#I LOVE YOU ALL HEAPS. LIKE SO SO SO MUCH. I JUST WISH SO BAD I LIVED CLOSER SO I COULD BE AWAKE WHEN Y'ALL ARE AWAKE TOO

[bluebellhairpin]

having online friends is great but it also fucking sucks ass because the moment you find one in your timezone you realize you have nothing to talk to them about, and the ones who you can talk to stuff about aren't in your FUCKING. TIMEZONE.

[angellcherry]

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mold you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

HIDDEN WISHES — M.FUSHIGURO

“Make a wish,” you said, eyeing him expectantly.

And as he stared at you, birthday hat atop your head and a smile so wide it was almost child like, he couldn’t fathom the possibility of wanted anything more. What more could he want when he had you, pretty and warm and so sweet it hurt his teeth?

But for your sake, he humoured you. His lips curled into a barely-there grin, and he blew out his candles. Your name repeated like a mantra in his head, all he could ask for and all he could think about.

“Did you wish?”

His head tilted lazily to the side, eyes trained on you. “Mhm,” he hummed.

You smiled again—he figured he should’ve been the one beaming, it was his birthday after all. You always had a way of finding the light in things, of shining even in the darkest of places.

Picking up a fork and scooping a messy bite of the cake with the utensil, you held it up, the heap of icing and sugar hovering around his closed mouth. When your pointed looks proved worthless, you prodded at his lips with it. A sprinkle stuck to his face, making his otherwise nonchalant expression seem rather silly.

“Say ah,” you said, poking a little more aggressively. He quirked a brow, unimpressed. In all seriousness, he somewhat enjoyed your playful coddling. Not that he’d admit that, never. So he stared at you like he was bored, though you knew him better than that. The glint in his eyes told you well enough.

Some sort of impulse became too strong, and you smeared the baked good across his mouth—and everything around it. His jaw only then fell open, brows furrowing in a mix of amusement and offence. “Hey!”

You grinned, obviously proud of your work. A gentle hand came up, tilting his chin toward you. “I think you’ve got a little something there,” you teased. “I’ll get it for you.”

When you kissed him, you could taste the sugar. It was sweet, but you much preferred the taste of his lips on a normal day.

He chased you when you pulled back, a desperate attempt to get the fill that he wasn’t bold enough to ask for. When you opened your eyes, you wished you had brought a camera. He was a blank canvas smeared with cake and traces of your lipstick; remnants of your love clinging to him like they were always meant to be there.

Megumi couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed, eyes twinkling with something you’d never really seen before. Just then, he started thinking that maybe, just maybe birthday wishes came true after all.

a/n — mmm I tried to wait to write this so it didn’t simmer in the drafts but now it’s dec 11 and I’m writing this smh. Sigh I love Megumi so bad can you tell… also he shares a bday with my friend so today is a glorious day 🙏 my fav part of these is making the little icons for the top megumi is so silly

Jjk & general tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniya @kashee-h @anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @lizbix

[mossangelll]

what arcane characters would be like at christmas!

inspired by @cosmicporos whose work is here <3

i’m in the christmas spirit and wanted to do a sillier post on what some arcane characters are like at this time of the year! once christmas and exams are over, i’ll get back to working through requests ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Jinx:

jinx gifts you something homemade, maybe a scrapbook of all the things you did together throughout the year?

aw omg i bet she’s amazing at taking secret pics…there’s so many embarrassing pictures of you in there but you can’t even hate it when she doodles love hearts right next to them :’)

all the pictures inside would be meticulously dated with a corresponding memory to go underneath

she wants to show you how much she cares!

jinx would love anything you give her, but she would swoon if you got her materials to make more chomper bombs - she loves how accepting and enthusiastic you are of her hobbies

jinx’s favourite holiday activity is decorating!

she loves getting into a festive spirit where it’s seen as more acceptable to be goofy and childlike?

she’s very thrifty so i feel like most of the decor is stuff you guys make together in front of a warm fire while it snows outside hehe

makes cranberry and popcorn garlands which you guys end up eating by the end of the week

there’s just plain string all over the place 😭

obviously there will be christmas themed graffiti

instead of a star or angel on top of the tree, she makes miniature figurines of you two hugging to stick on top

she is incredibly down bad for you and loves the holidays because she gets to be extra sentimental

gets a stupidly skinny christmas tree that barely has enough branches to wrap decorations around but she wouldn’t have it any other way

jinx doesn’t want to take everything tooooo seriously

jinx’s favourite christmas song is i wish it could be christmas everyday

Vi:

vi gifts you your own leather jacket! it's second hand and a bit worn through but she tried her best

you always spoke about how much you loved her jacket and now you two can match

irons and pins on patches of your favourite bands all over the jacket

spends so much time into making sure it looks perfect for you

i can see you two wearing each other’s jackets a lot so you can smell like one another

best investment ever - now everyone knows you two are made for each other

she would love it if you gifted her boxing gloves in her signature colour!

vi’s favourite holiday activity is sledding!

she probably uses an old sled her and jinx made together when they were younger

it’s seen better days but she doesn’t want to give it up anytime soon

better wear a helmet in case the whole sled comes apart as you ride it 😭

she’s the kind of person to convince you to let her push the sled down a steep hill… she cheers as you scream in fear

when you asked her if it was safe she winked and told you to trust her 😐

big mistake but how can you say no to her???

you both land in a heap of snow at the bottom, laughing so hard you have to catch your breath as snowflakes melts into your hair

she rolls you around in the snow and kisses you for a loooooong time hehe

vi’s favourite christmas song is baby it’s cold outside

Ekko:

ekko gifts you a painting he made of you!

he’s very nervous when he does, watching for every little reaction on your face - he just wants to know that he did a good job and made you happy

how could you not like it? he captures your likeness so well it feels like looking in a very flattering mirror

you can tell how much love and thought he put into it

he would love it if you gifted him more face paint and hair dye - even better if you offer to do it for him!

ekko’s favourite holiday activity is playing in the snow!

snowball fights, building snowmen and igloos, making snow angels - all of it!

this guy LOCKS IN when it comes to snowball fights

honestly sometimes you want to say no bcs he gets a bit too committed and you feel like you’re getting hunted down 😭

but then he promises to make you hot chocolate when you get inside so it works out in the end

accidentally pelts you in the face with a solid snowball and his face drops

he runs over to where you got knocked over and is worriedly checking you all over to make sure you’re not hurt

that’s when you shove snow down his back and run away in a fit of giggles

he goes still before he starts to chase after you - you both launch snow at each other for house

yeah, you both get ill after that 😭

ekko’s favourite christmas song is santa clause is coming to town

Jayce: 

jayce gifts you jewellery he forged himself :3

i can see him dragging you along to the workshop, making you watch him be all sweaty and hot for hours (you’re not complaining)

if you ask what exactly he’s making there he brushes it off as a custom piece of equipment needed for his experiments - little do you know it’s actually gifts for you

when he does gift it to you he has the most smug look in his face

who else is doing gifts like him?? exactly 🙂‍↕️

he would love it if you gave him new tools he can use when he’s doing his forging!

jayce’s favourite holiday activity is making gingerbread houses!

mainly sneakily nibbling away at little pieces of you (you notice)

you two end up ditching the house and smear icing all over each other

he licks the icing off your cheek

you tell him how gross he is but he’s not fooled when you’re blushing and giggling at his antics

after you two finish your “break”, you get to work on finally completing the gingerbread house

doesn’t let you leave the kitchen until you’re done - he made BLUEPRINTS for the house

it ends up being more like a mansion when you’re done

he’s cheesing so hard when it’s done and he makes you pose with the house

he posts it on his instagram story with some dumb caption (“look at my sweet treat and the gingerbread house we made 😜”) and you only find out when your friends send it to you

jayce’s favourite christmas song is all i want for christmas is you

Viktor:

viktor gifts you customised skincare he made just for you!

he is more physics-minded but after hearing you complain about how all the products you tried just weren’t doing it for you, he decides to step up

spends so much time consulting chemists at the academy for help creating the products

“subtly” asks you questions about your skin so as not to give himself away

“your skin looks quite dry today, would you agree?”

says this in front of a bunch of people - you hate this man so much 😭

you’re so happy when he gifts it to you, you’ve never had someone listen so intently to what you talk about

you definitely cry into his arms and he’s a bit stunned but eventually holds onto you - you stay like that for a while

he would love it if you gave him fancy coffee to help him stay up in the lab!

viktor’s favourite holiday activity is going to the christmas markets!

loves the smell of cinnamon and cocoa in the air, loves how the cold air nips at his nose

the icy ground is a bit of a nuisance for his cane but he knows he always has you to help out, even if he hates asking ^^

makes you two look at all the lights so you can rate them

goes to basically every dessert stand and scarfs down an insane amount of sweet things in record time

likes to buy the weirdest snow globes he can find

viktor’s favourite christmas song is winter wonderland

Caitlyn:

cait gifts you a first-edition copy of you’re favourite classical novel! 

she had to pull a lot couple of strings to get it but she would do just about anything for you 

even though you’d be happy with anything she gives you, she places a lot of expectations on herself 

she stresses herself out over making sure you have the best christmas ever 

she would love it if you gave her clothes that she would actually wear, things she’s told her she likes - not just what she’s expected to wear 

cait’s favourite holiday activity is ice skating!

she’s honestly so good at ice skating you’re surprised it isn’t her job or something 

takes you skating on the frozen lake at her estate 

if you don’t know how to skate, she’s incredibly patient and teaches you the basics

she loves that you have to cling onto her so you don’t fall over 

if you know how to skate, she bashfully asks if you want to learn couple’s ice skating choreography with her 

has the time of her life doing lifts and jumps with you! 

wishes she could stay outside skating with you 

cait's favourite christmas song is underneath the tree 

Mel:

mel gifts you a holiday at your dream destination!

she has lots of money at her disposal and gifts you things all the time, so she really has to go above and beyond for this one

you complain about barely getting to see her due to her work on the council so she manages to get a week away with you!

has a whole itinerary planned out so all you have to do is sit back and relax

makes up for all the time she spent away from you by making sure you're both attached at the hip lol

she would love it if you gifted her one of those jars full of little notes with things you love and admire about that person!

mel’s favourite holiday activity is playing games by the fireplace!

at first, she’s off-put by the whole idea - she’s not a child

but deep down i feel like she’s quite lonely and yearns to feel like she really belongs somewhere, she’s just scared to be emotionally vulnerable

so when you come along she reluctantly agrees and finds that she really loves doing this at a time that reminds her of her estranged family

loosens up around you and feels like she can really be herself

she’s also very competitive so it adds more drama to it all

you guys definitely argue when you play charades or uno 😭

she makes it up to you by letting you win the next game even if it’s incredibly obvious

makes silly bets when you play - “if i win the next round you have to tell me what you got be for christmas”

she’s such a cutie

mel’s favourite christmas song is santa baby

Ambessa:

ambessa gifts you a spa day

honestly a bit of a self-indulgent present since her mind isn’t completely innocent with this gift

a spa day is a spa day however

she doesn’t celebrate christmas - it’s a useless frivolity that wastes precious time that could be used to train her army

she knows how much you enjoy it though so she makes an exception for you

you can tell her heart’s not in it but it’s sweet that she tries for you

she would love it if you made her an intricate meal with all her favourite noxian foods!

ambessa’s favourite holiday activity is making christmas cards!

well, she’s not the one making them

she just watches you make them

but she thinks the look of concentration on your face is quite endearing so she stays around to watch you make them

she’s surprised by how much effort goes into making them from scratch and she walks away with a new appreciation for your hobby

you could beg her to join but she’s just not gonna do it 😭

she likes you, but not that much

ambessa’s favourite christmas song is none of them unfortunately <\3 (she has a soft spot for feliz navidad)

Heimerdinger:

heimerdinger gifts you a jailbroken gaming console 😭

he spent precious time on that thing

doesn’t agree with doing things like that usually but it’s christmas

everyone deserves a treat every now and then!

hopes you’ll focus on your work at the academy more often if you have this

backfires in his face because you’re constantly on it now, oh well

at least you liked the present

he would love it if you you gifted him a song you wrote!

heimerdinger’s favourite holiday activity is secret santa!

he is SO bad at keeping his a secret 😭

he goes around the academy asking people about your hobbies, likes and dislikes

you know he has you by the end of the day lmao

he’s so cute you can’t even be mad

heimerdinger’s favourite christmas song is wonderful christmastime

AU!Claggor:

claggor gifts you one of his hybrid plants! 

this is a huge honour since they’re basically his children 

the one he gifts you was a seedling from the very first plant that managed to survive off the fissure gases 

gives you a whole speech on how to properly care for it (tells you the secret is to whisper positive affirmations to it every morning) 

he’s nervous gifting it you since it means so much to him, but he knows he can trust you to look after it 

it’s so sweet since he’s sharing such an important part of his life with you!

he would love it if you gave him cuttings from a rare plant you may or may not have taken from some rich piltie 

claggor’s favourite holiday activity is baking! 

he has his own apron and everything 

makes cookies and yule logs topped with marshmallows - he goes above and beyond 

makes enough to give out to family and friends 

he loves seeing people enjoy his labor of love, it makes him all fuzzy inside 

claggors’s favourite christmas song is it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas 

AU!Mylo:

mylo gifts you wool gloves!

you always complain about having cold hands so whenever you two are outside, your hands are always in your pockets

but he wants to hold your hand :(

so gloves it is!

two birds with one stone

he would love it if your gift was literally just a kiss under the mistletoe, he doesn’t ask for much!

mylo’s favourite holiday activity is scavenger hunts!

he’s another one who thinks certain activities are childish, but once he gets in the zone istg he’s shoving actual kids out of the way 😭

like i genuinely believe you would have to restrain him because he’s going feral over this

he needs to calm down tbh

probably loses to a five year old and sulks for the rest of the rest of the day

mylo’s favourite christmas song is a nonsense christmas

Silco:

silco gifts you expensive clothes and perfume/cologne

he’s got MONEY and i feel like he wants to make up for the fact that he’s never had much growing up, so he spoils you in all the ways you deserve

he rolls his eyes if you tell him you don’t want anything for christmas

as if he would let you celebrate the day empty handed

when you asked him for a big fir tree you got it, along with mountains of presents stacked underneath

way too many for one person

he watches you intently with a smirk on his face, loving the way your eyes light up with each present you unwrap

he likes having the satisfaction that only he can treat you like this

he would love it if you offered to inject his eye as a gift - he can’t really reject this, can he?

if you offered under any other circumstances, he would probably say no

silco’s favourite holiday activity is dressing up as santa!

ok hear me out

one day when jinx was younger she asked if she would see santa that year

and he just…dressed up as him?? and gave her presents??? and now it’s a tradition that’s stuck 😭

keep in mind jinx didn’t believe in santa at this point but he had no idea about this so he didn’t want her to be disappointed

his santa impression is just “ho, ho, ho” 😐 he’s so deadpan it’s hilarious

he has this tacky stiff beard and pillows stuffed under his costume

so when you find out about it, you beg to see it with your own eyes

it’s sooooo embarrassing for him but he loves making his favourite people happy no matter the cost

doesn’t let anyone else but you two and sevika see him like that

silco’s favourite christmas song is…the christmas song lol

Sevika:

sevika gifts you a custom-made gun, “to Y/N, from sev” inscribed on the handle 

she’s secretly whipped for you but can’t let anyone else know, how else is she meant to keep up her tough facade? 

teaches you how to use the gun - she doesn’t want you to be defenceless in the lanes, especially since you’re connected to someone like her 

her worst fear is someone hurting you to get to her 

she would love it if you got her a backup arm, god knows hers is always getting ruined considering all the fights she gets into 

sevika’s favourite holiday activity is watching christmas movies!

she rarely gets a moment to relax so when the holidays come around, she loves getting to chill with you on the couch 

you guys watch those awful hallmark movies and you spend the entire time complaining the the tv about how unrealistic and dumb the characters are 

she throws popcorn at the tv whenever her least favourite character shows up 

oooh i can picture you two sipping on mulled wine, sevika’s arm wrapped around your shoulders 

you’re basically snuggled into her lap and she lives for it 

would die if anyone saw her like that though 

makes it a yearly tradition to show you the picture she secretly took of silco dressed up as santa 

she basically glows inside when she hears your laughter ring out like bells 

sevika’s favourite christmas song is please come home for christmas 

Vander:

vander gifts you free hug vouchers lmao 

i see him as someone who values sentimental value over material possessions, so he came up with this genius idea >:)

you’re having a bad day? redeem a free bear hug!

you’re feeling sappy? redeem a free bear hug! 

you just want a hug? you don’t even need to ask! 

he was scared you would think he was just being lazy with this present but he’s elated when he sees you openly tearing up at it 

you both laugh at the christmas table over his present 

he would love it if you gave the kids a gift, it shows how much you care! 

vander’s favourite holiday activity is carol singing

except drunk (it’s for charity!)

drunk carol singing is good for the soul, or so he says 

i can imagine him and silco when they were younger wandering the streets, cheeks red with sappy grins straining their faces, belting out songs at the top of their lungs 

multiple people told them to shut up 

they just sang louder 

end up at the last drop where they have a karaoke session 

when he does get tips for his carolina, he uses it to help the most vulnerable people in zaun 

helping his people is his main priority  

vander’s favourite christmas song is let it snow

masterlist

[satoruhour]

i need jealous racer geto hes js so whudurieiw and the way u write about himm🤭🤭

LUVRGIRL

a/n: eeuuughh idk whether to like this or not but enjoy nonetheless !!! not so much of racing but the sentiment is there lol. previous part (lloromannic) here / @screampied @kizoken @t4kio @redskyvenus @mysugu @suguruplsr @slttygeto ✶

wc: 6.3k

warnings: racer!geto, soft dom!geto, fem!reader, sprinkle of fluff, pet names, praise, ldr, phone sex, masturbation (both f and m), fantasising, daisuke is being annoying again!!!!, sorta jealousy plot point, brief dry humping, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, unprotected p -> v sex, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the next six months were torture, indefinitely. it was an endless heap of assignments, of deadlines, of long-distance calls with your love that you both were so close to booking flights of your own. university was brutal, too. on top of tuition fees and getting the materials for your classes, it was heart-wrenching to even look at the prices of the flights from your country to japan, so you bit down your pride and subjected yourself to settling for the long-distance arrangement.

“hey, baby,” geto mumbles sleepily and your frown deepens upon forgetting that tuesdays was where he slept early. you still had to call, though, but you realise it too late when he answers with that groggy, raspy voice of his. there’s some ruffling behind the call, no doubt the sounds of his bedsheets as he gets himself comfortable while you huddle at the small nook of your room that’s next to the window.

from here you can see the sun setting, a totally different story in japan where you can hear geto yawn and down a glass of water next to his bed.

“shit . . sorry su, i forgot—”

he scrambles to reassure you, awake and sat up, “no! no— no, it’s okay . .” you wince when you hear him yawn yet again, but this time he sounds a little more in the realm of consciousness. you’re unaware of the smile forming on his face just from hearing your voice, fidgety fingers squeezing and releasing the duvet over him, “what are you up to, my love?”

you hum into the phone and you’ve never wanted to backpack across the seven seas to see someone so bad before. now on month nine, your excitement’s become even more prominent at wanting to end the semester as soon as possible, willing your lips not to mutter out the arrangement you’ve been planning with his group of friends.

“just needed a break from studying for finals. i’m dying,” you lament over the line and your heart flutters at his chuckle, something you miss against your ears and skin immensely, “just wish you were here . .”

“yeah?” and you have to squeeze your eyes shut and rub your thighs together at the soft, rough yeah he mumbles out. you can imagine it too: sitting against his headboard half-naked while the duvet pools around his waist area. he’s sitting there like plaster sculpted by Monti while his hair flows around him. you almost squeal and your boyfriend only catches just the start of it.

“what? what was that?” he asks and your hand is clasped so hard over your mouth like a captor’s got your hostage, but you only let out a breath.

“n-nothing,” you laugh, picking yourself up from the nook and getting yourself comfortable in bed. it’s been a long day of studying, anyway, and your next exam isn’t until five days later. you could afford some downtime, right?

“but,” you sigh, turning on your side and sneakily slipping a hand into your pants, “my day’s boring. it’s all studyin’. why don’t you tell me what you did today, instead?” you can hear your parents already preparing dinner outside, but you press on and try to drain out the intrusive noises of cutlery and porcelain and the incessant calls of your mom to your dad for some help on the stove. 

“alright,” he drags the word out and laughs again, getting comfortable in his bed just like you do, but your end goals are entirely different, “but it is pretty boring as well. it was maintenance day today.”

“oh!” you remember him briefly mentioning that the other day — since halloween was approaching, there was bound to be more patrolling policemen around the streets and underground, so races had to be put on hold for the meantime. there was still other more secluded areas to race, but geto didn’t want to risk his Mazda being taken away nor for a stain to appear on his clean academic record.

“changing the crankshaft? i know the old one was giving you loads of trouble,” you mumble, feeling your cunt pulse and throb from the breathing you can hear over the line, “among . . other things.”

“yeah, my baby’s so smart for remembering, huh?” he praises, continuing to go on about his day. while it was merely taking-care-of-his-car day, it was still way more eventful than yours. he had went on a solo day out to your beloved café to relish in the good times, he had hung out with gojo for a while and drank some beer atop the mountain they frequented, even went out for some arcade fun.

“unfortunately—” geto’s low voice spurs you on. you’ve been lazily rubbing at your pussy, just humming into the phone while you only descend more and more into pleasure, “it’s taken a hole out of my allowance, i guess. my dad’s more generous with the parts that he gives me but at the same time i feel like he knows what i’m doing underground.”

he laughs and you fake a giggle, but your breaths are starting to get heavier with each sentence he utters, mind filling with flashbacks of how many ways he’s bent you over to fuck you, drunk on the phantom-like winds upon your ear that sound like he’s whispering all those filthy things to you. “and . . just missin’ my girl.”

“how’ve you been, baby?” he asks with a low voice, like he knows what you’re doing and the term of possession only has you sucking in a breath, fingers slip inside you after possibly a decade of teasing and you find it hard to answer. “darling?”

“y-yeah, ’m still here,” you pant out, afraid of being caught, but your voice quivers enough just for geto to catch on to what you were up to. he didn’t fault you, though (he never blames his girl), but there is a small smirk that forms on his face. he purposely lowers his voice even more, if it was possible, mirroring and mimicking your breathy tone when talking to him.

but with one hand that goes down to his pelvis, he doesn’t have to mimic you at all, hand palming languidly at his bulge. in the dead of the night, there wasn’t much need to keep his voice down in order to hear the pretty moans falling from your mouth; he does anyway.

it’s too shitty of a reception especially with your nokia’s, so he hears the artificial, metallic-like voice coming from his phone, but your sounds are just too lovely, transcending the robotic-ness of a phone call. and it’s like you’re actually there, smiling mischievously at him while stroking his cock and teasing him the way he liked to be teased.

“s-sugu?” you mumble, mind heading into the extremes and confident now that he’s just weirded out and silent, but it’s anything but that.

“yes, baby?” he hums, smiling to himself when he hears rustling over the phone and he can imagine you lifting your hips to remove your panties, tossing it somewhere across the room. “wanna tell me what you’re doin’?” 

you suck in a breath — so he knows — but suguru always knows everything so you’re whining into the receiver, pleasantly surprised when he replies with a deep groan that only makes you clench around nothing.

“that’s right . .” he drawls and you hear a soft thud over the line, and now you’re the one quieting your movements just to hear your boyfriend, the faint shlick shlick sounds of his hand along his cock. geto gasps when he squeezes his tip just like how you do it, pre-cum starting to leak. “need you h-here, doll . .”

you mewl softly and start the hand on your clit again, abandoning the tight hold around your phone just so you can use the other to slip your fingers into your warm cunt. it doesn’t even compare to the thickness and length of geto’s dick, but you have to work with what you have. with head turned toward the speaker, your boyfriend has gone non-verbal, too, moaning like a slut into the receiver.

“suguru, i’m— please . .” you whine softly, hips bucking into your hands, “doesn’t feel as g— good.”

geto coos inwardly at your needy voice, mouth falling open at his rock hard cock. it’s so hard that it hurts, left to merely fuck his fleshlight whenever he could and use his hand on other days. he missed your sweet fucking pussy so, so much, just picturing your beautiful arched back that lifts off the sheets and your shaking thighs. he imagines your perfect pout on your face as you finger yourself, unsatisfied, obviously, begging him with tugs to his hands and his eyes flutter close.

“i know, baby, and ’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking the nokia from his ear to put it right up to his relentless pumping and you swallow, the slick, wet sounds more clear now. “but you hear what ya do t’me, don’t you?”

“mhm . .” you trail off, thinking of his fat cock impaling you instead, and you follow his actions to a T, bringing it right to your sopping cunt and geto has to scrunch his already shut eyes just to wish that his hand was your pussy. your hand is getting tired, he’s sure, but you finger yourself so prettily his hand easily speeds up, giving his shaft periodic squeezes.

“so wet, suguu . .” you drag out his name, already feeling your high approach soon, but you want the both of you to cum together. “i miss you stretchin’ me out . .” a hiss from suguru, “i miss your cum spilling out of me.”

that has geto choking out a whine, “f—fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. i do miss g-giving you all of my cum—”

the filthiness of everything contributes to all your senses, parents omitted from memory, your finals at the back of your mind and only focusing on the envelope that resides on your bedside table containing a plane ticket. in one week you’d be able to see him again — a sweet treat given to you by gojo and nanami with their combined expenses.

you didn’t even know how you could thank them and while nanami waves you off for any payback, gojo did say you could treat him to anything in that café. it was difficult not to be excited, a louder whine drawn from your throat again and he laughs breathlessly, voice down low and distraught.

“any particular reason w-why my girl’s so needy lately—?”

geto basically chokes out his question while you shake your head until you remember that he can’t see you, answering with a broken “no”.

you resist the urge to spill on the exact reason — your mind spiralling from the anticipation of meeting him, the many, many lewd memories you’ve made over six months, his just-woken-up voice — because he’d never let you live it down.

“c-close, suguru—” your thighs are squeezed tight around your tired hand, sensitive from the immense overstimulation, “’m g’nna cum soon—!”

“me too, my love,” geto’s eyes are back open, trained on his cock and watching the sheer neediness shown in his weeping tip and bucking hips. he needs this, he needs you, and once you’re submitting your final paper, he’s sure to look at flights right to your doorstep.

“i’m c—” you’re whining out, body totally turned over and lying on your stomach as you chase your high, fuelled by the deep guttural groans of your boyfriend. your lips and mind are only filled with suguru, suguru, suguru, not even caring that your sheets are soaked and your fingers are cramping.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . s—shit—” geto reaches his release first, mind filled with replenished memories of your tight pussy hugging his cock, spurts of white spilling all over himself with a loud groan and you’re left to listen out for the desperate sounds of your boyfriend miles away, lengthening his climax as he continues to pump himself. “cum all over your fingers, doll . .”

suguru coaxes in that sweet voice of his, mumbling deep into the phone only for you. “doing so, so good, aren’t ya?” the quietness on his end, the slow lazy stroking of his hand again, and you’re cumming all over your fingers, eyes blown wide from the orgasm that he talks you through while you ride it out on your mediocre fingers. your mouth is stained with endless profanities and moans mixed with geto’s name, muffled by the bedsheets you’re so harshly biting into to prevent any loud, unbecoming sounds.

“that good?” he asks with a laugh, yawning yet again and you feel guilty again—

“i’m sorry, s—”

“no. don’t, doll, don’t apologise,” suguru brushes his thumb over his thigh, partially wiping off the cum and partially hoping he can relax the furrow of your brow like he always does. “you’re frowning and your shoulders are up, probably, relax . .”

you sigh, another thing that geto values a lot and has taught to you; deep breaths and untensing all parts of your body.

“good girl, was that good?”

“the phone sex or the deep breaths?”

geto grins. god, he missed you so fucking much — “both.”

“both was very good, thank you very much,” you giggle, not paying much mind to the way you remove your fingers from your cunt, turning over to the bedside table to take some tissues, “although the sex was a little better.”

“aw, no wins for the intense, groundbreaking, spirit-calming deep breaths?”

you shake your head (you’ve got to stop doing that), “ehh . . it was alright.”

geto’s reluctant sleepiness grants you a few more minutes together, his words starting to slur more and more the longer you were on the line, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. with fatigue came the words laced with unhindered affection, murmuring softly about hoping to see you soon, to feel you, to kiss you, and you expressed the same sentiment back to him.

the other switches the output to speaker, wanting to take in the messily taken profile pic he set your contact with. a blurred, blinding smile with his face squished against yours; a little below the two of you, berry and cherry clutched within your palms, doing the same. “can my girl do her best for her finals?”

“i can’t promise the best, but i’ll try . . okay?”

geto hums, a soft smile on his face. he’s cleaned up by now, new sweatpants on and duvet pulled right to his neck while he stares at your face, the pixels of the nokia never diluting your beauty.

“attagirl. have a good dinner, lovergirl.”

that knocks some breath out of you, and you grin like a schoolgirl.

“have a goodnight’s sleep, loverboy.”

you bounce on your heels impatiently when the plane finally lands, waiting for the throngs of people on the flight to leave through the bridge, but it’s taking ages, speed walking once you’re out. you wanted to be the first at the luggage conveyor belt, you needed to be the first passenger of your flight to be out of the arrival doors.

without the rush of the people and the striking colours of your boyfriend’s friends’ hair colours, it wasn’t too difficult to run up to them for a big hug.

“(y/n)~!” gojo drags out your name, waving you over excitedly and bringing the both of you into a group hug. nanami is adamant on being the ever broody racer, but you catch the ghost of a smile when he wraps a careful arm around your shoulders.

“how was the flight, (y/n)?” the blonde’s firm but concerned voice cuts through the chaos of the white-haired man.

“don’t ask lame questions like thaaaat, nanami! you’ll just bore me—” and a resounding smack! is then heard, and gojo’s clutching the back of his head in pain, the other taking the opportunity to lead you away from gojo’s antics and offering to help with your luggages. without words, nanami already feels your nervousness, patting your back in solidarity.

“hey— hey! oi!”

gojo slams the door to his car. “okay, we’ve painstakingly tried to hold suguru back whenever he was about to book flights—” gojo mentions in the car on the ride there, taking way too quick turns for your liking with your luggage going to town in the trunk. its thumps against the roof and sides always seem to interrupt the conversation with the white-haired man, but he seemed too much in a hurry to care. “think it was almost eight separate times!”

“thank you— ah!” you almost lurch forward at the amber light, but gojo decided at the last minute that he was just going to run it — braking then speeding it up all over again.

“you know, for a racer, you’re a terrible civilian driver . .” you groan once you reach the mouth of the familiar car park that you frequented in your six months in japan, but now that gojo’s easily manoeuvres the car to a slow, the adrenaline of the fast drive changes into something of dread, of a dizzying feeling.

what if suguru didn’t want to see you anymore? what if he already booked himself a flight and was nowhere to be found? what if he’s cheat—

your hands are clammy, not even present to how gojo calls out from you from the driver’s seat. cautiously, he’s putting a hand on your shoulder (because god forbid gojo touched anything of suguru’s, both Mazda and girlfriend), and shaking you out of your daze.

you catch glimpses of his sentences: “all  . . talks about . . trust . . no girl has . .” but you stop his rambling with frantic slaps to his shoulder. you know you shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions but it’s hard not to when the scene is clear as day. suguru is never one to cheat — from the six months you’ve known him, from the many calls and check-ins the two of you do over the line.

defying time zones, fighting fatigue . . for this?

but you know better to list your lover as the instigator, especially from how this other girl was just hovering all over his Mazda, sticking her ass out and trailing her hand all over his finishing. that was one thing — but geto isn’t making any move to shove her off, only looking at her through hooded lids that could definitely drive anyone off. she wasn’t affected, though.

you’re not listening to gojo even when you step out of the car, already used to the curious eyes that rake over you and your figure — curiosity turns into recognition and then shock when they see how your boyfriend acts, but before you can actually make your way toward them, another man sidles up to you.

oh my god, it’s daisuke. you sigh loudly, knowing how gojo had dealt with him before and how much of an asshole he is, but all he does is look you up and down, not giving one fuck to how the subject of his embarrassment was sitting right in the driver’s seat.

“hey, babygirl.” you want to vomit from that one greeting alone, but you try not to pay him much mind. “what’s a pretty lady like you doin’ out here?”

“don’t your sorry ass have a girlfriend?” daisuke doesn’t even begin to digest the insult, and you think that he’s a masochist with how much he sets himself up for getting insulted, but then the girl’s eyes meet yours — she’s in his pictures, she’s in his wallet, you’ve seen her when this loser beside you blatantly brags about his girl. you’d feel sorry for her but it seems she’s as stupid as him.

they’re exactly that — realising you just walked yourself into one big jealousy scheme planned by the biggest jokers of the underground racing scene, your suspicions are confirmed when his eyes are also locked on his girlfriend with your boyfriend of all people, making sure she sees that he’s all up in your space. she’s doing the same, but when she actually tries to touch him is when geto finally does something, and the jealous burn in your heart quells a bit.

geto’s too smart to be mingling around with her, you hope, when you hear him mutter something to her and you smile to yourself when she cowers under his stare and words.

“you touch my fuckin’ car one more time and i’m sure to drive both you and your loser boyfriend, out of here forever. you can take your clown asses to another parking lot and race there and then i won’t have to see your faces any more,” his hold around his wrist isn’t harsh, but it is firm, and he prevents her from leaving until she gets his message, “plus i have a girl i’m obsessed with. take your lame jealous charade somewhere else and maybe go to couples’ therapy. you two clearly need it.”

and when she looks at you again — you think it’s how your identity settles in her mind — she yelps and finally runs away at the daggers you give, not even sparing a glance to daisuke who’s carefully scooching closer to you. but just as he tries to wrap his arm around your waist, your eyes catch suguru’s.

his eyes soften for just a moment; it was just like the café. his palms turn sweaty and he feels like he could collapse — but now you’re looking just a little different. he wasn’t sure if it was because of your hair or the tiredness from exams, but you’re still as stunning as the day he led you out of the parking lot.

geto cannot resist giving you a big grin, but it quickly fades when his gaze falls on daisuke beside you and a scowl appears. and while your body’s already distancing yourself from the man’s crusty ass lips, you feel a throb go right down to your core when the same annoyed glower forms across his features: eyebrows pulled taut, long strides, muscles bulging in the wifebeater he’s got on.

six months away from your man has clearly done things to you.

with one smooth swoop, geto has you pulled flush against him, not even looking as he uses his free hand to grab at daisuke’s neckline before he leans in to kiss you. it’s admittedly a little embarrassing, cause your body reacts so readily to him, tits pressed against his chest while your fingers tangle themselves in his long hair. he tastes like cigarettes and cherries like always and you moan softly into his mouth when his hands wander right down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

“satoru’s not very good at hiding secrets, unfortunately,” geto spills and you pout, surprise ruined by the loud mouth of his friend, but before he gives you his undivided attention, he tugs daisuke closer, roughly. “but that don’t mean i ain’t happy to see ya, baby.”

geto laughs at your flustered state, until his expression darkens again — “you have a lot of nerve touching my girl.”

“I—i didn’t! she was basically begging for me to touch her.”

“don’t you—”

“p-plus! my girl was all up over you too, so i thought i’d give her a little lovin’—”

geto almost smashes his jaw in. either way, he lands a clean punch to his face that has daisuke writhing on the floor, clutching his mouth in pain but that doesn’t deter daisuke one bit who sits up . . and then is immediately beaten down again with a boot to his chest. your boyfriend leans down and looks him straight in the eye.

“i’m cancelling my race just so i can make my girl scream my name loud enough for you, because you could never fuck her or anyone that good with your shit dick game,” geto scoffs, “and forget girls, you can’t even win enough races to rise up the ranks. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough, don’t you think?”

suguru doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, only ushering you toward his Mazda parked in the familiar corner, easily shooting a text to gojo to cancel the race as he mentioned just so he could . .

with windows down, you relish again in the tokyo night air, the hand that you miss so much on your thigh, the alluring voice he’s speaking to you in, the beauty of geto suguru. everything looked the same since you left, from the photos he’s put up on the dashboard, the berry keychain hanging from the rear view mirror, the outer orange coating of his car.

“i—”

“i’m sorry, my love,” suguru leaps forward to apologise, stopping the car abruptly. you’ve already reached your destination but, it seems he wants to say something first.

“why are you apologising?”

he frowns, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek. easily, you’re leaning into the touch, closing your eyes. “for ruining the surprise, for that stupid fight with daisuke, for letting my emotions take over.”

you mirror him, features also deepening in somberness. “you didn’t do anything — if anything, you were a victim of his girlfriend too. but . . seeing her be all over you, made me think the worst after not seeing you for six months.”

geto’s eyes soften yet again (he simply can’t help it around you), using both hands to hold you, now, and you float into his arms like a feather, like he’s in command. you let him guide you into the driver’s seat, faces so close and just hoping to touch after so many months apart.

“i . . i love you,” he swallows, brushing the hair from your face. you find that he’s shaking and breathing so heavily you’d think he was hyperventilating, but he gathers courage on a deep breath and continues, “i have since you left. right after, i went home to cry.”

“oh . .” your lip juts out, eyebrows downturned and eyes filling just a little, “oh, sugu . .”

“i just have always wanted to say it, i guess,” he chuckles, sniffling to hide his true emotions, “i just didn’t know whether i should say it over the phone where it would sound cheap; b-but, you don’t have to say it back, of course—”

you smile through tears, pressing a peck to his forehead in gratitude, “it wouldn’t sound like it to me, but i appreciate you waiting until i returned,” geto relishes in your lips upon his skin again, and he doesn’t think he could survive another day, another minute, another second without you, “i have, too, but i’m not sure when. it definitely includes the time you set alarms to wake me up for exams, though.”

he laughs freely at the memory now, of alarms interrupting his dinners and his parents asking “another call?”, but they let him do whatever, happy to hear their boy joking and laughing over the call with his mystery partner. you giggle, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears that did fall, letting the interior fluorescent light of the Mazda illuminate the features you love so much, all belonging to the man you pined over from many miles away.

“i love you too, suguru — stumbling into that random car park was the best thing i’ve ever done.”

“well, it might’ve not turned out as well if some other group had gotten to you first,” his thumb plays with your bottom lip and brings you to him, “’m just glad i got to ya in time . .”

“yeah? what if you didn’t at all?”

“then i would’ve made sure i’d find you in any way that i can, even if i had to beat up a thousand daisukes.”

that makes you giggle at little, a sliver of eye contact shared with your lover before he engulfs you in a rough kiss and your moan reaches the heavens, body so sensitive from being away from his touch that you jolt when he wraps an arm around your waist. 

“relax, baby,” geto chuckles, speaking against your lips, “take it slow.”

“but i don’t wanna . .” you whine softly, clinging to him in surprise when he pulls a lever next to his seat and the backrest falls all the way down.

“ah!” you grin, “new mod?”

suguru barks out in laughter, “ya caught me. i got it modified yesterday.”

“so you could do dirty things like this?”

he rolls his eyes with a blinding smile, just so, so happy he’s got you back in his arms again, “exactly that.”

the other willingly shows you just what the modification can take, both hands spread out on your ass and pulling you onto his crotch. your core already feels the half-hard bulge under him, using your hips to grind down even more along him. everything feels like too much, after so long away from him that you already feel your high approaching from simply grinding your clit against him and he teases.

“you g’nna cum, already?” he grins slyly, suddenly moving his hips to meet yours that has a broken mewl leaving your throat.

“b—been too long away from you . .” you admit a little sheepishly, using his shirt as an anchor while you continue to grind your cunt into his front, only your panties and his trousers separating the contact of skin. but with how your body jerks in pleasure, you’d think there was nothing between the both of you. “i need you, quick.”

geto says nothing but help you with small pants, the backlighting from the headlines accentuating your figure so nicely that he grunts out your name in between swears, soon stuttering your syllables once he feels you still on his lap with arched back and throbbing cunt. he can feel you, feel you squeezing around him even when he wasn’t in you.

“guess your fingers were pretty crap, h-huh?” massaging your sides, you hum in disapproval at his cheeky smirk, hoping to change that when he lets you do whatever: you pull him up by his shirt and open the door to his car, pushing at him to get out. you don’t day anything and he already knows what you want when you spread your legs, biting his lip at the wet patch on the pretty set you decided to don.

and even with witnessing this sight over and over, you’re never used to the way geto worships you, reveres you, when he kneels down on straight gravel. he doesn’t care if his pants are littered with small specks of dust and dirt, whether he knees start to hurt, but he only has his eyes set on your alluring cunt, finger delicate when he pulls your panties to the side but just brutal when his mouth meets your clit.

“su— s-shit—!” is all you can manage, hearing the other breathe through his nose once his mouth latches on your pussy. it’s something that he hasn’t tasted since long ago, and he’d be damned to let you go again, so he takes the opportunity to savour your arousal, switching between flicking and sucking on your clit like a starved man.

“she tastes so fuckin’ good hmmff—” his eyes meet yours and he feels you squeeze around nothing, making a show of letting you watch how his tongue circles your bud, down to your hole and up again, slurping up your juices sloppily. “i hope this pussy’s missed me as much as i missed her, yeah?”

“y-yeah . .” you moan out softly, legs moving apart more to get more of him, pelvis humping against his face so much that he has to hold it down with a hand. your pre is dripping all over his leather seats and onto the floor, but he makes sure not to spill any more from the way he scoops it up and prods at your entrance. 

“let your pussy do the talkin’, baby,” he mumbles drunkenly, pushing in a finger past your walls and the stretch is already so much better than your own. your jaw hangs open in ecstasy, body already bucking and craving for more when he pushes his thicker finger all the way in and it’s no problem for geto to slip the other in, “she’s sucking me in so well, can she do this to my cock too? hm?”

wordlessly, you’re nodding, catching a whisper of good girl before he’s back on your sopping pussy, sucking up and swallowing all of your arousal that it’s downright filthy, the noises echoing throughout the space. geto doesn’t waste any time pumping his digits, moving them in tandem with his tongue.

“s—suguru . .” you whine, struggling to keep your eyes open from the sheer pleasure, and you’re met with the vision that you can never get enough of — your racer boyfriend’s tongue out, hooded lids and soaked chin — and he grants you a little more of euphoria, groaning loudly into your pussy. with each minute, he’s only getting harder, unbelievably so, so your fantasy cut short when he removes his fingers and mouth with a pop! and laughs at your needy whine.

“you’ve been away too long, come,” geto stands to give you a kiss first, letting you taste yourself, “i need to be in you, darlin’.” 

and so when he first slips in, it feels like heaven on earth, his leaking tip nudging past your folds and right into your warm cunt that he whines so loudly, long hair falling all about his face and body. you’re not different, nails digging in his skin at the stretch that you’ve missed, cock so much longer and thicker than your fingers.

“t-this is better than any fleshlight, fuuckk . .” he mutters to himself, one hand holding your ankle up and the other holding your bent knee. he’s hoping the modification he made to his car wouldn’t give up on him, because he knows he won’t be able to hold back once you’ve adjusted. but when you start moving earlier than he expects, he doesn’t give you the chance, slamming right up to the hilt until you’re shivering and clenching around him.

“g—god, r-right there, sugu—” you preen, nothing but incoherent and repeated sentences mumbled by you over and over, “feels s’full . .”

“y-yeah? tha’ it?” you don’t need the shitty light of the abandoned parking lot to make you look beautiful, you’re doing it all on your own when your body arches towards him and your legs shiver in his hold, catching glimpses of just how wet you were — juices smeared along your inner thighs, a clear sheen of it along his length, all thanks to the lighting. “so sloppy, huh . . listen to ’er.”

geto emphasises his thrust, in, out, and in, out, just for you to hear your dripping pussy dragging along his shaft, one of the things of yours that makes him go insane. 

“all because of you,” you babble mindlessly, fingers expressing your need for him and he listens like he always does, body hovering over yours just to kiss you and because of that he’s thrusting all the more deeper into you as you break the kiss with a loud moan. geto laughs against your lips, hips making quick work to make sure he stays in his new angle, and he’s rewarded with your lewd pleas for him.

he’s ramming into you so perfectly, mushroom tip just barely brushing against your cervix each time that it has your mouth permanently open in pure pleasure.

“well . . you’re the only doll to get me hard and needy like this . .” he chuckles again, kissing down your neck to make sure you get blue and black into your skin, “and i fuckin’ love her for it.”

with a shaky hand you pull on his ruined ponytail, “s-say it again.”

“i love you,” suguru almost whispers, afraid of breaking the silence.

“again . .”

“i love you, sweetheart,” that makes you bend into his hold, undoubtedly.

“again, suguru—”

his hips are relentless, still moving even through his pussydrunk confessions, “i love you— i-i love you, i love you. so, goddamn, much— s-shiiit . .”

“m-me too, su . . i love you— i—” your arms trap him, circling around his neck and making sure he stays close to you and he pushes on your knees more, fat cock fucking into you in a more open mating press, knowing you’re close by how your toes curl and your stomach contracts, by how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he’s got you mapped out, memorised, all from his devotion to you.

“i know, baby, you’re close, y—yeah?”

he feels you nod, thighs starting to burn from the position but while your pussy keeps sucking him in, he’s sure to continue to slam into you, making sure all four walls of the parking lot hear the obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your ass.

“c’mon, cum with me, princess,” he murmurs, lightheaded with the tightness and warmth of your pussy. it’s a wonder he hasn’t cummed already, sneaking one hand in between your bodies to rub at your clit. your moans are rendered inaudible, only managing pathetic squeaks before you’re tipped over the edge and you’re whimpering so loudly into his car, cum dripping down and out your cunt and right to your ass.

your pussy flutters with geto’s continued thrusts, prompting him to reach his release right after with a deep groan, hips stuttering in your sensitive pussy until he’s spilling his load, white and hot. it’s just so, so goddamn much, stuffing your hole full of his cum that it has no choice to spill and dribble out when he removes his cock, the sight just so mesmerising to him.

“p—please,” your energy is far from used up, turning your body over just so you can present your ass to him. face squished into the driver’s seat, you use both hands to spread your cum-filled pussy, just asking for more and geto only smiles with a certain lilt in his voice. “need more, suguru . .”

“that’s my lovergirl.”

[calebrity]

good cop, bad cop

► ghost x female reader x soap

cw. smut, 2x1, dubious consent, oral, piv, angst, mc is traumatized; policemen! boys are there to ‘save’ her, a fair amount of infighting, obsessive/possessive behaviors, hinted stalking, hints and allusions of foul play, corruption, freeze response, soap is unhinged; ghost is the more ‘moral’ of the two but just as bad, p with plot, 18+ content

an. about 10k words of a fic i procrastinated on since Christmas :] anyways u can read this on ao3 if u want & reblogs/love is so so appreciated <33

The tires crunch over a gravel driveway.

There’s always the familiar face or ten in their line of work, but hers is a pretty one they find themselves wishing to both avoid and see more often.

It’s the neighbors who’ve called this time.

To be fair, the ringer usually varies between the grandmother next door or the guy and his daughter, but the little lady herself stays quiet. People care for her though, whether she’s aware of that yet or not.

Even the cats (bold: curling up to Johnny’s calf and sniffing his boot laces, Simon unable to shake them from underfoot) seem to hold some special affinity for her- because they walk the boys right up to her porch steps and purr. Must be their way of repaying her for all the cans of tuna she leaves out for them in the evenings.

It’s not the first time deputies have been dragged out this far down rural roads on behalf of the scared little thing next door, and Johnny has this nasty stirring in his gut that tells him it won’t be the last.

Domestic cases always struck a certain chord in Simon. Familiar but bitter. All that made it worser was the fact that it was near impossible to put it onto paper so long as the abuser in question walked the thin line of just plain shitty and bad-tempered and- yeah, okay, that guy definitely hits his girlfriend. It’s a liminal space that vermin like her boyfriend get to tread freely in; legally-speaking, they’ve broken no law until legally-speaking, the girl is dead. Found dumped in some ditch or crammed in the closet in a heap of bloody blankets.

And fuck if that doesn’t sound just awful.

Ghost has seen too much for one man alone, but his stomach twists at the idea all the same. He’s become a little fond of her. He hasn’t made any real attempt to deny that, and Johnny can only poke him for it until he’s accused of the same.

That bastard is a free man, as it stands, but Simon’s heard the yelling, you know. Caught the tail-ends of some verbally-scathing fight. His barbed words that leave her with unshed tears and near unresponsive when Johnny performs a wellness check while Simon pats down the fucker. Pulls him aside to tell him very politely to find some shitty motel for the night or someplace else to bum at.

That- those not so subtle warnings both men generously give to the douchebag- are not exactly permissible by the law they so rigidly uphold. But Ghost can’t really help the hostility that burns in his gut when he catches those glossy doe eyes quickly darting away from his as if he’d strike her in the face if she dared hold eye contact- and a few heavy touches during protocol pat-downs never fail to make the wanker obedient. Wards him off for a night or two.

Fuckin’ coward.

Johnny’s heard the dishes break before. They’ve never seen the bruises, though. Hard, physical evidence to tuck into a yellow file for an eternity in the metal bin. And she’s too frightened to offer him up and admit his crimes. Too scared to fess up to ‘em.

(As if being on the receiving end of his drunken fist makes you a fucking accomplice—

Oh, hardly, love. Hardly. Simon’s tried to tell you so with as much of a stoic face he can manage in brief chats before either hauling Romeo off to a 24hour holding cell or flipping the bird in the direction of the local inn. But you’ve got your head in the sand. Your heart in your mouth and your words on autopilot.)

N-No, sir, I’m fine, really. I swear. He just— We’re fine.

Trained dog.

Loyal mutt.

A good girl. Too good, maybe, for her own good.

It’s frustrating, a bit. But Simon understands, he does. Soap can’t fault her for that, either. She’s scared. It’s a traumatic response if they’ve ever seen one.

When they unload from the patrol car, Johnny tips his cap to a curious, familiar onlooker and she gives him a knowing frown. The caller, probably. She’d have to be interviewed or asked a few questions at minimum (the rudimentary stuff, like, so what’s going on tonight, why’d you call us out here?)

—But all that for later.

All that for after they ascertain she’s okay.

The absence of her boyfriend’s rusted pick-up in the gravel road is noted with a corrugated brow and an un-stuffing of Simon's hands from his pockets. The Scotsman nearly trips over one of the plastic geese stood in the lawn because he’s too busy reading his surroundings.

Bastard could’ve taken her… Maybe it finally reached the boiling point. The POS heard the familiar dial of nine one one and booked town with the poor thing in tow. Finally blew both their brains out like he’d been wanting- relayed by a very concerned Mrs. Smith from across the street with a shake of her cane.

She’d said she’d heard awful things come from the trailer home. That that young man needs Jesus. And the girl a real man to love her.

We’ll see about it, ma’am, Johnny’d said with a warm smile, the more socially gifted of the two, about gettin’ that bloke an audience with the big man upstairs.

(As for the latter part-… Well. He’ll keep it professional.)

Simon’s heart is knocking in his chest by the time he knocks on her frail door; it could blow down with a puff of cigarette smoke. It has before. It’s on its last leg, now. Has been for two months. That fucker needs to be put in a psychiatric ward if not a dungeon. If not a headlock where Simon's arm is so tight his ugly mug pops off and fucking rolls.

Any man who hits on their woman or the fairer sex warrants a response like that. Quick and efficient. Violent, very.

Johnny throws a nervous glance around the sordid trailer park and briefly contemplates scribbling down possible witness accounts- that neighbor is still on standby, after all- but the curtains rattle timidly at the window and he quickly forgets the thought.

Johnny’s antsy. Very antsy. Tonight feels different, somehow, the situation more urgent like it’s climbed steadily to its zenith. The air is balmy; early summer carries a fading warmth in its evening winds, and the salty reminder of the sweat beading on Soap’s forehead. Slicking his palms.

Many thoughts cycle through his head in that segment of time where he and Ghost crowd her tiny concrete steps, waiting for a sign of life opposite the door. Anything at all before one of them kicks it down.

They’d have reason to.

Seconds feel like hours. To hell with it— Johnny’s always been well-versed with the art of exaggeration— it feels like they wait there for decades, his heels clipping a restless tune against the cold grey, Simon’s shadowy hues fluttering with an uncommon anxiousness.

“Takin’ her time, ain’t she?”

“No tellin’ what happened, Ghost.”

“Could’ve ran with her... Taken off.”

Fuck. Yeah. That’s the shared fear, huh? Johnny begins to broil the more he’s left to his own inner dialogue. Not just because of the heat.

The brunet adjusts the shiny gold badge pinned to his muscled chest even though it’s perfectly in place, and forces a dry, harsh laugh. It lacks humor.

“That thing’s a skip on wheels… cannae have made it too far, aye? Who knows, perhaps we can intercept ‘em…”

Already assuming the worst has already happened: a learned habit integral to them both.

Ghost gives a grunt, and thus concludes their chat.

Fuck. He should’ve killed that bastard while he had the chance. To hell with not having enough proof of wrongdoing, he’ll do it now! If that bastard musters up enough stupidity to pull back up the bend, Johnny will shove a pistol to his fuckin’ head and turn off the bodycam—

He swears to that big man upstairs—

When the door finally, slowly opens, she’s hiding behind it with a shiner.

✦✦✦

Gloved hands certainly don’t deliver a cushiony touch when they help the thief into the backseat of the cruiser, but considering his brutish personality, Ghost is almost gentle.

Almost.

The suspect (although, the guy was quite literally caught with his hand in the tip jar; there’s very little speculation to be had on just what happened) isn’t their guy— their guy being the doped up asshole that split town and has yet to return to the shitty trailer park— unfortunately. But Simon, quite unexpectedly, wishes it was.

It’s fine, you know, unresolved leads and targets. It’s too common in their line of work to actually hold any real ire against. If they did, cortisol levels would be at an all-time high.

At least,… it’s usually fine. The occasional thug or do-badder will weasel out from law’s tight fist and ditch town, and then Ghost and Soap will have one less useless piece of shit to worry about until they do decide to come back.

The boys mostly take it like water off their backs. Easily. Sometimes frustrating, but what can you do?

They have a town- a familiar web of individual livelihoods- to keep safe right here, and what they won’t do is jeopardize that by embarking on some long, drawn-out journey when results aren’t even promised. For some asshole, no less, that’ll probably end up OD-ing or stabbed in some back alley by another one of his kind.

It’s cruel, but they chose that life. It’s only right they die in it. Simon thinks as much, at least. He made it out of the shithole while he still could, and he has zero regrets turning his back on his past. There’s always a choice. Always.

But this guy- the doll’s ever the romantic boyfriend—

Ghost tightens his palm unwittingly. The petty thief he’s tucking into the car winces and Ghost grunts in response, withdrawing his arm without much concern- but it does help him to refocus.

The job. Yes, that’s right. He’s on duty. Shouldn’t be thinking of her. Well, more than it’s required of him, anyway, extending from the bounds of what’s professional for a veritable enforcer of the law.

The door shuts with a clink and then Simon makes it all of five steps, wrapping around Price’s black and white-painted car, before the big guy himself stops him.

What he’s met with is a somewhat dissatisfied glare. (Not hostile by any means, no, the geezer has his cranky streak, sure, but he’s always been more lenient with him and Johnny... But dissatisfied.)

Capt’s eyes, a kind brown, wrinkle in preparation to scold him.

“Gettin’ a bit ahead of ourselves, are we?”

“Wot?”

Tan, leather-covered fingers move to adjust the cap on his head, “Held our guy a li’l snug back there, didn’t you?” And then suddenly, that singular trace of warmth in his eyes peters out into a steady, sort of paternal exasperation. “I’ve said it before, Simon. Getting rough with them will land yourself into a world of shite- last time, I was barely able to cover for your arse. D’you think Shepherd would look the other way again?”

Ghost sniffs. Blinks slowly— feels a prickling in his chest that time has made almost foreign- a prickling called shame- and kicks dirt over it. He glances from the positively pissed brunette to the cab behind him, spotting a hunched silhouette in the back of it, before looking back to Price.

“Don’t think he’d be particularly pleased.”

That earns him a curt clap on the shoulder and blunt fingers that actually manage to rattle him- but just slightly. Considering he’s creeping up on forty years old, John has done a laudable job at warding off a full-fledged dad bod (although, with his new baby boy on the way, it’s a nearer thing), but the dad strength is absolutely there. Oh, a hundred percent.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he says with a smile too tight to be fully genuine. Too curved. Simon’s observed it from a distance, and usually it only means trouble for whoever’s on the receiving end of it, but while his superior is in fact bristled over his minor transgression, it’s more an outburst of stress than anything else. Simon won’t lose his head for it.

Ghost’s acquiescence must dredge some sympathy from Price though, because he lets out a deep sigh and softens his grip on the blade of his shoulder.

“That case with the doll’s toying with you, innit?” The call-out is sudden, not foreseen.

“You’ve been reviewing the paperwork all week. Look, lad, you n’ Soap are my best men. If I get a call, I’m sending you two out first. If your head’s been screwed with- I need you to screw it back on,” His voice is calmer now, more genuine, too. It carries an affable, yet no less firm tone; the menthol whispers of cigarette smoke. Simon can hardly believe he made it a sentence without fishing one out from his pocket and lighting it, but right now isn’t the time to congratulate the old man on making it a day without falling back on his favorite vice. He used to say he’d eventually quit, but now he’s dropped the pretense entirely. He never will.

Captain’s words hit, though, in a way that’s a bit unanticipated from the blond- but he supposes it’s only natural that if he’d ever be read accurately, it’d be by his senior.

He pats Ghost on the shoulder one final time, “Don’t be chasing after shadows, alright?” If that muppet wants to run? You bloody let him. ‘Member: even if we don’t get to him right away, something else will.”

Chasing after shadows? Ah, that’s one way to put it. Actually, Ghost isn’t even so sure anymore if he wants to find the girlfriend-beating bastard: Price just got done lecturing him over poor conduct (not for the first time), but Simon knows that once he gets his hands on that slimy son of a bitch, there will be a whole lot more to mark him up for- poor conduct the least concern.

Maybe it’s for the better. Letting it go.

“Yes, sir.”

Simon delivers him a stiff nod, and then they part ways: the older one stepping for his car (if Simon cared more, he’d say a small prayer for the poor asshole in the backseat, in for a bad time if he tries to spark conversation with the grumpy driver), Ghost heading for his own vehicle with his cohort waiting inside.

The Scotsman is probably stewing in his own impatience, high as his energy levels are. Simon’s almost surprised he doesn’t approach the car and see his nose pressed to the fogged window, but—

“And Simon,” a gravelly voice calls.

He turns around.

“Relay that to Soap for me, would you?”

—Maybe it’s more than inherent, overabundant stamina that’s got his partner in cleaning up crime so wired.

…Maybe that whole case with the doll- the big blowout with her quote on quote boyfriend and his leaving after striking her in the pretty face-

Maybe it’s screwin’ with Johnny’s head, too.

✦✦✦

There came a time, after all his unfulfilled promises, vows to bettering himself- your relationship- that hope became the equivalent of stupidity. Naivety.

It’s only been two weeks since he slammed the door on your face and booked town, but you’re still reeling a little. The impact of it shook the home. Shook you. Over the course of a handful of days, you experience a strange dichotomy of tiredness and short bursts of energy that convince you you’re happy— for an hour or three, until the absence of him sinks in all over again. He left. He left you. And you’re glad for it. You’re safe for it. You’re destroyed.

How could he- How could he fucking leave you? After he made you this way?

Breathe.

The reminder comes in a bitten voice. Claws its way from the kinder recess of your brain, whatever is left of it.

Breathe.

That’s right. There’s still life left in the tank for you.

You peel the covers off you and slink to the bathroom. A girl peers back from a dirty mirror. Familiar but not. It’s a small effort to mask your shock that stares from your reflection- because for a moment, you’re stunned at just how tired you appear. You look unhealthy. Sad. Like… damaged goods.

And you miss him. You really, really think you do.

You’re much better off without him- that’s obvious. That’s never been the question, whether your general wellness would be vastly improved as soon as he sunk back into whatever hole he crept from. No, what you constantly found yourself questioning was whether or not you’d be able to recover after the whirlwind that is your boyfriend finally swept through. Would anybody else love you, was what your internal dialogue begged to know. Could anybody else love you?

What does that word mean, anyway? The girl in the mirror offers a weak chuckle. And then she releases her white knuckles from the marble counter- and she tears up the more she keeps her eyes steady on the bruised right one.

It’s a new low, even for him. His fist was too heavy, too fast, hurtling at you at a speed that left you with no time to react.

It’s a quiet affair, when you begin to cry.

Salty, bitter. Furious girl.

Truthfully, you were never quite allowed to be angry- or express any sort of emotion for that matter- so long as he shared the now empty slot of the bed beside you, but now that he’s disappeared, that wrath hugs you like a weighted blanket.

You hate him. You love him. You—

You wrap yourself in that heat. Sleep in it.

You wish you made good on all your countless, brittle promises to leave him before he up and decided to beat you to the punch- and in more ways than one. In this stupid trailer home, the lack of your (ex? does this equate to his dumping you?) boyfriend shuffling around chips away at you; the air feels stale, like there’s too much of it for you alone. Simultaneously, you can’t get in enough of it.

The world is closing in on you. Your chest hurts. Your veins heat with rage and brokenness, your pulse begins to jump sporadically and then you begin to hyperventilate every couple hours or so. Saying under your shivering breath, come back home. I’m sorry. I’ll be good- (and then, trying to recall ever not strictly minding your p’s and q’s around him-)

I’ll be better.

Ah, you’ve heard that one before.

It’s weird to hear it played back to you in your own voice, though, because it’s usually not you trying to butter him up and convince him to stay, but the other way around. You suppose the tables have sort of turned now, but still… You… You’d never hit him- not like he did you. Just the thought of it spears between your ribs and twists in like a corkscrew.

A feeling of disgust settles in its wake.

Oh, he’s left you so, so screwed, and yet the chief concern that possesses you all night is this:

Wherever your baby is, does he miss you, too?

✦✦✦

You think about leaving. Starting anew, somewhere.

Part of you has half the brain to want to plan it out, lay out a big meticulous blueprint for your life- carefully mark dots on a map and connect them with a newfound resolve. You’re young still (even if it feels you’ve seen it all, like he’s aged you). Hardly twenty two. When you were a little girl, you’d somehow come to the simple conclusion that all humans lived until the exact age of one hundred; if that’s true, you’ve got just shy of eighty years left in the tank.

You could make it.

The other piece of you doesn’t care for the destination- so long as it’s away.

In the corner of the yard, towards the side of your little home, sits a trashy RV your boyfriend bought as a scrap to remodel later. He never did. You guess he never will. Sometimes you curl up by the window and stare at it, dream of painting the rusted lines a girlish pink or refurbishing the weathered seats with neon leather.

You would be crazy and in love with life, traveling all over the country without giving so much as a rat’s ass about anything or- or him.

Your family hardly has the room in their heart for you. You’re no prodigal daughter, just a welcome absence in a bitter, hollow home. Between scars that don’t ever quite heal (because time is not an apology, as much as you may ache for it to in their stead) and a basal fear that you’ll step through the front door and turn twelve all over again, there’s no real want inside of you to go back to that place ever again. Maybe it’s why it was so easy for you to leave, to fall headlong into the pretty lies of a pretty, albeit temperamental man and decide to let him close the door of his pick-up behind you.

So… where do you go?

You don’t know.

You don’t know.

Your piece’a crap boyfriend left and took his piece’a crap truck with him. Doubt it’ll even carry him fifteen miles before it pops its tire and swerves him into oncoming traffic or a post on a street he swears wasn’t there when he blinked. There’s always the option of an uber or asking the kind old lady next door to use hers for a quick grocery trip, but without a means of transportation, you’re more or less stuck here.

You swallow a thick lump in your throat, dust your red knees off when you stand, and will yourself to pretend you don’t care about any of it. Any of it at all.

Bare feet swish over the crumb-ridden kitchen vinyl and you make a mental note to sweep it later. It’d be good to properly clean this place up, especially now that the number one mess-maker is gone (tossing his empty cans everywhere, leaving cigar butts by the kitchen sink and his thin flannel button-ups on the arm of the couch).

If you’re really trapped here, you might as well—

A knock draws you from your muddled thoughts. Just like that, the haze thins out; when you peek through the curtains and spy a familiar deputy, hands tucked under his armpits as he idly sways on your porch stoop, a clarity washes over you.

…Oh, right. Other people exist. It’s not just you in this world.

He’s whistling something. You hear it as he waits, trading energy between the balls of his feet, patience leaving in subsequent ticks on his face.

…But you’re a mess right now, no makeup, no bottoms, just a long shirt and panties, and one of your braids have unraveled in the short span you’ve spent just twirling and trudging from quiet threshold to threshold—

Another rap at the wood, piercing blue eyes catching yours as the curtains flutter shut with a surprised gasp- and you know you’ve no choice but to answer. He’s seen you. You can’t pretend he didn’t. That… would be awkward.

It’s… fine. You can just hide behind the door when you answer, like last time.

He’s a cop, anyway. You’re sure he’s seen it all.

Whatever happened with you, and your case?

It’s the usual.

✦✦✦

He’s here again.

Well, they both are. But sometimes they feel synonymous to each other- because they’re both endlessly gracious to you (in their own ways; Johnny is more open with his kindness, Simon more subtle) and have lent a hand more times than you can count. They both wear the same uniform, in any case, cloaked in the signature, police-issued garb and a thick belt to keep their gun and cuffs (and hands, when they don’t know where else to put them).

That’s mostly Johnny, though. In the past few months, you’ve learned a few things about him over impromptu housecalls and rides to the local market (because you’re literally stuck here otherwise, until you find a way to get your shit together), tucked in his passenger seat with your knees in your arms.

First of all, he’s a good guy. Not like some of the sleazy cops you see on television who abuse their impunity and talk from their ass every time they wave someone over with their hand. Johnny’s got a fairly big head, you’ll give that much, but his ego is all pretty harmless. Makes you think there must be someone back at the station holding a tight ship, because otherwise he’d have cut free from his leash a long time ago. He’s a big dog. You can tell he likes to bite, yes, but only the bad guys- which is actually a comforting thought.

He’s good to you, to the elderly woman next door and her little rascal grandson who spams your doorbell until you agree to come out and look at the frog he caught. You’re thankful for Johnny’s presence in those times because he’s like a buffer between you and the things you can’t handle, a well-meaning but boisterous little kid a part of that.

The brunet sends him off with a ruffle of his hair, saying, ‘Alrigh, alrigh, leave the woman alone now, aye? Scamper off to yer gran, sure she’s worried boot where ye’ve gone,’ then he turns back to you on the porch step with a smile and takes a bite of his sandwich.

Secondly (and this falls under the first category you suppose, but this is more significant in your mind), he’s patient. Knows there’s something wrong with you- with your situation, that it’s left you a little sour and weak- but he never presses the envelope when it comes to the seedier details. I mean, the station’s already taken your formal story as well as the accounts of neighbors, so it’s not like he doesn’t know…

Even as he looks you in the eye, with his cerulean, rapt gaze that you swear doesn’t blink sometimes, you think he might be turning over the tale in his head. It’s one as old as time: girl falls in love with a fucked-up guy and pays for it.

Johnny stares hard, but he never stares like he’s judging, no…

Admiring, if nothing else. Albeit you’re not so sure what there is to admire— you’re some backroad hick with scars still fading and a sort of social clumsiness that only comes from rickety relationships and the hesitance to brush your fingers with his because they’re big and calloused and he could use ‘em to hit you. But he doesn’t. He never does. You wait for the blow and wait forever.

Ghost is like a ramrod. In all regards.

He doesn’t bounce from heel to heel all the time like his Scottish counterpart, wired with endless energy, no, he stands straight and tall and with his hands at his side. Big and unmovable. His eyes are a soft, dark brown but they’re cold. You were sure that first time you’d met him that he felt nothing- a man made of steel and the dents that misshape it. He seemed heartless.

It took a little time- and lots of careful observation, much overthinking- to realize it, but you were wrong. Simon is kind. (And you do call him that now, Simon; you’d said it on accident, but he didn’t seem to mind or shoo you off by saying something about oh no you gotta call me by my sign ‘cause i’m a big bad cop blah blah blah. He’d let out a microscopic breath and his lashes fluttered, and with a dip of his chin to acknowledge your profuse apologies, he’d muttered, s’alright. And since then he’s been Simon.)

And things have been alright, lately.

The boys drop by (sometimes alone, sometimes with the other in tow) for growingly frequent visits and sniff around your weedy little square of property like hounds, but they don’t find whatever the hell they’re looking for. Your boyfriend, probably. You think his scent’s gone cold ‘cause they haven’t found him yet.

You’ve never asked them.

Never mentioned it at all.

And again- thank God that neither of them prod for more information from you, but sometimes you see the silent question in their eyes. Aren’t you curious what’s come of him? Your boy?

But you don’t intend on spilling your heart out to these two kind-hearted, not quite strangers— not when they’ve already done so much for you.

There’s a little wriggling worm in the back of your head that begs to ask just why they’re so adamant on checking up on you at least thrice a week, but you don’t voice that either. It’s a somewhat harsh theory, but they’re probably just makin’ sure you didn’t kill yourself.

…‘Cause that’s what you are now, right? That’s how everyone’ll see you as. Pathetic and fragile like a tattered cardboard box with red tape plastered on each side.

And… It’s okay. You think you’ve come to peace with it. Ain’t nothin’ the folks around here can throw at you that’ll leave a mark; your mama and old man and ex-boyfriend did plenty a good job at that, and there’s also nothing they can say to hurt you because the voice in your head already screams it all.

That’s not to say your heart has hardened, though. No- it melts a little when Simon pulls out the barstool and mutters a soft thanks for the peanutbutter and jelly you fixed up for him. It even gives a weak little stutter when you unlatch the door and scamper off, Johnny’s eyes tracking your bare legs as you run to find shorts, his breathless chuckle ringing behind you.

Even then, in your old daisy dukes, he’s looking.

Stealing glances when you’re behind the counter pouring him lemonade; you assure yourself he isn’t.

He’s… a cop and, although he’s a whit flirtatious, he’s damn near programmed to survey every personage he comes across. With you, he’s looking for bruises and scars and- and you know what? He’s probably not even looking at all (even if you feel his eyes, that stark blue stare that harbors a hunger only men can really carry, burning into your profile long after you turn).

If somebody told you you lost it, you wouldn’t hurt for it, you’d just shrug and quietly understand.

Hey— The heat is certainly doing no favors for your mind fog: Lately, crowded on your narrow concrete porch step with Simon, you’re even deluded enough to think you feel his gaze on you, drifting along the slope of your cheek with an interest that frankly feels misplaced as you’re rambling on and on about the craziness of Honey Boo Boo.

(“Yeah, sweetheart? When you make supper tonight, put it on the telly. I’ll give it a look while I eat.”)

(“Y-You might lose your appetite. It’s not really a show you watch while eating-“

(“It’ll be fine.“)

He doesn’t tell you it’s impossible, that men like him never stop hungering. It’s hardly imaginable, anyway, to lose his appetite when you’ll be sitting there beside him, curled up on the sofa with a plate, pretty as fucking ever as he humors some shitty reality show for you.

He’s never told you, either, how gorgeous you are. Sometimes it’s all he wants to say because horrifically enough, he thinks you don’t know it, that all your self worth and awareness has been birched out of you by that asshole- but he quietly decides to leave that to Johnny.

That bastard’s always complimenting you. Even in the more private setting of their patrol car, bumping through familiar routes, the Scot’s running his mouth about how sweet you were today and how much that fucker didn’t deserve you and— fuck professionalism, can’t he just touch you? Just once-? Just. Ach, bloody hell, Ghost, I’d kill a man just to grab a fistful of her pretty hair and smell. Wannae hug her and wipe away all her fuckin’ memory of him.

Oh, he knows.

Simon will admit this much, with hands that clench the wheel and slacks that tighten a fraction at all the very vivid images his cohort paints for him of their doll: Johnny is annoying- endlessly annoying- but he’s right.

You’re perfect. Sugar sweet. Simon licks over his teeth without thinking when he’s talking to you (contentedly third-wheeling a conversation Johnny’s pulled you into) and feels his mouth water up. He wants to hold you, too, scorch away any and every idea of that shitty old boyfriend of yours, and tuck away your bangs that you let fall in your face because you’re instincively trying to hide from him.

Kindred and beaten. He wants to tell you you’re the same- but still, so much better than him.

…But all that for later.

✦✦✦

At your table, he digs into lasagna with a fork and foregoes cutting it into smaller bits with the knife. You suppose he can make anything digestible; with big enough teeth, you never have to worry. Beside him, Johnny drums his fingers- ungloved, his jacket folded with them on your sofa- on the wood and flashes you a smile when you catch his eyes.

You’ve hardly finished half your plate when you realize Johnny’s is empty. And now he’s just staring, sapphire hues remniscient of arctic plains skimming over you as you dip your chin to scoop dinner into your mouth.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you, what it is he’s seeing. You’d never admit that you feel a little unnerved by it. Even the fact that the two policemen who worked your case have become a tangible piece of your reality feels… Perturbing, almost. Four months scurry past with fast feet and leave you blinking back the dust. They weaseled into your sad little life in their own respective ways and you had nothing to say against it.

They were professional. Until they weren’t, until they were friendly.

And then they were friendly—

Johnny’s teeth, white and perfect, sharp under the buttery light of the fixture overhead, glint at you. You’re made to feel inexplicably self conscious by it. He says- with a tone that feels oddly suggestive, like there’s some hidden meaning to it- watching you with utmost interest as you eat, “Was fuckin’ delicious, hen. Ah think ah wannae second plate o’ it. Ye got some more?”

—Until they were not.

Bravely, you glance over to Simon and he’s wolfing down the last few spoonfuls. And he’s watching you, too, from the corner of his eye like some bird of prey.

Reaching over to gingerly pluck a napkin from its holder, you dot the corner of your lip (really just as a way to distract yourself as they stare) and offer a smile. “Y-Yeah, ‘course,” you nod backwards toward the stove where the tin sits, cracking a joke. “Just gotta get there before Simon does.”

It doesn’t exactly lighten the weird tension in the small space of your trailer home, but it alights Soap’s face with a dazzling grin. Johnny’s laugh is harsh, quick. Too amused. Once, it’d felt like a reward, like an audible confirmation that you were acknowledged in a pleasant, uniquely human way. It wouldn’t earn you a soft slap to the cheek (a wordless warning) or a cluck of a disapproving tongue. Johnny and Simon weren’t like that. They were good.

Two good men.

Your mouth feels dry.

Unease lodges deep in your throat. You swallow it down with some iced tea but it remains after the gulp.

So… maybe they aren’t exactly friendly anymore, or professional- like their shiny gold badges on their chest would demand of them- but they still showed up whenever they were called. Still shooed your crude, reckless boyfriend off the street when he was drunk and causing disturbances. And that day when he ran off and left you—

They were there for you.

Nobody else is there for you.

So yeah, okay, maybe this situation is a little strange, you’ll admit that much, and you vaguely wonder if their boss back at the station is even a mite aware of what his underlings get up to in the short windows their patrol trips will allow- but it’s not like you’re used to normal.

The boys are just a tiny bit weird with how they’ve been starting to forego the polite knocks and enter on their own accord, with how they hover when you’re cooking and how Johnny will absentmindedly pull you onto his lap on the couch before you squeak and alert him to reality- the reality that you’re just some stupid domestic case he handled, not his girlfriend. But you’re weird too, aren’t you? I mean, by that logic, you’re so, so far gone.

Damaged goods, a voice rings in the back of your head. You don’t thank it for its provision but it helps to steel your nerves, the reminder that you can manage these things because they’ve already struck you once before.

B-But again— I mean, your ex-boyfriend did leave you messed up… so maybe, just maybe, it’s all in your stupid head after all. You’re making these mountains out of molehills when it comes to their behavior.

Simon sets his utensil down. “Nah, go ahead, Soap. I had my fill,” he comments, and he’s right, he had a massive serving- but his gaze, umber and intense, consistently flickers back to you.

Your kitchen— no, your whole world— feels heavier with every cocksure syllable that comes out his scarred mouth. “Gotta save some room for dessert, anyway.”

You roll your suddenly dry lips to moisturize them before chiming, “d-dessert?”

You’d thought supper was it for tonight. You only have so much groceries to ration with the budget you’re losing and recipes to pull out your sleeve. In any case, the plan for this evening was to make the boys dinner (because they arrived- without prompting, per usual- and you figured it was the polite thing to do), and then send them on their merry way.

Once Johnny gets his seconds, they’re gone.

They’re supposed to be.

T-They’re staring- the both of them still. Staring hard.

Ghost snags your attention. Keeps it leveled intently, maybe a little nervously, on him. Johnny is just a blur of brown hair (his stupid mohawk he has no right to rock), sun-speckled skin and electric blue eyes beside him.

Ghost is all darkness from where you sit- pale skin broken up by colored scars, a black thermal and shadowy eyes; the only highlight in them, white and blocked, is the small portrait of yourself looking back at him. She looks healthy. But she still looks frightened.

“Dessert, pet,” he solidifies, gentle but firm. No room to argue here. He’s a cop anyway, not like you could get a good speaking point in when the threat of being cuffed will always dangle somewhere overhead.

But! They would never do that to you. Abuse their power. Abuse their manhood, hold your womanhood against you. Simon and Johnny are not like your boyfriend. Ex. Ex-boyfriend. They’re not.

“I- I don’t understand,” you laugh. “I don’t have anything to make.”

Johnny perks up, as if it’s his job to placate you, “Dinnae worry, bonnie. Ye’ll see soon enough. Me n’ Simon here got a lil’ somethin’ ta repay ya.”

“Wh- what, like a cake or something?” With a shake of your head, you pinch your brow and try to make your humor seem solid, real. But in the back of your head you know they’re trained to spot the faults, the little fractures in even the most rigid of personalities; to pin them and capitalize off them.

“I didn’t know it was my birthday.”

Soap chuckles again. There’s no doubt in your mind his mirth is genuine. “Ach. Not quite... Reckon you’ll be feeling like it, though,” he assures, unruffled as ever as your world spins. Not his world, he is fine from where he sits. “Happy li’l lass on her birthday.” It’s strange to see excitement- so audacious and stark- glimmering on a grown man’s face, but it’s there in abundance, softening weathered lines into an almost boyish look.

You’re fooled into a second of peace by it, until he shoulders the conversation- and the unspoken omen of it- over to his buddy.

“Tell her, Ghost. Lookit her- haha, she’s a curious one. Bet she’s jist as eager, aye?”

“Don’t get ahead o’ yourself, Johnny,” Simon murmurs, before his jaw flexes and he says after a thoughtful beat, regarding you quietly, “You’re scarin’ the girl.”

Are you scared?

You don’t know anymore. But if you are, you’re glad for their telling you about it. It’s hard to discern your feelings otherwise. You need the waving red stop signs and green lights to inform you of what’s happening inside of you and if it’s allowed.

It’s as pathetic as it is necessary.

As you clean up dinner, the boys circling behind you like vultures to roadkill as you helplessly busy yourself with the dishes as a last try at warding them off, you wonder where your baby is.

You wonder if he misses you there.

✦✦✦

It’s such a big stretch.

It takes your breath on the way in and when he bottoms out, you find yourself wishing for the couch to swallow you up in one of its crevices; you could disappear there and join the collection of missing pennies and dimes and go brainless for a bit. That’s a reprieve you don’t find, though, not here.

You should get those ideas of self autonomy and rest out of your pretty little head. You’ll always fall into the hands of some man- your abusive boyfriend or otherwise.

Four are roaming you, now, with all the reverence in the world but you don’t know how to respond to that touch. Soap’s fingers leave your forehead after he removes the lock glued there with a tut of his tongue, perspiring at your temple as your insides accommodate to the slow intrusion.

Simon thinks you’re something plucked from the renaissance era, your hair splayed around your head in a halo, one hand balled to your breast while the other presses into the cushion with discomfort.

The cushions are floral, a sage, ratty green patterned with what looks to be blushing carnation and their sprawling vines. It frames you perfectly: a nymphet in her garden, at home, with a distinct look of distress that’s almost painterly as he bullies his cock inside. It’s not like it’s the first time you’d laid on your back for a man- your ex- but it’s been a while, and even then it wasn’t anything this big.

Simon is monstrous and intimidating. You feel as if you’re being deflowered all over again. Startled and sweating.

“Gentle, Simon,” is all you can hope to plead for as, from your side, by the arm of the couch behind your head, a corded set of legs lumber over and stop.

Ghost lets out a grunt over you, voice strained as he stills his hips for a few moments. He’s kind enough to give you some time to adjust, but you think he needs the breathe as well. You fit him tighter than a latex glove and it’s hard to think, let alone make a reply but he manages.

“Being ‘bout as gentle as I can be, sweetheart.”

Inches from your head, Johnny bends over to ruck down his jeans and the too-tight, pesky denim, letting out a curse when he can’t peel them off fast enough. It’s been made very obvious just how eager the two were to become acquainted with you in a more physical way, but it’s Soap who takes the cake in embarrassing himself for it. Though to be fair, he doesn’t seem to mind much, kicking off his pants when they pool at his ankles, untucking himself from his briefs with urgency.

“Ach. Ye better be gentle with her. We owe her tha’, don’t we? Although…” Soap starts, a certain glint in his electric blue eyes that’s reminscient of glowing orbs between dark trees at night- the gaze of a beast- when you glance up. Your eyes are bleared when he cups your jaw under his palm and stoops over, sampling a weirdly affectionate kiss before grinning. That smile is just as predatory, even as his eyes soften into a delirious sort of fondness.

“S’pose we already did her some big favors, aye? Fixing things around her place, mowing the yard…” he drawls, “we even took oot the rubbish for our li’l babe.”

Simon stills at that. Tenebrous, heavy eyes dart across the bridge of your nose but you just moan and try to roll on your side to evade the fat cockhead that slithers through your walls, dead to all else but it. He lets out a deep breath, shifting impossibly closer on his knees and regathering your legs in his hands before giving an experimental thrust in. Testing the waters. Testing if you’re a screamer or a whimperer.

Johnny’s a whisperer— muttering filth in your ear as he awkwardly bends down again and collars you with a wet kiss to your neck. This whole arrangement feels less like a raunchy, impromptu hookup and more like two mutts pissing on a fire hydrant to mark it as theirs. Albeit, the brunet would call it your birthday, because this is a gift to you, right?

He looks like he’s got something to celebrate, anyway. Handsome face weighty with arousal as he gives his hardening length a few strokes, but his body language conveys mirth as he rocks on his heels.

“Isn’t tha’ right, pretty girl? Yeah? Ye don’t have ta nod yer head- jist go on and give Simon a nice li’l squeeze— Simon, d’ya feel her? Fuck. Yer so much better off without that—“

“Johnny,” the blond warns, and as Simon readjusts you once more for extra comfort, pulling you closer on his cock, you watch through a blurred lens as the strange fog in oceanic blues clears out, long lashes fluttering over drooping lids.

For whatever silent conversation of theirs you’re not privy to, Johnny acquiesces. Dust settles in the wake of that feral, almost victorious glint in the Scotman’s eye. He’s just a whit gentler as he straightens his spine and guides himself to your lips.

And, you know, in some parallel universe maybe you wouldn’t be sucking some good-cop-bad-cop’s cock as he feeds it to you in second-long segments. Puts you on a sort of portion control- but your belly already feels full with his buddy as he begins to set a slow pace, heeding your earlier plea, and you’ve not much appetite for it but he’s a giver anyway.

No, you’d be traveling on the road and cursing over potholes in a refurbished RV and in love with life—

“Fuuuckin’ hell,” The taste of him draws you back to real life. He’s salty, hot. Your lips wrap around him clumsily and you do your damnedest to not gag as it curves down your throat. He’s massive in his own right; thick and veiny and ready to go even if you hesitate at first.

Simon clamps his eyes shut, wanting to block the sight of his mate’s cock out, and Johnny’s crinkle with pleasure.

He hisses through perfect white teeth. “Wooh. There ye go. What a goooood fucking lass. Ye seein’ this, Simon-?”

“Tryin’ not to.”

“-Och- she feels so bloody good. Bet her pussy’s even sweeter-“

“Reckon it’d feel even better for all three o’ us if you shut your gob, Soap.” Simon snips, wetting his bottom lip as it gets hot and dry in the room and your small living space whirls with the patent smell of sex and sweat. It beads at your forehead, clumps up on the underside of your thigh that the blond keeps hitched up; trickles over the girth of his fingers and your face. When he spots it there on your jaw, he’s tempted to bow down and lick it up. Johnny’s member sliding in and out of your parted lips- swollen from all the prior kissing- wards him off well enough, though.

Head lolled on your shoulder, a calloused but bizarrely gentle hand supporting it as you hollow out your cheeks for Johnny, your eyes flit over to the coffee table. You barely catch it over the din of groans and loud vulgarity interwoven in sounds of praise- the vibration of a phone- but it’s there amidst the slapping skin and deep breaths and makes you look over.

Your phone screen lights with a message. Interest piques in you as you rapidly blink back the clouding of your tear ducts, thankful for the relief even if only mental to coax you from your present situation: the hands and fingers and eyes raking all over you.

It’s a notification of some sorts. An alert, you think, but not the atypical kind from a contact saved in your phone. It seems like it’s from an official account but you only spy the tail end of it before your screen fades to darkness.

“Lookit me, pet.”

We regret to— Identified— Something something- you’re not paying it all that much attention anymore because Simon aims a palm at your tit and gropes it, keen on the small whimper you reward him with even if it’s muffled around Soap as he cants himself past your stretched lips. Johnny likes it, too, practically preening as he tightens his clutch in your hair and croons down at you, rocking his hips into your wet, fucking divine mouth with a growing loss of self restraint.

He gets it, he has to be considerate and all— but damn it all if your tongue doesn’t feel fucking perfect as it licks up the flushed underside of him as his engorged tip squelches at the back of your throat.

You’re everything he dreamed of and then some.

Ghost’s voice, again, slithers through the barrage of noises as he seeks the wet heat between your thighs. “Sweetheart, have a look.”

You don’t really know if you want to, but you do have a look. Your eyes flit up to his before following his own to the juncture of you both, his fat cock spearing you open— the proof of it jutting in a subtle bulge along your abdomen. It’s horrifying. Something straight from an alien movie- a parasite wriggling inside you— but when you instinctively clamp down, Simon groans and looks like his breath’s been stolen when he meets your eye again. “Good girl. You’re a good girl.”

There’s a haze all around you. Sickening. Dizzying. The boys smell of the world outside and distinctly masculine; they don’t kick their boots off at the door and rather track all the mud inside- tainting you with it. This was your space. After your boyfriend left, it was supposed to be. And you were meant to be free.

Johnny lets out a long string of expletives as he nears his edge, heavy balls hitting your chin every so often when he presses the envelope on just how far he can reach down your throat before you start hurling out dinner. These two individuals were the only ones there for you when your whole world, without warning, started to cave at its middle, and you were always grateful for that, endlessly. But when the brunet comes down your trachea with a roar, holding your head in place as you gag, and tells you with a breathless grin to thank him for it-?

Fire lashes in you.

Your brow corrugates. A flash of anger, indignant and humiliated, arises from the baser part of you and the blond leans over you to slap Johnny away. “Gentle my fuckin’ arse. Don’t make her swallow that shite. Now piss off, lemme finish alone w’her.”

The gleeful look on Johnny’s face withers into a scowl. “What?! That’s no’ fair! C’mon, she knows it was just a joke. Tell the ghost, sweetie, tell him ye want me ta stick around.” He winks. “That it tastes good.”

After grudgingly swallowing it down, there’s certain moment where you just splutter, desperate to catch your breath as the cop- almost ruefully- slides his dick out from your mouth and deliberates on tucking himself back in. Then, Simon takes your face in his big paw and guides your eyes to his, his own dark caramel ones simmering with something intense, unable to be named.

“You don’t want him stickin’ his nose in our business, do ya?” He all but grumbles, “he’s had his turn-“

“With her mouth! I can go again once yer finished, Ghost,” he pops up a pointer finger, “dinnae underestimate—“

Briefly, Simon pauses, tosses him a quick look and barks, “Quiet, Johnny. You’ve had your go at her. Told you we should’ve bloody waited, she’s hardly ready for one o’ us, let alone both. Y’just couldn’t fucking wait?” (You get the inexplicable inkling that he’s making an indirect address to something else, then.) He sighs, steadies himself, refocuses on the moment and the way your cunt feels as it hotly mouths him in, lapping at his veiny sides. “Hop off it a moment, lad.”

Soap scrunches his nose. “She’s a strong woman. She can take it. Think ye should stop selling her short-“

“Both of you just stop already!” you murmur through the gap your hands make as they seal over your flushed face. You bushwhack yourself with the boldness of it all. It was long past the due time to grow a backbone but it was getting late and you were cranky and you still had to finish tidying the kitchen as soon as the boys took their leave. They’ve overstayed their welcome and as the reality of it all dawns upon you, the initial freeze response thaws into irritation.

“You two are both leaving right after—!”

A laugh, harsh and vigorous, cuts you off. “Ach, I don’t think so, hen. Cannae get rid o’ us that easily.”

Confusion reshapes you. Your face pinches and you look between the men anxiously as Simon resumes his pace again, clasping your hips on both sides as he drives himself home. You gasp and lie back again, fully recumbent as you cover your mouth. It makes you go numb all over again, the warmth of his body over yours stifling, his girth stretching you out deliciously as he repeatedly hits that one spot in you that points all rational thought to the door.

“But y-you have to leave—“

“Well,” Johnny cuts you off, then, and Simon doesn’t bother straightening him out this time. He lets him talk. He supposes, anyway, that for as dedicated as he is to his good cop role, he’s really no better than Johnny in this singular regard.

With you.

Blue eyes twinkle with delight. Simon’s grunting over you, his small sounds of pleasure picking up in volume and frequency, and you get the idea he’s gonna come soon.

Soap chuckles, knowing something you don’t, “Yer right, actually, hen. We are leaving. But yer comin’ with as well, aye?”

(Fuck your bastard ex-boyfriend for never fixing up that piece of shit RV in the back. Fuck him fuck him fuck him.)

✦✦✦

It doesn’t take much for Price to get Simon’s attention. A short, yet no less urgent word over his walkie is what has him in this time.

When he walks in, the chief greets him with a tight smile over the rim of his coffee mug and nods to the seat opposite his desk. “Simon, good to see you. Sit.”

So Simon does. He takes a few steps forward (it’s all it takes for his long legs to reach the center of his office), shuts the door behind him, and pulls out a chair. John’s desk is messy, though the blond knows that’s not how he prefers it— paperwork piled up in a small mountain, nearly spilling off the mahogany edges; there’s hardly even enough room for his steaming drink or the shiny little standee with his name on it, but he manages in one way or another.

Dark hues appraise the clutter for a second too long before finally returning the eye contact expected of him. He’s not used to feeling uncomfortable, Simon, but the more the clock hanging overhead the door clicks, the more Simon readjusts himself in the almost too-small leather chair and awaits his superior’s words.

They finally come. “You know why I called you in here today?” Simon’s also not used to feeling like a disobedient child called to have a chat with the school’s principal, but it crosses his mind for a moment anyway. He wets his bottom lip, and gives Price no verbal response. Better to wait it out, he thinks.

The brunet’s smile pinches as he gives a few fast blinks.

Ghost spots something, then, amidst the hodgepodge of documents and wayward pens. Under the small desk light with a crooked neck, by the phone stand, a yellow folder lay. It’s opened, unlike the other ones— and the tip of something peeks its head out, cold and black.

A videotape, he suspects- and a whole plethora of thoughts hail down on him, briefly, shadows revolving behind his brain- before returning the stare of the man in front of him.

Ghost sniffs. “…What you got there?”

Lightless, mildly curious eyes bore into warm brown ones. Searching for something.

A silent moment passes, but very slowly. Price ultimately looks down to the object in question and takes it in his big paw, untucking the rectangle-shaped item inside. He gives it a shake as he speaks, and Simon reads the diminutive wording scrawled in sharpie over a white label.

The date is a familiar one.

“This,” he starts, a sage sort of look in his eye as it widens- peers into Ghost’s soul and scours it- “is the motel a town over, one week ago.” He points his chin, with unwavering eye contact, to a crisp paper atop the stack, “and that’s the owner’s report of the body we found in one of the rooms. Any o’ this ringing a bell?”

Simon, boredly, or maybe thoughtfully, looks off to the side and offers a small, one-shouldered shrug. “You didn’t put me or my partner on that case,” he says simply, “Can’t say I’m familiar.”

He doesn’t exactly intend on it sounding like an excuse- and to Ghost’s credit, it doesn’t: his deadpan tone is too good for most of anything to slip through— but he wonders if his chief is regarding it as a truth or an alibi.

A beat passes. John smiles.

And as a reply to that, he folds his hairy hands over his desk and leans forward to emphasize his following sentiment; he speaks in a low murmur but it’s clear to the blond. Crystalline. He nods to Simon as he does, or maybe he nods to himself.

“It’s a familiar face, though, the body we pulled from the closet. A real fuckin’ mystery, innit? First thought I had was- how the fuck are we gonna break this to the poor doll? But I never got the chance to think long and hard on it. You know why?”

Another segment of quiet comes and goes. The blinds of the office are pulled, sealed shut, the event of any potential onlookers or nosy colleagues peering in precluded. It’s just him and John right now, but Simon can’t help but feel like the big man upstairs is looking too, that omniscient, godlike gaze tracking him, and he gets a feeling no different than it when he’s stood under the crosshair of another asshole’s gun.

He sniffs again, asks without much interest, “Why?”

His overling says with what seems as puzzlement but Simon knows very well is not: “Because the doll’s been reported missing yesterday by a neighbor. Said she hasn’t shown for a day and her grandson saw a car come and go.”

Ghost blinks and looses a sound that’s equally a scoff as it is a sigh. “Hell of a way to start off the week, yeah? Poor bird flew off… Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“She doesn’t have any means to, though. Fly off.” Price leans forward even more but Simon holds staunchly, perfect poker face and all. “Got any ideas, lad?”

“Called an uber, likely.”

A laugh, harsh and short. “An uber, yeah.” A deep sigh of exasperation through his nostrils- and then all semblance of cordial conversation between two officers goes out the window.

“You want to be honest with me, now? Or do I gotta drag Soap in here? M’sure he’ll have your stories tied up in one pretty bow for me, mm? All nice n’ neat? Or did you even fucking think that far ahead?!”

Johnny? That motormouth? Hell no. This situation is already fast to flee Simon’s hands, but it’ll all go to hell in a handbasket as soon as that gobshite’s involved. Mactavish can hardly maintain an inside voice (one that’s broken entirely when the doll’s brought up), and the blond knows he’ll flub with an alibi, entangle himself in a position he’d be hard-pressed to get out of. It’ll be one crazy match of twister that’s almost funny to think about but neither men laugh, rigid and sober.

Ghost swallows thickly. Wets his lip again; all his movements kept simple and slow. His heart skips just once, though. The phantom hand of guilt knocks at his heart. Simon buries it down before he opens his jaw again, “What d’ya plan to do, Captain?” Is all he says.

He has no real proposal here. It’s not his or Johnny’s first mishap, but it’s unclear whether or not he’ll be covered on this one— or if he even can be, what with the shiny black videotape inches away, hard and real.

Proof of wrongdoing.

Price maintains eye contact for another tense handful of seconds more before his gaze dips. He looks down at the tiny tape his hands dwarf, considers something. Careful and meticulous, mulling it over in his head.

Shadows pass through Simon’s.

…Better to wait this out, though.

The blond watches Price’s severe visage lessen by a fraction. He tucks the tape away. Reseals the folder and slips it beneath the mammoth stack of papers on his desk. Ghost doesn’t know all the nitty-gritty, who’s seen that tape or if it’s been duplicated, in possession of another but for what he can see here and now, it’s been buried.

“…About what, lad?”

Simon blinks. Price flashes a close-lipped smile, warm eyes just a bit too crinkled to be considered kind- not that Simon’s ever gave away his guise- and folds his hands.

The flaxen badge on his crisp uniform glints when Ghost, betraying nothing, rises from his chair- and it nearly blinds him on his way out.

He stops at the door just before leaving, though, as if his legs are bound by some inexplicable force. He looks partially over his broad shoulder, just halfway to make the clarification.

“…She’s alright, for the record. Safe.”

“I know, Simon. I know.”

Ghost hears the crisp sound of upright papers bumping against wood.

A cue to leave. He takes it.

Home is waiting for him, after all, with open arms. And knowing that Johnny’s no doubt doting all over her— okay, home is waiting for him with open legs, too.

Bastard just better not be hogging up all her attention.

[owlstro]

Id like some dandy x gn reader please

DANDY X GN READER

note: not much to say about this! i wish he was talked about more tho,, outside of moonflower and ships, he's rlly interesting and i wish we had more lore.. QWEL PLEAS!!!

art: @ qwelver on discord / roblox

He'd love you to pieces! Really affectionate anf has a very obvious bias towards you.

You'll get items cheaper than other Toons, Dandy will try to hide it but even if none of them caught him in the act, they assumed you'd get a discount either way.

Dandy would give you some free if you're lucky enough, especially on your Solo runs. Just don't expect it often, he has to keep his shop running somehow!

He would initiate some physical contact, as long as you're comfortable with it, Dandy's not gonna let go of you any time soon.

Loves it when you visit him outside of runs, he would be willing to talk about anything if it's with you.

Always has that goofy grin on his face when he sees you, even if Shrimpo insulted his Shop and Dandy himself or if no one bought his stuff, all that anger would be subdued for you.

He's pretty laidback, play with his petals or fidget with his hands, do whatever! Dandy doesn't mind you not listening to him, it's not anything important or serious.

If you're having a bad day, he'd encourage you to go on a Solo run cause of the already said benefits. He doesn't like sharing with others when it comes to you. Same when you're hurt after coming back to a bad floor. Heals, heals, HEAPS of heals. Dandy would encourage you to stop, you've gotten far enough. He doesn't want you to... get hurt even more.

If you were hurt/sad because of someone else? He'd have a field day giving the worst possible items, candy, gumball, stopwatch, even MORE candy... Even if they were hurt and needed heals, he wouldn't budge. (Although he'd be a little annoyed if Sprout, Cosmo or Ginger healed the Toon)

Really likes staring at you, not in a creepy way. It's more so admiring you, how you look, act, talk. He would talk about you and your achievements to you yourself, can you tell he's extremely cheesy?

He's an absolute cuddlebug, if you two ever got the opportunity to do so, he would drag you to somewhere private so fast. Dandy doesn't like his cuddle sessions interrupted by some random Toon.

If you were ever in a run and the others insisted they were gonna do a "Dandy Run", he'd be nervous. It's not like you haven't seen him like that before, he just doesn't want to hurt you. It's hard to control himself with all the Ichor.

He'd act fidgety, offering some good items to tempt the others. Dandy knew you were advised not to buy, the others would give you glares if you did. He knew that, he wasn't dumb. So his plan was to hope some Toon got hurt badly and offer heals for them.

If there are healers, then there's really no use. Dandy would have to accept his fate. As a Twisted, he'd try to avoid you the best he can. If it's in a blackout he'd be more cautious, afraid that he'd bump into you. If you have light like Astro or Vee, it'd be easier to avoid any dangerous encounters.

Dandy would love using nicknames, a shortened version of your name, love, dear, etc etc.. He'd use them all even if they sound corny. Even in front of other Toons if he's in the mood for teasing you.

As much as he'd love to infodump about whatever (and hear you infodump about whatever), there are some things he can't tell you. It's for your own good, he's trying to keep you safe and sound. You're important to him, he can't risk you getting hurt, or worse, you leaving him because of this secret of his. Dandy feels guilty but he knows it's for the best, maybe he'll get to love you without any secrets kept from you someday.

final note: SORRY FOR THE SMALL ANGST AFGSDHF , i couldnt help it ganggggg i love angst it's in my blood!!!!! anyways hope you enjoyed your request :p

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing. 

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face. 

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response. 

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail. 

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet. 

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it  falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face. 

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word. 

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze. 

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you. 

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?” 

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth. 

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two. 

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

[iratempestatis]

Heyy! How are u? I hope you’re doing well i saw you wanted some requests for xiao and i thought of an idea so we know xiao’s true form is a bird right? How about xiao’s s/o one day discovers it by an accident? Like maybe the s/o is an adventurer and was exploring around liyue in the night and happened to hear the whistling sound we hear in the game in liyue (the one where xiao calls for his dead friends) and the s/o goes to see what the noise is the rest is up to you

Entwined.

Xiao x gn!reader, 5.5k words. Some angst and then all fluff, it may not have been exactly what you wanted but I do hope you like it! I love bird Xiao <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks! Rest assured I will write them even if it takes some time :3

Being an adventurer is hard work.

Find a suitable commission (which never happens), figure out any additional details (clients never provide enough info, especially the rich ones), plan your schedule, budget and equipment accordingly (it often falls short thanks to their unreasonable demands), finally carry out the commission (it often turns out to be far more frustrating and time consuming than you anticipated), get angry when the client stubbornly refuses to cough up the original sum of mora (this thankfully doesn’t happen as much), nurse your wounds (ouch) and worry nonstop about any sudden emergencies (what if you get injured? What’s going to happen when you get old?) You sometimes wish you listened to your family and became a scholar instead.

Anyway, you’re currently locked in a bitter battle with a rank one (1) asshole, so maybe you just have an unreasonably short fuse right now.

Some days past an old, rich Fontainian posted a commission at the Liyue branch of the Adventurers guild. And you were lucky enough to snag it. It was a stroke of sheer fortune, quite literally, too- if you could meet the client’s demands, you’d end up with a completely inane amount of mora. You planned on doing this mission solo- after all, any expenses incurred would be more than covered by the heaps of mora you’d be swimming in soon enough.

But some conniving liar told Katheryne you’d agreed to pair up with him- and she believed him before you could confirm it, so now you’re officially partners… which means you’re forced to share the spoils.

You’re so tempted to drop the commission altogether, but-

“But that’s what he wants,” you hiss, hiking up the trail along the beautiful mountains of Jueyun Karst. Normally this would be a soothing trip- Jueyun Karst is so glorious you sometimes wonder if the gods picked a random mortal’s preferences to model it after (yours), but today you saw only the bad, like the still smoking fires left behind by some careless brigands, and a dead mouse. You consider bringing it back to Changsheng as a twisted joke- no, she’d paralyse you. Best to focus on the task at hand. You go over the details.

The commission was vague (rich, old man), although a bit sad (old man). If you really did find what he wants though (unlikely, vague request, but if partially fulfilled, you get half the mora) you wouldn’t have to work at all for perhaps the next six months (rich man).

Apparently, a long, long time ago, the rich old man saw a beautiful apparition in the form of a woman. Lost in the foggy mountains on a rainy day, he saw her seated on a tree nestled deep somewhere in Jueyun Karst. She apparently rescued his life, by appearing on a different tree each time he got too close, leading him out the valley. When he asked for her name, she responded with a mere scoff, then vanished for good.

You’re pretty sure that’s either bull or some ghost. Sounded disturbingly like an Inazuman tale you heard once. Either way, she doesn’t exactly sound like a normal person.

And he wants you to find her.

How are you even supposed to do that? The old man is decrepit, according to Katheryne, who (bless her bionic heart) tried her damnedest to convince him it was something out of the ordinary, and that he should give up. You agree with her- you’re pretty sure it was either a ghost (no finding it), an adeptus (no finding them) or an actual mortal woman (Xiao’s influencing you too much. You could’ve just said woman. Also, if it really was just a woman, which she wasn’t, she’s probably dead by now.)

But you didn’t really have the heart to tell the old man that. Or maybe you got a little greedy. But hey, he can afford it! And you just might end up end up giving his broken heart some closure, right?

You figure you’ll ask around, look for the grave. So far you’ve had no leads, besides some blue haired kid (with the ugliest haircut, you think, then feel bad for thinking that of a kid) lying to your face in an attempt to prank you. It’s so strange, because you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her-? Him? With someone important, in silks and brocade. You just can’t remember who… but you digress.

You’ve checked everywhere you could think of in the past two, almost three weeks. Nothing. You’ve even been to Mingyun Village- again, nothing. Right up until a child in Qingce told you she saw a similar pretty woman, on a tree in Jueyun Karst. Really.

You’ve spent days in Jueyun Karst, craning your neck and nearly stumbling down mountain slopes, eyes throbbing from the light, spine burning. But nothing. You considered taking the easy way out and telling him it was Cloud Retainer, but you’re an adventurer with morals and besides, anyone who’s met her knows she never stops talking. But on the subject of your quarry, why did that bitch find a nondescript tree to sit in every time? Was it so hard to just go sit on the big, glowy one?

“Old hag,” you mutter. Your calves feel about as solid as almond tofu right now, and your brain just as smooth. You have no idea how you’re going to do this, but. The mora.

You glance at the note Katheryne gave you. It told you just a few things- a dark haired woman in a tree, with hair that fluttered like downy feathers in the wind (poetic old man. Also rich, you remind yourself), pale, in a tree, nothing more.

You sigh.

At least Jueyun Karst is pretty at night.

And comfortable enough to camp in, you figure. Granted, there’s some treasure hoarders and monsters, but it is the abode of the adepti after all.

You shrug, and trudge upward along the winding paths. Darkness is gathering, but your eyes adjust.

Eventually, the lingering shadows cease to lengthen and melt into the darkness enveloping the mountain as a whole. You’re disconcerted as you start to make camp in a copse, but reassured by the small blaze you’ve lit to warm yourself at some distance.

Upon making camp, you settle down on the grass with a snack. The wind rustles through your little copse and you see the moon emerge, denuding its robe of clouds. Silvery fingertips trail across the land, painting, muting Jueyun Karst beneath its touch.

It’s peaceful, yet haunting.

What’s more haunting though, is the soft, yet somehow piercing, keening cry that wafts through the air.

It’s slow at first, just a trilling hum that gets clearer and higher with every moment before lilting and fading away.

You blink. You’ve never heard such a sound before. Is it a musical instrument? A bird of some sort?

You hear it again. It doesn’t start slowly this time- it’s high, all at once, then a low humming before rising in a wail once more. It sounds like music. It sounds like weeping. And for some inexplicable reason, you feel your chest tighten and feel hollow, all at once.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself as you scrabble to put out the fire. You remind yourself of the same once more as you pack all your things (after you just made camp, too), fingers trembling, dropping things. Perhaps this is it, the maiden you were looking for.

You sling the bag across your shoulder with a force that makes you stumble, then start making your way up the hill.

Maybe this really is it, you think. In the distance you see tiny glows, nestled away across the vale. Probably treasure hoarders. For some reason, your heart aches.

It feels like you’ve been sitting stagnant for too long. Everything around you has grown. When you pull your hand up to wipe away a tear, you see it shrouded in spiderwebs. They reach past your ribs, to your elbow, to the rest of you. Force their way gently into your mouth, into your ears. They’re in your nostrils. You cannot breathe.

Arriving near the source of the sound, you sit onto the grass for a moment, to rest. The webs are swaying, scratching uncomfortably across all of you. Tightening and loosening and tangling, keeping you in place. You cannot move.

You’ll cut yourself.

Get a grip. Oh, Morax.

There’s a lull in the cries and your head feels lighter all of a sudden. You blink, then start to get up- utterly nonplussed, what are you doing here-

A sobbing, recoiling cry abruptly sounds from before you, the maker contained away in the hurst right before you, overlooking the valley. The moon skips ahead, weaves between the clouds.

Steeling yourself, heart racing, you enter the thicket peek, behind the tree and look up towards the sound.

It’s a… something. A mess of tattered wings and bloodied feathers and too many eyes. In the night they all look black and silver, but realisation hits you with the force of a thousand spears- this is Xiao.

It’s Xiao.

Keening, weeping, alone. Seated on a tree, cradled in its branches. Shielded by its crown. He’s crying.

He’s crying.

He sheds no tears in his avian form- large gold eyes turned to the moon, muscular neck lain limply across a branch. You see his throat move and his eyes shut- eyes that are still gold, even in the dark- as he lets out another cry.

You can see his back and tail- the rest is covered by multiple sprawling wings. They’re dark. Looking at them feels as though looking at a human bruise on an oil painting. Disconcerting. The smoke coming off them makes them smudge into the dark, become one with it.

He’s beautiful.

But he’s crying and you’ve never known you could feel such anguish at someone else’s grief. Pain, sure, but this is something eyes. Tears well in your eyes to compensate for his current form. One runs down your cheek and it snaps you to your senses- what are you doing, just standing around?

You step towards him, arms outstretched, his name on the tip of your tongue. Your mind’s a mess. Vaguely, you can tell there is something amiss. Voices slither inside your head, voices that don’t belong, filling it up with murmurs in a tongue you don’t understand. Full of vitriol, they ignite emotions within you you didn’t even know existed. Grief so intense you feel as though your heart really is bleeding into your chest. Fury so immense you can’t help but slam a palm into the trunk of the tree next to you and gasp. They twine and twist into shapes and colours you cannot see. For just a moment, you’re blinded, agony blooming across your body. You shudder, gasp.

Something is wrong.

Your vision turns hazy- you glance up to see the bird descend before you, wings magnificently spread, beak- no, mouth now- open, crying out in alarm. You collapse into his outstretched arms and it feels like too much and nothing all at once. Warm water- warm tears- fall onto your temple as your knees buckle. You feel vertigo when he instead has lowered you gently to the ground. Just as you faint, you see him- mouth open, gritted teeth, face damp with tears. You say his name- at least you try-

When you come to, you’re in Bubu Pharmacy.

You feel so unencumbered all at once- the flames across your skin extinguished, the voices silent, the webs gently spooled away. Thank Baizhu. And you can see again, see normally, blind once more to the auras and colours mortals mustn’t see- or perhaps you hallucinated it all.

The old man from the funeral parlour- Zhongli, you recall- is seated on a chair next to you. His posture is a little slack. Sitting up with some difficulty, you see that his eyes are shut. The harbour is silent.

You glance out the window only to see the cheerless night sky mirror the inky ocean below.

Oh no.

You cannot delay. What are you doing here? How long were you asleep? You’re wearing loose, white clothes- who changed you? No matter. You need to find Xiao, because he was crying and your lungs feel like they’re folding in on themselves, and by Morax, he’s probably all alone once more, and you’ve added to his pain by being foolish and interrupting him as he vents in a moment of catharsis-

You stumble out of bed and look around to gather your things, then decide to just come collect them later. You’ve no time to waste. You hear Zhongli inhale deeply as he suddenly awakens- why was this guy in here with you anyways- and quickly bolt, locking the door behind you as you do so.

Sorry, Mr. Zhongli.

You regret not taking his talks about Karmic debt as seriously as you should have. You’re not worried for yourself- you feel much better already (you lift your vision up to your heart. You’re beyond grateful- it’s the only gift the gods have ever given you, their only gift that matters) but Xiao must feel abominable guilt right now. You must reach him, tell him you’re fine, tell him it’s not your fault.

You’re halfway across the main bridge on the northern side of Liyue harbour when you realise it’ll take way too long to find Xiao like this. You could call out his name, of course, but you don’t want to accidentally make him teleport and exert himself in the middle of a breakdown.

You run your hand through your hair, almost pulling it out as you do and glare out at the sea. From the corner of your eye you see the Millelith guards standing by the gate shoot one another unnerved glances, then turn towards you. What’s their problem?

Now irritable, you make your way towards them to politely ask what the matter is- but they clutch one another in terror and immediately start shrieking. You yelp and duck, looking around frantically for the danger. The guards continue babbling and pointing, then screech again as you panic and frantically crawl towards them. Maybe you’re a bit more disoriented than you thought you were, because the only people you see on the bridge are you and the guards pointing at you- oh.

You stop crawling and look at them, pushing back the hair from your face as you stumble to your feet. The buffer guard has the smaller one planted firmly before himself like a shield. You sigh and they squeak. Then the bigger one cries out-

“Adeptus Xiao!”

This bitch. You probably are delirious because by now you’ve lost any semblance of self control and feel nothing but fury. Xiao’s going through something right now! You’re not a ghost! Isn’t this supposed to be an era of mortals?

“COWARDS!” You howl, launching yourself at the duo and throw aside the shorter guard with strength you didn’t know you possessed. Before you can grab the bigger one and clamp his lips shut with your bare fingernails, however, you feel slender, firm arms wrap around your waist and tug you gently back against a warm torso.

Xiao’s long, elaborate sleeve drapes over your front as he holds you. You feel his breath against your neck. You’re immediately consumed by worry so potent you can barely recall what you were even angry about. He leans into you a little and you press your palm against his cheek.

He seems exhausted.

✦—————————————✦

You ended up taking Xiao home that night- or was it morning? You wish you knew. All you do know is that he slumped against you and you half walked, half dragged him home, providing no explanation to the Millelith guards (they didn’t demand one either.)

Xiao drowsed off as soon as you got home and once you’ve sufficiently fussed over him, cocooned him in layers upon layers of blankets (it’s cold out) and put copious amounts of snacks and water on the bedside table, you make your way over to the couch and crash out.

Just in case.

Sleep takes you easily, pushing past your desperate, incoherent rambles, bringing your body some much needed rest. You awaken when you feel the sun jab rudely at your eyes with its bright, unswerving fingers.

It’s nearly afternoon.

You push yourself up slowly till you’re seated, checking for tiredness or any injuries. None. You’re positive this time- you’re in your right senses.

Your face flushes when you recall what happened yesterday. Or was it today? No matter. Praying to never see those guards again, you slide off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom.

Xiao’s upright, alert and giving his ungloved hands a glare so severe you nearly flinch. When he turns towards you, though, his eyes soften to a degree that might make one doubt him even capable of anger. You can’t help but mirror his softness.

You also can’t help feeling a bit downcast, however, and you suspect it shows. Racking your brains for something- anything- to say, you part your lips, but only end up exhaling. You’re having trouble meeting his eyes. You suspect he feels the same.

You stand at the threshold for several moments before finally making your way in, and Xiao’s off the bed in an instant. You feel hands grip your heart and twist when he moves wordlessly across the room, away from you, gesturing towards the bed.

You hate it.

Xiao lives in terror of losing his loved ones- paranoia makes him check in on them from afar, gift amulets, slay any evil that might hurt them. Scores of times he’s caught you before you fell, warned you of danger, reminded you to take care of yourself before you even noticed something amiss.

You know him keeping his distance is him ensuring your safety. Him showing you he cares. It serves only to heighten your anguish.

This has been among your worst fears since the moment you began to care for him- that he’d consider himself a danger to someone he loves.

“Xiao,” you whisper, and your voice wavers more than you wanted to, is softer than you intended. He meets your eyes at that, finally, finally and your chest constricts at his wary gaze. You’re tempted to make light of it- tell him you’re fine, banter a little- but you know that’ll only leave him with a heavier heart, wondering when he’d hurt someone next. You need to address this now, for his sake.

“Hey.” You smile. Good, your voice didn’t waver this time. “Are you…” You trail off. How do you even begin to talk about this?

This isn’t awkward, this is a minefield, except it’ll blow up in his face if you mess up somehow. Your heart quickens.

You try to calm yourself. What does Baizhu say? Don’t borrow anxiety from the future? The future is in motion right now, Baizhu! Useless man.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink rapidly, nonplussed. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a tone so repentant you almost respond with a hurried ‘it’s okay’ despite him having done nothing wrong. Despite it all, a tiny laugh bubbles up in your chest.

Baizhu, that silly old man (he’s your age). You suppose he is right sometimes. (Always.)

You’ve both lived too long, have survived too much to worry about something as small as this. Sure, in a vacuum, it is scary- but truth be told you feel fine- in fact you think you have an even better understanding now of the agony that has become his everyday, that he has endured for eons. This is something you can fix.

You smile and make your way towards Xiao, draw him into your embrace. He makes a quiet sound of protest that’s promptly muffled by you pushing his head affectionately into your shoulder. He exhales, then kisses it and remains in your arms but makes no move to wrap you in his.

That’s fine. You exhale . Xiao feels your breath waft over his ear, your warm, chapped lips as they brush over his face, landing tiny kisses. Your heart continues beating.

You’re there, right with him. Safe. Alive. Alright.

You sway gently, just holding him until eventually he places his palms on your waist and draws you a bit closer, ever so gently. As though you were the soft, powdery wings of a tiny butterfly in the dry summer months.

Before he can apologise- you do. You’re composed at first when you murmur an apology and explain how you came across him- but quickly become teary eyed when you recall how he looked up in that tree, mourning, all alone. His heart hurts. He hates seeing you cry, hates that he caused it- but he finds it difficult to dwell on anything else but the fact that you saw his monstrous, contaminated form and thought him beautiful. That you instantly wanted to hold him close. He feels dizzy.

“And,” you continue, sniffling, “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to- to comfort you.” You’re not going to mention the voices and the pain. Maybe in a few decades. Maybe on your deathbed when it won’t matter anyway. You hear Baizhu’s ‘tsk tsk’ in your head and some vague speech about trust and communication, but you don’t care enough about that right now.

“And then I fainted.” You shrug. “Then I’m guessing you brought me to Baizhu? But I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault at all. I should’ve known to be more careful-“

“Please don’t lie to me.” His voice is soft, strained. He wishes you’d tell him the truth. Was it that much worse? “Tell me what else happened. Did it hurt? Do you feel better now? I’m so-“

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault!” You protest. “What if some Inazuman wrestler guy threw me at you and you broke your arm, that wouldn’t be my fault- shh don’t interrupt me.” You put your other palm over the first and he exhales, warm breath wafting over your knuckles. You feel calmer already. The wonders of Xiao’s hugs never cease to impress.

“And… yeah, it hurt a bit. There were voices in my head.” He looks stricken. You consider making a garbage joke to cheer him up, but remember you were trying to be a mature adult and sigh. “My body hurt, too. Is that what it’s like for you? All the time?”

He hesitates, but nods with a sigh. “I’ve had centuries to get used to it, however.” You wait for him to draw you even closer, but he’s just looking, taking in your features. He looks as though he’s reassuring himself but not with much relief in sight.

You draw closer on your own instead, with a snort. “It all happened so fast, though. And it… it sucked honestly, even if it was just a couple of minutes. I’m sorry it’s like that for you every day.”

“It lessens with good company.” He finally looks relieved- apparently enough to even jest a little. “Which is likely why it worsens with you.”

You gasp in mock outrage. Maybe Baizhu was right about this whole communication thing. This is going well so far- or maybe not, because the next thing to come gently out Xiao’s mouth is a request to not approach him if he’s having a breakdown henceforth.

“Sorry, no can do. Nuh-uh.”

You swear you see question marks form over his head. “This is not a ‘nuh-uh’ situation, (Name). You could die or develop chronic health issues.” He frowns. “I don’t think-“

“I grasp the gravity of this situation,” you retort, a bit frustrated too. “I’ll stay away if I see or sense the Karmic debt- I will make some other adeptus come to you, though-“

“You cannot make the adep-“

“I will.“

He sighs.

“And,” you continue, “I’ll keep an eye. From afar, but I’ll keep an eye on you and wait for it to be over, before I can come to you again. And if you’re ever sad in a more ordinary sort of way, I will not leave your side, no matter what.” You press your forehead to his with a quiet sigh. “Because I love you. And it hurts when you’re in pain.”

There’s a pause, with neither of you moving. You hear a group of teenagers laugh outside and run past the house. You wonder if that blue haired brat from earlier is with them.

Xiao exhales, then finally (FINALLY!) wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, impossibly so. You rest your cheek against his as he gives you a rueful smile. You’ve won! Ah no, what was it Baizhu said? There’s no individual victor in relationships? Damn, you’re a good student.

But seeing Xiao so close once more… you’re certain you’ve won regardless.

✦—————————————✦

The next couple of hours are spent relaxing, unwinding and examining one another for injuries (this is why you’re perfect together. Mutual respect? Mutual affection? Yes, but also mutual anxiety). A worried Baizhu also comes to pay a visit. He’s angry about you vanishing without notice but cools off quickly as you and Xiao assuage his worries. Changsheng is not so easily mollified and turns even more furious upon being called an ‘angry little noodle’ by you.

Come noon, you and Xiao make your way to Wanmin- neither of you are in much of a mood to cook.

Besides, your consolations have worked wonders and Xiao looks considerably calmer than he did in the morning. Not exactly cheerful, but a happy display is a rarity even on the best of days, so you acquiesce. He’s still careful and is being extra-gentle with you, but you’re glad he’s not blaming himself for not noticing you sooner anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, though, his eyes are on you constantly. Truth be told, he’s only really agreed to dine out in order to observe your movements, reactions to light and the crowd to check for any lingering effects of his Karma. You’ve decimated his morbid expectations though (much to his immense relief)- cheerier than ever, you buy bread and meat for any stray animals you come across, happily greet the friends you bump into and tilt your face upwards to bemusedly watch the clouds form increasingly obscene shapes (what are you up to, Retainer?)

He's a little stunned at how quickly everything happened- he expected his culpability to haunt him for much longer and feels guilty for getting over it so fast. It’s not that he doesn’t care- you matter to him more than anything in Liyue and were anything to actually happen to you because of him, he would truly would have lost the strength he used to cling to his brittle life.

It's just… a bit absurd. You haven’t raised a fuss at all about yourself, besides complaining a little initially. You comforted him instead, and were confused when he tried to reciprocate because “it happened, but it’s over. It’s not your fault and I really am okay now.” You seem to have meant it when you told him it was a terrible but distant memory. In your defence, the ordeal did take only a couple of minutes before he teleported you abruptly to Bubu Pharmacy (he still owes Baizhu an apology for dropping a whole human being into his arms and bolting).

So he allows himself to relax (the voices in his head tell him to split himself on his spear. He hurt you once, he’ll do it again. He imagines you screaming at them to piss off and ends up smiling softly instead).

He shakes his head when you ask what he’s amused about, bright eyed and curious and he gives you the fondest of expressions when you glance away and up at Katheryne. Xiangling teasingly gags at him from behind you, then yelps and runs into the kitchens to dodge Shenhe’s glares.

Xiao wishes you picked a table in the back- the Adventurer’s Guild is plainly visible from where you’re seated and something up there clearly has you distracted. No matter. At least now he can take you in without interruptions.

You look invested- eyes narrowing with amusement first, then further to slits with annoyance. Startled, he turns to see exactly what evoked such disdain from you, and his eyes meet that of a dark haired man, presently engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman dressed in Fontaine’s fashions. Maybe. Those shoes aren’t fashionable anywhere, he’s pretty sure. Menogias would’ve wept.

The man that’s earned your ire happens to appear quite exquisite by mortal standards- handsome and tall and- Xiao shoots you a hurried glance. Yes, that’s anger, thank the skies-

“You see that guy over there?” You bring the glass to your lips for a sip before lowering it with more force than is necessary. “He’s the jerk I told you about. The one who’s stealing half my commission.”

Xiao blinks. “But he hasn’t found anyone according to the description, has he?”

You frown. “Obviously not. If she really did- hm?”

He turns in his chair to see Katheryne and the men approach- one barrel chested and tall, the other slight and elderly, shuffling along with the pace and gait of a caterpillar. When they get a bit closer, however, the old man stiffens, then breaks into a rapid hobble, before pausing right before Xiao and bursting into tears.

What the- this is fine. He’s not too close. Xiao is still and wide eyed like a startled deer. You bite back the urge to kiss his face all over, then fight the momentary urge to punt the old man as he reaches out to touch Xiao’s face, still bawling. Xiao jerks and stands. The man turns to you as you grab his arm and try to gently sooth him, smacking you away.

“Oh,” he blubbers. “So many nights you’ve haunted my dreams. How I’ve waited all these years. I knew- I knew-“ he coughs, vehemently shakes his fist to keep the rest of you away. “Don’t come closer! I know her- that’s the love of my life!”

Mortals.

The lovely maiden in a tree being Xiao did not surprise you in the slightest. It was a bit startling but you feel incredibly foolish for not connecting the dots earlier.

Pretty maiden up in a tree.

“Really, who else could it be?” You bite into the muffin you bought on the way home.

“Xi- Cloud Retainer.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?”

Xiao tilts his head. He’s adorable. You resist the urge to haul him back down the road for another meal- what a miserable date, that was.

After finally catching Xiao the old man first wept into his chest (he reminded you of an unused hair tie with how scrunched up and tiny he was. The old man, to be clear, not Xiao. Xiao is tiny but firm), then clasped his clawed hands within his own soft, wrinkly ones (you’re glad Xiao didn’t forget his gloves and you can tell he’s even gladder) and begged Xiao to go with him to Fontaine.

Xiao’s answer being an alarmed, emphatic ‘no’ only succeeded in making the man cling tighter and cry harder.

You did start feeling terrible for the poor guy by that point, so you gave him a handkerchief and some water, sat him down and once he was finally calm and lucid, you explained to him that this was not the maiden he saw all those years ago, but in fact, your beloved.

Your kindness evaporated fast though when he smacked you in the face with your own hankie and swore to never pay you your commission. You left to eat elsewhere at that point. That sounded like a problem for your (rather distressed) ‘partner.’

Presently, though, you’re waiting for Xiao to tell you more about Cloud Retainer. You’ve surmised two things from his slip ups; she lives in the harbour nowadays, and her name starts with “Sh.”

You’re honestly convinced it’s Shenhe, and even more so when Xiao tells you she’s more imposing than pretty. When you tell him your guess, though, he gives an uncharacteristic laugh, so bright and warm. You want to store it in a bottle to sip at on the cold days.

When you tell him so upon reaching home, he just laughs again (!) and kisses your entwined hands. He prays you won't let go.

[purple-writer8]

Heather - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky… she’s got you mesmerized. While I die.”

warnings: unrequited love, pining, evil thoughts, intrusive thoughts, lesser fae thinks shes not enough, hating on girl, self doubt, oblivious az

1.2k words

Masterlist :)

Crushing on the shadowsinger was a bad idea, you knew that since the moment you joined the Inner Circle centuries ago. It was a family, and familiar dynamics could very well be affected by your stupid little crush, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating for him.

You were a master of lies, Azriel’s second in command as Spymaster— you were good at being a chameleon— at lying. So you’ve spent your entire life in the Inner Circle, lying to everyone, hiding your feelings for Azriel because surely you were not worthy enough for the shadowsinger. 

He was one of the strongest warriors in Prythian, the only current shadowsinger, an Ilyrian. You… you were just a sneaky thief turned spy. A lesser fae from the Winter Court, with eyes so white, you were terrifying to your enemies. Fingertips so cold, that with enough conviction, whatever you touched turned into frost. 

You weren’t enough for Azriel, or anyone really. The High Lord had found you three hundred centuries ago, you had somehow snuck into Hewn City, and then you had stolen heaps of artifacts and sold them in the Winter Court for profit. You were stealthy and quick, something he had appreciated when Cassian and Azriel finally brought you to him.

Rhysand gave you two choices: to be handed over to Kallias as a criminal, or stay in his court and serve him— because he was sure you would excel as a spy. In exchange, you got a family, gold, clothes, and a warm bed. It was a no-brainer for you.

Azriel and you were a dream team and with time, your feelings for the shadowsinger went from admiration to adoration. Who wouldn’t adore him? He was perfection, he was everything, and he was the love of your life— you weren’t his, though. 

You had never expressed your feelings because, frankly, you were not sure that you could handle rejection. So you pined and loved him in silence, hoping that one day a miracle dawned on him, and he would somehow fall for you— a frosty lesser fae. You knew you two were not mates, but cauldron, you could wish and yearn. 

It was more than wishful dreaming, though sometimes you thought that just maybe— maybe he reciprocated your feelings. He was so kind to you, so doting, so careful.

Though, that all stopped when Elain Archeron dropped into all of your lives. You liked Feyre, and loved Nesta— but Elain, you hated her. The middle Archeron was perfection, everything you were not. She was soft, kind, beautiful, High Fae, and… Azriel liked her.

You knew it was bad that you hated her for being of his interest, but you had never once claimed to be a good person. Two years into her arrival and you could not stand the likes of her. 

You were sitting in the River House, playing board games with the Inner Circle, Nesta, and Lucien. Much to your delight, Elain hadn’t joined. It was the beginning of winter in the Night Court, and though you were made of ice— you weren’t immune to the cold. You shivered as you laid down one of your cards, and it caused Cassian to laugh at you.

“You turned my room into ice last winter solstice, and now you shiver?” He teased you, making you roll your white eyes at him. “Should’ve brought a coat,” Feyre taunted you, and you nodded. “Guys, I really thought it wasn’t as cold,” you chuckled, rubbing your cold as ice hands together to get some warmth, which was to no avail because there was no warmth inside you. Frost appeared in your hands at this action, causing you to groan. 

 Your heart stopped, though, when you felt a warm sweater wrapping around your shoulders. Your eyes flickered to Azriel, who gave you a small smile, “thank you,” you said softly.

 “It looks better on you than it does me,” the shadowsinger shrugged, his shadows coiling around your frozen hands, trying to warm you up. You smiled, about to answer, but his eyes snapped away from you, as did his shadows. Your eyes followed his gaze, meeting with Elain as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Your heart dropped, she was a sight for sore eyes, a sight for Azriel’s eyes. 

 She had him mesmerized, and you felt like you wanted to die. Inching away from Azriel, you continued your game, dropping his sweater unto the couch behind you. You were an ice fae, you could manage. 

When dinner came around, you were quiet all through the affair. You seethed in silence as you watched him drape the very same sweater he had given you, over Elain’s shoulders. The cold pulsed through your veins, and soon your utensils were turning into ice as you watched the scene unfold.

Elain told some story about her up-and-coming garden, and you got the urge to go and freeze her flowers to death. Obviously you did not. She was an angel, a good person. 

You kind of wished she were dead. You reprimanded your mind for being so evil. How could anyone ever love you? You were terrible… and not even half as pretty as Elain. Your thoughts were dark, and your heart made of stone-cold ice. Love was not something you would ever get. 

After dinner, you seethed outside. The snow that fell over you felt like fire on your skin, and you could feel your fingertips freezing as they created small snowflakes. “Come inside, it’s so cold outside,” that husky voice you worshiped spoke from the from door, causing you to turn to him.

His shadows rushed to you, swirling around your body to shield you from the snow. You turned away from Azriel, not wanting him to see you in your essence. Your veins shone black underneath your pale skin, your eyes glowing white, while ice slipped from your fingers and wrapped itself around you. 

You heard his footsteps crunching in the snow, then large wings wrapped around you in a protective manner as he towered over you. “Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, your eyes casting downward, not wanting him to see your eyes.

“Why?” He asked softly, scarred thumb wiping away frost that had gathered on your cheek. Then it clasped around your chin, tilting it upward so you looked up at him. 

His hazel eyes skimmed over your face slowly, “what’s wrong?” He asked softly, making you tilt your face away from his grasp. “Don’t.” You stated. You wished he knew, wish that you had been obvious enough, because you were so tired of pining for someone who did not love you back. 

“What?” He asked, a puzzled look happening upon his chiseled and devastatingly beautiful face. “You gave her your sweater,” you did not care how preposterous you were being, you couldn’t hold back. You had enough of this. 

"What? It’s just a sweater, does it matter?” Azriel asked, his shadows coiling around his ear to whisper in his ear. Jealous girl, jealous fae. 

 “You like her better.” The jealousy was pouring out of you, manifesting in ice that crawled all over your body. 

 “I can’t keep wishing I was Elain.” 

-

Part Two

Author’s Note:

IK the elain/azriel x pining reader is done a lot butttttt i love this song and i wanted to write my take on the triangle with heather as inspiration!

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

[spideysbruh]

Distance

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y/n i love you heaps, like candy sweets

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tchalamet i love you more, like the sea loves the shore

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rocketyn my favorite celeb couple fr

ynslipgloss yns aesthetic is my favorite it's so pleasing

@y/n just tweeted- just said bye to my boyfriend cause he'll be gone for like four months oh imma kms

@snowyyn replied- me after I finish a movie with him

@y/n replied to @snowyyn- girl me too

@realchalamet replied- stop. I miss you already.

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- BABEEE 😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

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caption- princess. missing her so much

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y/n in my tropical era 💕

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tchalamet I MISS YOU

y/n I MISS YOU MORE BABY

tchalamet so beautiful

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tchalamet I wish I could twirl your hair around my fingers right now.

y/n stop im gonna cry. I wish you were here so I could give you a back rub

modernyn oh he's a mess rn

ynstan his comments 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶💕 so cute

@y/n just tweeted- watching kingsman im literally sooooo horny right now

@lovelyyn replied- REAL AS FUCKK

@y/n replied- like that man can do whatever he wants to me I swearrrr

@chromeyn replied- god I hope you never stop oversharing with us

@realchalamet replied- um ??? we're still together babe chill 🤨

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- ... im literally sooo joking hahaha you're the only man I've ever found attractive hahahaha (I miss you so much)

@realchalamet replied- I can see you still replying to other people 🙄

@richgirlyn replied- I'm deadd but I sooo understand you

@y/n replied- likeeeeee ?!!!???!

@y/n just tweeted- got high and took pictures of taron egerton in kingsman like it was a concert

@busyyn replied- been there fr

@huffleyn replied- sounds like a normal viewing of that movie tbh

@realchalamet liked and replied- what about my movies ? 🙁

@y/n liked and replied- oh dune is next baby don't worry

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caption- missing his goofy lil ass extraaaa hard rn 🤧

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- missing this

@chalswonka just tweeted- bro timmy is yearning soooo bad lmaooo they gotta see each other soon I swear

@princessyn replied- it's so funny the differences in their posts y/n is just thirsting over ppl in movies and then he's like "miss her so much😭😭😭🔫🔫🔫💔💔💔" LMAOOOO

@spaceyn replied- tbf ppl were hating on her when she WOULD post about him a lot in the beginning, so she toned down a lot. ppl hate on her too much smfh

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tchalamet MY LOVE SURPRISED MEEEE

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ynssocks YAYYY MY PARENTS ARE TOGETHER AGAINN

y/n ig I love you or smth idk 🙄

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y/n this is about to be the best four days of your life fr

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timmylaurie god she's so pretty wtf man

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caption- babygirl 😍😍😍🥰🥰

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y/n 🥺 missed him lots

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tchalamet like tater tots?

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florencepugh MY FAVOURITE PEOPLEEE

y/n I LOVE YOU FLO

lucyxyn the throwback to her older captions w him 😭🫶

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caption- our last day together for another two months 💔

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tchalamet i love you.

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y/n this is gonna be the worst two months of my life

bratzyn she's literally an angel I swear

lauriesamy he always takes the best pictures of her 🥺

takemetotheyn you glow different in the photos taken by someone who truly loves you

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@y/n just tweeted- help i miss my bf 💔

@pepperyyn replied- uh oh now she's yearning 😭😭

@ynshairtie replied- there we goooo

@realchalamet replied- I miss you more 🥺

@snowyyn replied- damn no thirsting now

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@y/n just tweeted- watching 21 jump street and omg dave franco is so cute🤭🤭 ive been giggling for the entire movie

@lauriesyn replied- girl your mann!!

@tipsyyn replied- IT RHYMES WITH GRAPE

@ynsbra replied- if she was still w her ex he would cry and post ab how he's gonna khs over this

@sazonyn replied to @ynsbra- HELPP WHOS HER EX ?!?!?!!!

@ynxtim replied- sh*wn m*ndes 💀💀 there's so many compilations of him being a weirdo jealous obsessed bf w her... even after for a while he was weird ab her. even though HE broke up w HER ... anyways yeah he sucks

@realchalamet replied- reduce... reuse... recycleee 🎶🎶🎶

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@y/n replied- i love how that's the scene you remember 😭😭💕

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,716,227

y/n living like a lusty flowerrr

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tchalamet I can't take this, you're too beautiful how did this happen

y/n liked

lauriesyn she's so ethereal

tchalamet are you running through the grass for hours?

y/n yeah and rolling through the hay like a puppy child fr

rachelzegler my pretty best friend !!!

y/n we ARE the two pretty best friends

y/n just posted a story!

caption- missing this. missing you @tchalamet

@y/n just tweeted- SEEING MY BOYFRIEND OH SO SOONNNN

@y/n replied- I watched wonka and little women on repeat I swear that's how badly I missed him 😭💕

@wonkasyn replied- what a journey we've witnessed

@realchalamet replied- I CANT WAIT BABYYYY

@gourmetyn replied- yayyy my parents will be back together again 🫶

@y/n liked and replied to @gourmetyn- you still have to send the adoption papers

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- BABYYYY 😍😍

y/n just posted a story!

caption- GUESS WHO'S BACKKKKK

*

[fantastic-nonsense]

hi i love your blog!! especially your wonder woman rec list has been *amazing* and your batman comics guide with the little character spotlights is the best one ive found so far. thanks to your filtering of good/bad comics for all these characters i continued reading comics (after reading battle for the cowl as my first ever dc comic, which was. interresting. to say the least lol). but I have a little question - i couldnt find if you've answered it before already, sorry - which is: how do you read your comics mainly? bc as a college student, i dont have heaps of spare money around, and as an european, i dont have access to that dc online comics thing so if i read digital i have to pirate them. but i understand that comics kind of live-or-die by monthly sales and interrest in a run. and things like the current cass solo and absolute wonder woman seem really interresting and i want those to continue, so i try not to pirate them and wait for the trade releases, but its all very expensive when you start to read a lot of comics. and you have read a tonne of comics, which made me curious - do you buy physical copies, or just use the dc digital thing, or piracy, for your main reading? how do you keep this hobby, like, econnomiccally responsible? because i understand you can just pirate everything, but its not like im *too* broke to buy anything, ever. just wanted to hear your thoughts on how you personally do this, if you wish to share.

(ignore the word vomit, being precise in english is not a talent of mine :D)

Aww, thank you so much! I'm so happy to have helped you and I'm glad you're still here (especially after starting off with BftC)!

I'm going to be real with you for a minute before I actually answer your question: because you are a college student who does not live in the US, the realistic answer for you is to download Ublock Origin (something you should download anyway), open readcomiconline.li, enjoy reading comics, and if you find a comic you like and think is worth shelling out money for, find a way to purchase it legally.

I have an entire spiel on comic book piracy that I will not expound upon at length here but generally boils down to "piracy is rampant in the comics industry because it's the obvious and inevitable result of making legally reading comics expensive, difficult, platform-dependent, and inherently exclusionary while de-prioritizing collected editions, digital sales, and international readers. If any comic company decided to be a competent publisher for even one year, piracy rates would plummet."

If you're still concerned about the ethics of pirating comics after that, allow me to let you in on the worst-kept secret in history: professional comic creatives do it too:

Now, to actually seriously answer your question about how I read comics and keep my hobby financially sustainable: I've been reading and collecting comics for nearly 17 years. The ways in which I have read and collected comics have shifted several times over the years. I purchase some comics (mostly physically), I read some comics through my local library system, and I pirate others. I am fortunate enough to live near a good local comic shop, though this was not always the case, so I get a lot of my new comics there right now.

I have a lot more disposable income now than I did when I was in high school and college, but I'm also a fairly frugal person by nature. When I do buy comics, I almost never buy them new or at full price. I bought around 90-95% of the comics I own either used or on sale. I've used many avenues and methods to buy comics: Amazon and Ebay, the back issue bins and clearance sections at comic shops, the huge used media store near my parents' home that has a fantastic comics section, and sites like instocktrades that sell trades at a discount to name a few.

The exceptions are trades I know have fairly limited printings (and so will end up being more expensive in the long run if I don't buy them new and now) and single issues for runs I specifically subscribed to in order to finanically support. I usually limit myself to putting 3-4 runs maximum on my pull list at any given time; I simply don't have the funds, space, or desire to buy single issues at a higher rate than that. I'm a trades girlie at heart and that's where I will stay. I have zero guilt over not shelling out additional money to companies who clearly do not actually want it (otherwise they would make buying their products easier and would properly support their creatives).

I do own quite a few digital comics, which I mostly bought when Comixology was an independent site and used to run regular sales. Unfortunately Comixology has since been fully folded into the normal Amazon storefront and the Kindle Reader functionality for comics is incredibly subpar compared to the old Comixology app, so I basically no longer buy digital comics. However, I amassed quite a solid digital collection prior to the merger in 2022 (I have pretty much every Black Panther comic ever published up until 2020 because Comixology did a weeklong "get every BP comic for free" sale in the wake of Chadwick Boseman's death, for example).

This is what 16 years of physically collecting comics looks like for me:

As you can see, most of the comics I own are trades/hardbacks. I find that purchasing trades is cheaper, easier, a much more pleasant reading experience, saves space, and as a bonus is much prettier from a display perspective. The two white shortboxes on top of the shelf are where I store all of my single issues. After buying a new single issue, I "bag and board" it for preservation purposes and then put it in the box, arranged alphabetically by title, like so:

the tl;dr on my reading habits is that while I mostly pirate, especially for newer issues, I also use services like DC Infinite or my local library (both physically and digitally via services like Hoopla) to legally read older comics otherwise and then primarily buy in trade (usually used/on sale, rarely new) as I find them.

The floppies I own are mostly a) books from my pull list, b) very specific story arcs or runs that I love enough to work on collecting individually, c) comics I like that have never been collected, so the only way to own them legally is through hunting down and purchasing individual issues, d) issues with pretty covers that caught my eye, and e) a few random other issues here and there.

I also use RCO to reference comics that I've read when discussing comics online and writing metas, regardless of whether I legally own the comic or not. I'm not going to pull out my legally bought, physical copies of Cass's Batgirl run, scan them, and then upload the pictures every time I want to write meta. I'm going to go to RCO and grab a screenshot from the relevant issues.

While I wish it didn't work this way, reading superhero comics is a niche hobby that currently assumes you have lots of free time and lots of disposable income. Ultimately it is impractical and realistically financially impossible to legally purchase every comic you want to read and discuss with other people. Reading comics via other means (whether legally or through piracy) is actually foundationally necessary to ensure the industry continues, not just because of the traditional lack of access but also the sheer impossibility of buying individual comics at the scale necessary to understand and discuss the stories these companies publish. Not to mention the difficulty of discussing comics online if you are a physical reader/buyer.

Yes, the industry is severely outdated and still prioritizes monthly sales of physical single issues despite that not actually being a good indicator of a book's eventual financial success. Yes, ideally everyone would be able to legally purchase comics. But in reality, no one does so. I can probably count on my hands the number of comic readers I know who have never pirated anything. I don't begrudge anyone, especially people who live outside of the US and usually only have access to a very limited selection of stories, deciding to pirate comics. Please do so. You don't owe the Big Two shit. I only ever ask that if you ARE in a financial position to support the comics and creators you love by legally purchasing comics that you try to do so. Go and be free.

[rottenrosethorns]

Hi! Saw that your request is open and jump straight in to request lol.

Can you make a Leon x reader fluff, where Leon is this big tuff government agent (which he is) who is respected and look up to by people around him. But around reader he's just this big puppy who loves to cuddle and be in her arms, and he's so whiny whenever the reader needs to get up to go to the bathroom that he'll just wait for her outside the bathroom, once she gets out, he just scoops her back into his arms and off to cuddling session they go~ Can be any Leon you want!

Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x gn!Reader 

Genre: Fluff 

Synopsis: Tough government agent by day, soft puppy boy by night. Leon recounts the highlights of his week spent with you. 

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: None! :)

A/N: i just love a good puppy boy yum. now, obvi RE2 takes the cake for soft boy, but in my head, i dream of old leon being the biggest baby, like he has so much trauma, let me be your therapist – hope you like this anon! <3 

__________

- masterlist - 

_________

Saturday & Sunday  –

Leon adored the weekends. He got to spend all his time with you after all. He loved leaving work as early as possible to pick you up from your work, taking you out for a nice dinner, and maybe watching a movie or TV show afterwards. He loved staying up as late as possible, hoping that the sun never rose so that he could relish being in your comfort under the heaps of blankets because you always complained about being cold. Eventually, the stress of work and lack of sleep would forcibly pull him into slumber as he snuggled closer into your body. When he woke up to the sounds of the birds chirping and the morning sun rays peeking through the crevices of the curtains, Leon sinked into the mattress, holding you as close as possible. You were a heavy sleeper, so he often took advantage of that to kiss your temple and get up to make you breakfast. 

Leon was such a giver, loving that he could be a caretaker for you. While he was gone at work, you were always the one to take care of things at home and make sure he had a clean space to relax and recharge. So, he’d always repay you for being the one to service you on the weekends. He knew your favorites, likes, and dislikes. And, even if he wasn’t the perfect cook, he still knew how to make up for it with weekly flowers delivered to the house. After breakfast, he’d be with you wherever you stepped. 

You like reading in the den? He’d sit next to you while he answers emails and finishes reports, hating that your eyes were following words and not on him. 

You like gardening outside? He’d start working out outside with his shirt off, definitely making sure to distract you and hating that you smiled more at the flowers than at him. 

You like going out to brunch with your friends? He’d drive you to and from the restaurant, pretending to leave after kissing you goodbye and wishing you to have fun before sneaking back to sit at a reserved table. 

He couldn't spend a second without you. So, that’s why he always hated the work week, because for forty hours, he had to resist quitting his career to be in your arms. And unfortunately, tomorrow was Monday.

…..

Monday – 

Leon already started off the week to a bad start. Somehow, he’d forgotten to take the lunch you always packed him to work and he didn’t have enough time to drive back and grab it. It wasn’t that he minded skipping lunch – he missed many meals from harsh mission conditions already – or was incapable of buying his own lunch from a nearby food chain, it’s just that he was upset that he would be missing out on your little sticky notes you accompanied with each lunch. From when you started dating, you made it a habit to sneak in notes of affection and motivation to cheer him up throughout the day. He even made an effort to save all your sticky notes in the corner of his desk drawer with his favorite ones displayed on the edge of his monitor or overlapping on pictures frames of you propped up on the corner of his desk. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” 

“What do you want?” Leon all but glared at the assistant, standing near the door. She’d been a new addition to the team, meaning she was trying her chance to catch his eye. Arguably, Leon enjoyed the attention during his rookie days, using his looks for his career’s advantage; however, nowadays with you in his life, Leon treated every woman with a cold shoulder and a sneer. Unfortunately, some women were into cold and sneering men. 

The assistant fluttered her eyes, pushing her chest out as if she had a spinal injury, “There’s some here to see you.” 

Thinking that she was talking about herself, Leon grit his teeth in annoyance, “Get the fuck out of my office.”

“Leon!” You unexpectedly appeared through the door of his office with a disappointed frown, “That was so rude, apologize to her now.” 

Leon’s jaw slacked in surprise, not expecting you to show up at his workplace. He stumbled out of his chair, quickly making it over towards you to give you a kiss only to meet the side of your face instead of your lips. Leon pouted from you avoiding his kiss. You gave him a glare, eyes flickering towards the assistant. Internally groaning, Leon knew he didn’t have a choice as you were the most stubborn person he’s met. But he was a pleaser – he was your pleaser – so he’d do anything you ask him to. 

Turning towards the assistant, Leon begrudgingly muttered an apology, “I shouldn’t have sworn at you. That’s my fault.”

Although he didn’t mean it, Leon looked at the assistant with harsh eyes. From his height, you couldn’t see his disingenuous expression and gullibly believed in his fake act of remorse. His glare hardened, a warning for the assistant to leave before he kicked her out physically. Leon would never put his hands on a woman, but if they were threatening his lover, then all those morals went out the window. Getting the hint, the assistant finally made the move to leave, but not fast enough for Leon to grab you in his arms and essentially make out with you in front of her. 

You pulled back from the kiss with a blush, “Leon!”

Leon smirked, loving to see the flush on your face and being the reason for it, “I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning,” You rolled your eyes at Leon’s dramatics. 

“So?” Leon snuggled into you closer, sniffing you as if your scent was home to him, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”

Leon heard some rustling and looked to see his forgotten lunch bag in your hand, “Hungry?”

Leon nodded like a puppy with a wide smile on his face before guiding you to sit on his office chair while he sat on his desk. He happily waited as you unpacked everything on his desk and advised him which foods to start with. And, although he didn’t receive a note that day, your presence made up for it. 

…..

Tuesday – 

“Conference is ready for Eagle, I repeat, Conference is ready for Eagle.”  

Leon raised his cuff towards his mouth, “Copy that.” 

Leon buttoned his suit jacket, securing his pistol, and gestured one arm towards the Oval Office’s door, “Mr. President, we’re ready for you.” 

Leon received a curt nod before leading him out the Oval Office and towards the press room. Like routine clockwork, his eyes were constantly scanning for danger. Even though they were only moving from one end of the White House towards the other, Leon was never too careful. Once at the doors of the press room, Leon held the door with one hand while the other went back up near his mouth, “Eagle’s entering the press room.” 

When he received the green light, Leon pushed open the door and followed the President towards the stage. Again, he scanned the room, looking for any suspicious activity or possible threats. Just as he made his way towards the edge of the stage where he was usually stationed during these boring politically vague press conferences, his eyes happened to catch a familiar figure, causing him to stumble over his feet and loudly crash into the American flag flagpole. The noise caused each reporter to inspect the situation as they watched Leon fumble. With quick reflexes, Leon caught the pole before it fell over and placed it back upright before awkwardly shuffling towards his post. Normally, Leon wouldn’t have made such a mistake, but the sight of you sitting with the audience of reporters caught him off guard. How could he forget that you worked in a very reputable news station? 

Leon avoided everyone’s lingering stares, pretending that what just happened didn’t happen. Well, everyone’s but yours. Once he met your twinkling eyes, your face broke out into the most adorable smile as you tried to hide it behind your notepad and suppress your giggles. Leon let out a barely audible chuckle as his face flushed. You were the only one that could have him feeling embarrassed. But technically, this was your fault, because you looked too good for him not to stare at you the whole time. If any of his colleagues was watching his view, they’d definitely think you were some sort of threat waiting to take their chance. 

Normally, Leon couldn’t wait for these conferences to be over. But now, he found this one particularly excruciating. The whole time he kept wondering how the hell he was supposed to control himself when you were in work mode. Just the way you asked the most intelligent questions, being so focused when writing your notes, and the way you brushed your hair out of your face whenever it fell into your vision sent him into a state of blissful insanity. The things he’d do to just leave his post and jump into your arms was unthinkable. But he had a job to do, and he was the best at it. Plus, he wanted to show off how cool and handsome he was while on the job. 

“Thank you. We’ll be taking no more questions at this moment.”

Leon snapped out of his daze, moving to escort the president off the stage. Turning towards a secret service member, Leon gave the orders to guide the president back to his next destination before breaking away and practically skipping towards you. 

“Nice fall there, Romeo,” You teased, can’t help but giggled as you recanted the fresh memory. 

Leon scratched his head with a crooked smile, “I saw the most beautiful person in my life.”

You shook your head giggling before giving him a quick kiss, not wanting to get him in trouble at work. Leon excitedly accepted your kiss, smile widening even more as his lips tingled. 

“Kennedy! Debrief!” 

Leon looked over to see his colleague waving him down from across the room. Instantaneously, his stoic expression returned as he gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. Once out of sight, his features soften, looking at you apologetically, “Gotta go, I’ll see you later. Love you!” 

It took him almost a minute to actually say goodbye and leave you, but the skip in his step made up for his tardiness. 

…..

Wednesday – 

Leon was starting to get tired of these meetings. His job was to fight bioweapons, did he really need to sit in the geeky science side of things? If there’s a monster, kill it. Easy. 

He sighed, as his eyes bore into the papers, yet not reading any of the content written on them. Every word said by the scientists and researchers went in one ear and right out the other as they continued through the robust slideshow. Didn’t he skip college for this exact reason? 

Just as they were about to continue towards the next slide, Leon’s phone rang, interrupting everyone from their concentration. Usually, Leon would apologize for forgetting to silence his phone, but seeing your caller ID flash on his screen had him running outside the meeting room as the group decided to call for an intermission. 

Picking up, Leon piped up, “Hello?”

“Is it a bad time?” 

Leon looked back to the meeting room without a care, “Nope, wasn’t doing anything important, what’s up?” 

“I was just going to ask what you wanted to eat for dinner for Friday’s movie night. Do you want to order in or make something ourselves?” 

“What’s wrong with both?” Leon chuckled. 

“That’s too much!” You laughed.

Leon smiled, loving the sound of your laughter and being the one that made you laugh, “Okay, okay, let’s get something easy to make. We’ve got some other shopping to do too.” 

“Perfect, we’ll go tomorrow, okay? Come home early.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, I gotta go now. I love you!”

“I love you too,” Leon kissed into the phone before hanging up. 

He was about to turn around and head back to the presentation room before being face to face with the Redfield siblings. Chris raised his brow while Claire did her best to hide her snickering behind her hand. Leon’s stoic persona returned, pushing past them as he muttered, “Shut up.” 

…..

Thursday – 

“Salsa”

“Check.”

“Chips?”

“Check.”

“Anything else?”

“Sour cream,” Leon read the grocery list, “That should be it.” 

You nodded, heading towards the condiments aisle, “Right, can’t forget the sour cream.”

Finding the location, you were about to ask Leon for help as the bottle you wanted was placed on the top shelf, but Leon was quick to understand and had already reached up and placed the bottle in the cart. You smiled and attempted to pat his head, “Thank you! Ready to go?”

If Leon had a tail, it would be wagging faster than a boat propeller. Leon perked up at the praise, basking in the good words you had for him. He could never get over how well you treated him and he lived to impress you everytime. Just as he went to answer, a certain sibling duo appeared again. Was this his bad luck? 

Once you saw Claire, you immediately rushed over and enveloped her into a hug and gushed about where she’s been and what she’s been up to. Knowing you well, Leon knew it’d a while before you realized you’d been talking for a bit too long. Chris seemed to know this too as he went over to Leon and struck up some small talk. He looked in your cart, analyzing the collected ingredients, “Taco night?”

Leon let out a gruff noise with a scowl on his face to indicate that Chris guessed correctly. Leon crossed his arms, impatiently waiting for you to finish so that you both could go home and cuddle on the couch together. 

Chris scoffed, “You don’t have to hide that you love them, you know? It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’re head over heels for them already.” 

Leon pressed his lips together, “I’m not hiding anything.” 

“You’re not?” Chris pressed, “So, yesterday, on that phone call, you did send a kiss through the phone, right?” 

Leon met Chris’s eyes with a glare, not willing to admit he’d ever do such a thing. Although it was the truth and it would’ve hurt his pride to admit, Leon hated denying it in case it made you sad, so he chose to use silence as his answer. Chris found this particularly amusing as he laughed, “It’s okay to have feelings, you know? In this field of work, it’s nice to have someone – someone human – to remind us that we have lives outside of the virus.” 

Leon’s tough demeanor slightly cracked as he watched you laugh and joke with Claire. He hated to admit, but Chris was right. You were his everything. You made all the bad memories and nightmares go away. You reminded him that he’s just a guy trying to live a normal life. And, he’d do anything to keep you in his arms forever. 

Without thinking, Leon admitted, “I love them.” 

Chris smiled in triumph, “You look good together.”

Just as the men finished their chat, you looked over at Leon to which Leon softened his expression to meet your gaze, “Hey, you won’t mind if Chris and Claire come over tonight, right? They can even stay over if they want! Come on, let’s go!”

Even if he wanted to, Leon couldn’t bring himself to argue with you. Sure, he wanted you for himself tonight, but he couldn’t ever say no to you. Thus, you collectively left the grocery store with Leon grumbling in tow as Chris snickered at his demise. 

…..

Friday – 

Fridays, oh Fridays. They were Leon’s favorite day of the week. It was the majority of the population's favorite day of the week actually. But, Leon’s reason wasn’t mundane like getting off work early to celebrate the weekend or other adjacent reasons. His reason was because he was to come home to you and destress the woes of the week in your arms. He didn’t care what movie or TV show was playing, he just wanted to bury himself deep into your neck and press loving kisses as if he was thanking you for your existence. Even though your focus was solely on the drama of the cinema, Leon was just happy to be included. That’s all that he needed. You were all that he needed. 

“I gotta use the bathroom,” You started to untangle yourself from Leon’s hold, “You can keep watching though.”

Leon mewled in protest. He didn’t even know what was playing anyways, so it didn’t matter to him. The hold on you shifted, so that Leon was encircling your waist and holding your body flush against his. He buried his face into your chest and his muffled, “Don’t go.”

You patted his head, brushing your fingers through his hair as you cooed at him, “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Keep the blankets warm for me?”

Leon pouted, squeezing you one more time before reluctantly letting you go – extra emphasis on the reluctant part. Leon was basically an octopus suction cupping you on him as you struggled to get out of his hold. Once you were finally freed, you huffed before sending him off with a quick kiss and running towards the bathroom. Leon laid on the couch, lifeless. He didn’t know what to do without you. He tried to tune into the TV, but his lack of attention to plot confused him on the premise of whatever was playing. He laid back with his hand on his stomach, fiddling his fingers as he stared at the ceiling. He shifted his body left and right, suddenly feeling like the couch was made of concrete and blankets knitted with the itchiest yarn known to man. 

Annoyed, Leon decided to abandon the couch and shuffle his way towards the bathroom and paced outside as he waited for you to finish. Thankfully, you weren’t that long before you unlocked the door and stepped out. You hadn’t gotten far before Leon scooped you up in his arms and swiftly took you back to the couch and buried your bodies in the mountain of pillows and blankets. Only now did he feel comfortable, like sleeping on clouds. 

You giggled, taking his face in your hand and holding him to look at you. Leon’s eyes widened, waiting for you to say what you wanted to. You booped his nose, “Were you waiting outside for me?”

Leon pursed his lips like he was asking for a kiss. You shook your head, not willing to kiss him until he gave you an answer. Once realizing this, Leon’s lips turned into a pout, “I missed you.”

You giggled, pressing a rewarding kiss to which he passionately accepted, “You’re so cute.”

Leon snuggled back into you as your fingers entangled themselves back into his hair, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

[causenessus]

happy birthday. | oikawa t.

oikawa x reader (female reader implied, one use of word girlfriend)

written in 2nd person

"i wanna see what makes my life and all the little things, i wanna see the mountains in view and the part when i meet you <3" from when i meet you by hollow bastion

word count: 2.5k words (headcannons & little fic <3)

happy birthday to the boy whose been with me for 4+ years <3 longer than anyone else <3 all sweet toothrotting fluff!! not edited bc i'm really tired goodnight :)

contrary to popular belief, tooru does not hype up his birthday

he never tells anyone it’s coming up and he doesn’t always do something big for his special day

he’s grown a *tiny* bit more mellow since high school, from when he did always make a big deal out of it

fans continue to send in heaps of mail but like the actual day itself, he doesn’t really pay any mind to it

there’s two reasons for this:

now that he has you, he doesn’t care much for others

as long as he gets to spend the day with you, even if no one else wished him a happy birthday or gave him something he’d be happy

second of all, he likes things to be genuine

with popularity has come a lot of shallowness from others, and he’s had to put up many of his own fronts

so he doesn’t want hundreds of people messaging him happy birthday, he only really cares to hear it from his close circle of friends

and it’s no problem if he doesn’t receive a message from one of those friends, he doesn’t expect people to know everything about him (a big change from high school, he’s very proud of it)

it’s just something that he realized after graduating high school. after his last year and the underwhelming end to his high school volleyball career after the spring high playoffs, he realized that life was not all about getting as far as you can on a straight path; sometimes you take turns that diverge you from the main path a little bit, but you still keep moving forward, and sometimes you end up finding something on that little path that makes it all worth it <3 (with age comes wisdom, right?? don’t tell him that, it makes him sound old 🤭)

after all, that’s how he found you <3

at the airport waiting to fly to argentina, he just couldn’t get enough of you, even after spending the entire flight at your side.

and you were just as interested in him

he realized after your first date that he was always meant to be here. he had a restless, adventurous soul that hadn’t been satisfied in japan, and it had been fate to meet you while he was taking the next big step in high life.

and don't mistake his acceptance of where he is in life for laziness, he’s just as hardworking as before if not more, but he’s realized he doesn’t need to aim for perfection

and once he became more lenient on himself, he ironically became the best version of himself he’d ever been

with your support and love easing him through this new mindset and the bad days, he began to win medal after medal <3

you’ve been with him for it all. he wholly believes you were made for him, and he loves you so much

so the only happy birthday he cares to hear is from you

and if other friends wish him a happy birthday? he will thank them. he will say that he appreciates them and he means it, but nothing is as important as you

if you insist that he can’t stay at home with you the whole day and that he should celebrate with some of his friends, he’ll eventually comply

he likes to keep things small. it feels nice to choose to have a quiet day on a date dedicated to him with a small group of people

tooru and you had started the day together in bed. a summer in brazil had seemed appealing to you both; it was the perfect time and place for him to play volleyball on the beach by the sea and you were there to relax and keep him company. he had reconciled with shoyo, who you both had planned to meet for lunch to celebrate the day.

you had decided on the place after receiving input from both of them. tooru had been complaining for days about wanting lemonade, and shoyo had suggested somewhere small, open, and simple as opposed to an overcrowded fancy restaurant. you could easily get that experience just by walking down the hot streets of brazil.

the three of you had spent the afternoon inside a conditioned cafe. it was a cozy place, with lots of greenery and wide window walls to let in lots of sunlight. you had sat there for several hours, people watching and chattering, tooru rubbing circles on your thigh the entire time as shoyo and him recounted their time and experiences in high school and how they had traveled around the world since then.

by around four in the afternoon or so, shoyo had perked up, suggesting that they play volleyball which had riled up tooru, a smirk on his face as he teased the ginger, “oh? you think you can beat me if we play one on one, shrimpy?”

shoyo had grinned back, sitting up proudly and flaunting his sun-bronzed skin. tooru had gotten a little dark, too, but not nearly to the extent that shoyo had.

“you guys have fun sweating and running around in the sun,” you sighed, placing your hand over the one tooru had on your leg, “i’m going to go home.”

when tooru whined you hushed him with a finger to his lip, “you enjoy your time with shoyo. today is about you. i'll still be here when you guys are done playing.”

he gave you a slight pout but you knew you had won him over. he was never one to fight much, especially because he knows you only want the best for him, and he'd be lying if he didn't say he was excited to play against the orange-haired boy sitting across from him.

you had waved the two boys off as you split up after exiting the cafe, stopping by a bakery before running home. little did tooru know, this had been your plan all along and everything was going smoothly so far. shoyo was in on it too and had been assigned the job of distracting tooru while you got home.

tooru woke up with messages from his family, but none of his three closest friends. you’d seen the disappointment in his eyes although he tried to hide it, saying that they’d probably just text him later due to the big time difference between japan and brazil.

but in reality, they hadn’t messaged him because they had just arrived in brazil. they'd come to help you with decorations and to celebrate tooru, of course. you met the three at your door, each of them holding a bag or box with decorations and gifts inside.

“thank you guys for agreeing to do this with me, he’s gonna love it,” you smiled, opening the door and holding it open for the four of them to walk in.

“of course he will, he's gonna let out the most dramatic gasp ever when he sees something set up for him,” hanamaki said with an amused smile, slipping off his shoes.

“he’s gonna love anything, he’s never satisfied,” iwaizumi added with a roll of his eyes. “and he’ll probably complain that none of us texted him.”

“times never change,” mattsun whistled, stepping through the door last. “remember when we surprised him in the gym with the entire team? he wasn’t even happy until makki finally arrvied with the cake like an hour later.” 

“you gave me the wrong address, that was not my fault! and he wasn’t happy until i got there because he was waiting for me, not the cake,” makki retorted and the rest of them had laughed.

you had met his old teammates from high school a few times before on visits back to japan, and tooru continued to keep in touch with them while he was overseas. most often, on late nights that neither of you could sleep, he would ramble to you about the national volleyball team iwaizumi had been putting together.

you had also exchanged phone numbers with the three boys after hitting it off with them, which had come in handy for planning this birthday. you all worked quickly to hang up decorations around the foyer and kitchen while the cake you'd bought earlier stayed neat and pretty in the chilled fridge.

all the while, shoyo kept you updated on tooru through texts. they were on the way back to the apartment now after shoyo had insisted on walking with him back home.

“he’s almost here,” you informed, unable to contain the excited smile on your face as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. “everyone ready? iwaizumi, will you get the lights, please?”

you all waited in the dark until you heard their footsteps approaching, the muffled sound of their voices through the wall of the apartment. you lit the candles on the birthday cake, the warm, flickering flames providing the tiniest bit of light in the dark room, illuminating the neatly iced cursive that read out "happy birthday tooru ♡ " 

you heard his noise of surprise as the door swung open into the pitch black apartment before you stood up from your hiding spot behind the counter, “happy birthday, my love.”

 “y/n? is this why you left early?” he asked, a smile full of love and adoration on his face, looking at the dimly lit cake on the table.

you hummed in response, wrapping your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss before you looked at shoyo and gave him a nod.

the lights came on overhead, making tooru squint at the sudden brightness before he nearly fell forward from a slap to his back.

“happy birthday, man,” mattsun grinned, stepping into his sight before he saw iwaizumi and hanamaki as well.

“you guys?—” he started, frozen in place in surprise at seeing the three boys in his apartment. “you guys came all the way here for me?”

“no," hanamaki replied sarcastically with a shrug before giving tooru a hug, "we just happened to be in the area, you know. i’m thinking of moving to brazil and decided to stop by.

tooru lets out an offended huff at the joke, crossing his arms as hanamaki steps back. “i can’t believe you guys are really here. and even more i can’t believe none of you guys texted me! i thought you all had forgotten, you could have at least sent a message so i wasn’t moping around all day.”

you and iwaizumi both roll your eyes at his dramatic complaint as matsukawa laughs, “aw, did you miss us?”

“and where’s the fun in that, dumbass? we thought a happy birthday in person would mean more to you, anyway,” iwaizumi speaks up, revealing the gift bag he’s been hiding from behind his back.

tooru gasps, practically melting at the sight as he steps closer to his best friend, “well, i guess you guys were right. this means the world to me, thank you so much for coming.” he takes the bag from iwaizumi before pulling him into a tight hug that lasts a few seconds, and says more between the two than hours of talking could. they haven’t seen each other in months, but they’re still just as close as they’ve always been.

“and,” tooru says, turning towards you with a smile, “thank you for setting this all up, y/n.”

the party lasts a few hours, with mellow music playing in the background as the six of you catch up over a few drinks before everyone decides it’s a good time to head out back to their homes, leaving the two of you to collapse into bed. 

tooru is hugging you close, face nestled into the top of your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair and draw circles onto his back.

“did you have a good birthday?” you ask him, eyes closed as you both find rest in each other’s arms.

his shoulders relax with a deep sigh as he gives you a small nod, his face rubbing against your shirt.

“anything i can do to make it even better next year?” you talk softly, twirling his brown curls around your finger.

he hums in thought for a second before he peeks up from your chest, innocent brown eyes staring into yours. “more time with you next time,” he answers, mouth still muffled from your shirt. 

“what?” you chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, “i was with you nearly the entire day, and we live together. you see me every day.”

“ ‘s not the same,” he whines, nuzzling his face into your body again, “and today didn't count, 'cause i didn’t get any alone time with you.”

you can’t help but smile at his sweet words, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head, “but today is your day, tooru. i want you to see as many friends as you can. because we all care about you, and sometimes you need to be reminded of that, mr. i-don’t-tell-anyone-when-my-birthday-is.”

his grip tightens on the back of your shirt, “yeah, but i don’t need any of that if i have you. you make me feel loved and cared for. your happy birthday is the only one i care about hearing.”

“is that so?’ you reply, returning to raking through his hair.

he gives you another nod before looking up, one of his hands trailing up your back and tangling into the back of your hair, pressing your head down to meet his lips. “mhm,” he hums against your mouth, “all i need is you.”

his lips trail down your jaw and then to your neck, making you laugh as he moves down your sternum before he returns to his original position, holding you close, his face buried into you. “well then, i’ll keep that in mind next year. i’ll make sure everyone texts you happy birthday whether or not they fly across the world and i promise we'll get some alone time, okay?”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “what’re you thinking about?” you ask softly.

“nothing,” he mumbles, “i just feel really happy right now. i have the best girlfriend in the world that cares so much about me and plans out all my birthdays to make me feel loved. and we’re lying in bed right now and i’m just listening to her talk and i feel so comfortable. like next year we could just lie here all day and i’d be the happiest man ever.”

you laugh at his words and he likes the way he can feel it reverberate through your chest because of how close he is. “you’re sweet, tooru. i’ll keep talking until you fall asleep then, okay?”

“mmkay,” he responds happily, moving his legs around under the sheets to hook around yours, intertwining your bodies.

you press another kiss to his head, smiling the entire time, your heart full of love for the man, “and if it really means that much to you to hear it from me, i’ll say it again, too. happy birthday, tooru. and i love you so so much. you’re the best man i could ever have fallen in love with.”

[lighthailstorm]

my angsty/sad girl playlists

are we still friends?: playlist based on the song of the same title by tyler, the creator. it's basically just a bunch of songs where you can yearn about a friend/lover.

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy: playlist based off the movie beautiful boy (2018)

distant echoes: melancholy-sounding r&b songs. meant to be listened to in a car while it's raining.

do you feel alone right now?: based off the movie, donnie darko (2001).

eps1.0_hellofriend.mov: based off the tv series 'mr. robot'. i highly recommend the show if you haven't seen it and you are mentally ill or are a film bro.

for 6 months i couldn't sleep: based off one of my favorite movies, fight club (1999). specifically based on the narrator of the story who suffers from insomnia bcs i too have insomnia and it's a very trippy experience.

hell is a teenaged girl: seems self-explanatory

i am the shadows: based on robert pattinson's batman from the batman (2022). its basically just an emo playlist for emo batman.

i don't feel...well: based off the movie pearl (2022) bcs it changed me. this is mostly based off the monologue that pearl does near the end of the film.

i fell in love with a war: based off the song 'a pearl' by mitski. basically for the girls who feel like they've never been normal and their love language is violence/conflict

if you love me, keep it to yourself: based off the songs 'vacillator' by ethel cain and 'i love you' by billie eilish. it's a collection of songs that are based off of the feeling of not wanting people to love you because you know you will disappoint them eventually or it will be ruined in some way.

i just...i wished that you liked me: based off ladybird (2017). if you have mommy issues and are scared of growing up, this is the playlist for you.

i just want so badly to be rid of you: based off of the australian teen tv series, dance academy (2009), and the main relationship between christian and tara. if you don't watch the series, it's also just a sad breakup playlist.

i knew he wanted cool girl: based off of amy dunne from gone girl (2014). basically a playlist for when your fed up being a woman in a man-dominated society but in a barely suppressed female rage type of way.

i'm a liability: based off the song 'liability' by lorde. for those who feel like they are too much.

i'm fine: you're experiencing visceral all consuming rage but you're trying to do it in a pretty and aesthetic way

"i thought you'd love me, jo!": songs that i felt embodied laurie in little women (2019) when he said this line

it's getting bad again: pov: you have crippling depression and don't know what to do with yourself.

"it's never about me": fiona gallagher inspried playlist

it's not your fault: playlist for the girlies with heaps of childhood trauma

i used to be a brother: based off the movie iron claw (2023), another one of my favorite movies.

i was perfect: based off the movie black swan (2010), specifically nina and her crippling perfectionism.

"just love me and eat": playlist that my friend actually put together in slide show form for me and i just copied her. it's based off of the movie bones and all (2022).

loneliness has followed me my whole life: based off the movie taxi driver (1976), specifically the main character, travis bickle

may december: based off the film of the same title, but focused on joe and how he probably feels as a victim of grooming.

meet me in montauk: based off clementine and joel from the movie eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (2004) and their relationship.

mirrorball: based off of the song 'mirrorball' by taylor swift. In the song, she compares herself to a reflective disco ball that reflects all the personalities around her but when the light is off her she's just there. i relate deeply to this idea and this playlist has a bunch of songs that i feel work with this idea. but i've also added some songs onto it that reflect that feeling of anxiety that goes with being a mirrorball bcs you're scared that other people will eventually realize that you're just reflecting. and songs that show the jealousy that comes from looking at other people who seem to just be naturally magnetizing.

mitski.: all of my favorite mitski songs

mother and child have crazy beef: based off the movie mother (2020) but if you have mommy issues, this playlist is for you.

my year of rest and relaxation: based off the book of the same name because i read the book recently and unfortunately it did not convince me that i don't need a year of rest and relaxation myself.

narc crash: playlist based off the song 'brand new city' by mitski where she says "if i gave up on being pretty i wouldn't know how to be alive". a "narc crash" is basically when someone with npd's grandiose idea about themselves is shattered and they go into a deep depression bcs they've basically lost their sense of self. so the song 'brand new city' kind of reminded me of that experience and how it feels to be so hopelessly depressed but still desperately clinging on to a persona bcs you still want people to like you.

nick dunne: playlist from the perspective of nick dunne from gone girl (2014)

the night we met: songs that clay jensen from 13 reasons why would relate to or enjoy.

no alarms and no surprises: based on the song 'no surprises' by radiohead bcs that song reminds me of how much i wish life was just simple and quiet.

or maybe i was just a girl, interrupted: basically hell is a teenaged girl all over again but with slightly different songs and it's loosely based on daisy from girl, interrupted (1999)

overworked & underpaid: playlist for those who were born to slay but forced to work and study

please, hurry leave me (i can't breathe): all my personality disorder girlies RISE.

pray for the best, prepare for the worst: based on detective loki from the movie prisoners (2013)

radiohead!: all my favorite radiohead songs

the regularness of life is too hard for me: based off of christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

romeo & juliet: songs that capture the tragedy of their romance

sedate me: a rainy day playlist but sad.

today is not a good day: based on ruben from the sound of metal (2019)

"you all want me to fail.": based on abigail from the series dance academy (2009). basically a good playlist for if you're a perfectionist (derogatory)

"you leave me alone now.": based off the film the hunt (2012), about a man who was falsely accused of a crime and how it ruined his life.

[luveline]

jadeee!! how are you?? I was rereading everything asf universe and I thought, as a belated weasley twin bd treat, perhaps a drabble of r and Fred at Angelina and George’s wedding and Fred realised how much he wants that for him and r?? i wanna see them get hitched soo bad!

that whole universe is sooo special to me, endless thank yous to you and your amazing brain for writing it❤️

I love you!! It’s so special to me too!!!! And I’m so grateful to you for reading!!!!! fem, 1.2k

cw mental health issues

Fred gets you in his lap, but it takes all day, and only after the speeches. 

“You were very brave,” he says. 

“Don’t patronise me.” 

“I’m not,” he says, his arms folded around you, your side to his front so as to keep his gaze on your face. You’ve genuinely never looked so beautiful, not ever. It’s the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever worn, and you’ve smiled all day. He can’t believe it. 

“Was it an okay speech?” 

Fred finds your hand to hold. 

I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend before I met George and Fred, you’d said, staring hard at Molly rather than the crowd, your nerves apparent in every word. I’ve never known someone to love as hard or as generously as he does. I… wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. And so it makes me so happy to see him loved like that in return. I know he’ll be a good husband, because he is a great friend, and I think that’s half the battle, and– and he tries so hard. I wish you both a happy marriage and… a great honeymoon. 

George didn’t beg you to say something, but he’d begged Fred to convince you, and everyone could see how much it meant to him that you’d managed to do it in front of so many people. George had no trouble proclaiming that you were his best friend in the entire world and that he would kill anybody who ever crossed you, including his twin, if it were to come to that. 

It will never come to that. Fred will never break your heart. 

“I didn’t know you were going to say that much,” Fred says. 

“Too much?” you ask, looking down at his chest. 

“No, sweetheart, no. It was lovely. I just knew it was gonna be hard for you.” 

“You talked for half an hour,” you say. 

It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. “I had to embarrass him fully. That’s what getting married is for.” 

You press your cheek to his shoulder. The lights in the hall are low, your seats at the main table shaded from the lights and the music. George and Angelina’s family mingle, dance, and sing quite drunkenly. It’s very normal, but you’ve had a long day. Fred’s not sure you’re up for dancing. He doesn’t mind. 

“It was a lovely speech,” Fred affirms. He’d murmur if he weren’t worried you’d miss it with all the noise. “He knows public speaking isn’t for you, and it was probably a better gift for him than the DFS voucher.” 

“Better than a new sofa?” you ask. “You’re joking.” 

He laughs at your joking and presses a heap of kiss all over the side and top of your face. You melt under his touching, slouching into him, the curl of your smile palpable on his shoulder. He can feel it.  “My mum’s coming. She’s trying to be subtle. Shall I send her away?” 

“I like your mum,” you say. 

She’s in a dress with huge draped sleeves, her hair piled away from her face, her lips a pale pink to suit her red hair. When she talks, Fred can see the happy tear tracks that mark her powder. “Hello, you two.” 

You sit up to a slightly more respectable position, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t seen you and Fred touching. “Hi.” 

“Hi, mum.”

“How are you both? There’s more champagne around the side, dearie, your father can get you another bottle if you like.” She beams at you both. “You look exhausted.” 

“It’s a long day, mum,” Fred says, mildly apologetic. 

“I know. Imagine how much worse it is when it’s your own.” She brushes a strand of hair from Fred’s face. “Well, alright, I’ll go bother someone else.” 

“You’re not bothering us,” you say quickly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” She gives you a motherly shoulder squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I’ll make sure they play a few slow songs for you to dance to. I need good photos for my wall.” 

Fred laughs against the back of your head. “Thanks, mum.” 

She leaves you quickly, attention snatched by Percy where he’s calling for her to come and dance, and leaves Fred in particular with an idea he’s been trying and failing to ignore all day. He knows it’s cliche, but his brother's wedding has made him think of his own, and how it will go and when it will be. If he asked you to marry him, would you say yes? 

“You really do look so pretty,” he says. 

“You’ve told me a couple of times,” you say shyly. 

“I can’t believe it. I’m coming to terms with it.” 

“Do you think we’ll get married?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, startled, and wondering for the thousandth time if you can really read his mind. “I suppose you’ll have to let me ask you first, but of course I do.” 

You nod distractedly. It’s not the reaction he’d hoped for. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. 

Loving you is learning when to manage a crisis. Not that you’re always in crisis, but it’s an essential skill he’s obtained nonetheless. He waits for you to answer his question patiently, his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up gently to his eye level. 

“Do you remember the first Christmas I came to stay with you?” you ask. “Before we were together.” 

“I remember.” 

“I told you that I didn’t think anyone would ever marry me. That I’m not that… sort of person.”

Fred shifts his legs under your weight. You aren’t heavy, the chairs are uncomfortable, and he plans to have you here for hours upon hours if he can swing it. “Yeah.” 

“But you said you’d prove me wrong. We hadn’t even kissed.” 

“And you still didn’t think I had a crush on you,” he teases. 

You gather your arms to wrap behind his head, sitting taller, cwtching his face to your neck. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Ghost, I know everything about you. It makes total sense to me, believe it or not. And I will prove you wrong, I promise. If that’s what you want– it’s what I want, I just haven’t figured out how to ask you yet. Can you give me a little more time?” 

You suck in a strange breath. He’d like to say it was delighted, but it’s better labelled as shocked. “Okay.” 

“Thank you. We’ll have much better music.” 

You turn your heads to the dance floor, where Arthur has unearthed those extra bottles of champagne Molly promised, and the Weasley troupe are dancing like an especially ginger entourage of fools to something abrasive by the Weird Sisters. 

“Should we go dance?” you ask. 

“In a minute. After my dads discovered that champagne isn’t regular champagne, I think.” 

You shed the panic you’d been fostering to kiss his warm cheek. “Idiot, what did you do?” 

“It’s his wedding, Ghost, what did you expect?” 

You kiss his cheek again. A third time and he’s blushing. “Love you, Fred. Do you think George will forgive me for bending the truth?” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“‘Cos I was lying, you know, when I said he’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. That’s you.” 

Ugh, he thinks, dipping you backwards for a kiss. What a girl.