades or from behind, she’d either run her hands from his sides up across his back toward his shoulders, her thumbs pressing into the back of his neck. He’d asked Belinda why she touches Frankie like that, so intimate almost sensually in front of everyone. She told him that it’s what she’s accustomed to doing and that he’s never said anything about it before.

“I’m proud that I’m here doing my job. Which you’ve shown up at. Say your piece then leave.” Frankie hadn’t turned to look at the man who was trying to confront him. Leaving his back facing him. Most would consider that leaving himself open, but Fish knew that the lanky man was too timid to do anything. 

“Have you two always been sleeping together? Or did it only start when you started calling her biscotti?” 

Frankie laughed, finally turning around to face him. He kept his face neutral, though there was a flash of anger at both his implication and the butchering of his nickname for her. He didn’t deserve to know what it actually is.

“She stayed faithful to you. She’s an honest and good woman. The nickname is completely wrong though you don’t need to know what it actually is. It isn’t for you.” Two lies and a truth. Something Frankie was fine putting on his shoulders, this punk didn’t need to know the truth. “If that’s all you have, then leave. I’m not going to tell you again, if I need to stand up, it’s on you pendejo (asshole).”

The ex-fiance held his hands up and moved back, “You both deserve each other.” With that he left. Frankie watched him leave and shook his head. He debated if he should text Belinda or not but decided instead to bring her dinner that night. 

She greeted him with one of her hugs that Frankie held her in. Her hands roamed his back, nails pressing into the fabric of his shirt. Always so warm and inviting, never turning him away even when she tells him not to come back. They just slept in after dinner, both Frankie and Belinda were tired from the respective days. Fish was the little spoon tonight, his bizcochito’s (little cake) plushness wrapping around him, might keep him from his memories of the jungle and memories of his service. 

“It’s bizcochito and not biscotti. Dumbass.” Frankie muttered, Belinda chuckled.

“What are you talking about Frankie? You’re the only one who calls me that.”

“It’s nothing cariño (sweetheart). Buenos noches (good night).” He lifts her hand from the soft swell of his stomach and kisses it.

“Alright. Try and sleep mi osito (my bear).” He hears the fatigue in her voice and smiles, she understands more Spanish than she speaks but it’s always nice to hear her say the words from time to time. They heat his spine before fading away.

Belinda plans to not let him slip out of her life. She doesn’t care how Frankie stays in, even though it doesn’t appear to be good for either of them as things stand now. 

Who wants that when it isn’t Francisco Morales?

Lips and Tongue Nose, Hair, Hat

Frankie's choice of spoons 🥄: @yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @guelyury @magpiepillsjunior @legendary-pink-dot @bitchwitch1981 @katw474 @rosecentury @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @schnarfer @rav3n-pascal22 @bishtrouille @alltheotps @pedroshotwifey @inept-the-magnificent

[despairforme]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

[ Oh man this post got long (and surprisingly serious) fjfjfjffjjf I wrote this 2 days ahead of time because I was so excited about it ahahaha --- I'm wishing you all a wonderful 2024!!!!!

2023 was a year of surprising development for me. I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if I'm simply moving into a different mindset. I loved this year! It was awesome, and I'm so happy to see that I've written MORE for Nnoitra this year than I did in 2022 ( even though my overall word-count went down from 290 000 to 280 000 ). I can't say I completed many of my goals ( or any of them LOL ). I had lots of goals for 2023, but I was unable to complete them. The past few months, especially, have brought forth big changes in my creative flow and focus.

I've realized that I need to change my priorities, to better fit my new mindset.

Roleplaying is no longer going to be my main focus. In the past, whenever I've wanted to write, I've always focused on finishing drafts, asks ect. I've mostly written on here, since that's what I prefer. Or, rather - what I used to prefer. This is not to say I don't have muse for Nnoitra, because I always feel inspired for him. What's changed are my priorities. I've come to the conclusion that what's important to me is creating stories. Since Nnoitra's story ( main verse ) has become so stagnant, it feels less important to me. I know I can drive the story on, push it forward and thus find it important once more, but - I don't want to do that. I want to create my own, original stories instead. Becoming a professional writer has always been my dream, and that's simply not possible to do when I'm prioritizing rping. Roleplaying is going to have to take the backseat.

--- That being said, I'm absolutely not quitting! I can't imagine myself not writing for Nnoitra, so I'll be writing on here like before, and I'll even try to be more consistent. An enemy of mine in 2023 has been procrastination. One of my goals for 2024 is to conquer this, so that I can be more efficient with my time. I think that by dedicating less time to roleplay, I'll be more efficient when I do sit down and write for my muses. My activity the past few months have been spotty, so I'd love to get into a better flow.

2024 GOALS:

FOCUS ON PERSONAL PROJECTS. I have a lot of them. Two (three?) book projects, two long OC-centered fanfictions.

WRITE FANDOM PROJECTS. I have a lot of ideas for fanfictions, and I want to make the time to write them. Some are long, some are short. Getting feedback on my stories has always been a great feeling, and fanfiction is the best way to get that serotonin.

CHANGE MY WRITING HABITS. My habits are bad. They lead to a ton of procrastination and wasted time. I want to be more structured when it comes to my writing time (and my time in general, but especially my writing time). I want to stick to schedules, word-count goals, page goals ect. Conquering procrastination is going to be key.

CONSISTENT RP POSTING. Even though I won't be focusing on roleplaying, I still intend to do it regularly and get replies and asks out in a more timely manner. I'll probably set off some time in the evening to get replies done, and have some fun on the dash when others are online. I'll try to be consistent across my blogs, not just on Nnoitra.

CREATE THINGS THAT ARE PHYSICAL. I've come to realize that I love things that translate to the real world. Not just words on a screen, or a digital artwork, but things that you can touch. It's why I've absolutely fallen in love with watercolor painting. I'm going to try to print some of my writing work so that I have physical copies. I'm also going to print my art so that I can hold it in real life.

FIND A SHIP FOR NNOITRA. It's been so long since I wrote a ship for him, and I need it back in my life. I've been looking for a ship for him the whole time, but I need to put more effort in, and let him interact with more characters, as well as continue to develop the relationships he does have ( in case one of them turns romantic? ). I'd love for 2024 to be the year Nnoitra falls in love again.

I am SUPER excited for 2024! I love new years and fresh starts, and I feel so incredibly inspired by the changes in my mindset. I feel like I've been stuck for a good while with rping. Don't get me wrong, I've loved every second of it, and I've learnt so much about writing - and met the most amazing people. It's just that it's time for a change. Time for me to create other kinds of stories. I thought that things were aligned for me to write books last year, but I really didn't have the right mindset - but now I do! I'm hyped!! Hope you're ALL going to have the most amazing 2024 guys!! ]

[vega-creates-things]

Muse (Part 4)

ROTTMNT Leo x GN/Rabbit Yokai!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Embarrassment, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis: You've been visiting Run Of The Mill Pizza maybe a little too often just to see the blue clad turtle of your affections and draw him. You're pretty sure he hasn't noticed you at all, bad news for you, he has and he is far too curious about why you watch him.

A/N: Hey all, just letting you know I am so sorry It has been a while since I wrote anything for this fic. I’ve just been super busy and stressed from job hunting,  so I haven’t had the time and also just…. I haven’t been in the mindset to do anything but drink coffee and stay up way later than I should doing nothing but staring at a ceiling lol- but I digress. This is a repost from my old side blog since I wanted to make a main blog for this stuff. This is maybe going to be the second last chapter (that’s up for debate lmao). Now that all that is out of the way, shall we?

♡♡♡

Fidgeting nervously as you stop walking for what feels like the first time in hours, you pull your phone from your jacket pocket and click it on, going back and checking your last few messages with Leo.

Cobalt Blue: Hey, just a reminder, meet me at the brick store

Cobalt Blue: Shit, sorry, had voice to text on 🙄

You: THE BRICK STORE.

Cobalt Blue: Is that even a thing?

You: Does Home Hardware count?

Cobalt Blue: Donnie says no. I say yes.

You: Gotcha… Where am I meeting you then, if not the BRICK STORE.

Cobalt Blue: Central Park, the popcorn cart.

You: There’s a popcorn cart called Central Park? 🤔

You: I jest. I’ll meet you there.

Cobalt Blue: Awesome! 4:00?

You: Four o’clock.

Cobalt Blue: See you then!!!

Tucking your phone back away after you reconfirm the location you were meeting each other, you look around the area you’re in, wondering if you were close to the popcorn cart at all, giving the air a subtle sniff to see if you could even smell it, thankfully, due to your improved sense of smell, you catch the faintest hint of butter and fresh popcorn, swiftly heading in the direction it had come from.

Once you’re on the path, it doesn’t take too long to get there, and, as luck would have it, you got there before Leo did- or at least that was what you thought before you heard him offer a bemused chuckle to your right. Startled, you look over to the opposite side of the cart and blink in surprise at the turtle who is dressed in distressed black jeans with matching black undershirt that is form fitted to his torso and then to top it all off a fur lined brown leather jacket and a beanie. He looked… amazing. You could feel your fingers twitch with the desire to draw. You resist the urge to pull your sketchbook out of your messenger bag.

Leo beams at you and makes quick work of crossing over to where you were stood, dumbfounded. “What a pleasure it is for you to join me.” He offers teasingly, lightly nudging you with his elbow as a cocksure grin spreads across his face. “And only— twenty minutes late.” He tutted, completely pulling that number out of thin air, and yet you still nearly check your phone- the action causing his expression to become even more smug.

Instinctively, you punch him gently in the arm, rolling your eyes before offering him a faint smile. “It’s ten to four,  you ass.” You chuckle. “I’m punctual.” You insist. “And you’re a lot earlier than I thought you would be— I didn’t strike you for showing up early to things-“ You muse, noting how he had started walking already so you quickly catch up with him, intrigue painting your features since all you knew about this evening was that you were to meet here.

“I’m early when it’s important to me…” He offers nonchalantly, refusing to meet your eyes, even when you stop moving again, he simply stops and waits for you to catch up. When you do, he already has his bravado back up and that stupid smug grin again. “So, I was thinking, maybe we walk around here a bit, then go to the art exhibit? I hear they’re staying open later than usual today?” 

“Leo-“ you begin, stuck on him calling this important to himself. You furrow your brow, lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder. To get him to at least look at you. You hardly register that he is still listing off different things the two of you could be doing today. “Leo.” You try again, noting how he seems to only scramble for more things to list off.

“We could go try out the coffee at the new cafe that just opened up? Go to the art store? I’ll get you any one item you waaaant? Something in the hidden city- we could watch the Battle nexus? You know I won that with my dad once- we were up against Kraken Tom and the Evil Six. No? Yeah, I knew that wasn’t your thing… We could-“

This time you cut him off by walking in front of him, having had to do a quick jog to do so, and then you gently grasp him by his shoulders, forcing him to stay in place. He still refuses to look at you, his eyes locked on the ground between you both. Hesitating, you step a little closer, shifting your weight onto your toes so you can stand a little taller, nudging his face up with your hand so you can look at him. For the first time you see a nervous edge to him and even despite his efforts to keep his eyes from meeting yours, it’s inevitable. You swallow thickly, taking in a sharp breath. “What has gotten into you, Leo?” You inquire, tilting your head again. “I’ve never seen you get like this before- you’re usually “mister cool”.“ You try to explain, wondering just why it seemed like him calling this whole meet up “important” to him, seemed to be the catalyst for his suddenly jumpy behaviour.

Instead of explaining, he offers a weak chuckle. “Answer hazy, try back again later?” He offers the magic eight ball quote casually. The moment Leo sees you frown, he sighs. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you lightly brush your thumb along his cheek pausing when you see him lean into the action. You stop the simple motion and let him press his cheek firmly into your soft hand. “What did you mean when you said this was important to you? And why all of the jumpy behaviour?” You ask, noting that since you’ve stopped in the middle of the pathway there are people giving you annoyed looks. Taking that into account, you do your best to guide Leo with you onto the grass, trying not to break contact with him.

“I dunno.” He shrugs, trying instantly to force a smile. You respond with a serious expression and he instantly lets the expression drop as he pulls back and crosses his arms, taking a step away to try and centre himself for the conversation. It takes a moment, but soon he is facing you again. “Look, I just… really enjoy being around you- I can’t help it if I got excited and jumped the gun on showing up.” He offers, and, well, it wasn’t exactly the response you expected, nor did it entirely make sense, but it was close enough for now. “Aaaaand, I’m not being “jumpy” that’s your job. You’re the rabbit, here.” He sticks his tongue out.

Offering a light chuckle, you sigh. Clearly, you won’t be getting the real answer right now, but, to be fair you still had never answered his question about your sketchbook, though in the time you had gotten to know him, you were painfully aware of how observant he was, so the idea that he somehow DIDN’T know, and was just waiting for you to be open about it was almost hard to believe now. You still let yourself believe it though. “I’ll let it slide this time.” You muse, gently nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder in a lighthearted fashion. “Now, you said something about buying me “any one item” from the art store?” You reminded, smirking at the way his expression went from relief at you dropping the topic to instant surprise.

Chuckling timidly and rubbing the back of his neck, Leo gives you a crooked grin and murmurs, “IIIIIII didn’t think you were paying attention-“ blowing out a small breath of air, he shakes his head. “Art store it is?” He inquires, watching you with a gentle fondness as you carefully adjust how your ears are sitting under your own beanie- carefully drawn back to almost mimic medium length hair.

You link arms with him, allowing yourself to be cheerful about the evening ahead of you again, you hum in reply, having gotten your ears situated to your liking. “I think they actually closed a few minutes ago- if I’m remembering correctly. You can buy me a coffee though? You said a new cafe opened?” You muse, knowing full well the store hadn’t closed, but you would honestly rather sit with him drinking coffee over anything else right now. Just getting to sit and talk together would be nice.

Leo nods, already guiding you back onto the pathway to walk with him. “I can definitely do that, it’s not too far away actually-“

“Almost like you planned it.” You tease, casting him a playful look. “Or like you knew how much I love coffee and would never say no to getting some.” You add sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.

Laughing whole heartedly, Leo gently squeezes the arm you have locked with his and shakes his head. “Maybe the last option, I don’t normally plan things too far ahead- that’s Donnie’s whole shtik.” He muses, splaying his fingers out and wiggling them slightly to emphasize his words.  The moment you start giggling, he can’t help but lean towards you, using his free hand to gently squeeze the shoulder not pressed against his plastron as he chuckles along with you. He releases you pretty quickly, but it isn’t sudden, it’s more that he was satisfied with the length of the makeshift hug- plus the awkward position. “So are we playing guess the coffee?” He inquires.

“You bet your ass we are!”

The author isn’t good at writing walking exposition so time skip baybeeee

This was it. Your chance to stump Leo. Stepping up to the counter first while Leo stood off to the side so he couldn’t overhear you, (his order for you already in hand) you lock eyes with the barista who nearly backs up at the intensity of your gaze, having never experienced it’s intensity before like the employees at your favourite coffee shop normally had. “Medium hazelnut latte with a shot of vanilla and a shot of espresso.” You state as if it weren’t even a question.

The woman nods, dipping her head slightly as she attempts and succeeds to input your order before looking at you. “Anything else?” She inquires, voice a little too low for most people to hear, but for you it was easy.

“Yes, two cake pops. One strawberry, one chocolate.” You insist, watching her input that as well before she lists off the price and then instantly nudges the payment terminal over to you once you had pulled out your card to show it to her. You tap it against the chip reader and then fish out a five dollar bill, putting it into the tip jar for her with a calmer smile that seemingly throws her off. “Thank you!” You muse, accepting the order ticket as well as the  bag of cake pops she had promptly handed you before stepping to the side to wait for the drink.

You glance at where Leo is leaned up against a wall, and gave him a thumbs up which he returns enthusiastically. Turning your attention to your bag, you dug your hand into one of the front pouches and pull out a sharpie so that you can cross out what the order was on the sticker once you receive the coffee.

While you wait, you look around. The walls are decorated with a rich terracotta wallpaper, the floors a deep, almost chocolate brown, wood alternating parquet. There were potted plants strewn about the room, some hanging from the ceiling, others neatly decorating windowsills where enough light poured through to reach them. There were a few bookshelves that matched the colour of the floor and were set up to divide the space- they were filled with books and magazines. It was all in all a very cozy space and all you could think was that it would make the perfect place to come every morning and relax- maybe do some art studies.

“-order number 317?”

You glance at the ticket in your hand, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and then perk, walking over and thanking the person who had made the coffee before stepping aside and scratching out the order on the sticker and throwing out your receipt. Wandering over to Leo, you noticed he seemed to be doing what you had just moments before. “It’s really cozy in here. Great location, Leo.” You comment, nudging his hand gently to let him know you were ready to swap drinks.

Perking, Leo nods in agreement, gesturing to the nearest empty table which was settled near the back of the cafe, tucked into a corner next to the window. “We swap over there, that way you can put your stuff down and we can get comfy— wait, did you get us a snack too??” He inquires, tone drastically shifting to pure excitement by the end of his sentence.

You nod, letting him practically herd you to the table. You laugh, noticing some of the amused stares and chuckles you got from other patrons, deciding to humour them by shrugging and grinning. “He’s food motivated.” You offer playfully, earning a bit more laughter. “Like a puppy.” You hum, glancing at the turtle in question as you sit down in the chair he had pulled out for you.

“M’rabbit.” He offers, trying to sound suave, but grimacing almost immediately. “That doesn’t sound as flow-y as “m’lady” he mused, scrunching his face up in displeasure before backtracking to what you had offhandedly said, “the cutest puppy though.” He grins, sitting in the chair across from you and setting down the brown takeaway cup in front of you while you did the same with the one you had.

You nod sagely to his statement, noting how haphazardly he had scratched out what his order had been with a pen he had no doubt asked to borrow from the barista. “Something like that.” You muse with a half smirk, pulling out both cake pops with flare. “Chocolate or strawberry?” You offer, noting the way he seemed to contemplate before answering.

“Chocolate, of course.”

“Strawberry, got it.”

“Exactly. See? You get it.”

“Mhmm, I know you so well.”

Grinning, Leo accepts the chocolate cake pop you hold out to him, observing it for a moment before- in contrast to your own actions- shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once, and almost looking like he regretted that decision instantly.

Taking the time to eat yours calmly in two bites instead of one as your counterpart had done, you have less of a struggle. “You’re such a goober.” You claim, a fond note to your voice as you observe him trying to get the cake pop down. Deciding to be nice, you get up for a moment, walking to the counter where there is a self serve water jug, filling two glasses before returning, handing one over to Leo before you set yours down.

He drinks it almost immediately, the liquid helping to break down the snack and then he is gasping for air. “You are a life saver,” he insists, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a moment he murmurs something about being too warm, and slips his jacket off, laying it over the back of his chair. This, of course, leaves his muscular arms exposed for your viewing pleasure, not something he had considered, but its obvious that he notices your gaze lingering a little too long. He smirks. “Are you checking me out?” He inquires, playfully wiggling his brow before striking a few poses.

An instant laugh leaves you at his actions, though you can’t help but feel your face heat up from being caught red handed. “No! I just didn’t realize how ripped you are! It’s a little startling!” You muse, starting to play with one of your ears by running your hands down it to smooth the fur there. “I mean— I know you’re strong, you’d have to be to have beaten Kraken Tom and such, but it’s still a little startling.”

“So you heard EVERYTHING I was rambling earlier?!” He inquires in disbelief.

“I listen when it’s important.” You counter, noting the moment it takes for him to process what you had said and how you had somewhat turned his earlier words back on him. “And everything you say is important to me.” With that said, you pull the plastic splash pick from the opening of your cup and put it into the paper bag your cake pops had been in. Taking a moment to carefully swirl your coffee just in case it hadn’t been mixed properly (something you had dealt with from multiple coffee shops in the past) you focus your attention on finally trying the drink. Sipping tentatively at it for fear that it was still too hot, you took a moment to savour the flavour, setting the cup down again.

Leo watches you with a flushed face, your words still ringing in his tympani. He cast his gaze towards his own coffee, following suit in swirling it around to mix it and then removing the pick from his own cup and discarding it much the same as you had done with your own. He seems to think for a moment before speaking up with a more amused tone than you would have expected, “everything I say?” He inquires mischievously.

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, realizing you had perhaps made a mistake by saying that. 

“What about if I said applesauce belongs on dino nuggies?”

“I’m going to kick you.”

“Do it, coward. You won’t.”

Instantly you straightened in your seat, making direct eye contact with the slider as you gently kick him in the shin. Afterwards, you level your expression to a bemused and almost mocking grin. “What was that about me not doing it?” You chime in a sickeningly sweet tone.

The slider narrows his eyes back, watching you sip your drink and waiting for you to set it back down before he returns the gentle kick. “Ohoho, you’ve done it now.” He retorts with no malice at all behind his words.

It only takes a moment longer for the battle of gentle kicks to come to full effect and neither of you seem to care that your legs will be bruised after this. You’re having a little too much fun despite everything, but after a few minutes more, the kicks begin to stop, and without even realizing it, your actions become more gentle and more along the lines of playing footsies with each other, your foot brushing lightly over his ankle and his gently nudging you in return.

It’s only when you’ve been staring far too intently at each other, that you move to reign yourself in, face heating with a warm blush as you quickly cease your actions and sip your coffee again. “So- um… I definitely taste cinnamon in here-“ you begin, forcing yourself to focus on deciphering this instead of focusing on how absolutely smitten Leo looks.

Blinking himself out of his stupor, Leo clears his throat and stretches by rolling his shoulders before leaning back on the table, his arms crossed as he watched you. “Hmm? Oh- oh. Yeah. Cinnamon.” He nods, glancing down at his cup again before returning his gaze to you as he waits for you to decipher the drink.

“Cinnamon chai latte with whip?” You inquire, forcing your brain to stay on track. When did it get this hard to focus on anything but him? Seriously. You knew you liked him, but you needed to control yourself, lest you spring forward and kiss him right then and there.

Leo nods, humming in a way that seems somewhat forced and yet resolute. “I don’t get how you’re so good at this. How did you guess that? I didn’t think chai tea would be that obvious.” He asks, curiosity bubbling in him despite the obvious lack of focus he currently seems to have.

You shrug, resting your elbows on the wooden table top and twining your fingers together so that you can rest your chin on them. “I noticed the slight flavour of pepper and ginger— it has that sort of bite to it that lines up with chai.” You inform, pausing to chuckle slightly. “Also when you say “chai tea” you’re technically saying “tea tea”. Just a fun fact.”

Snorting in amusement, Leo stares at you in bewilderment. “I will never understand how you fit so much smarts into that head of yours.” He sips his own drink momentarily, looking contemplative before quickly speaking again. “So you’d just call it chai then?” He inquired, watching you nod to confirm before he is sampling his drink again. “Tastes a bit nutty- so thinking about the kinds they normally use to make drinks…. Hazelnut?”

“Mhmmm-“ You hum openly, inviting him to continue his train of thought.

He takes another sip, really trying to get a feel for it, even closing his eyes as he does. “I’m also getting—“ He brings the cup to his nose and gives it a few sniffs. “Vanilla?” He looks to you for confirmation, and once he has it he gets right back to work.  “Hazelnut and vanilla… mhmm. M’kay. M’kay- espresso-?” Leo is incredibly focused, and the expression he makes while trying to figure it out is so cute you almost cave and pull your sketchbook out to draw it, but you hold yourself back as he finally seems to come to a conclusion. “Hazelnut latte with espresso and vanilla?”

You smile gently and clap for him. “You got it!” The confirmation causes him to light up as he opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you as one of his hands reaches out and firmly squeezes yours for a second before he pulls it back.

After the game is over, you both fall into comfortable silence with each other, both of you leaving one hand on the table in silent invitation to the other as you pick your different methods of filling up time when you’re not quietly chatting.

Leo surfs his phone, you take to absently drawing on your napkin with a pen you had fished out of your bag, not wanting to risk using your sketchbook here and now. It’s calm, relaxing, and you can’t help but smile every time the slider gets excited over something he sees and quickly shows you it.

It’s during one of those moments when he rests his hand over your free one to get your attention, that he notices that you’re drawing a little picture of him and things start fully connecting in his head, but he says nothing, focusing on the task at hand and redirecting his gaze to your face just in time to catch you looking at him inquisitively. “Did you know there’s a breed of goat that faint whenever they hear a loud noise? Just-“ he makes a big open gesture with his arms, breaking contact with you as he speaks, “-BAM! Goat down!” He grins.

Smiling instantly, you can’t help but chuckle at his theatrics. “I didn’t know that, that’s pretty funny though. Is there a video?” You inquire, tilting your head and then nearly squeaking in surprise at the sudden speed he uses to get up and stand directly beside you. You nearly miss the way he excitedly mumbles something about being “so glad you asked”.

The moment he is properly situated behind you, he rests his head on your shoulder and slips his arms around you so he can hold his phone on the table in front of you both. You don’t mention how you could hold the phone for him, too caught up in his warmth. He glides his thumb across the screen, hunting down what you assume is the video at the top of the article, and then once he has it, he clicks play.

The video is short, less than a minute long but it shows a man clapping and the goat fainting which causes the both of you to laugh at first, and then the questions start springing forth.

“Do you think it hurts them to faint like that?” You begin. “What causes it to happen?” You ask, leaning yourself back against Leo’s plastron until he finally pulls away, presumably to pull up the information you’re looking for. He doesn’t move far, just sort of adjusts his position so he can easily lean against your chair with one hand and hold his phone in the other, typing the question in quickly.

After a moment of waiting for the results to load, he hums and starts reading, “the Tennessee fainting goat breed has a hereditary condition called myotonia congenita—“ he begins, grumbling to himself a bit as he tries to focus on reading the sentence before finally shaking his head and handing you the phone so you can read it. “I keep wanting to read the same thing over and over-“

You nod in understanding, taking his phone carefully as he settles back in behind you, this time using your head as a chin rest. “The Tennessee fainting goat breed has a hereditary condition called myotonia congenita, a disorder that affects the skeletal muscles, which are used for movement.” You read calmly, pausing to frown and click something else related to that. “Many people wonder if it hurts the goat to faint, but rest assured, they’re not in pain. However their condition does have the potential to distress them because it can keep them from running away from things that frighten them. So avoid frightening them just to see them faint.” By the time you’re done reading, the both of you are frowning. “I feel like an asshole for laughing now-“

Leo nods in agreement. “Yeah… but, I mean- If it helps, we had no idea until we looked it up. In reality the guy that made the video is the asshole.”

You hum in response, still frowning. Leo pockets his phone and then brings you into a big hug and almost instantly you’re filled with a sense of comfort and calming. You find yourself leaning back into him heavily, just like earlier. “Thanks.” You mumble.

Leo nods, giving you one more big squeeze before he moves to sit back down. “Anything for you.” He replies without missing a beat, polishing his coffee off before resting his hand on yours again to still provide reassurance.

“Cheeseball.” You reply lightheartedly, turning your hand to softly squeeze his in response.

Leo smiles and dips his head in half bow, quickly glancing up at you. “The cheesiest.” He insists, thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. Pausing, the slider frowns, his phone beginning to buzz. Glancing down at the device with disdain, he checks the caller ID and sighs, giving you an apologetic look only for you to shake your head and gesture for him to answer it, assuming it’s probably one of his siblings.

He frowns a bit more, but gives in and nods, picking his phone up and answering the call, stepping away somewhat before he starts talking.

You can’t help but listen in after a few minutes, having noticed the exasperated l pinch to Leo’s face as he talks to whoever it was. You feel a little guilty, but you chalk your nosiness up to concern about his emotional wellbeing.

“Guys, I told you not to call me right now-“ he grunts, rolling his eyes as he listens in on what the person- or persons? Are saying in response. “No- you know  said today was important— No! I wasn’t joking. UGH. Raph- Raph, no.”

Quirking your brow ridge slightly, you can’t help but wish your hearing was better so you could have an even better grasp on this conversation— even if you know it’s probably not good to be listening in, in the first place. You try and distract yourself, going back to sketching to keep your attention in a more respectful place of not eavesdropping.

After a few minutes more, Leo comes back to the table and sits down again, grumbling as he sets his phone down after presumably putting it on ‘Do Not Disturb’. “Sorry about that- my brother’s forgot that I was going out tot day and were freaking out— and then they wouldn’t hang up.” He muses, noting that you were doodling again, this time around, though, he leans forward to get a good look. “Who are you drawing?” He inquires, still trying to get a better look.

Shaking your head, you let out a calm hum, nudging the napkin over to him so he can see. “Sounds like a chaotic time. I’m sure they were just worried though.” You muse, resting a hand under your chin as the calm washes over you again. “Just some characters I’ve been thinking up- silly really.” You shrug, finishing your coffee as you watch him pour over the drawings.

“Yeah, I know they were just worrying, but I wish they would listen when I tell them things sometimes- I mean… seriously… It’s not like I didn’t tell them I was going out. I did! Three times!” He huffs, getting frustrated for a moment before he shakes his head and dispels that energy, choosing to focus on what you had said about the drawing. “You thought these up? They’re so cute. They look like they could be in a children’s book.” He insists, tracing his fingers over one of the designs.

Sensing the first conversation wouldn’t be going anywhere further, you mostly set it aside, but not before saying gently, “I mean, you did say you guys never usually go too many places without each other, maybe they just assumed you hadn’t because they didn’t I don’t know- I can’t really speak for them since I don’t know much about them.” You chew the inside of your cheek gently, leg bouncing. “Anyway though— umm… yeah I actually want to make kids books, still in the starting part though.”

He nods, running a hand over his face, nearly shifting the blue eye mask out of place. “You’ve got a point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He pouts, tapping his fingers on the table. “So, you should tell me about the book idea you have.” He points out, stretching his hand across the table to take your hand in his own again.

Biting your lip, you try and reign your thoughts in, looking at the tabletop for the time being until you begin to speak again, telling him all about your idea in as much detail as you can, though, for the moment, you mostly have details about the characters, and you can just tell by the look on Leo’s face that he is enthralled and enamoured with the idea which makes you feel a lot more confident about sharing this with him. You had been working on this for forever at this point and had never actually shared it with anyone. 

By the time you’re done speaking, Leo is practically bouncing. “I love the characters, especially Leaf! He’s so precious— and his favourite thing being stamp collecting?? It’s such a nerdy hobby, but its really cute to think about a leaf having a stamp collection! What if Shooting Star got him stamps from space!?” He gushes, visibly bouncing in his seat— it was almost like he was vibrating.

Giggling in response, you shake your head, smiling fondly and briefly glancing to the side at one of the potted plants by the counter in thought before you returned your gaze to the turtle. “I’m glad you enjoy it so far.” You begin, “maybe you’d want to help me with it a bit— you know, go over what I have eventually? I think any input you could give me would be really helpful.”

Leo blinks in surprise and then gets flustered, chuckling as he looks out the window at the people passing by. “I don’t know if I would be much help— art is more my brother Mikey’s thing, you know?” He admits. “But. I’m happy to look at everything!”

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand gently. “I think you’d give me great advice, even if it’s not your strength, I mean just letting me know if you like it helps, or mentioning if something looks like it should be different- even if you don’t know what it is.” Tracing a small heart into the back of his hand absently, you shrug. “-but if you’re honestly not comfortable with that, I won’t force you.”

Mulling it over, he hums and returns the gentle gesture of squeezing your hand. “I mean, I guess I could, I mean the idea of being the only person looking it over is pretty cool!”

You’re about to speak when he suddenly nods and chimes in again.

“Yeah, you know what. I’ll do it. If it would make you happy, I’ll do it.”

—

First , Prev , Next

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

seven. as long as you follow.

content (for this chapter): smut (mild), tooth-rotting fluff, i mean a lot of fluff, wedding, a lot of speeches, all of them are being menaces, unedited

word count: 6.3k

a/n: so this is the final chapter and i'm in shambles i already miss them. i might, later on, write some blurbs of the before, during and after of their lives together, but as for the main story, there you have it. thank you to @lcvenderblues specifically for putting up with me through this whole thing, i know leave the rest in your hands

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too. i will also be taking questions about this story !!

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“There was a time when I believed marriage was not for me. Scratch that–I believed love was not for me. That I didn’t deserve it, not in the way I wanted it. For a while, I stopped caring, or pretended I didn’t care, just so I could go on. And when I met Camila, I still thought that. I’m sure everyone’s aware of the way we began, so I believe it’s not that odd of me to say: I thought that was it. One fun moment that’d be gone soon, something to think about in my spare time–which, let me tell you, it wasn’t that much with a toddler–but that’d be the end of it all. It didn’t matter that I was instantly captivated by her, that I didn’t want the night to end, or that she managed to break through that barrier I’d built so carefully around myself with just one smile–none of it mattered, because I’d wake up in the morning and she’d be gone. Except she wasn’t, so then I thought she’d find out I had a kid and then she’d go. But again, she didn’t. Time and time again I told myself this is it, this is the moment it’s all over, and time and time again she proved me wrong. At some point, whether consciously or not I cannot say, I stopped being afraid she’d vanish from my life, and I don’t know if it was because I realized just how stubborn she is or I somehow settled down, I just–she was here, with me, and I knew I could count on her presence. On her love. On her. And I suddenly felt like the luckiest person in the world. I love you, Mila, and I promise you’ll get tired of hearing me say it, and I’ll just keep repeating it. Ah, no llores–”

“Are you going to cry?” Santi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned towards Frankie, looking around at the few people settling in their seats when Benny came announcing Camila would be arriving shortly–his face red and eyes glimmering, a muffled tone to his words. “Because Benny took all the tissues I had, so–”

“It’s fine, Pope,” Frankie said in return, hands fidgeting at his sides. “Wait, what happened with Benny?” he frowned, gaze flitting from one man to the other moving back towards the house, hands running down the front of his shirt.

“He cried when he saw Alba with the flower basket,” Santi grinned, though there was a softness in his voice at the thought of the little girl patiently waiting in the kitchen for her mom. Pope looked back towards Frankie, his head slightly tilted. “You are going to cry, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Frankie scoffed, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt, the neck of it left open at the first two buttons. “This doesn’t exactly happen every day.”

“You’re getting married,” Santi mused, his gaze flickering towards the guests–no more than 25, a familiar face smiling back at him when their gazes met. He returned the smile, then placed his hands on Frankie’s shoulders. “Holy shit, you’re getting married.”

Low murmuring rose across the seat as the window from the kitchen slid open, heads turning and Frankie’s body seizing as he inhaled deeply and held his breath, fidgeting again with the cuffs of his shirt, his gaze falling to Alba. The child skipped outside, a puffy yellow dress moving with her as she threw the flowers she’d carefully picked with Camila all across the garden. Just a couple steps behind, Benny emerged from the kitchen, holding the door open to let Camila through.

“Holy shit indeed,” Frankie muttered in his next exhale, a stutter in his heart when Camila looked up and met his gaze.

“Stop it, both of you,” Will reprimanded from their side, but a crack ran through his voice, too. “You should be turned around, Fish.”

“I already knew what my wife looks like,” Frankie scoffed, moving his torso only–he couldn’t look away from Camila.

“Wife-to-be,” Will corrected, amused.

They’d wanted a small thing. Few people and fewer preparations, most of it going to the decorating of their backyard where they were, with long tables around the edges and an arch they’d built together. No suit and tie for Frankie, just a white button down and fitted trousers–no gown for her, rather a simple cream dress with sheer sleeves and a long-ish skirt, hair left unbound just as the day he’d met her, a crown of flowers just as promised to Alba, and her cheeks sunburnt from the days spent in the garden. She was barefoot.

“Are you arguing?” she called from the end of the aisle, Benny at her side as she placed her hands on her hips–she was smiling, bright and wide, lines at the corners of her eyes.

“No ma’am,” Will returned, matching her tone–Frankie could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, could feel Santi chuckling by his side and see Benny’s joy all across his face.

He could see Alba, running up to him, flowers all but forgotten as she crashed into him, bouncing with her arms wrapped around his legs–a moment later, Camila did the same, a small hop on the spot before sprinting towards them, immediately going to wrap her arms around Frankie.

“Hi,” she whispered into the crook of his neck, one of his hands on the small of her back to keep her close, the other resting on Alba’s head. They could hear the others murmuring softly, through chuckles and ohs.

“Hi,” he mumbled, a quick kiss to her temple, careful to not squish the flowers.

“Should we get married?” she grinned, looking up at him, eyes shimmering–somewhere between unshed tears and utter joy. 

“Yes,” he nodded, another kiss to her forehead–he almost leaned in, kissed her in full, felt the tug forward as he bowed his head a little, but he could feel Will’s gaze on the side of his face and smirked, turning slightly towards him with a small nod.

They remained like that for the whole ceremony, tangled together and incredibly close, her head tilted towards his shoulder, her thumb rubbing figures on his back, gazes searching for the other’s every now and then as Will spoke–Alba stood on the side, restless, bracketed by Santi and Benny (who’d started tearing up again).

“When people get in a relationship, you often hear the phrase honeymoon phase,” Will started as the silence settled in fully, clearing his throat once. “That moment of euphoria that’s carefree and happy and all that–it is said that it lasts just a limited amount of time, but I know that to not be true. You only have to look in front of you to see it for yourself–seriously, you’re gonna spend the whole ceremony like this?”

“Yes,” Camila grinned wide, tightening her hold around Frankie’s waist and resting her head on his shoulder. Santi snorted, quick to cover his mouth with the hand he didn’t have on Alba’s shoulder. “Go on,” she added then, making Will chuckle, a fond roll of his eyes.

“I won’t bore you with details about Cami or Frankie, about them as a couple–that’s for later, when we’re all too full from the food Verónica and Emilia prepared, so that no one can run away,” more laughter from the seats, Will bowing his head in the women’s direction. “But I will say this: I feel very lucky I’ve witnessed, and continue witnessing, a love like theirs. It feels like hope, it feels like a breath of fresh air to see such love. When they asked me to be the one to marry them, I panicked and made a stupid joke I won’t repeat–”

“He said he’s more of a monogamous guy,” Camila said from over Frankie’s shoulder, her chin resting on it for a moment through the snickers and Will’s defeated sigh.

“Thank you, Cami,” she grinned in his direction. “I didn’t know what I was going to talk about. I had no idea what I was going to tell you about them, their love. First I thought I’d count; count the looks, count the kisses, count the I love yous. Some sort of proof of their lives together so far. Something that could prove to you all that what you’re seeing in front of you is, for lack of a better word, real. But this is all the proof you need, isn’t it? The two of them. Testimony of this love.

“I think we’re lucky to be a part of this because, you see, their affection is not reserved for the other only–these two have hearts so big there’s room for every single one of us, even when they’re disgustingly stuck to each other, seemingly locked in a little bubble of their own. It’s never like that–they’re ready to drop everything for those they care about, wake up in the middle of the night and drive an hour to the airport for us just as they would for each other,” Camila’s lips quivered in her smile, glossy eyes fixed on Will.

“Why did you have to bring me into this?” Santi complained, his voice a little watery as he brushed Alba’s hair absent-mindedly, careful of the flowers braided in it in imitation of her mother’s. Frankie couldn’t help his laughter–his heart was full, so full, it felt like it might burst and he didn’t really mind. He’d be happy like this.

“I needed a good example and Benny is a mess as it is already,” Will shrugged, chin jutting in direction of his brother–the younger Miller’s face was spotted red, tears staining his cheeks as he attempted to compose himself, one hand on Alba’s shoulder and the other wiping the front of his shirt. Camila’s gaze softened at the sight, the split of a smile dedicated to him only.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, voice unsteady. Will–his neck red too, hands twisting in front of him–chuckled and shook his head before returning his attention to the couple.

“It’s special–this moment, their union. Now they’re making it official, and we’re here today as witnesses of it: of their family, of their love. And with the exchange of rings, I leave the word to them.”

Alba broke free of the two men’s hold to step ahead, lifting the small satchel she had tied to her wrist in her parents’ direction. Frankie crouched down, carefully untying it from her arm to open it and drop the rings into his palm–white gold circlets, one falling into the other and giving just a glimpse of the incision within.

As long as you follow.

It had seemed fitting–fixing their story with a song, the same way it had started.

Frankie kissed Alba’s cheek, a quiet thank you that had the girl beaming before Camila reached down towards her, too, holding her face in her hands to kiss her forehead. Alba giggled, each hand holding onto one of them before letting them get back up, standing once more in front of Will.

The silence was almost religious, watching, waiting, as they turned to face each other–and suddenly there was no other but them, hands joined, holding the rings on their palms, hearts thundering. A silent conversation, should I? You go. Go ahead.

“This is just the first speech I have prepared for tonight,” Camila started letting go of one of his hands to reach into the sleeve of her dress–she took a folded piece of paper, wrinkled and scribbled all over. “I wasn’t sure how to fit all I wanted to say, and I probably didn’t, but–” she cleared her throat, shuffling from one side to the other and holding the paper up to her face. “Should’ve worn my glasses,” she muttered, causing laughter to ripple around the backyard.

“I can always get them for you,” Frankie grinned, squeezing her hand gently.

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere,” she shook her head, pulling him one step closer. “Francisco–Frankie, my love, my life. You have given me everything I could hope for in life and more, and I’m so grateful for you I sometimes feel like my heart is gonna escape its confinements. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this satisfied, this happy–you’re my happiness, you have been for so long I have started counting my days as before you and with you. I know I don’t want an after you, because I don’t know what I would do without the best part of my heart, the one that’s dedicated to you, the one that waited for you my whole life.

“This is the point where people start making promises. I’ve always been afraid of that, I worried I might not be able to keep them, but you’ve made me less afraid, so–I promise to tell you when your hair is out of place,” through her smile, Frankie laughed, dropping his head forward a bit and letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. “I promise to remind you when to trim–just trim–your beard. I promise to help you pick the right clothes, and to give back all those absurd button-ups I will continue to steal from you. I promise we’ll cook together every time we get the chance, and we’ll get take-out all those nights we’re both too tired to even walk in the kitchen. I promise we’ll get bigger sheets for the bed, so I won’t steal all of it through the night and leave you in the cold–and I admit this last one was a lie, because we both know I’d probably manage to hog those, too.”

“Yes, you would,” he murmured, bringing her hand up to his face, leaving a quick kiss to her knuckles–he focused on the motion, focused on his breathing, his heartbeat, her.

“You’re gonna distract me,” she reprimanded, but squeezed his hand nonetheless. “I promise I will remind you what an amazing person you are every day, because you are and tend to forget it at times. I promise I will be here, right where you need me, when you need me, because I know you will do the same for me and I love you for that. I love you for everything–that’s what I promise. I promise that I love you, I love you, I love you and will continue to, every day of my life, our lives–and afterwards, too. And,” she folded the paper, unsure for a moment of what to do with it before dropping it to the ground and picking his ring up. She brought it to her lips, a quick kiss before holding it between trembling fingertips. “As long as you follow.”

Frankie’s hands were shaking too–it looked almost comical as she put the ring on, both their touches hesitant without meaning too. As soon as the ring was past his last knuckle, he took her hand, brought them both to his chest and held her there, her own ring pressed against the back of her hand as he bowed his head, one small step forward to rest his forehead to hers. Eyes closed, she curled her fingers over the shirt, exhaling slowly.

“I love you,” a whisper exchanged at the same time, smiles returning unabashed.

Their cheeks would hurt by the end of the day, and the day after that.

“There is a Spanish expression,” Frankie started after clearing his throat, straightening his head and forcing his eyes open, “which is really, really corny–but I promised you I would be that, so there we have it: encontrar a tu media naranja. Literally, it means to meet your half-orange. I used to think it was odd–why would an orange be a synonym for soulmate. Some said it’s because of its shape, because of a Greek myth, because of churches–it never made sense to me, none of it. And then, the first morning we spent together, you split an orange between us. I was tired, maybe a little hungover–”

“A little?” she grinned, making his face scrunch up in a grimace.

“We both were,” he protested, making her smile widen–the more her smile grew, the more Frankie’s heart swelled. He burned to wrap his arms around her, hold her, kiss her. “Fine–a little more than hungover. But I remember that phrase popping in my head–just for a moment, while you dropped slice after slice of fruit into my plate, as if it was something we’d been doing our whole lives. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, until it happened again. An orange, an apple, a cake, a plate of rice, a pizza–all halves. You are my better half, Mila. You’ve been that since the very first moment, and I couldn’t be more grateful I found you. I found my better half, it’s–you’re the better part of me, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives thinking about how lucky I got.”

Camila’s mouth quivered, her eyes soft and wide as she leaned forward, her hands still on his chest for support, trapped beneath his. She went in for a kiss, almost, and then turned her head at the last moment, lips brushing the heart-shaped spot at his jaw where his beard didn’t grow, the same spot she spent nights tracing with her fingertips.

He took her hand from his chest, held it gingerly as he fixed his hold on the ring.

“So I promise you’ll be reminded every day of just how special you are to me,” he went on, voice a little lower–the quiet was so deep the words echoed nevertheless. “I promise you’ll have plenty of oranges and rosemary and coffee, always. I promise all the shirts in my closet and all the blankets you’ll manage to hog. I promise the beach and long drives, and I promise music and singing as loud as you can, dancing until my back hurts and then some–maybe. Maybe you’ll have to ask Alba for that. I promise all the things you never thought you could ask for, that you’ll never be hungry for anything, that I’ll love you in all the ways I know how, every day of our lives and then afterwards,” he kissed her ring, kissed her finger where the other ring sat, too, and then put it on, still shaking, a little breathless. “As long as you follow.”

“I love you,” whispered for him only this time, taking his face in her hands and leaning in, kissing and kissing and kissing him.

“Well, I guess I’m not needed anymore,” Will called, making them laugh into the kiss and break apart, however reluctantly. Holding onto each other, they turned to him with an apologetic look in their eyes, and he scoffed lightly, waving his hand. “Go ahead, you’re officially husband and wife.”

Frankie held her tightly before kissing her again, joy dripping in his every movement, laughter muffled by her lips as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They were cheered on as he rested one hand to the small of her back, pushing her flush to him, and one to the nape of her neck, fingers tangled through her hair as she dipped back a little and he followed, kissing, kissing, kissing his wife. He was euphoric. He was at peace.

Happiest wedding I’ve been to, the first people to leave said.

So much laughter, so much food, so many speeches. People’s faces ached from smiles and laughter; some held onto their stomachs as they walked away; some had their noses buried into the branches of rosemary Camila was giving away, the plant in the corner of the garden overflowing, now taller than Alba.

“Do you think Santiago’s gonna make a move tonight?” she murmured when Frankie returned to her side, two glasses he placed in front of them before sitting down, his arms over the back of her chair to bring her closer. “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps doing that.”

On the other side of the garden, Santi was dancing with Alba, both of them jumping in circles–Camila didn’t think his knees were going to thank him later in the night. But the smile on his face was contagious, reaching the child and, most of all, the woman sitting at the table where he’d been, her eyes shimmering with amusement and fondness.

“I think I don’t want to think about Pope tonight,” Frankie hummed, though his gaze followed him for a moment while he leaned towards Camila. “The only person I wanted to watch dance was my wife,” he added then, chin hooked over her shoulder and arm wrapping around her to bring her closer. Camila chuckled, leaning out of her chair and into his chest, moving her gaze away from Santi.

“And was it of your liking, husband?” she grinned, her nose scrunching up as she moved in. He brushed the tip of his nose to hers, head tilted as his other hand rose to cup her jaw, bringing her closer for a slow but short kiss, her whole body shifting towards his.

“Very,” he nodded, a peck to her lips, one to the bridge of her nose. 

“But seriously, Santi–” he cut her sentence off by pressing his mouth to hers one more time.

“Forget about Santi,” cheek, jaw, chin, each word a delicate kiss that made her smile only grow. She felt drunk on the feeling, somewhere between euphoria and absolute peace. “He’ll get there–eventually.”

“Fine,” she pouted, resting her head against his chest. Frankie placed her chin on the top of her head, flowers tickling his neck as she shifted. “I’m exhausted. And happy. Really happy.”

“Too exhausted for your surprise?” he asked quietly, lips brushing the top of her head. Camila straightened right away, leaning almost all the way out of her chair as she twisted her torso towards him, hands on his thighs to support herself and eyebrows arched.

“I have a surprise?” the joy on her face was infectious, and Frankie couldn’t help smiling as he nodded. “What is it?”

“Well, I’m not spoiling it for you,” she pouted again, a mock-offended frown taking over her face that had him snort and tilt his head, giving a quick kiss right to her pout. “Come on. You need shoes.”

“Should I get Alba?” she asked as they stood, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders as she moved her hands to his chest. Frankie shook his head, guiding her towards the door.

“Not tonight–your mom is keeping her for us,” he moved behind her, now both arms around her middle to shepherd her forward. Her own hands fell to his wrists, head tilted slightly back to look up at him. “It’s just us tonight. Come on.”

Five minutes later, with no word to the guests–though everybody had seen them sneak away, wrapped around the other–they were in Frankie’s new truck. Just like the first night, with Frankie reaching across the seat to hold her hand into her lap, dress bunched up around her legs. The music played softer, As long as you follow making her laugh and tilt her body sideways, head resting on his shoulder. 

“You’re not gonna tell me where we’re going, are you?” she asked, a quick kiss to his shoulder before looking up at him. Frankie’s gaze was on the road, but he was smiling–he shook her head, giving a quick squeeze to her hand.

“You’re gonna have to wait, baby,” his hand shifted between her thighs, fingers pushing gently into the inner flesh covered by the long skirt–her own hand was resting on top of his, the other wrapped around his bicep, leaving quick kisses to his shoulder every now and then.

The sleeve of his shirt carried the mark of her lipstick. Imprint of her affection.

She’d wanted to be that close on the very first night, too–search for his touch, search for his body from across the handbrake, ask him to stop the car and get on the roof of the car to scream and sing and dance and kiss her again. Camila had been enamored of him since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, and every moment after that a little more.

“Are you staring?” minutes passed driving in quiet, the music and rumble of the motor the only noises that accompanied their breathing. Camila nodded, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Why?”

“Just looking at my husband,” she shrugged slightly, shifting a little closer. His hand curled against her inner thigh, a quiet sigh escaping him as she kissed his neck, right above the neckline of his shirt. “My beautiful, beautiful husband,” she moved her hand to the back of his head, fingertips brushing the shorter locks at the nape of his neck.

“Mila,” he reprimanded, hand tightening both around the wheel and squeezing her thigh. “We’re almost there. Behave,” she hummed, kissing his neck again, whatever remained of her lipstick staining his skin, too.

“We had Santi at home for two weeks,” she complained, locking her knees together, his hand trapped between her legs. “I love him, but–”

“I know,” he chuckled, thumb pressed to the top of her thigh as he stopped the car. “That’s why we’re here,” he added, turning off the car and the music with it, turning his head to look at her. Camila straightened her back, looking out the front window and then the sides, eyes a little wide with curiosity and brow furrowed. 

“Are you trying to become a widower already?” she scoffed, trees on their sides getting lost in the night darkness. Frankie snorted, his turn to lean in and kiss her neck, her shoulder, before moving his hand away and opening the door.

“Come on, I’ve gotta show you something,” he nudged her side before hopping down the truck, walking to her side to open the door for her, too, holding her hands as she came down.

He led her to the truck bed, opening the tailgate for her and showing blankets and pillows bunched up in a corner, a thicket duvet laid down across the bed as a sort of padding. Camila’s brows arched, corners of her mouth turning in a smirk as she placed her hands on her hips, turning to look up at him.

“So that is why we’re here, huh?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes a little before turning towards her, holding her by the waist and hoisting her up. She scooted back, still grinning, watching as he climbed in after her and closed the tailgate back.

“Not exactly,” he settled at her side, fixing the pillows behind their heads. “Lay back.”

Camila looked at him a moment longer before doing as he said, placing the flower crown aside–it had smushed on the side she’d rested her head on his shoulder, some petals hanging loose and some already fallen, tangled in her hair. She kept her head turned towards him, watching as he took a blanket to place across their legs before leaning back, too. She reached for his hand, but before she could intertwine their fingers, he placed his hand on her cheek and turned her head slightly, so that–

“Oh,” he watched as her eyes widened slightly, jaw softening as she lifted herself onto her elbows, head tilted back looking at the sky.

Clear sky dotted with stars, bright stars that reflected in her awed eyes. Frankie smiled, following the surprise across her face and the arch of her body as she moved slightly up, as if trying to reach for the constellations.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, sliding one hand up to reach for his hand again. This time, he took it within his, locking their fingers together.

“I used to come here a lot when I was first getting sober,” he said softly, and she looked away from the sky just to look back at him, lowering herself on her side and shifting closer. “I would drop Alba with my mother for the night and then just drive. I’d fall asleep here often, wake up with all my bones aching–it was better than getting into a bar, plus no one was ever here,” she placed her free hand on his chest, fingers curled into the neckline of his shirt. “And then I stopped needing the stars.”

“Frankie,” her voice cracked slightly, both with laughter and affection, turning her head to kiss his jaw. He curled his arm around her, pulling her closer so that her front was pressed against his side, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“I was supposed to come here that night, too–the night we met,” he cleared his throat, looking back at the sky. “Still don’t know why I changed my mind.”

“I can’t help but be glad you did,” head falling into the crook of his neck, she whispered against his skin. “If only ‘cause it led you to me.”

“Me too, baby,” he brought his hand to the back of her head, burying his fingers through her hair–he could feel small petals stuck within the locks and smiled softly before twisting his head and lowering his gaze, looking down at her. At the shift of his body, she looked up as well. “And now we got married,” he murmured with a smile, and she returned it with a grin.

“We got married,” she repeated with an enthusiastic nod, leaning in to kiss the smile off his lips. “I love you,” mumbled between kisses, hands searching each other as Frankie turned on his side, too. “I’m not getting naked in the woods,” he snorted, hand tracing a slow path down her side and over her thigh, hitching it over his waist.

“That’s fine,” leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, he reached with his free hand for the buttons at the top of her neckline, toying with the first without actually undoing it. “I like the dress on,” he whispered, a kiss to the top of her breast, where the skin was already uncovered.

Camila closed her eyes with a sigh as he kissed his way down across her torso, slowly guiding her onto her back and turning himself ever so slightly, one leg slotted between hers–he still held her hand, thumb rubbing slowly across the side of it while the other moved down until he reached the hem of her skirt, pushing it up her thighs to give himself more room to kneel between her legs. Her free hand wrapped around the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up so that she could kiss him, a quiet plea of his name dancing across her lips.

She could feel him, half-hard already, pressed against her inner thigh as he stroked the soft skin of her leg–calf and knee and thigh, lingering at the garter with a grin on his lips as he traced the edge of it, Camila’s body shifting slightly.

“Keeping this one, too,” he mumbled against her lips, finger hooking underneath the garter and tugging lightly on it, lifting her leg a little but without moving the band. She chuckled softly, the noise replaced by a sigh when Frankie moved further up, brushing the junction of her leg.

“You’re teasing,” she reprimanded, the hand that wasn’t holding his moving from his chest to the back of his neck, brushing the short curls at the nape of it as she looked up at him when he lowered his gaze between them.

“I’m taking my time,” he retorted, pushing her underwear aside–the skirt was bunched up between them, wrinkling already, her legs bare at each side of his body, only half-lowered against her. “We haven’t had much of that lately,” his kisses were almost chaste, compared to the slow motion of his fingertips.

Camila sighed again, arching into his touch as he stroked her folds, each movement slow–agonizingly so. Her eyes fluttered shut when he reached the apex of her core, lips parting against his as he rubbed small circles over her clit.

Teasing, she thought, the hand at the back of her head brushing through his hair.

There had been so many words throughout the wedding–speeches and laughter and soft words whispered in her ear as Frankie’s arms wrapped around her, barely even dancing in the beginning as they simply held each other. She liked the quiet of the spot, the only sounds her quickening breathing, his own, a little harsher as he kept going and pressed himself against her, the growing noises from between her legs as he picked up his pace.

“Frankie,” she arched into his touch, opening her eyes–for a moment there was only the sky, stars blinking back at her through her hazy vision, a light trembling in her thighs as he didn’t relent. She could hear the wind and Frankie’s breathing against her collarbones, his head notched in the curve of her neck. His hair tickled her jaw, his beard gently scratching her skin. “Honey, please–” a light gasp cutting her words when he pushed a finger in, groaning quietly at the feeling.

“Just a little–” another groan when her walls fluttered around his finger, mouthing at the skin of her neck. She squeezed his hand, lips parted as she tugged gently on his hair to make him pull his head back.

“Frankie, I wanna feel you,” hushed tones rippling across his skin, a quick brush of lips to his cheek as he lifted his head and glanced down at her–cheeks rosy, eyes glossed over and lips parted, she looked back at him and cupped his jaw, fingers digging gently into his cheeks. “I wanna feel my husband,” another whisper, gazes locked as she said it.

A shiver ran down Frankie’s spine, anticipation mixed with the edge of giddiness he’d been feeling for the whole day. He relished in the way the word rolled off her tongue, the way she looked at him when she said it, the hint of a smile curling her bruised lips.

“You like that, don’t you?” she teased, arching again into his touch, the hand behind his head shifting until she was cupping his cheek, thumb stroking his bottom lip as Frankie’s breathing picked up furthermore, eyes so dark she could almost see her own reflection. “My beautiful, beautiful husband,” she repeated, pulling his lip slightly down before lifting her torso, weighing on her elbows as she pinched his chin, bringing his mouth closer. “Let me feel you, Frankie.”

He kissed her quickly, a cracked noise leaving the back of his throat before he straightened himself, hands leaving her–an instinctive whine left her at the sudden lack of his touch, empty hand flexing where it was on the make-shift mattress. As Frankie unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers, Camila shifted underneath him, bringing her dress up enough to bare her lower half.

The beginning was quick, almost frantic–they’d spent months trying to find moments together, always interrupted by this or that thing, resorting to quick meetings in the bathroom or in the early morning, when they both were still half-asleep but at least they knew Alba wouldn’t walk in on them. Or Santi, who didn’t have the habit of knocking.

So Frankie lowered his trousers and underwear, quickly settling himself between her parted thighs and kissing her lips again, and her neck, her chest–the exposed skin, the fabric of the dress, equally. Camila canted her hips towards him, some of her wetness spreading across his hardened length, making him groan again, the noise muffled into her collarbones.

He pushed into her, a twitch of his hips as her legs fell further open and she threw her head back with a gasp, one hand up to his shoulder to hold onto him while the other searched for his again, fingers brushing his wrist first, his knuckles, until they lathed their hands together.

And then Frankie stilled, slowed down, the quiet interrupted only by their panting–it was just them, it dawned on him. The whole night was for them only, and as he bottomed out and lied flush against her, he released a long breath, squeezing her hand.

“Being crushed under someone’s weight was not how I imagined I’d go,” she mumbled against his cheek, the arm around his shoulders curling to keep him close nonetheless, legs wrapping around his waist to hold him in place. She traced a path across his jaw, cheek, corner of his mouth with her own lips, where she was met by a half smile, Frankie’s free hand closing around her side.

He kissed her soft, then moved down to her chin, nosing at the underside of it to make her head tilt back so that he could kiss his way down her throat, lingering there as he rocked his hips–the motion slow, deep, making her keen softly and her heartbeat pick up.

“Feels like you’re alive to me,” he returned in the same voice, making her chuckle softly, hand buried in his hair again. “I still need you alive,” he added, thumb tracing the shape of her rings before lifting his head, just a little.

Camila moved her gaze from the sky–she’d counted a star for each of Frankie’s kiss, until the edges had blurred and there was only light, and then there was only him, looking down at her with his hair ruffled against his forehead, a flush that had spread across his face, probably matching her own, his lips parted and glistening and red as cherries. She lingered at his eyes, still dark, lashes fluttering with the slow rocking of his hips.

“Good,” thighs caging him in, she lifted her head to brush her lips to his–an almost kiss he chased, so close their noses brushed and she went a little cross-eyed trying to hold his gaze. He almost smiled. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

For the whole night, they remained tangled together under the stars.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 3: #C4 vs #C7

#C4: Lesbians with swords

#C7: Comedy with high school girls with unique personalities

Details and poll under the cut!

#C4: Katana Maidens: Toji no Miko

Summary:

Throughout history, an elite group of shrine maidens known as "Toji" have saved the world from "Aratama," strange and malevolent beings bent on destroying humanity. In modern times, these warriors have been assigned to a special police squad to exterminate Aratama. The government has also set up five elite schools across the country to provide young girls the necessary sword fighting skills to eradicate these monsters and eventually join their fellow Toji in protecting the world.

A student of one of those five schools, Kanami Etou is chosen to represent Minoseki Academy in a sword fighting tournament, where she meets the mysterious Hiyori Juujou. Although Kanami and Hiyori rise to the top of the tournament, their battle takes an unexpected turn, throwing the world of the Toji into chaos. Likely that the Toji are facing betrayal from within, the two are forced to flee the tournament, clashing with former comrades on the way.

Propaganda:

The depth of this show was seriously mindblowing to me. For much of the series it was just a fun romp, with some pretty interesting twists and turns along the way. But as these characters develop, as the plot gets moving, it all comes together in the end. I have not seen a more concentrated concoction of doomed tragic yuri in my life.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm

#C7: Wasteful Days of High School Girls (Joshikousei no Mudazukai)

Summary:

As she heads off to her entrance ceremony at Sainotama Girls' High School, Akane Kikuchi muses over her grade school dream of becoming a manga artist and the lack of progress that she has made. When she finally arrives at school, she is surprised to learn that she is once again in the same class as her two best friends: the deadpan and emotionless Shiori Saginomiya and the hyperactive and ridiculous Nozomu Tanaka. Tanaka then comes to the obvious realization that she can't achieve her grade school dream of being popular with the boys and getting a boyfriend by going to an all-girls high school.

In desperation, she begins asking the girls in her class to introduce her to their guy friends. Her classmates, however, are anything but ordinary. From a grandmother-loving loli to a reclusive chuunibyou to an overly analytical stalker, each one is given a fitting nickname by Tanaka to accentuate their weirdness. And so begin the wasteful days of these high school girls, each day kicked off with a simple question: "Hey, wanna hear something amazing?"

Propaganda:

Wasteful Days of High School Girls is fast-paced and genre-savvy, subverting a lot of high school anime tropes in ways that are really delightful even if you yourself aren't that familiar with high school animes. But most of all it is cool in a way that only awkward, weird, realistic teenagers can be. It probably won't make you long for your own high school days (if they are in the past), but that is a good thing, because sometimes only a good comedy can really lay bare what life is really like when you're a teenager.

The thing that makes this show so amazing is the characters. These are anime characters with some real Character with a capital C. Everyone is such a real and unique human personality; not just the main trio but all their classmates too AND the teacher and even the nurse that only appears in like one episode!

This is a show with the lowest of stakes and it still manages to feel like something incredibly significant has happened when you get to the end of it. And something incredibly significant has happened! Life happened! An entire year of it!

Trigger Warnings: [Not Stated]

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[thebeckster]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @emeraldhazeart, thank you so much!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

85 total, across 2 separate accounts and including some ~Secret Works~ (aka Anonymous fics) that aren't listed on my main work count.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,147,857. I have been writing for a very long time and my posts on AO3 go back to my earliest fics from ~2008.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The bulk of my fics are either Star Wars, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, and Rune Factory. But I've been known to dabble in other fandoms when the muse strikes.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gonna focus on my main account because otherwise I know at least half of the list would be [Redacted] (because ~secret works~)

Wells of Silence (Star Wars)

Aggressive Negotiations (Star Wars)

[Redacted] (Star Wars)

Among Scuttled Ships and Scrap (Star Wars/The Bad Batch)

How Far Ahead The Road Has Gone (The Hobbit)

It comes as absolutely no surprise to me that all of my top 5 fics from from Enormous fandoms

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love responding to comments. If anything just to thank the people who take the time to read and comment on my stuff. But I also love engaging in conversations with readers! I try to respond to every comment, but sometimes I just don't have the time/energy/spoons when it comes in, and then it falls through the swiss cheese holes in my brain and goes unanswered (but never forgotten).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Maybe it's recency bias, but Fated comes to the top of my mind. Soulmates who spend almost all their lives separated and come together only to be fated to kill each other? The angst was just So Delicious.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh man, a lot of my fluffy oneshots have happy endings. It's tough trying to pick one with the Happiest ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not to my face.

Realistically and statistically I'm fully aware that my writing is not somebody's cup of tea. Just by the numbers I know someone isn't going to like something about my stories. But anyone who is unhappy is at least gracious enough to not be mean to my face or in places where I could find the hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Only once. And I think I overcompensated a lot with angst. Smut isn't why I read or write fanfiction, and while I thought it fit well and was necessary for the one story I wrote it was an interesting exercise. I might include smut in future stories, I don't know, it's not entirely off the table, but I'd probably just stick closer to the M/PG13 cutaways and implications.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really. Beyond characters from different installments of a franchise/universe interacting when they don't in canon (which I don't count as a crossover).

The closest I've gotten is doing a Rune Factory Star Wars AU recently for a fun little one shot. But again, it included RF characters in the SW universe, and no SW characters so I'm still not counting that as a true Crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so, no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I've done other collaborations but never a full co-writing. I think one could be lots of fun though!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I don't really have one. I'm a pretty fluid shipper, I'll ship anyone with anyone if it compels me. I have a few comfortable oldies I'll fall back on, but I don't think I could rightly say they're an All Time Favorite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's some Really Old WIPs that I kinda abandoned from 10+ years ago that I don't think I'll ever get back to. Part of me never wants to give up hope, but I've moved on from the fandom and the muses and they'll probably stay unfinished for all time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do quite well with taking what could be a 'meh' idea and putting an interesting enough spin on it to make it a story worth telling and reading.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sticking to a consistent writing schedule and wrangling my muses long enough to finish long projects. My focus is Very Easily broken and I am super susceptible to distractions and chasing the nest shiny ideas. 😭 rip all my wips i was just gonna take a 'short break' from and it's been like a year or longer since the last update.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Unless I have some confidence in the language, or it's a common enough phrase within the fandom that everyone knows what it means, I won't do it. I might translate choice words or phrases when necessary and appropriate. But I'm not subjecting my readers to google translate dialogue. Anyone who is fluent will know it's a bad translation, and for anyone who isn't I'd have to translate back to english anyways.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If we're going back to before I started really writing fanfiction, but was still doing creative writing in a fandom, it would have been Warriors Cats.

But my first real fanfic was for Jak and Daxter. (And can still be found on my ao3, but oof is it old)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is a cop out answer, but I genuinely can't pick a favorite. I can find something I love and I'm proud of in every fic I've written. But I'll give into the recency bias and say Tongues & Teeth is still living in my brain rent free even after I wrote it down and posted it.

Tags! No pressure tags, and if I don't tag you and you want to play around, feel free to say I tagged you! @durotoswrites, @thychesters, @lookforanewangle, @aashiyancha, @kindlystrawberry

[ofgentleresolve]

ferre's thoughts!

hi everyone! so sorry to have been absent ( or at least very sporadic ) here and across all my other blogs- i promise i never stopped thinking about my muses and all of the wonderful dynamics i have with everyone!! recently though, i guess i've been feeling a bit...meh about this blog?? so i'm just going to ramble for a hot second in these bullet points to air out my thoughts and hopefully i can get to some kind of conclusion here....feel free to throw your own opinions in here if you want to!!

this is my fault, but uh, i think i accidentally isolated myself on this blog?? like, these days most of my activity rp-related has been in discord, but i would like...to reach to ppl again if they are still interested....that being said, i know i say i love plotting with other muns, but i also know that truthfully, it takes me a while to open up and it probably doesn't help that i can take like weeks to get back to ppl ic wise....i dont want to get into the details but i'll just say that this summer was kinda...not great ( don't worry nothing bad happened, i'm just going thru a rough patch....) so that's been killing my writing mojo for a while ://

this also relates to the first point, but i realize plotting really does make a difference to me about whether or not i'm excited for a thread so i'll probably make a note about that when i rewrite & condense my rules....

ever since i moved patrick to his own blog, i've noticed that annie ( and since i gave him a connection to her ) and ga ram seem to be the most active on there...tbh there are some muses on my main muse roster that truthfully, haven't been used in months due to the lack of plots/active dynamics- i don't want to get rid of them bc nostalgia and i do intend to write them on occasion, but....if they aren't garnering as much interest then i might just have to switch around my rosters a bit....

this blog isn't nearly as much of a slice-of-life blog as it used to be....if anything, i feel like it might be better to call it a crime & slice-of-life multimuse considering that the muse who seems to come out the most often now is annie....as such i was wondering if....perhaps changing the aesthetics of this blog might help with getting into the mood for writing on here again?? if anything patrick and calum's blogs seem to embody this blog's current core themes more ^^'

this might also mean changing the username for this blog....although i will say, i am quite attached to this url as it's been my brand for YEARS... but on the other hand perhaps a url with a bit more...grit to it could help ( that and if it is change then better to accept than resist...right?? )

also saw lena on my dash ( WHICH WAS A SIGN OF A GOOD DAY FOR ME 🥺🥺🥺 ) and i lowkey?? wanna follow in their footsteps aka be more lax and free-flowing on here...so i might drop the formatting ( sans the small text ) bc that does, i will admit, take up more time to post responses than anything else :'D

okay if you read all of this, thanks for listening, i promise everything will be fine on my end <3 i really really just miss writing on here and being part of dashboard shennagans so....hope to see?? you all soon in the meanwhile, will try to get to some memes & maybe do the bingo boards for some of my muses here <3

[ofthepuzzle]

1, 9?

Interesting Questions for MUNS: ╰┈➤@keithhoward

1. Would you say that ever since you started writing for your muse you have become more similar to your muse? In what ways?

This brings me back when I first started musing Atem. Back in 2012 when I was sixteen and around the first time I discovered rp. I may have rped him for a while until I took a break to focus on my studies. And eventually, in late 2020 after the PS5 was released— after the numerous times I came across the Kaiba PS5 memes I became nostalgic about ygo. Wild. A funny meme can do that. And I started musing Atem again. I made an rp account for him in another site until I moved to Tumblr in March 2021. And since then I haven’t abandoned my muse. He’s the only muse ever that I have been role playing without breaks. My interests used to fluctuate but now regardless of what new series I get into ygo will always remain in my head and my muse will remain as strong.

And now, onto the actual answer to the question. Hmm, I don’t want to say oh yes ofc because again— Atem is beyond amazing and I am just— me. Then again he can be relatable. After all, sometimes we pick muses that we can relate to or have similar traits to ours. He’s the perfect balance of social and reserved. Can be completely chill until his smug side manifests, or becomes emotional depending on the situation. And the way he handles it— he oftentimes has doubts and overanalyzes but even when he’s alone he knows his worth and what his mission and priorities are. I appreciate it, I can feel close to it. I even use that as a motivator when I’m feeling down, so I become sure of what I am and what I do. Another thing, I apparently often play characters who have strong familial relations with their parents. The main factor is that the parents taught them to love and protect what’s important to them. The same way Atem's and my parents do. Another, Atem as a dark and eventually light character. I often perceive this as when my former self was empty, disorientated, still searching for what my lifetime goal is. Until I found it, ground myself, improve my skills, and become a better person overall. Atem is as selfless as he’s confident and I think that’s a commendable trait that I want to follow. You can be confident but be humble too. Confidence stems from your achievements and how you are as a person. Do good, be good to others. You have no time for unnecessary theatrical work. Focus on what matters. That’s what Atem has taught me. Also, the way I write how he talks sometimes I type like that I suppose. It’s nice when a character rubs off on you in a positive way.

9. Has your muse taught you anything about yourself and/or the world?

I didn’t realize how similar this question is to the one above. Technically the first part about what Atem taught me was written in my previous reply. But I can also add that he taught me not to think that if I’ve hit a wall it’s the end of the world. There is a way out. Whether it’s now or later, it will come. And everything will be alright. To believe in your strengths. And he taught me the world is filled with good and bad. But that is not under your control, so don’t worry about it. What is under your control is what you will do to contribute to it. What trace you will leave behind yourself when you leave this world. Good always beats evil. It’s never too late to redeem yourself as well. Yami has done shadow games but was taught that violence isn’t the answer. And that’s right. He eventually is shaped into a better person with a better moral perspective. That goes for the rest of the characters as well. Overall— virtue is the root.

[musecaravan-info]

Owain ap Nudd

"You've seen my descent, now watch my rising." ~ Rumi ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Richard Armitage

AGE: Timeless

EYES: Dark brown

HAIR: Dark Brown; wavy, and hangs a little past his shoulders

HEIGHT: 6'2

PRIMARY OUTFIT: It depends on the time period, but Owain always prefers to look casually fashionable. Due to his situation, he doesn't have a lot of control over that, but when his choices/preferences are taken into consideration, he'll almost always look like he just stepped away from a 'men's fashion' photoshoot.

Personality

Owain is... complicated. And how he acts can be a bit dependent on WHERE in his timeline your muse happens to come across him. Generally speaking, he's a privileged royal (and usually acts it.) In other words, he typically believes that his status and his magic make him 'better' than most people. However, that belief doesn't stop him from treating others with care and respect.

This attitude is less apparent the longer it's been since he was cursed by Gwyn. Each master of the bottle wears him down a little more. Some of the attitude is still there, but usually he's just grateful to have a master who doesn't want to abuse the powers owning his bottle grants them.

If your muse was ever unlucky enough to be the first person to open Owain's bottle, they'd be in for a bit of a ride. Everything that happened to him and his servants and his home is still perfectly fresh. On top of that, his powers aren't being dampened by his castle anymore, so everything he does has more force behind it than he intends.

Powers & Weaknesses

Like his twin brother, Gwyn, Owain has all of the typical powers and weaknesses of fae royalty. He's a powerful creature whose magic makes him capable of doing countless things - summoning objects from nothing, controlling the weather, moving things with a mere gesture, altering his appearance with a simple thought. The list goes on.

However, the fact that he's been cursed changes things a little. He's not allowed to use his magic unless given permission to do so by his current master. And if ordered to do something with his magic, Owain has no choice but to comply regardless of whether he wants to or not.

The curse also binds Owain to his master's will. If they give an order - ANY order - he has to follow it. The longer he tries to not follow an order, the more pain he feels.

Owain also has all of the weaknesses of a typical fae (such as iron.) He usually won't mention those weaknesses unless specifically asked by his master... or it he thinks it might stop his master from giving an order that would do Owain harm.

Romance

Owain's situation is a little unique. Romance isn't something he really thinks is possible for him, not while he's cursed. On top of that, the last person he loved was raped, tortured, and murdered while he was forced to watch, so attachments make him wary.

Sex, on the other hand, is usually welcome if he finds the other person attractive. Keep in mind, sex with a master can be a teeny bit tricky. Owain is cursed to obey any order given, so if his master doesn't word things carefully/watch their phrasing, it could make things uncomfortable. Not every master who's owned Owain has cared, of course, but even the ones who do can make mistakes sometimes.

Where to Find Him

If you find his bottle, you find him. So basically, just about anywhere - on the beach, at an estate sale, in an antique shop, etc. If you have an idea for something, let me know and we can plot.

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

Main Verse:

Owain is basically a genie in a bottle... only without the three wish limit and without the ability to say 'no' to whoever owns him. Opening his bottle releases Owain and magically binds him to whoever opened it. If his master dies, Owain goes back into the bottle until someone new opens it. However, his master can also choose to give the bottle away (but that rarely happens.)

To avoid repetition, please read more about Owain's backstory here. Please be aware, this post has brief mentions of VERY dark situations.

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Owain isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

Andel:

Afraid of Standing Still (Main Verse)

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

Owain's backstory is dark, and it's possible that he will have nightmares about it. He also thinks about it now and then, so there will be brief mentions of dark topics. However, I promise to never go into any graphic details without getting approval from my partner first.

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Owain

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

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[fortrollad]

#FORTROLLAD. master sorcerer hreðric the dragonslayer, known in modern days as rorek of the kingdom of nol. from the dcau / teen titans franchise, but re-imagined to fit more tolkien based lore.

this blog uses beta editor only! this blog is a sideblog to @grymfared and all follows will come from malchior's blog, also the blog lores go together.

about. verses. interest checker. rules under readmore

#FORTROLLAD is an independent, private, highly selective and mutuals exclusive writing blog for rorek of nol of the dcau / teen titans franchise. but also actually i reimagined him for tolkien adjacent lore which is not surprising to anyone who knows me. please note, this blog is a sideblog! if you are following malchior's blog, consider yourself mutuals with rorek!

due to the general content of the franchise, this blog is 18+. please do not follow me if you are under 18!

on this note, this blog will feature dark and triggering themes. rorek is equally the worst as malchior lmao. i will make sure to tag things with the format of #trigger so that they can be filtered out! please tag #trypophobia for me

𝐭𝐰𝐨. shipping is not the priority here- rorek loves malchior, as messed up as their dynamic is.

on the note of rorek and raven there's no indication that rorek would've actually been a heroic wizard and certainly no indication that he would treat raven any better than malchior. on top of that, raven is a minor! rorek might not have many morals, but he isn't making any moves on minors, thanks!

if shipping happens, it will require a LOT of plotting and will not be with any mun or muse under the age of 21.

i am very open to other sorts of bonds, though! because it isn't just romance when people talk about ships- rorek is not great at being anything but an arrogant jerk, but regardless i'd love to see where things go!

i should also note that i will accept mains and exclusives!

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. i am known for writing metas across the blogs i have. in the wise words of a friend:

with this in mind, the metas i write are portrayal specific to this blog, so please give them a read! i know i can be rather wordy- anyone who has followed me elsewhere may know this, but for my first time followers, worldbuilding is one of my favorite things to do. i am particularly fond of analysis of character psychology.

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. to the point above, i do have other blogs! i run @hmrtia and @godstrain, those ones are rather well known. i am in and out of other fandoms, but i am trying to focus on a smaller group of things for my own sanity.

and by this, i mean i work 32-40 hours as a registered nurse in an inpatient psychiatric unit. i am busy, i am tired, and i can't keep letting my focus go all over the place. inevitably, it still may do that because i have a tendency to be scattered, so if i don't get to something immediately, it isn't you, it's me!

also related to that, i do love communication! i struggle with reading the room (it's the Autism tm) and so if something's up or if you're bothered, please be direct with me! i will not take offense, i quite appreciate feedback so that i can be better as a person! in return, i will communicate back! i am learning to curate my space (after 10+ years of being on tumblr).

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞. there are people i won't interact with due to various reasons- my dni list is on the carrd of my other blogs. i won't interact with genderbent versions of characters, people who are Real Life Individuals (not counting fictional depictions like in the typemoon franchise or whatnot because those really have nothing to do with the actual individual they're supposedly based on?).

please stay far away from me if you fall under the following categories (i'm censoring things because god knows tumblr just picks shit up idk): proshipping, writing inc*st, p*dophilia, r*pe/n*ncon, are transphobic/homophobic- the usual gross behavior! use your moral compass!

on top of that, i am a firm believer that we learn from the media around us. full censorship is just as dangerous as the aforementioned things- the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows! please refer to this post which essentially summarizes the gist of what i'm trying to explain.

𝐬𝐢𝐱. anyway, hello, i'm knight. i am 29+ and use he/him pronouns exclusively! i am a hobby artist (it's my side-gig from nursing) and sometimes i post my art, tagged #whats my art tag considering i constantly forget my art tag if it's fancy. please do not repost my art without my permission. i'm slowly finishing picking a fc for rorek since teen titans REALLY gave nothing on that front.

mutuals, feel free to ask me for my discord, since i am much easier to reach there!

i look forward to writing with you!

[goth-automaton]

Okay, so, let's go! 💜

The numbers don't indicate any particular order, they're just to make it easier to me to count ideas. Also, most of these aren't very developed – mainly vibes, some scene drafts, no full scripted storyline.

Anyway, I'm putting everything under the cut due to length. Feel free to ask me questions about the ideas, I love talking about such stuff! 💜💜💜

1. "Bur;al" - slice of life with horror elements. Vexen is an embalmer and a single mother of two, Zexion (14yo) and Xion (5yo). After moving from a giant city to a bit smaller one, he starts working at a local mortuary and soon discovers, that something sinister is hunting him.

2. "The Last Firstborn" - psychological drama. Nero has to spend several months at the seaside, living with his estranged mother Vergil, uncle Dante and beloved cousin Vitale, V for short. He and V haven't seen each other for years and Nero notices, that something's changed in V's behaviour. However, no one wants to tell him, what happened.

3. "From Under Murky Water" - "Dark Water" inspired slice of life/horror. Raiden is a single mother of a 4yo girl. After fleeing her shitty father, they move into a little flat in an old block. Soon, weird things start to happen, all connected to water. Fun fact: it's a repurposed idea from previous fandom.

4. "Whore of Spikemuth" - drama/slice of life, no pokemon AU. Piers is a pregnant hooker and sole provider of his little sister Marnie, adopted little brother Allister and severely sick boyfriend Avery. Shit hits the fan, when his new client, Mr. Rose, becomes obsessed with him.

5. "Elegance & You" - murder mystery. Vexen is a successful painter, who's insanely in love with his muse, Marluxia. The pair gets accused of murder, when a popular actress commissions a portrait by him and dies soon after finishing. The case is investigated by detective Sora. Also a repurposed idea from previous fandom.

6. Untitled ancient gods AU - continuation of my oneshot "My worth is dead" with expanded worldbuilding. Soon after Saïx's death Xemnas introduces new number 7: Keizelex, the Violent Maiden. Her arrival immediately destabilises Org's dynamics thanks to her unusual attitude, eerie similarities between her and Saïx's powers and Axel's inability to cope with grief after the passing of his boyfriend.

I call it "ancient gods AU" because of the recurring topic of a cult I made for this story - many characters came across it in the past.

7. "The Rat King" - psychological drama. Saïx is an owner of a hair salon. One day he learns, that a new tattoo shop opened nearby. He discovers, that its owner is Axel - his exboyfriend, with whom he grew together and, who one day disappeared from his life without any explanation. Things get complicated, when the old feelings come back. Another repurposed old fandom idea AND one, that came to me in a dream. Seriously.

8. Untitled Backrooms fic - adventure/fantasy. A catboy youtuber noclips to Backrooms, while filming a ghost hunting video in abandoned stables. There, he befriends a faceling and together they embark on adventures, all documented and uploaded to main character's YouTube channel.

9. A massive crossover with focus on KH and DrakeNieR - some time after events of KH3, Marluxia, Saïx (who developed split personality after recompletion and now has 2 alters, one of them being Isa), Zexion and Vexen are still struggling with their identities and the expectations others have of their, now recompleted, selves. Shit hits the fan, when one day a mysterious (and very pissed off) android named Accord spawns in Radiant Garden and informs, that some evil fucker has escaped KH world and is now wrecking havoc in other worlds, leaving tears between realities, infesting them with heartless and causing the universe to collapse on itself. She insists that someone from this world has to fix that. After some brainstorming, Marluxia, Saïx/Isa and Zexion (with Vexen as a mission control) join her and 2B (who's looking for 9S, 'cause he got isekaied fuck knows where) on a journey through various worlds to sort everything out. Mayhem, bonding and figuring out one's purpose in life ensue.

10. Probably a little oneshot, similar in premise to "And all the hills echoed", where Vexen and Luxord are expecting a baby and, in general, just are cute and in love. I might tackle this during boring classes, lol.

Once again, hit me up with any questions and comments, I'm always ready for babbling about my stuff. 💜

I did the "like this post and I'll talk about one fic idea I have" game on Twitter and am now wondering... Would anyone be interested in me crossposting these here? 💜

[wherethemusetakesme]

@spg-fanbot-cousins​ | from (x)

“Yeah, should probably have warned you about that. It’s... kinda exactly what it looks like, it’s a giant eyeball with bat wings that turns people to stone. They kinda abducted everyone for Bill’s Throne of Human Agony but, eh-heh, you don’t really want to know about that.”

Or... apparently they did want to know about that.

Oof.

Not even Mabel’s almost ever-present grin could quite withstand the thought of that particular event; it visibly slipped as her mind flashed back to what had been, quite possibly, the most horrifying few days of her life. Disjointed images floated past her mind’s eye, none fully in focus, but still enough to stir up... to stir up...

NOPE.

She was Mabel Pines, and she repressed her trauma like a big girl.

Stamping out those mental images, Mabel forced a laugh that she really didn’t feel. Just... smile away the trauma, right? Wouldn’t come back to bite her in the butt at any point now, would it?

“Oh, yeah, kinda that. This demented triangle guy who possessed Dipper once, and also tried to take over our uncle’s mind, basically spilled a horrific dimension called the Nightmare Realm into Gravity Falls for, like, a week, which is seriously just as bad as it sounds.”

If she said it all quickly enough, none of it would take root, right?

“But it’s okay, we turned the Shack into a giant robot to fight back against him, and then lured him into Stan’s mind and erased--”

Something stuck in her throat.

“Erased--”

She couldn’t say it; even though Stan had slowly recovered his memories, the enormity of what had happened to him slammed into Mabel like a ton of bricks, one that even her incessant cheerfulness couldn’t deflect. The recollection of Grunkle Stan, his mind completely gone, kneeling in the woods and staring at her vacantly... it wasn’t a memory that Mabel thought of often, and deliberately so, but when she did... When she did...

Her eyes started leaking tears, and the teen abruptly had to sit down, not even caring what was beneath her. Internally, she struggled to force the memory away, to remind herself that Stan hadn’t been gone for good, that his memories had come back...

But the thought of what might have been if he hadn’t--

Mabel.exe has stopped working, please change subject to something happier and try again.

[stranger-nightmare]

If you find the muse I think that the new Adele song 'Oh my god' fits perfect for a Druig story 😍 I love that song atm and think about him a lot when I listen to it.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it

Out of all the people in the world

What is the likelihood of jumping

Out of my life and into your arms?"

𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬

Pairing: Druig x Mortal!Reader

Summary: Druig has spent centuries alone, never fully connecting with anyone, until you. Druig counts himself lucky that of all his lifetimes spent on this planet, he finally managed to find you.

Warnings: this is the fluffiest little thing I have ever written🥺 kinda angsty, also very brief depiction of smut so minors DNI please

A/N: my requests were technically closed when this request came in but I’m allowing this bc I really love your account @redroomproperty 🙈🥰😂🖤 I’ve actually never really listened to Adele outside of her singles so this was an interesting change for me. I had the song on repeat as I wrote this but I still mostly focused on the chorus lyrics you provided here as my main source of inspiration. I hope you like it!🖤✨

“What?” You crinkle your nose at Druig. “Why are you staring at me like that?” You question him.

You’re currently snuggled in bed together; you sat up against the headboard, him lying down with his head in your lap. You’re stroking his hair softly as he traces shapes up your bare thighs with his fingers. You’d both been sat in blissful silence, the only sounds coming from the city surrounding your shared apartment. You’d been completely lost in your own train of thoughts when you’d noticed Druig staring at you so intently you thought his gaze might burn through your skin.

Druig shrugs lightly in response to your question. “I just like looking at you” he answers eventually, continuing to scan your face, the most serene smile gracing his face.

“Hmph” you scoff gently, not believing his answer. “I think there’s more to it than that” you tease lightly, booping him on the nose with your finger. He just shrugs again, chuckling to himself softly.

“Whaaat?” You whine, also half laughing. “What is it?” you plead.

“I’m just thinking about us” he says almost nonchalantly. Your eyebrows crease worriedly.

“What about us?” You ask, a small panic suddenly settling over you.

“No, it’s nothing bad my love” he reassures you quickly. He sits up, twisting around so he can face you.

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have found you” he says earnestly. You crinkle your nose again, almost uncomfortable by the sudden sincerity and intensity of his words.

“I’m serious, my love” he carries on. He gently places his hands on your face, caressing your cheeks. You grip his wrists with your hands gently, stroking the back of his hands with your thumbs.

“Out of all the lifetimes I’ve lived,” he continues, "out of all the people in the world, what was the likelihood of jumping out of my life and into your arms?” he breathes. The beauty of his words almost takes your breath away.

“I have lived on this planet for so many years. I have lived in so many different places, met an infinite amount of people, and yet I always felt somehow alone in this world. I always felt like an outsider, unable to really settle amongst these people. I have spent literal centuries alone” he carries on, whispering earnestly. You stare at him, tears threatening your eyes at his heartbreaking revelation.

"Until you” he states finally. “The best decision I ever made was leaving my life in the Amazonian and moving here to be with you.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his words.

Druig goes quiet again, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows, as if he was searching for the right words.

“I think perhaps it’s easier if I just show you” he whispers finally. Now a crease takes place in your forehead as you raise an eyebrow slightly at him in question.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, a sudden serious edge taking over his voice.

“With my life” you answer instinctively. A small but somehow sad smile takes over his face.

“I am not asking you to trust me with your life. I am asking you trust me with your mind” he says as he traces a finger over your forehead, down your nose, gently brushing over your lips before he returns his hand to palm your cheek again. You push your head forward against his hands.

“I trust you Druig” you assure him. His smile grows ever so slightly at your confirmation.

He then leans forward, placing his forehead against yours, your noses brushing lightly. You see his eyes begin to glow gold as your head suddenly empties of thoughts. You close your eyes, allowing your mind to be taken over.

You’re suddenly seeing yourself.

You’re in a bar in Camden, you can see Sersi and Dane next to you at the table you’re sharing. You see yourself look up and meet the eyes you were currently looking through. You see yourself smile bashfully.

It doesn’t take you long to realise this was the first night you and Druig met. The night when Sersi had finally convinced her grumpy ‘cousin’ to visit her in London and meet her boyfriend and her best friend.

You were seeing yourself through Druig’s eyes. All the memories you share, suddenly seen through his perspective.

The image swims, moving on to later that night when Dane is drunkenly singing karaoke in the bar as Sersi claps in the front row. You’re sat back at the bar with Druig, enjoying the scene from a distance. You remember this moment vividly yourself. You and Druig had talked almost all night. You’d been so enwrapped in your conversation it was like the entire bar had disappeared around you, as if all that existed in that moment was you and Druig. From his perspective now it seemed as if the situation read the same to him as well. This memory showing nothing but a blurred background surrounding the vivid image of you smiling and laughing at whatever Druig had said at the time.

The picture swims again.

Another night in Camden. This time it was your first date, the first time Druig had taken you out without Sersi and Dane as company. You had spent the entire day showing him around Camden. The markets, the stables, all of the hidden alleys you’d discovered over the years. Your date had lasted all day and went well into the night, the two of you not wanting the moment to end. Of course it had eventually though.

The image jumps to the end of that night, Druig walking you to the door of your apartment. You can see yourself standing outside your apartment door, looking at the floor awkwardly. You see Druig’s gaze dip from your eyes to your lips, flitting between the two. You can see yourself continuing to ramble awkwardly. Finally you see Druig’s arms reach out to grab your arms, pulling you against him, the picture going to black as you feel lips brush against yours. You feel your lips brushing against Druig’s.

The images start to swim again. More memories of Druig’s, more moments with you.

The first argument you had. You yelling with tears in your eyes.

The moment when you made up, you looking at him contentedly as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

You feel a pain in your chest. Looking at your tearful self you realised it the moment Druig had to return to his Amazonian compound.

You’re suddenly in an unfamiliar environment, a wooden cabin you’d never seen before. It was Druig’s back in the Amazonian forest. You suddenly feel the freedom and exhilaration in the moment he made the decision to pack up his life in the Amazonian to move to London and be with you.

You see your new empty apartment. You see yourself in Druig’s arms as he spins you around happily.

You see yourself cooking your first meal in the apartment, the gaze peeking over your shoulder as Druig had wrapped himself around you from behind.

You then see yourself laying on your bed. Your legs spread wide. You’re looking up at yourself, the gaze situated down between your thighs. You see your body arching, you breasts pushed up into the air. You can feel your own hand twisting in Druig’s hair tightly as his tongue buries itself inside you.

Now you see yourself writhing in the bed beneath Druig’s gaze. Your eyes are closed, your face in a state of complete bliss. You see the perspective jolt as Druig thrusted in and out of you. You watch yourself fall apart under his touch, your mouth hanging open, your eyebrows knitted together. You can feel your nails dig into Druig’s back.

A thousand moments flash in your mind until at last you’re looking up at yourself again. You can feel hands playing with your hair.

You realise suddenly that this was from just minutes ago. It was your hands playing with Druig’s hair that you were feeling. You were seeing your content face from where Druig was resting in your lap. You see your nose crinkle the moment you had noticed the way he was staring at you.

The image suddenly fades, an inky black taking over the picture.

You feel yourself spilling back into your own mind. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see the gold fading from Druig’s. He looks at you moment longer before speaking again.

“My beautiful, beautiful y/n. Can you see how much I love you? Can you feel it?” He whispers. A tear escapes you as you nod your head against his.

“Yes” you whisper, your voice almost breaking. “And I love you equally in return you know” you breathe before gently placing your lips on his.

—————

Masterlist

A/N: okay so I actually really like this song now, thank you Lea for giving me this request and making me listen to it!!🖤✨ Also apologies it took a little while for me to get it done, but I really hope you liked it!🥺🥰 Also no I will never stop with the ‘my beautiful beautiful’ line, idc

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