#I'VE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS SO TY

[lilac-hecox]

Hello! I love your twin au! I was wondering if I could get some Daniel/Ian with some pining Anthony/one sided Ianthony on the side? The ending is all up to you!

Ian/Daniel + (one sided Ian/Anthony) - Twins

--

Anthony wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. Anyone on Earth would be weirded out by the fact that their identical twin brother was suddenly dating their best friend. The best friend Anthony has had for years and grew up alongside Anthony and his identical twin Daniel. The best friend that previously spent all his time with Anthony and now spent the majority of the time with Daniel, leaving Anthony feeling like a footnote in his own life. Ian was his best friend. He wasn’t jealous. He was bothered. He missed his best friend. But he wasn’t jealous.

Anthony wakes up late one Saturday afternoon and pads sleepily out into the living room, intent on heading into the kitchen and making himself a bowl of cereal. Instead, he finds Ian and Daniel sitting together on the couch, Daniel’s hand open along Ian’s jaw, the two of them kissing like the world was about to end.

“Come on!” Anthony says, his voice raised, “I just got up.”

The two of them jerk apart, and Ian blinks wide blue eyes at Anthony. His eyes look darker, hazier, and something about them makes Anthony want to shiver. He’s got a flush over his cheeks, pink and stupid.

Daniel turns to look at Anthony, an eyebrow raised and his lips red and shiny.

“Good morning to you too,” he says coolly.

“Can you two please stop acting like animals for, like, two seconds?” Anthony asks, “I lost my damn appetite now.”

Ian clears his throat, “I, uh, actually did come over to hang out with you. You were sleeping so- “

“So, you decided to make out with Daniel in the meantime,” Anthony says, a little bitterly. He crosses his arms across his chest. He’s being childish, he knows, but he can’t stop. What the hell did Ian see in Daniel anyway? Daniel was pretentious. He liked to read, acted like he was too good to watch Pokémon with Ian and Anthony or play Halo or Call of Duty like they used to. He listened to weird music; he wasn’t funny at all. Anthony couldn’t see why Ian liked him as a friend, let alone anything more than that.

When Anthony had first started noticing Daniel flirting with Ian, he hadn’t been worried. Ian was as straight as they come, plus, Ian would never date someone who looked exactly like his best friend. Surely, it would be too weird for him to kiss someone that looked identical to Anthony.

Apparently, he was wrong.

“Stop being a jealous bitch,” Daniel says, rolling his eyes. “Ian really did come to see you. Is it my fault if I capitalize on how lazy you are?”

Daniel furthers his point by linking his and Ian’s hands together, intertwining their fingers.

Anthony sighs, “Whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

He’s aware he’s acting petty, but Anthony can’t help but slam the door shut behind him. Thank God he and Daniel had separate bedrooms. Anthony needed space away from his twin. People always asked him if he and Daniel were best friends, or they assumed that it would be that way, but most of the time Anthony was desperate for space from his twin brother. They used to be close when they were younger. Anthony, painfully shy, and Daniel, more outgoing, it was easy to follow Daniel’s lead and feel confident that someone always had Anthony’s back.

Somewhere around middle school, their dynamic began to change. Daniel started liking new stuff, started making a lot of friends. He asked their mom if she could request that their middle school put them in separate sixth grade classes because Daniel ‘wanted a chance to grow outside of always being with Anthony’. At first, Anthony was hurt, but it was for the best in the long run because being in that other sixth grade class meant that Anthony got to meet Ian, his best friend.

Except now Daniel was trying to take him too.

There’s a knock on the door and Anthony huffs.

One second, two, then a quiet, “Anthony?”

“Yeah, you can come in, Ian.”

The door opens and Ian is there, looking sheepishly at the carpeted floor of Anthony’s bedroom. Ian shuts the door behind him which thank God means that he and Daniel have stopped sucking face long enough for Ian to come talk to him.

“Look,” Ian says, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like seeing me with him and-“

“I don’t care what you do,” Anthony says, turning away from Ian and to his computer. He turns on the monitor, intent on fucking around the Smosh website and ignoring Ian.

Ian sighs from behind him and Anthony hears him pad over to the bed.

“You sure? You really looked like you cared out there.”

Anthony rolls his eyes and spins in his chair, so he is facing Ian.

“Fine, I do care. It’s weird, Ian! It’s weird because he looks just like me! He’s, my brother! He’s a guy! You barely ever want to hang out with me anymore, you would rather spend all your time with my dumb ass brother and you’re my best friend, and I met you first! I’m the whole reason Daniel even knows who you are!”

Anthony spills his guts, all the thoughts he has been keeping pent up, he lets them go on Ian.

Ian blinks, his mouth frowns. Ian shrugs, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why do you even like him?”

Ian’s eyes show traces of hurt and Anthony ignores that, ignores how it hurts him in exchange.

“I don’t know! He’s smart, and he’s cool, he knows all this shit I’ve never heard of. He makes me laugh...he makes me happy…” Ian says weakly.

Anthony feels like he’s going to throw up, but he can’t (or won’t) pinpoint exactly why.

“Of all the guys to go homo for, you pick my brother…”

Ian is quiet, he smooths out Anthony’s bedspread under him with his palms.

“I’m sorry,” Ian says, and he sounds like he means it.

Guilt pangs through Anthony. God damn, Ian. God damn him and his stupid blue eyes, and his idiotic sad face, and the way that Daniel makes him fucking happy.

Anthony sighs, “I just…guess I’ll have to get used to it or…whatever…” he says weakly.

Ian eyes him like he’s not quite sure how to take that.

“Can you make, like, more of an effort to still hang out with me too or whatever?” Anthony asks, his face flushing at how he’s asking for more time with Ian, scared that it’s the one thing Ian won’t be able to give him.

Ian though, he smiles, and he nods.

“Yeah, man. I have to go and do my daily conditioning run, but I wanted to know if you wanted to walk to the park later and hang out? Fuck around, you know?”

“Just you and me?” Anthony asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, dude,” Ian says with his crooked little smile.

Anthony nods, “Sounds good. Have fun at your run or whatever, don’t get hit by a car.”

Ian laughs, he stands and nods at Anthony, “See you in a bit, dude.”

Anthony nods back, watching Ian go. “See you.”

He ignores how he knows that Ian is going to say goodbye to Daniel before he leaves, that he’ll probably lean up and kiss him, that Daniel will wrap his hands that look just like Anthony’s, around Ian’s waist and kiss him like he needs Ian to breathe.

Maybe he and Daniel really are the same.

Then, Ian is gone, and Daniel is in Anthony’s doorway.

“Get lost,” Anthony mumbles.

“Hey, don’t get pissy at me because you’re jealous.”

Anthony flushes. “I’m not jealous. I’ve had a girlfriend before you did, and my first kiss.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, the same dark brown as Anthony’s. He hates it. It’s like looking in the mirror and hating his reflection.

“I’m talking about you being jealous because it is Ian.”

Anthony feels his cheeks go pink.

“I just don’t like seeing you make out with my best friend.”

Daniel leans against the doorframe. They are nearly identical, but Daniel has hit a minor growth spurt and he’s gained about one inch in height over Anthony. Anthony hates that too.

“And is that because you wish it was you, he was making out with?”

 Anthony flushes and crinkles his nose, “Stop,” he says flatly. He doesn’t even want Daniel to broach this topic, “get the hell out of my room.”

“I’m serious. Don’t be fucking jealous because you didn’t have the balls to make a move like I did,” Daniel says, his voice firm, hurtful in the way that only a sibling can be.

Anthony remembers reading something, some stupid thing online that talked about how a sibling knows you better than anyone and because of that, they can hurt you more than anyone else on this planet. He feels that in this moment. He can practically feel the knife leave Daniel’s hand and enter Anthony’s back.

“Shut the fuck up,” Anthony says, louder, standing from his chair.

Daniel watches him with dark eyes, a firm line across his mouth.

“I like Ian, a lot. He likes me. I’m not going to stop seeing him because you fucked up and missed your chance.”

“Get the fuck out, I said!” Anthony shouts at his twin.

Daniel, he relents. He takes a step back, far enough for Anthony to be able to slam the door in his face. He knows the conversation is only over for now. He knows he can’t avoid Daniel when they share a house, a school, when they both have an unhealthy attachment to the same dumb ass, blue-eyed, brown-haired boy.

Anthony goes to his bed and flops down on to the mattress, ignoring the pain in his heart and the hunger in his stomach. He presses his face into his bed, and distantly, like an echo, he can still smell Ian there.

[deoidesign]

Thinking about vampires, death, life, and the space they occupy in between

[somepsychopomp]

Not an ask but I absolutely adore your Vampire au! After the whole ep with The Star, I was just constantly imagining of a scenario where Simon is alive and well, and joins the VK's court alongside Marcy.

I was waiting for someone to make a fic about that or just an au in general (I'm not the best at writing but I do consume a lot of fics lol), and then I stumbled on your blog and I found exactly what i've been looking for!!!

I just rlly like all the little tidbits you shared already, so I made some fanart for it, if you don't mind. It's mostly just V!Simon though :>

FANTASTIC OMG IM ACTUALLY DYING TY TY TY ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I love all the outfits you made for him, I feel like they'd go really well with the ones we see Star!Marcy wearing! My favorite has to be the red one, its so regal and beautiful especially with those gloves and those ruffled cravat/sleeves/coat!

(That middle look in the second pic looks more like a survival outfit, me thinks Simon might don it during an escape attempt from the hive or maybe in the rare times he's out doing work for the king)

I also love the big fluffy braid but his BUN tho 🙏🏻. I've seen pics of Simon in the AT comics with his hair up but him w/ that & the white hair is just something else, its sooo good

I also really like his half moon glasses, a small shake up from his ordinary round ones. Its such a small difference but I really like the way they look on him!

Thank u so much for sharing your art!!

[prettyobsessed]

⋆·˚ ༘ *🎀Perfumed Reverie🩰* ༘✧˚⋆·

🌊 / pairings: Rafayel / fem!reader *. ⋆ / genre: Story plot with smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] 𓇼 / tags: nsfw, romantic smut, lyrical writing, slight action smut, smut with plot, mutual attraction, slight jealousy, perfume obsession, kisses, body appreciation, hand job, clit fingering, nipple kink, nipple licking, slight sub/dom play, tying kink, ribbon kink, cock teasing, kissing, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, perfume kink, cum in mouth, savouring cum, mature sexual content, romantic, romantic smut 🐚 / word count: 6.6k

 ₊⊹summary��˚⊹

In "Perfumed Reverie," the narrator prepares for Rafayel's celebration with meticulous detail, anticipating the evening ahead. Rafayel's thoughtful gift adds to the excitement. At the party, amidst the vibrant atmosphere, the narrator finds herself drawn to Rafayel's magnetic presence. Their connection deepens as Rafayel's curiosity about the narrator’s perfume sparks a moment of intimacy. Amidst the chaos, their bond strengthens, leaving both eager for more.

𓍢ִ໋🐇₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝𓆝🧸⋆

The sun cast a warm glow over the bustling city streets as I set out to find the perfect gift for Rafayel, my heart brimming with anticipation. As I navigated the crowded sidewalks, lost in thought, I was interrupted by the unexpected voice of Nero, my teammate from UNICORNS.

"Hey, fancy meeting with you. Mind if I join you for lunch? I've been dying to hear more about that eye you keep mentioning the other day,” Nero said with a grin that seemed a tad too eager. A memory flashed in my mind, the image of what lay behind the mysterious curtain stirring a sense of unease within me. Ignoring the knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I forced a polite smile and replied with a hesitant nod, "Sure, why not. I could use the company... and perhaps your opinion on something."

We settled into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the chatter of patrons. Nero leaned in eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity. “So, tell me more about the eye. Could you describe it in detail? I'm fascinated by it," he urged, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession.

As I recounted the details of the memory, Nero hung on my every word, his fascination evident in the way he leaned closer, his breathless anticipation palpable. "Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. Then, with a slight cough, he added, "Um, do you think you could draw it again for me?" There was a hint of demand in his tone, as if he couldn't bear the thought of waiting any longer to see the image.

Unease prickled at the back of my mind, a sense of distrust creeping in as Nero's fixation on the eye grew more pronounced. “It's just for research purposes," Nero added, his voice taking on a low and dark tone that set off alarm bells in my mind.Reluctantly, I hastily sketched the image for him, feeling a sense of discomfort lingering in the air. Sensing my discomfort, I shifted the conversation, suggesting we divert our attention to finding a gift for my friend, Rafayel. Nero readily agreed, and we set off on a leisurely stroll through the city streets, our laughter blending with the hum of conversation. As we strolled along, an unsettling feeling nagged at the back of my mind, refusing to dissipate. 

Yet, for the moment, I pushed aside my suspicions and focused on the task at hand.

Amidst the charming boutiques and shops, my gaze was drawn to a stunning opal watch, its iridescent hues casting a spellbinding shimmer in the sunlight. Each facet of the opal seemed to dance with a kaleidoscope of colours, evoking an ethereal beauty that captured the essence of elegance and sophistication. The sleek design of the watch, adorned with intricate detailing and polished to perfection, spoke volumes of craftsmanship and quality. As I admired its captivating allure, I couldn't help but be reminded of Rafayel's discerning taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Nero glanced over my shoulder at the opulent timepiece, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?" he inquired, his brow raised in intrigue. I turned to face him, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Yes, what do you think?" I asked, eager for his opinion. "It's nice," Nero replied with a nod, his tone neutral.

Taking Nero's brief assessment into account, I made the decision to purchase the watch for Rafayel. Just as I was admiring the opal watch, the salesperson approached with a warm smile. "Would you like to add a personal message to accompany the gift?" she asked kindly. "Yes, please," I replied, grateful for the opportunity to personalise the present for Rafayel. Quickly, I penned down my heartfelt message: “To Rafayel, Congrats on the collaboration! I’m super proud of you. This gift is a token of my support and belief in your talents. Hope you like it ♡ With love, Y/N x”.

With a sense of satisfaction, I passed the note back to the salesperson, who carefully tucked it into the gift bag alongside the opulent timepiece.

I continued my journey through the lively streets alongside Nero. The vibrant energy of the city enveloped me, infusing every step with a sense of anticipation. Before we could part ways, a familiar voice called out my name—it was Rafayel. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly hid the gift behind my back, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over me. I stole a glance at Nero, wondering how he would react to Rafayel's unexpected appearance. 

As Rafayel approached, a nervous flutter danced in my chest, my anticipation mingling with apprehension. "Well, well, well, look who's out here on a date," Rafayel remarked with a hint of jealousy in his tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in our proximity.

Rafayel's gaze shifted to Nero, his expression clouded with doubt and suspicion. The tension between them was palpable, casting a shadow over the otherwise pleasant encounter. I exchanged a subtle glance with Rafayel, silently urging him to keep calm and not let his insecurities get the best of him. I mouthed the word ‘Stop it’ to Rafayel, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Rafayel, this is Nero,” I introduced, my voice steady despite the underlying tension. “He's my colleague. Nero, meet Rafayel. He's... well, let's just say he's always looking out for me,” I added with a hint of playfulness, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Congrats on the collab!” Nero greeted, his voice laced with genuine warmth as he attempted to break the ice and alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. In response, Rafayel’s demeanour remained guarded, his arms crossed defensively as he replied in a monotone voice, “Thanks.”

Sensing the strained atmosphere, Nero decided to make his exit. "Umm, I better get going. See you at work next Monday?" he said, his departure a relief in the tense moment. I nodded in agreement, bidding him farewell silently appreciating his timing. As Nero walked away, Rafayel's eyes narrowed, his distrust evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Why are you being so rude to him?" I questioned, my tone tinged with suspicion, as I searched Rafayel's face for any signs of jealousy or insecurity. Rafayel's response was edged with sarcasm. "Oh yeah, why are you being so nice to him? You like him, that nerd?" His distrust of Nero was palpable.

I mirrored his tone, matching his sarcasm. “So what if I like him?” I retorted, feigning nonchalance. “There's nothing you can do about it.” Rafayel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “Nah, I know you don't like him,” he remarked, his words carrying a hint of certainty. With a mischievous smirk, he added, “Besides, why waste your time thinking about anyone else when you could be thinking about me?” His playful remark caught me off guard, a flush of frustration rising to my cheeks as I struggled to maintain composure.

Reiterating once more that Nero was merely a colleague, I hoped to ease Rafayel's concerns.

“Pfft. Anyways, this is for you. Wear it to the party later?” Rafayel said, his tone softening as he handed me a small, elegantly wrapped package. “Ooh, what is it? Can I open it now?” I asked eagerly, excitement bubbling within me. Rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not now. Open it later when you get home,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Since Rafayel had already given me a gift, I pulled out the carefully wrapped present I had purchased for him. “I got you a gift too. Open it later and let me know if you like it. Or not. Whatever,” I said nonchalantly, though inwardly hoping that Rafayel would appreciate the gesture.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As the clock chimed 6, signalling the beginning of the evening's arrival, I immersed myself in the preparations for Rafayel's celebration. My fingertips danced over the intricate jacquard fabric of my dress that I selected just for the party, marvelling at its luxurious texture and the way it cascaded elegantly around me. The crystal trim adorning the bodice caught the light, casting a mesmerising array of patterns across the room and infusing the ensemble with an irresistible allure. With its back lace-up closure, the dress whispered promises of sophistication and glamour, setting the stage for an unforgettable night. And to complete the look, I selected a white satin ribbon to adorn my hair, adding a touch of understated glamour to the ensemble.

Amidst the whirlwind of anticipation, my gaze fell upon the elegantly wrapped package Rafayel had presented earlier. With a gentle tug, the ribbon unfurled, revealing the treasure concealed within. Nestled within the folds of tissue paper lay a bottle of exquisite high-end perfume, encased in a pearlescent shell that shimmered like moonlight on water. As I lifted the fragrance to my nose, its enchanting blend of plum and freesia enveloped me in a delicate embrace, transporting me to a realm of opulence and elegance. Each inhale awakened my senses, stirring a symphony of emotions within me.

Accompanying the perfume was a handwritten note from Rafayel, his words infused with warmth and affection. "A gift for the beautiful Y/N," it read, his endearing nickname bringing a smile to my lips. "When I stumbled upon this packaging and scent, it instantly reminded me of you. Your vibrant spirit and unwavering kindness deserve only the finest. See you later, my silly goose."

The tender sentiment warmed my heart with a sweetness that only Rafayel could evoke, a testament to his thoughtfulness and consideration. Amidst the heartfelt sentiment, there was a playful touch that spoke of his penchant for light-hearted jests. 

With a smile on my lips, a flutter of excitement coursed through me at the thought of wearing the enchanting scent to the party. With Rafayel's thoughtful gesture nestled close to my heart, I eagerly anticipated the evening party.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As I made my grand entrance into Rafayel's house party, the room seemed to buzz with anticipation, a kaleidoscope of colours and sounds swirling around me. The air was alive with the tinkling of glasses, the rhythmic beat of music, and the low hum of conversation. Dressed in an ensemble that exuded elegance and sophistication, I felt a surge of confidence as I navigated through the crowd, drawing admiring glances from all who crossed my path.

Amidst the throng of guests, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to Rafayel, who stood amidst a cluster of people, his magnetic presence undeniable. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of us in our own private universe. His smile was like a beacon in the dimly lit room, warming my heart and igniting a spark of excitement within me.

Before I could make my way over to him, however, Thomas intercepted Rafayel, guiding him towards a group of potential clients. I watched with a mixture of disappointment and understanding as Rafayel was swept away, his attention momentarily diverted from me.

As I mingled with the guests, my thoughts kept drifting back to Rafayel, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charismatic charm. Despite the gravity of my duty to protect him, my attention was unwaveringly fixed on him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame. Yet, amidst the distractions of the party, I remained vigilant, my focus unwavering as I monitored the surrounding and every movement. Ready to intervene at a moment's notice, I kept a watchful eye on him, ensuring his safety was paramount above all else.

Suddenly, a soft vibration in my pocket broke through my reverie, signalling an incoming message on my phone. With a quick glance, I saw that it was from Rafayel. "You looked stunning tonight. Can you rescue me from this crowd, pretty please?" His words brought a smile to my lips, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of him reaching out to me.

I quickly tapped out a reply, my fingers dancing across the screen. "You're doing great! Just a few more hours to go! Hang in there." As I hit send, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest, knowing that even amidst the chaos of the party, Rafayel and I shared a special connection that transcended the confines of the room. With renewed determination, I plunged back into the festivities, my heart filled with anticipation for what the night might bring.

Discreetly, I checked the holster of my concealed weapon, its comforting weight serving as a reassuring reminder of my preparedness for any unforeseen threats that might arise during the festivities. As I moved through the throng of guests, my attention was momentarily diverted by a mirror reflecting the scene before me. In its glassy surface, I caught a glimpse of a looming figure, cloaked in darkness and watching me intently. 

A chill swept through me as I turned to confront the mysterious presence, but it vanished into thin air before my eyes. The image lingered in my mind—a spectre of unease that left me unsettled. I could have sworn I saw the glint of a pair of spectacles, reminiscent of Nero's distinctive style. Intrigued and wary, I resolved to investigate further. With each step, my senses sharpened, my hand instinctively gravitating towards the reassuring weight of my concealed weapon. Suddenly, a subtle vibration against my wrist alerted me to an urgent message on my Hunter's Watch—a Wanderer had been detected in close proximity, its threat level ranging from moderate to potentially dangerous.

Utilising my honed training and quick-thinking abilities, I sprang into action with a swift and decisive motion. With a determined focus, I swiftly herded the unsuspecting guests to safety, ensuring their protection before confronting the looming threat of the Wanderer. As the Wanderer crashed through the balcony roof like an uninvited intruder, its menacing tail resembling that of a scorpion's, I surveyed the room with a keen eye, ensuring that no one remained in harm's way. With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, I drew my weapon—a formidable tool enhanced by Protocore Energy—and took aim at the looming menace.

Rafayel stood at my side as the Wanderer's monstrous form bore down on us, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. With a nod of silent understanding, we synchronised our movements, our synergy honed through countless battles fought together. Fuelled by deadly intent, the Wanderer lunged forward, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air. In response, I unleashed a barrage of shots from my enhanced weapon, each blast powered by the pulsating energy of Protocore. 

The projectiles streaked through the air with deadly precision, finding their mark on the creature's armoured hide, but it remained undeterred, its ferocity undiminished. In the midst of the fray, Rafayel stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with determination. 

With a fluid motion, he unleashed his signature move, the Four Scourges—a devastating flurry of strikes that unleashed a torrent of energy upon the Wanderer, shaking its monstrous form to its core.

But the creature was relentless, its primal fury driving it forward with unyielding determination. With a roar that reverberated through the room, it launched itself at us once more, its jaws gaping wide in a feral snarl. Drawing upon our shared bond and unspoken camaraderie, Rafayel and I unleashed our ultimate technique: Abyssal Beacon and Abyssal Shadow—a dazzling display of power and precision that unleashed a torrent of energy, engulfing the Wanderer in a blinding vortex of light and force.As the echoes of our combined assault faded, the room fell silent, save for the gentle crackle of dissipating energy. The Wanderer lay defeated, its once-mighty form reduced to naught but a lifeless husk.

With a shared nod of triumph, Rafayel and I stood victorious, our bond stronger than ever in the face of adversity. 

Approaching the fallen Wanderer, I scanned the room for any lingering threats, my senses heightened by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. With cautious steps, I retrieved its Protocore, ensuring no remnants of its malevolent energy lingered behind. As I claimed the precious artefact, the body of the Wanderer began to dissipate into sparkling dust, a testament to our hard-won victory.

With the room now safe, I gestured for the guests to return to the ballroom, their applause a symphony of gratitude for our valiant efforts. The sound echoed off the walls, filling the air with a sense of relief and triumph. Thomas stepped forward to address them. "Thank you all for your understanding and cooperation," he announced, his voice carrying across the room with sincerity. "For the safety of everyone present, we must end the event early. Please make your way home safely."

With heartfelt thanks and apologies, Thomas bid the guests farewell, his words imbued with genuine warmth and gratitude. Meanwhile, Rafayel remained by my side, his concern evident in the gentle scrutiny of his gaze. “Ms Bodyguard, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft with worry as he inspected my injuries.

Turning to Rafayel, I felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "I'm fine," I assured him, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a few scratches." Rafayel's expression softened, his touch warm and comforting as he gently took my hands in his. "I'm glad you're safe,“ he murmured, his voice filled with genuine relief.

Amidst the few lingering guests in the background, helpers scurried about, diligently tidying the aftermath of the Wanderer's unwelcome intrusion into the party, as glints of glass shards shimmered in the dim light. Rafayel then led me to another room—a sanctuary within his embrace—his bedroom. The windows were open, allowing the gentle sea breeze to sway the curtains in a graceful dance. The scent of the ocean wafted in, mingling with the subtle aroma of Rafayel's presence, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility. His room exuded a sense of majesty, adorned with elegant furnishings and offering a breathtaking view of the ocean beyond.

The soft glow of moonlight cast ethereal patterns across the room, illuminating the space with a magical aura. The walls exuded elegance, adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate moldings that enhanced the room's sense of refinement and sophistication. Plush carpets adorned the floor, inviting us to sink our feet into their luxurious embrace.

As Rafayel rummaged for the ointment to tend to my injuries, I couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight played upon his features, casting a halo of light around him. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, his movements graceful and deliberate as he searched for the right supplies. It was moments like these that made me acutely aware of the magnetic pull he had on me, drawing me closer with each passing second.

“I almost couldn’t concentrate fighting the Wanderer. What is that scent you’re wearing?” Rafayel's curiosity sparked as he rummaged for ointment to tend to my injuries. "Is that the perfume I gave you?" he inquired, his interest piqued by the lingering fragrance in the air.

I nodded in affirmation, a small smile gracing my lips. I watched as his gaze lingered on me, his curiosity evident as he took in the lingering fragrance of my perfume. The air between us seemed to crackle with anticipation, charged with an unspoken tension that left me breathless with excitement. As he leaned in to take another whiff of the scent, I couldn't help but feel nervously attracted to him.

Rafayel exuded an irresistible allure tonight, his hair tousled in a way that accentuated his rugged charm. There was a disoriented yet undeniably magnetic quality about him, as if my perfume had ensnared his senses and left him spellbound. He moved with a sense of urgency, flitting back and forth between attending to my injuries and searching for the ointment, his actions driven by an unspoken desire to be near me. Clad in a white collared shirt adorned with delicate pearly buttons, Rafayel's attire only added to his allure. The fabric clung to his frame, hinting at the contours of his muscular physique, while his slightly exposed chest sent a flurry of anticipation coursing through me, my heart quickening with every beat.

"Show me the scratches," Rafayel requested, his voice laced with concern. Despite the worry etched on his face, there was an underlying warmth that drew me closer to him. Feeling a surge of confidence enveloping me in his presence, I decided to indulge in a playful moment, relishing the anticipation building between us. With a coy grin, I allowed my fingers to glide along the fabric of my dress, slowly revealing the scratch nestled provocatively above my upper thigh.

"Right here," I said in a low, teasing voice, relishing the subtle flush that crept up his ears and the intensity of his gaze fixed on my exposed skin.

Rafayel's gaze intensified, his eyes locked on the exposed skin, his breath growing heavy. With a sense of urgency, he retrieved the ointment from his drawer, his movements deliberate as he applied it to my skin. His touch lingered, evoking a tingling sensation that stirred a rush of anticipation within me. “And here,” I continued, pointing to the scratch on my chest, just above my décolletage, revelling in the closeness between us. Rafayel stood before me, his proximity closer than ever, his eyes glazed over with delight as he leaned in to inhale the intoxicating scent once more on my chest to my neck. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against my skin, a silent testament to the effect I had on him.

My heart raced with excitement as his touch lingered, each caress invoking a cascade of tingling sensations that danced across my skin like a symphony of desire. The air between us hummed with a potent energy, thick with desire and longing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, a surge of concern washing over me as Rafayel seemed to falter. Supporting him to a bench nestled at the foot of his bed, I sat beside him and searched his eyes for any signs of distress. “I don’t know,” Rafayel confessed, his voice tinged with wonder. “I was fine before the party started. But as soon as you came, I got caught up with your scent. And the more I catch the scent of your perfume, the more it seems to bewitch me. It's like...” He trailed off, struggling to articulate the intensity of his feelings.

Rafayel's confession left me breathless, his words painting a picture of vulnerability and desire. "It's like your scent has woven its way into my very being," he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and fascination, his breath hitching with each word. The intensity in his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer to him as if we were bound by an invisible thread of longing. As Rafayel admitted his vulnerability, a surge of tenderness washed over me, mingling with the raw passion that surged between us.

He took my hand, bringing it close to his face to revel in the scent, almost as if he were savouring a rare delicacy. His touch was electric, sparking a rush of warmth that enveloped me, each caress leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

It’s like he’s being taken over by my perfume. He’s caressing my hand with his face, indulging in the scent that’s making him high. While he’s being obsessed with my scent, I couldn't help but notice the opal watch adorning his wrist, the one I had gifted him. With a soft smile, I traced the lines of his face with gentle reverence, feeling the weight of his words in the air between us. “You’re watching the watch. It suits you well,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rafayel's response was a whisper of his own, filled with promise and longing. "It's a reminder that I'm bound to you forever." Taking his hand in mine, I brought it close to my face, allowing him to revel in the scent that seemed to draw us closer with each passing moment. His gaze locked with mine, a silent plea lingering in his eyes.

"Kiss me, please?” he breathed, his voice a soft plea that stirred something deep within me.

Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the allure of his disheveled appearance, his tousled hair adding to his irresistible charm. Without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed him, savouring the taste of his lips against mine. As the kiss deepened, I felt Rafayel's hands pull me closer, his touch sparked a symphony of sensations, each note playing a melody of longing that reverberated through every fiber of my being.

Rafayel's grip tightened around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer as our ardor surged to intoxicating heights. Feeling emboldened by his touch, I reciprocated his desire, my hands trailing down his neck to the exposed skin of his chest, then further down to the defined contours of his abs. With each touch, he reacted, his body jolting responding to my caress with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

Still nestled in his embrace, I rested my left arm against his back, feeling the reassuring warmth of his skin beneath my touch. With my right fingers, I traced delicate patterns along his abdomen, following the enticing path of his happy trail as it disappeared below his belly button. Each stroke elicited a shiver of pleasure from Rafayel, his body responding to my touch with a mix of anticipation and desire.

With a daring glint in his eye, Rafayel teased, "Don't take your hands off me. Go further down, I dare you." His voice carried a seductive challenge, a playful invitation to delve deeper into the depths of our shared desire without inhibition.

His words hung in the air like a potent aphrodisiac, sending a rush of anticipation coursing through me, urging me to delve deeper into the realms of carnal delight. With a mischievous grin, I accepted his challenge, allowing my fingertips to continue their descent, tracing a tantalising path along the contours of his body. My fingers trailed from his abs to his pants, tiptoeing and caressing his growing erection with just my finger. Rafayel's hand reached out, a silent plea for restraint, yet his eyes betrayed the true depth of his desire. 

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to leave,” Rafayel murmured, his gaze locked with mine—a silent invitation to indulge in the passion that simmered between us. The essence of Rafayel's words permeated the air, lingering like an intoxicating fragrance that enveloped us both. His gaze, locked with mine, spoke volumes, silently beckoning me to embrace the intoxicating passion that simmered between us.

"Good," I purred, my voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Because I don't plan on stopping." Rafayel's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips at my words. With a boldness that matched his own, I brushed his hand aside, allowing my fingers to continue their languid exploration of his hardened length. Each stroke elicited a soft gasp from him, his body responding eagerly to my touch.

His breath hitched in his throat, a symphony of desire escaping his lips in soft moans that filled the air. 

My fingers traced patterns of arousal along his length, teasing and tempting him with every caress. Leaning in closer, I whispered words of longing against his skin, my breath hot against his ear. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew thicker, the hunger in his eyes mirroring my own. I revelled in the delicious torture of the moment, savouring the intoxicating dance of desire that enveloped us both.

With a daring glint in my eye, I continued to tease him, drawing circles on his throbbing arousal, each touch sending a surge of pleasure coursing through him. My fingers lingered on his clothed erection before deftly unbuttoning his pants, granting me access to his hard erection. With each button undone, my anticipation swelled, eager to explore the depths of his desire and fulfil our mutual craving for ecstasy.

Once I unbuttoned Rafayel’s pants, I liberated his shaft from its fabric confines. Unveiling his arousal, I found myself entranced by the mesmerising sight. Long, girthy and slightly curved. I couldn’t imagine the sensations it would evoke and how it would feel like being filled by him. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I whispered words of longing. 

His hardened length stood tall and commanding, pulsating with an undeniable vigor that spoke volumes. Without hesitation, I leaned in, my lips parting as I released a small stream of saliva onto his throbbing member. The slickness of my saliva enhanced the sensation as I slowly wrapped my hand around his hardness, feeling the heat and hardness beneath my touch. Our eyes locked in a heated exchange, a silent understanding passing between us as I continued to stroke him with deliberate slowness.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as Rafayel, emboldened by desire, reached for the top of my dress, pulling it down to reveal my pert nipple. His touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the contours of my breast, his warm breath igniting a tempest of sensations within me. I gasped as his lips closed around my nipple, his tongue dancing and swirling, setting my nerve endings ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of his ministrations sent bolts of raw pleasure shooting through my body, kindling an insatiable desire that surged from the depths of my being.

"It's hard not to bite what's already near my mouth," Rafayel chuckled softly, his voice a velvety whisper tinged with desire. The playful edge in his tone heightened the already intoxicating arousal that surrounded us like a tangible heat. With each stroke of my hand and flick of his tongue, he seemed to embrace his primal instincts and his movements growing increasingly feral.

Sensing my eagerness, Rafayel lifted me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle him as we made our way to his satin bed awaiting us. His touch was electrifying, his hands roaming over my body with a possessive urgency that set my skin ablaze with desire. "May I?" Rafayel's voice was a husky whisper, his eyes dark with longing as he gestured towards the dress that adorned my form.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as I surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With practiced ease, Rafayel deftly stripped me of my dress, leaving me clad only in delicate lace and the weapon concealed within. As the dress pooled at my feet, I discreetly removed the gun, tucking it away in a safe place, ensuring our passion remained undisturbed by external threats. In turn, Rafayel shed his top, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest, each muscle defined and sculpted beneath the surface. Despite undressing, he kept the watch on. As he tenderly guided me onto the plush satin sheets, his gaze locked with mine, his lips leaving a trail of delicate kisses along my skin, each touch igniting a wildfire of sensation. With each caress, he worshipped every inch of my being, his hands tracing the contours of my body with reverence, as if I were a precious work of art to be cherished.

Descending with purpose, his lips trailed a path of anticipation down to my stomach, then further still, until he reached the apex of my desire. With skilful hands, he parted my folds, eagerly savouring my taste as his tongue explored every inch of my quivering flesh. Lost in the throes of passion, he ravished me with fervent kisses and expert strokes, driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

With a gentle gesture, he offered his fingers to my eager mouth, coaxing me to coat them with my saliva. Without hesitation, I complied, relishing the taste of our shared desire. As he slowly inserted his finger into my dripping core, a wave of pleasure surged through me, intensifying with each rhythmic circle he traced.

The sensation was overwhelming, my body trembling with need as he skilfully brought me to the brink of release. And in a moment of pure ecstasy, I surrendered to the pleasure, succumbing to the powerful climax he had orchestrated with his masterful touch.

As waves of pleasure continued to ripple through my body, I basked in the afterglow of my climax, feeling every nerve ending alight with bliss. I luxuriated in the lingering sensation, relishing the intoxicating rush that coursed through me.

But even amidst the haze of ecstasy, my desire for Rafayel burned brighter than ever, urging me to reciprocate the pleasure he had so generously bestowed upon me. With a languid grace, I shifted my focus, my gaze locking with his as I conveyed my silent gratitude.

“I wanna try something,” I murmured, a mischievous glint in my eye as I reached for the white ribbon that adorned my hair. Removing it with a practiced twist, I used the ribbon to bind Rafayel's hands, securing them above his head as I took my rightful place atop him. With a playful smirk, I teased his senses, trailing kisses and caresses along his body.

The satin ribbon felt smooth against my fingertips as I expertly tied his wrists, the fabric contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin. With each knot, I could sense his anticipation building, his breath quickening in anticipation of what was to come. “Is this like… a new kink of yours?” Rafayel teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he observed me with curious amusement. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, betraying the hint of excitement stirring within him. 

I responded with a coy grin, my lips curling into a mischievous smile as I nodded in affirmation.

As I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, I could feel the tension in his muscles, his body straining against the restraints in a delicious mix of desire and surrender.

With his hands bound above his head, Rafayel lay helpless beneath me, his eyes dark with desire as I explored every inch of his body with kisses and feather-light touches. The air was thick with anticipation as I trailed my lips along his jawline, down his neck, and across his chest. With each caress, I could feel the intensity of his arousal building, his skin flushing with heat as he surrendered to the pleasure of my touch.

Rafayel's breath hitched in his throat as I continued my sensual assault, his moans filling the room with a symphony of pleasure. The faint scent of arousal hung in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of our desire as I teased him relentlessly. “Fuck…Y/N, stop teasing me,” His voice was a husky whisper, each word laced with desperation and longing. His hands strained against the ribbon, a silent plea for more, as I revelled in the power I held over him.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering just out of reach as I whispered, "You know you love it when I tease you." The heat of his skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, driving me to push him further, to see how far I could take him before he begged for release.

With a wicked grin, I allowed him to untie himself, his hands immediately finding their way to my body, pulling me closer in a desperate embrace. His hands roam freely as he pulled me closer, our bodies intertwining in a passionate embrace. Guiding his throbbing member to my dripping core, I lowered myself onto him, savouring the exquisite feeling of fullness as he filled me completely.

I stroke Rafayel's cock with my clit, relishing the sensation of his hardness against my sensitive flesh. Releasing his cock from my core momentarily, I coat his pulsating member with my saliva, reveling in the intimacy of the act. The look of desire in his eyes fuels my own arousal, and I love every moment of tempting and teasing him.

Inching deeper, I circle my hips slowly, ensuring every movement brings him exquisite pleasure. His moans of ecstasy spur me on, driving me to explore every inch of his length with my tight, wet pussy. With each deliberate motion, I feel him responding to my touch, his cock throbbing with need beneath me.

"So fucking pretty, my princess," Rafayel moans, his words stirring a carnal hunger deep within me, every syllable like a siren's call, beckoning me further into the abyss of ecstasy. The endearing nickname he gives me only heightens my arousal, causing my pussy to tighten around him involuntarily. His eyes widen in surprise and delight, realising the effect his words have on me. With each fervent thrust, I surrender to the pleasure, riding him with an insatiable hunger that knows no bounds.

"I'm gonna—,” Rafayel groaned, his voice strained with desire as he neared the brink of release. 

With a wicked grin, I withdrew from his pulsating member, the taste of his arousal lingering on my tongue. "Cum in here," I purred, my lips parting in invitation as I offered myself to him once more. Rafayel's eyes widened in anticipation, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him.

In a moment of pure ecstasy, Rafayel released his cum into my waiting mouth, his essence a delicious elixir that I eagerly savoured. Being the insatiable vixen that I am, I devoured his cock for the last time, each movement of my tongue prolonging his orgasm and intensifying his pleasure. His moans grew deeper, more desperate, as he held onto me tightly, not wanting to let go. With a teasing swivel of my tongue on the tip of his cock, his whole body jerked in response, his desire reaching new heights.

As he throbbed with the aftershocks of pleasure, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, his heartfelt admission of love resounding in the air like a whispered promise. "I adore you, every inch of you," he confessed—his voice a seductive melody that danced on the edge of desire.

"Please… never leave me again," he murmured, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his longing. The sincerity in his gaze, the yearning in his touch, echoed the depths of his desire to hold onto our love, to never let it slip away again.

Savouring the moment, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, my own confession of love hanging between us like a delicate promise waiting to be fulfilled. “I promise. Among all the fishies in the sea, you're the one who caught my eye. Unless you’re begging to be released again,” I teased, my voice tinged with affection as I gazed into Rafayel's mesmerising eyes, feeling the weight of my love for him in every word.

Rafayel and I found ourselves entangled in a playful banter afterwards.

“Says the one who doesn't know how to row the boat!” Rafayel teased, casting a knowing glance at me. The memory of our ill-fated boating excursion flashed through my mind, a moment of levity amidst the tension. "Says the one who ended up tossing his lunch overboard.... and well, couldn't resist taking the bait,” I playfully retorted, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I teased Rafayel. He mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, the audacity! Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just here for the catch and release." I leaned in closer, my lips curling into a smirk. "Well, you must admit, Rafayel, I do have quite the knack for reeling you in."

He chuckled, his laughter filling the air as he leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear. Touché indeed." Just then, Rafayel leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck as he inhaled the lingering scent of plum and freesia. "I need you to spray more perfume on here, Ms. Bodyguard," he murmured with a playful tone, his breath warm against my skin. I playfully swatted his arm, laughing at the ticklish sensation. His playful request to apply the perfume only added to the intimacy between us, as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace. Allowing myself to bask in the warmth of Rafayel's presence, I closed my eyes. In his arms, I found solace, a sanctuary where love and laughter intertwined to form an unbreakable bond.

—by prettyobsessed🎀⋆⁺₊⋆ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Editor’s note: this is for the Rafayel girlies out there! i intended to write something sweeter for Rafayel's smut, but the direction changed. hmm, we'll see. i might tweak around a bit more. also, doesn't Nero seem a little suspicious? i recently replayed the chapters again and started noticing his peculiar behaviour. but either way, hope you enjoyed this one! ᵔᴗᵔ

[si1verghosts]

Hi!

3. A kiss on the forehead😌

helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33

you taste like the 4th of july

di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.5k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying

tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons

read on ao3

a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine

additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!

not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own

i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.

-----

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.

You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.

Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.

He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.

You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.

You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.

Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."

You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.

Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."

Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.

Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.

She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"

You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."

"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.

"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."

With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.

Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"

Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."

Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.

"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.

"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."

You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."

He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.

Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.

You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."

He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."

He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"

He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"

It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"

She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."

"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"

She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."

You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.

Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"

"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."

"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."

"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."

"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.

He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."

With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.

Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.

Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."

"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."

He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."

You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.

He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."

You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.

It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.

But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.

You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.

He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.

"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.

He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.

A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.

He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.

You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.

Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.

You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.

"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.

You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.

He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."

He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.

"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.

He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."

He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.

"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.

"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.

"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.

He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.

"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."

You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.

He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.

He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.

His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.

Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.

Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.

But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.

"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"

"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."

He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.

"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.

You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.

Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.

"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"

"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."

"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."

She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"

She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"

Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"

You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.

Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.

"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."

Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.

Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.

You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.

He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."

[beomiracles]

hellos would you like to write a fic abt stylist reader x member (beomgyu??) the white deja vu outfits got my mind running LIKE HOW DO THE STYLISTS JUST….put the outfits on them wo dying fhfbdbhd

「 just once more 」

DREAM RECALL sleeping with him as his stylist? very wrong. but it was just once and you were ready to forget about it. though, could just once more be so bad?

pairings idol!beomgyu x stylist!afab!reader warnings unprotected sex, creampie, fingering.

wc 1.3k

#serene adds ✎... I know these were probably not the outfits you were referring to but I literally HAD to use them @.@ this is also not proofread and I'm very tired so mind the whole thing eheh !! I've also noticed you in my notifications a lot and I was so happy when I saw that you made a request eek :3

"I don't know how to tie this", Beomgyu calls out from his dressing room. You throw an impatient glance toward the watch on your wrist. "Just pull it on and I can come in and help you", you groan as you lean against the door.

He had been in there for what felt like hours, and while the other stylists had already began touching up on both makeup and hair, you had gotten nowhere.

Soft rustling sounds can be heard on the other side of the door before Beomgyu gives you the go-ahead to enter. Swinging the door open you run a mildly stressed hand through your hair.

"Listen we've only got fifteen minutes left and I have yet to touch up on your makeup and─" "Why aren't you dressed?".

Your eyes widen as they travel across Beomgyu's very much naked torso. His hands grasp the white fabric of his shirt and corset as he shifts on the spot.

"Told ya, I don't know how to tie it", he shrugs as he throws the shirt at you. Barely managing to catch the garment you shoot him a glare. "You could've at least had the decency to cover yourself", you mutter as you fiddle with the strings on the corset, undoing them.

"Why?" Beomgyu steps forward as a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. "Nothing you haven't seen before, love", he says as he tilts his head down, bringing your faces closer.

Shoving the piece of clothing back into his hands, you push him back. "And I am trying my best to forget about it", you say as you instruct for him to pull the shirt on.

"Careful, you might hurt my feelings", he grins as he pulls the shirt over his head. "What feelings?" you scoff as you adjust the corset around his pretty waist.

Beomgyu pouts as he grabs ahold of your wrist. Pressing your palm flat against his chest he tilts his head to the side, "these?".

Rolling your eyes you withdraw your hand as you begin tying the corset. "Feelings or not, you know you liked it", he then says, grunting as you pull the corset tighter.

"Maybe", you mutter as you busy yourself with the strings, refusing to look him in the eyes. "But it can never happen again", you state.

Three weeks and four days ago you had made a mistake, a slip up, if you will. You had been in a vulnerable state of mind, you weren't thinking straight, and Beomgyu who was never thinking straight, well it wasn't very hard to guess where it had led you.

"Don't be such a bore", he whines as his hands caress your hip and waist. You glare up at him, "keep your hands where I can see them", you retort, "and I'm not a bore", you then add.

Beomgyu smirk's "then c'mon", his fingers trace your collarbone and lower neck. "No", you promptly say as you take a step back. Beomgyu frowns as his hand falls to his side.

"Give me one good reason", he then says, intent on getting his way. "Just one?" you scoff and Beomgyu nods. There was a whole list of wrongs, longer than you'd like to admit.

"Because it is unprofessional", you fold your arms across your chest, "and I could lose my job". Beomgyu takes a step closer and you falter backward once more, thighs hitting the makeup desk behind you.

"You really think I'd make you lose your job?" he questions as his thumb drags along your lower lip. Sighing you look up at him, "it's not that simple Beomgyu, maybe for you, but for me...", you shake your head.

"It happened once, and it never should have", you state as you move his hand from your face. "It can never happen again", you say as your eyes seek Beomgyu's dark ones.

"Never?" he whispers, leaning dangerously close. You nod, "never". A pout forms on his oh─so kissable lips as his brows furrows together. "Not even once more?" his lips ghost over your own and you let out a short breath.

Unable to form a reply your eyes travel from his own eyes to his lips before returning back up again. "Just once more", he whispers, almost pleadingly. "Need to taste you once more", he murmurs as he carefully seals your lips in a soft kiss.

You first instinct is to pull away. Stop him, move, do something. But it's almost impossible. You find yourself wanting─ craving, more. Just once, one more time. It couldn't hurt.

Feverish hands push you up on his makeup desk as Beomgyu makes room for himself between your thighs. Fuck, you were supposed to be touching up his makeup right now, if anything you were ruining it further.

Beomgyu breaks off the kiss hastily as he looks at you with lustful eyes, "how much time did you say we had again?" he pants and you throw a glance at your watch.

"Eleven minutes and─"

"Enough time for now", he mutters as he reconnects your lips, hands finding their way under your loose skirt and quickly pushing your panties aside. You get no chance to question what he had meant with 'for now' before Beomgyu pushes two fingers deep inside your cunt.

"F-fuck", you cry out as your hand on the nape of his neck tightens. One of his hands come up to seal your mouth shut as he flashes you a smirk, "thought you wanted to keep your job?".

You shoot him a glare but Beomgyu's smirk only widens as he thrusts his fingers through your cunt. When he pulls them out he's quick to shove them in his mouth, a groan leaving his lips as he tastes you. "You've gotten even sweeter", he comments as his other hand unzips his pants.

Barely even registering his words, you grip onto his shoulders tightly as the head of Beomgyu's cock is pushed inside of you. Biting down on your bottom lip, attempting to suppress the sinful noises threatening to spill from you .

Beomgyu's head buries in the crook of your neck as he groans into your sweaty skin. Teeth grazing along your collarbone as he presses open mouthed kisses along it, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake.

Glancing up to be met by his own reflection in the mirror behind you his smirk grows. "Fuck you should see yourself like this", he murmurs as his lips drag along your shoulder toward your neck.

His eyes wander toward the discarded makeup supplies on the vanity. He picks a brush up, shoving it in your hand, eyes glinting in an ever so 'Beomgyu way' when you give him a confused look.

"Why don't you get started on my makeup? save some time", he says and if he wasn't fucking you so good right now you would've plucked his eyes out by this point.

Yet you reach for a small palette with shaking hands as you carefully dust the brush onto it. Your strokes are uneven and shaky as you apply blush to his already flushed cheeks.

Beomgyu doesn't make it any easier on you, fingers easily finding your clit as he rubs and pinches it between them, making you squirm.

One hand on his shoulder as the other one messily reapplies eyeshadow, Beomgyu's sudden question catches you off guard. "Can I come inside?" he breathes out and you almost finish at the thought.

Biting your bottom lip you nod, "it's only once", you whisper and he groans as his lips finds your once more. "Only once", he breathes out as his hand rests on the base of your neck.

The warm sensation of Beomgyu finishing deep inside your throbbing cunt has you clenching around him as your cries of pleasure are swallowed by his hungry lips.

As he pulls out you watch how the essence of the two of you mix together in one, slowly seeping down your thighs and onto the otherwise clean vanity.

Glancing up at him you sigh, "this can never happen again". Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, "so same time next Tuesday?".

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[archangeldyke-all]

Helloooo! I'm gonna try my best explaining this but I was wondering if you could write something about sevika having you between her legs and while her legs are forcing your open (hopefully that made sense) and her playing with your pussy? Or maybe even your clit and perhaps edging you thag way aswell? (I really do hope this made sense 😭)

Anyways have a wonderful day and if you don't want to write something like this thags completely fine 😋

heheheheheheheheheheheheeheh... i'm gonna combine this request with another one! hope u enjoy :)

hmmm would you ever write sevika tying reader up? 🫣🫣🫣

men and minors dni

sevika's got your back pressed to her chest, her legs wound around yours to keep your legs spread, as she gently fucks you with two of her fingers. her free hand's groping your tits and stomach, and her mouth has been sucking endless hickeys into your neck and shoulders.

she's had you like this for an hour. and she hasn't let you cum yet.

your hands are clawing at her strong arms, but she doesn't even seem to notice. she's drunk off of you, off of the sounds you're making and the weight of you pressed against her chest, the little twitches of your body when she circles your clit with her dripping wet fingers.

"sev-- please please please lemme cum, i-- ah fuck-- i've been so good for you 'm fuckin dying for it sevika, please!" you whine. sevika chuckles, her chest rumbling against your back and her lips pressing against your ear.

"'y should see how desperate you are right now. so fuckin' hot." she mumbles, ignoring your pleas. you whine and struggle in her hold, but don't get far. sevika sinks her teeth into your shoulder. "quit squirming." she growls. you relent, melting back into her hold. she smiles against the bite mark and plunges her fingers back inside you.

"sevika!" you whine. she chuckles again.

"you said i could do anything i wanted to you if i did the dishes tonight. so shut up and take it." she grunts. you whimper.

"b-but-- 'y didn't even do the dishes yet!" you whine. sevika laughs behind you. "'s no fair!" you whine again. sevika just hums in faux sympathy as she continues to abuse your g-spot with delicious little circles. you're close-- you've been close for the past thirty minutes-- and she can tell. sevika knows your body like the back of her hand, and she knows just how far she can take you before she has to pull away, cutting you off from your pleasure moments before you cum. there's tears in your eyes as you gasp. "no!" you whine. "no no, please, sev, please, c'mon!" you whine. she laughs, scratching at your thighs and ignoring your twitching clit inches away from her hand.

you aren't thinking anymore, and your hand flies down to rub at your clit. you're so close, gasping and shaking and crying as you touch yourself. sevika lets you, and for a second, you think she's going to let you get yourself off. you melt in relief, your orgasm building in your stomach, and just when you're about to tip over the edge, sevika wretches your hand away.

"wait!" you cry. she chuckles as she pulls both of your hands behind your back, wrapping her belt around your wrist and pulling it tight. you struggle against the bond, but can't break free, especially not with your bound wrists squished between sevika's abs and your back. "sevika!" you scream in frustration.

"poor baby." she says.

"i hate you!" you cry. sevika laughs.

"i love you too, baby." she says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you whine and cry against her while she strokes your hair and presses kisses to your face. "you okay?" she whispers, dropping her sultry tone of voice to genuinely check in on you. you sniffle and gather your thoughts, checking in on yourself, too.

"gimmie a kiss." you demand, turning your head to pout at your wife. she grins and leans forward pressing her lips against yours, smiling against you. "you're evil." you whisper against her lips. she laughs.

"you're amazing. takin' it so well." she says. you whimper. "you wanna cum?" she teases you. you pout and nod. "beg for it." she says, her fingers ghosting over your cunt. you shudder.

"please make me cum, sevika. i need it so bad. need your fingers-- need you to make me cum, please!"

she hums, then plunges her fingers back inside you.

you're shaking in her grip, anticipation and arousal and nerves coursing through you. "please don't stop, please don't stop, please, sevika, please, i need it!" you whine. sevika hums against you, pressing kisses to your scalp.

"y' want me to keep going?" she asks. you groan and nod. she smirks against your neck. "i'll keep goin' babe." she promises.

you sigh in relief, melting against her chest and letting pleasure course through your body. sevika keeps her word, and she fucks you until you cum around her fingers.

"f-fuck!" you scream as you finally, finally cum. it's ten times more intense than usual, all the edging having worked you up beyond belief, and you barely recognize the animalistic groans and grunts coming from your lips as sevika works you through it.

"awe, there you go honey. feel so fuckin' good cummin' around my fingers, you needed it real bad, huh?" she teases. "you're makin' a mess." she whispers, "look, look at the sheets." she grunts. you can't-- your eyes are scrunched closed and you can hardly breathe, but you can feel the puddle she's referring to under your ass.

"sevika!" you gasp out as the last wave of your orgasm washes over you. sevika chuckles, her fingers continuing to work inside you to prolong your orgasm. you start twitching from overstimulation, and your pleasure melts into discomfort and sensitivity. "w-what are you--"

"you begged me to keep going, honey, i'm just doing what you asked." she whispers with an evil laugh as she continues ramming her fingers in and out of your squelching cunt. you're writing in her gasp, trying to fight the hold her legs have on yours to close your thighs-- but sevika's way too strong and you're way too fucked out for it to be a fair fight.

"sev!" you gasp. another orgasm washes over you, completely unexpected, and sevika gasps as you start squirting.

she pulls her fingers out, only to fiddle with your clit, your cum spraying everywhere-- soaking your bodies, the bed, the wall behind you.

"holy fucking shit, i love you." sevika grunts. "you're so perfect. give it to me honey, give it all to me." she demands.

when your stream becomes a trickle, sevika grunts in disappointment and delivers a swift smack to your cunt. you gasp and shake, a tiny trickle of squirt soaking her hand, and sevika chuckles, smacking you again.

"sev!" you gasp out. she hums.

"yeah?" she asks, her fingers returning to rubbing gentle circles in your clit.

"i-i can't!" you whine, knowing that she's looking for more. she laughs.

"yes you can, y' just did. all you gotta do is lay there and take it, baby, and you're doin' such a good fuckin' job." she mumbles. her fingers dip down to sink back inside you, slowly fucking your wet cunt.

"sevika!" you whine. she chuckles.

"yeah?" she asks again.

"y-you're the worst!" you whine. she laughs.

"your cunt doesn't seem to feel the same way." she teases you. you whine, leaning your head back against sevika's shoulder, and she takes the opportunity to kiss away your tears. "you're so fucking perfect. i'm so in love with you." she whispers, like she isn't fucking you nasty with three of her fingers now. "you still good?" she asks again.

you take a shaky breath as your third orgasm starts creeping up.

"you're doing the dishes for the rest of the month, you bitch." you whisper shakily. she laughs behind you.

"anything for you, babe." she whispers, kissing your head, her fingers thrusting into you with a brutal pace. "anything."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

[valentine-writes]

Hello hello! Been downright dying over how much I love your AtSV work!! So I thought I would feed into it >:) If you're feeling up to it, whats been brewing in your mind about The Spot x reader? Take it platonic or romantic, either has so much potential for fun in my opinion and I guess I'm just interested in what ideas you might have?? Not a lot to work off of from what I'm asking but I hope you're able to have fun with it anyways ^^; Whether youre able to get to this request or not, thanks for reading! Love what you do :)

collision.

「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, unedited, he's kind of pathetic little meow meowified im sorry, first bit inspired by @//submurged-into-clouds !! <3 」

↳ ft. the spot

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: first, AUWJHEJSBS thank u so much!!!! im glad u like what i've written so far– and i am SUPER excited to write for the spot becuz im gon b real,,, there was a momentary lapse of insanity where i was scouring for any content of him at all. SO TY 4 UR REQ!!!! ( /)u(\ ) i hope this is ok!!! i got carried away and stuff so,, i hope this is at the Very Least coherent! leaned for platonic stuff with romantic undertones that intensify throughout so,, read it how u like ^_^

▸ we're going to start this by establishing that bro has literally No Friends anymore. you met him after the collider incident and by some miracle, some sort of mercy from a higher power in the multiverse– you ended up becoming friends with him

really, meeting him was an accident. wasn't supposed to be anything more– just him messing around with his new abilities and slipping into a random universe with no idea where he was.

and there was you.

just you. out, alone at night. just taking a walk– disrupted by someone falling out of a weird portal from the sky.

this is the day your paths crossed, the day your fates intertwined, the moment that your world collided into his.

to put more literally: the day he crashed into you very unceremoniously.

im now re-reading the title and remembering his backstory and giggling at my unintentional joke. he is not catching a break. even from me.

▸ after recovering from a random stranger from another universe tumbling into your own, you began to talk.

now– you don't remember how the conversation started, but you were glad to listen. the way which he rambled to you, words tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been on his mind for a while– you felt like he needed someone to hear him.

he's surprised. you're not bothered. not frightened. not even weirded out. but you're not indifferent. you nod along, you comment on things here and there– but you listen. you actually listen to him.

eventually, when he leaves, you're sat there for a moment. just frozen– processing whether that had really happened or not. you see the indent his body left in the grass where the two of you sat. it's evidence enough for you.

a few weeks pass and you're certain that you were just fated to meet once and never again. you were fine with this.

▸ until he randomly popped up in your living room one day.

yes, he had been actively trying to find your universe again– and as casually as he can be, is now peeking from out the portal he created, head leaning in to get a better look at you.

you're not sure how you can tell considering he has no face,,, but he's definitely smiling.

he waves to you, awkwardly, (noticing that you're just staring at him while not saying a word), "thought i would say hi, so– ...hi."

you blink at him tiredly. "dude, it's 6:30 in the morning–"

he's treating this like it's normal for people to just show up in your house. he missed you– and it's very evident.

▸ no matter what type of relationship you're in with him: you GOTTA set boundaries. being one of the only people who cares to hang around him anymore means that you're gonna be seeing a lot of him.

while he certainly hasn't completely lost grasp on the concept of privacy, it's definitely been altered by the fact he's got powers that allow him to pop up wherever he wants. he's just a teeny bit invasive.

"hello!" he'll greet, randomly poking his head through a portal he made to your bedroom.

on instinct, you throw the closest thing to you. he's just glad you reached for the pillow and not the alarm clock also at your arms reach on the bedside table.

definitely a good idea to remind him that if he wants to hang out, he should probably message you, and if he wants to show up at your house for whatever reason, he should give you a heads up.

he has nearly walked in on you changing. and has apologized a million times every time it's brought up. it fr keeps him up at night.

▸ everyone in his life leaving him def messed him up a bit. he can deny it all he wants, but he's terribly anxious that you're gonna grow tired of him and leave.

constantly like "oh my god what if they leave for someone who has a face" and itz like,,, boy,,,, stfu itz 3am

he needs reassurance, even if he never explicitly says. but you're kind to him. patient. you're pretty much an angel in his eyes.

which is why he feels comfortable texting u in the dead of night like:

(im gonna b real i dont even know why i have this image)

▸ he's dismissed by most people around him– but you've given him your time. you've shown him that you care. he's doing everything he can to be certain you'll still care for him.

the random waves of "oh no but what if they hate me" hit him HARD. especially if he hasn't seen you in a while, if you take longer to respond to his messages, if you haven't been answering his calls– bro will jump to a conclusion

"hypothesis: they dont love me anymore :("

☝️🤓 SORRY HAKJWOENDOEND he would NOT say that. im just clowning on him itz a part of my luv 4 him </3

needs to be needed. wants to be wanted.

eventually you have a long talk about this. he's got a bit of an ego after realizing how much power he truly possessed– but you gently encourage him to let it down. a simple heart to heart. and while you're certain these things aren't going to dissipate with a single conversation, you've let him know he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

▸ physical contact is a need for him. bro's touch starved. he likes linking his pinky with yours or just intertwining your fingers together. if you ever let him rest his head on your shoulder or hugged him he'd actually have to fight tears. he hasn't been given affection in a while :(

▸ he doesn't really feel like he has to hide anything around you. he really doesn't have much of a filter when you're talking to him which makes for some amusing conversation. he finds your laughter the sweetest sound in the world– he likes making you laugh :] it makes him feel like he's accomplished something

▸ the alterations to his body have caused some weird little changes that most people don't notice. one of them most noticeably to you– he'd cold. not frigid or like icy, but a lot colder than normal people tend to be.

you first notice this when you're hanging out in your bedroom. you're sitting on your bed, while he paces back and forth, rambling about another failed villainous act

(you haven't questioned his whole obsession with villainy considering that he seems pretty harmless with what he's been attempting– no matter how much he tries)

"and then– ohh, and tHEN THEY JUST—" you notice how he's gesturing frantically, exasperated, annoyed– and out of instinct to provide some sort of comfort (or at least calm him down) your hand grasps his wrist

there's a moment of silence.

his voice dwindles into a more soft, subdued tone, watching as your fingers wrap around his wrist. "wh– if you wanted me to stop talking, you could've just... just said or...."

his mind is going blank, trailing off at your touch. he doesn't remember the last time someone has held his hand or even brushed up against him without freaking out.

"you're cold." you comment, now taking his hand between both of yours, as if you were trying to heat him back up. you don't meet his eyes, simply staring at his hand.

"oh– yeah, yeah, it's just– a thing with now. came with the holes–"

the sensation of your hands gently squeezing his shuts him up. you raise his hand to your lips and gently blow hot air onto it.

your brow furrows, nose scrunching up. "you're still cold..." you mutter, more to yourself than to him. quietly, your gaze returns to his face.

"does that bother you?" you ask him, after a beat of silence.

he shakes his head. your hands let go of his– but he quietly reaches back to hold it again.

"hold on a second. why don't you try again?" he suggests. you laugh softly, knowing it's obviously just an excuse. still, you humor him.

[allgremlinart]

hai good friend,, tell me about mai. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her before… look what we are doing to our beautiful queens 😔

YIPEE I love when me going insane about a character for a day makes you curious about them... especially cus atp I can kind of predict what is going to pique ur interest

ok ok: so, Mai. She's 1/3 of Azula's Evil Girl Group, colloquially known as Ozai's Angels, and thats the context you see her in for most of the show which is why it's important to know. You know how all cartoons in the 2000s HAD to have ONE morose goth chic? Well she is atla's quota. She's a noble, she's an only child (THEE only child. The first only child they made at the only child factory <33), she fights with 🔪KNIVES 🔪!!! she's Zuko's canonical comphet love interest and she has a very understated but underrated arc..

Her role/arc in the show:

I mentioned Ozai's Angels because her interactions with Azula and Ty Lee are the real meat and potatoes of her character. They're like... baby's first toxic yuri love triangle <3333 REALLY can't overstate how toxic yuri love triangle they are. Mai and Ty Lee end up betraying Azula in season 3 which is both the climax (imo) of Mai's arc and the inciting action for Azula's descent (but we're not getting into Azula never ask me to get into Azula please). A lot of people reduce Mai going turncoat to JUST being about saving Zuko - and like partially it IS. She saves Zuko from dying because she loves/cares about him and that's a big part of it.

But it's ALSO about her finding her voice ?? Like throughout the show we NEVER see her voice opinions about something unless it's to say that she's bored, or jaded, or what have you. She never seems to have strong feelings about anything; her stated reasoning for joining Azula's Imperialism Girl Band is because she's bored living with her parents 💀 but it's like. It becomes clear to the audience later in the show that she was raised to never speak unless spoken to, to mask emotions, etc etc LIEKKK SHE'S SOOO REPRESSED ONLY CHILD SHE'S SO WOMAN TM... So her telling Azula "I love Zuko more than I fear you" was THEE cuntiest moment EVER because it's like oh shit ?? this is something pretty unexpected from this character ?? Waow so crazy so cunt ??

A lot of people point out that she and Ty Lee never really got a "ohhhh Imperialism is bad" arc like Zuko did but. imo there wasn't a whole lot of room in the show for it lol. Would have been something interesting to explore in the comics for sure !! but uhmmm I'd rather walk into the ocean than watch Gene Luen Yang try and write about imperialism and colonialism again so maybe its better we never got that.. (no offense to him he's just... not that great at doing it in the atla comics...not his strength..)

Her reception in fandom:

She's usually only ever talked about in the context of being Zuko's love interest (either positively OR negatively) hence my post that you saw. Like. Victim Numero Uno of zutara/kataang shipping wars cus at least a bunch of people LIKE Aang whereas people either ignore or actively dislike her.

There's often discourse about like. Who's the "toxic" one in the Mai/Zuko pairing and it's annoying when she gets flak for it cus like newsflash: they both are. My GOD they both are. They've canonically broken up twice. They're the emo boy/goth girl pairing. They're cute together. They're miserable together. They're both homosexual. You get it.

Also a lot of times people just call her boring or emotionless and it's like congrats !! you have fallen for her facade... in conclusion... sorry this is so long uhm.. your fault for asking me though... how long is it going to take until I've just told you the entire plot of this cartoon piecemeal ask by ask...

[protectoratenova07]

what are the bad undersiders opinions you’re seeing outside of tumblr? curious

Just as a precursor, this isn't any specific person or section of the fandom. You'll find these opinions anywhere and they've been around for years and I probably shouldn't get as annoyed as I do at it but whatever. It's (I'm paraphrasing btw) stuff like:

"Taylor would have been a hero without (evil/bitch/stupid) Lisa." Ignores the very legitimate issues Taylor has with authority and ignores Brian, who was the actual main reason Taylor joined the Undersiders. Lisa did lie in a few different ways to mislead Taylor, but nothing major enough to trick her into being a villain.

"Aisha could have been a hero if she knew what the Undersiders were REALLY like." Aisha would get annoyed that her brother can be cool and only does it when he's not around her. Also, she knows, but people ignore that or else they would be forced to realize Aisha has an actual character instead of a manic pixie girl they can ship with whatever hero of the week they want.

"Brian is stupid for joining the Undersiders and not the Wards." I've talked about this before, but no he fucking isn't. Choosing to not become more like his dad is actually a good thing. Also pretends that cps is both a) not incompetent at best malicious at worst, and b) ignores how they're considering the Laborn's mom again as an alternative to Brian to house Aisha after their dad failed so badly.

I'm beginning to realize the main theme with these is that people don't want to think about how the Undersiders have legitimate reasons to not like authority.

"Alec is evil for not turning himself in after escaping." The heroes have only ever made his life worse and I'm sure the cops didn't make it any easier in the time between running away and joining the Undersiders. Also, blaming people for shit they did under mind control is a dick move. Despite Worm having lots of comic book fans they don't seem to remember every annoying mind control arc or the Purple Man.

"Taylor (and the other Undersiders) would have been happy and fine if they joined the Wards." Lol, lmao. Ignoring Sophia for Taylor and Coil for Lisa, I don't think any of the Wards had their lives improved by joining anyway. Even if, for some magical reason, the PRT helped them with their parents they'd have issues with the organization itself. Not to mention their risk of dying gets upped tenfold by joining. Piggot is more than happy to use her child soldiers until they break.

"Lily got manipulated into leaving a good career with the heroes." Foil mention?!? I know, but I can't forget that half the time this is brought up, they always mention her career. Fucking bleak. Also, Parien isn't even her full reason for leaving. She left before confirming her relationship with Parien, because what she really got tired of was the heroes not being heroes. It's why she investigated Armsmaster, why she listened and respected Parien's choice to get help from Skitter. There was more I think, but yeah.

Nothing really to say about Rachel or Sabah. People don't talk about them that much. Oh, wait

"Rachel would have gotten help if she got captured and been a Ward." That wog was specifically if Rachel got captured early on, is only with Boston, PRT therapy actually helping (lol), and she still doesn't have anyone close to her tying her down to Boston so she could end up like Foil.

There's more. I could write pages on Lisa alone, but it's been a few days and I'm not currently in the mood to be annoyed rn.

[morning-star-joy]

these desperate prayers of a cursed man (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Summary: You're a bartender in Jackson, and Joel finds a safe haven not only in your bar, but in your arms. You find the same in his. Based off this request

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Smut (oral f receiving, mention of unprotected p in v), Language, Alcohol Use, Descriptions of PTSD/Depression, Self-Loathing (Reader), some angst? Hopeful ending

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: I've been dying to write this idea since lovely anon shared it with me, it's so brilliant and thank you again for entrusting it to me. Also, ty to my Frappuccino that gave me the energy to write this.

Joel x Reader Taylor-inspired masterlist || Joel Miller masterlist

Life was not kind, but somehow you managed to be.

It was one of the first things Joel had noticed about you when you first met. When he walked through the doors of the small bar tucked out of the way in one of the far corners in Jackson, you lifted your head from behind the bar, calling out a warm greeting accompanied by a small, sincere smile before ducking back down out of sight.

Joel had been taken aback by it, having expected nobody to give a fuck about each other in that little bar, having only wanted a safe space where he could drink away his sorrows for the night without worrying about his brother finding him.

But the few patrons sitting around the room were all smiling, some conversing with each other in low, friendly tones of conversation. An odd sight for the world that they lived in.

There were two men sitting at the bar in front of where you had disappeared, talking amiably with each other, and Joel walked past them to the far end of the bar, watching out of the corner of his eye as you popped back up from behind the bar and grinned at them.

“Alright,” you sighed, holding up a bottle of what looked to be rum, shaking it slightly before grabbing two glasses in your other hand, setting them down in front of each man before pouring the alcohol for them, just a small amount in each glass. “This is the good stuff—like, the fucking real good stuff. So don’t down it all in one go, ‘kay?”

The men assured you that they’d make it last, and you gave a wry, disbelieving grin towards them, shaking your head as you walked away, though Joel noticed you were careful to take the bottle with you while you headed towards him.

Joel straightened subconsciously as you gave another small, welcoming smile, stopping in front of him as you lifted the bottle still in your hand in question.

“Can I interest you in—”

“The fucking real good stuff?” Joel interrupted, holding back his own surprise at his almost joking comment that he had not been expecting to make. Jesus, he hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol yet.

But your smile had only grown, a laugh that sounded damn near musical leaving your lips as you set the bottle down, grabbing two glasses again from behind you to set down between you and him.

“Damn straight,” you said proudly, pouring the rum for each of you—a bit more than you had given the other men, he noticed. “Wasn’t easy to find this. I only bring it out for special occasions.”

Joel arched an eyebrow at the comment, glancing over you as he slowly raised the glass to his lips. One sniff of the drink let him know that, oh yeah, this really was going to be fucking good, but he held back taking a sip as he asked, “And this is a special occasion?”

“Well,” you tilted your head, seeming to consider your words for a moment, your gaze flickering over his face—you were analyzing him, he realized, but not uncomfortably so. 

Finally, you said slowly, “I can tell when somebody’s been through hell. And if you’ve found a seat here after you’ve gone through it, I think that’s worthy of a little celebration.”

You made direct eye contact with him then, your expression softening to something warmer as you must have noticed the shock on his face at your astute observation.

“Or at least some acknowledgement,” you added with a shrug, raising your glass towards him in what was almost a toast, and Joel subconsciously lifted his own glass before taking a long sip of that drink along with you.

That first night, you hadn’t bothered him much after that. You let him sit with his drink and his thoughts, only returning to refill his drink with a little more of that “special occasion, fucking real good stuff” rum, shooting him a wink that made his fingers curl tighter around his glass before you left him again.

Joel already knew that he was going to become a regular just from that first visit to your bar, helpless to resist returning to that small corner of warmth that you had carved out in a cruel, unforgiving world.

Because the Lord knew he could use a little forgiveness, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Joel Miller was not what you expected for being—well, for being Joel Miller.

You had heard whispers throughout town that the man was so cold he bordered on being cruel; murmurs that he wouldn’t offer more than two words in a conversation; rumors that the only time he looked happy was when he was heading back into town from a patrol, after probably killing Infected, Hunters, or both.

In your opinion, none of it mattered. Even before you met Joel, you had thought that if he wanted to be a cold man who barely spoke to anyone—fucking let him. 

Not that it was healthy behavior, but there were just some people in this settlement who cared far too much about the lives of others, and needed to keep their nose out of the business of others. Like you always liked to tell your customers, one of the greatest luxuries one could have in this fucked up world was being able to keep secrets.

Joel was just the latest, newest and shiniest addition to the rumor mill.

And, unfortunately for him, he was also handsome.

That was a whisper you had heard too, usually accompanied by a giggle from the younger and older women of Jackson alike. Joel Miller was a ruggedly handsome Southern gentleman, and his emotional unavailability just made him all the more attractive to them.

When you finally met him, you could see why they felt that way.

The funny thing is, you hadn’t even known that Joel was Joel the first time that you met him. He hadn’t introduced himself when he walked through the doors of your bar that late spring night, only settling into the seat farthest away from any activity and exchanging a few words with you when you poured him a drink.

In the back of your mind, you did find yourself musing over who this handsome—very, very handsome—stranger was, as he slowly made his way through a glass of your special occasion rum all on his lonesome.

But what really struck you was how tired this old soul looked, how you could almost see his heart on his sleeve with the way he gripped the glass tightly. It was like he was trying to find a way to stay connected to the present with his fourth drink that night in his hand, even as his big brown eyes were glazed over in a haunted look that faded into something more melancholic while he drank away his troubles.

You didn’t bother him that night, wanting to let the man find a moment of peace in the corner of your bar. The only time you had approached him again was to refill his drink, giving him a simple nod when he thanked you for it.

That time, you caught the low Southern accent that made the word sound so goddamn pretty to your ears, and you found yourself clutching the rum bottle to your chest as you walked away, trying to shake the alluring sound of it out of your head.

When he left, you couldn’t resist saying goodbye, giving him a small smile as you dared to hope in the back of your mind that you would see him again, maybe even get a name next time.

So the next time he did show up, about a week later, you tried to hold back a small surge of excitement, a feeling that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You loved every one of your patrons; even though your bar was small, you had grown a steady group of regulars that found a safe haven within your doors.

But when you saw that older, rugged man make his way through them, heading straight back to that same seat in the corner without hesitation, but making eye contact and giving you a small nod as he went—you couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, even as you distracted yourself with making conversation with one of your regulars at a table from across the room.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you asked with an easy smile when you walked back behind your bar to take your mysterious returning customer’s order, and he looked up at you with a bit of surprise, maybe at your friendliness or your manners, before the look faded into something carefully neutral.

“Whiskey, please,” he said not in a mutter, but in a tone so low that it may as well have been. The sound of that rough tone with the smooth accent sent a little shiver down your spine, and you cleared your throat as you turned to retrieve one of your best bottles of whiskey and a glass.

“Here you are.” You smiled again as you pushed the glass towards him, preparing to turn away when he surprised you by calling after you.

“Not gonna share it this time?”

Spinning back around, you were the one to look at him in surprise this time before a slow smile curled onto your lips, trying not to look too fond of the idea as you grabbed your own glass and poured some whiskey for yourself.

“Do I get a name for who I’m sharing this whiskey with?” you teased, resting your elbows on the bar, getting comfortable as you sipped at your drink.

“Joel,” he replied after taking a smooth sip from his own glass, and you blinked a few times, suddenly realizing exactly who he was as he clarified, “Joel Miller.”

“I’m familiar with your name,” you said slowly, glancing over him, trying not to smile as he arched his eyebrow at your words. “Lotta folks ‘round here are fond of their gossip, Mr. Miller. And I hear lots of it in a place like mine.”

“Ah,” he made the sound quietly, almost under his breath, as he looked down at the glass in his hands. Joel seemed to ponder for a moment before mumbling, “You don’t gotta call me Mr. anything. Joel is just fine.”

Now you really couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, but you did hide it behind your glass before you composed yourself enough to say smoothly, “Alright. Joel, then. Welcome back to my humble establishment.”

Joel looked up at you, and then around the room, nodding slightly at your welcome before replying, “It’s quite a nice place you got here. And, uh—do I get a name as well?”

“Oh,” you made a soft sound of surprise before collecting yourself, tapping your fingers against the glass before introducing yourself with a warm smile, one he stared at for a moment too long, making butterflies flutter in your stomach and oh, no.

Joel repeated your name, slowly, like he was savoring it as much as the alcohol on his tongue when he took another sip, his eyes locked with yours over the glass and, fuck.

It only took a few more visits to your bar before Joel took you home for the first time.

You had seen it coming from a mile away, really. There was something in the way he started looking at you since that second night he came to your bar, a way he kept looking at you, only getting more intense as he started to become a regular.

Underneath the weariness you could see in his eyes, the sadness from a hard life of survival and the loss that came with it—a feeling you knew well—you could see a hunger. Maybe it was a hunger for you, or maybe it was just to have a body to warm his bed, or simply an urge to fulfill a primal desire.

Hell, maybe it was all of those things. All you knew was that you weren’t complaining about whatever reason he had for taking you home when his head was between your legs.

God, you don’t think somebody had gone down on you in years. And now Joel’s face was pressed to your wet, throbbing cunt, sliding his tongue along your folds, slipping it into your core to fuck you with it before dragging it back up to flick over your clit.

When he began to suck at the bundle of nerves, your back arched, fingers tangled in his dark hair to push him further into your pussy, grinding against his face when he flattened his tongue to let you ride it to your climax.

You came against his face, hard, drenching that salt and pepper facial hair with your release, and Joel moaned the entire time, drinking up as much of you as he could get before pulling back with a gasp.

“Was that okay?” he whispered after a moment, his voice raspy as he watched you continue to tremble, with those same big brown eyes you had seen lost in the troubling thoughts of his past over a shared drink, and you couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly at the wholesome sincerity in his uncertainty.

“Are you kidding me?” you gasped, quick to explain yourself when you saw him shift away in worry, “I haven’t come against somebody’s face in years. I should be thanking you.”

Joel laughed too then, the sound husky and sending his warm breath against your wet cunt that was still spread in front of his mouth, and you bit your lip as you felt arousal stirring again.

“Come up here,” you murmured, reaching down to grab his face, and he quickly climbed up your body, his mouth descending on yours in a desperate, feverish kiss that made you both moan.

It had also been years since you kissed anyone and, god, you think you may have missed that even more than being eaten out.

Eventually you managed to pull your lips away from his when you felt the brush of his erection against your cunt, and you smirked, reaching down to palm him through his jeans, earning a throaty grunt that you tucked away in the back of your mind to replay on nights when you were alone.

“You don’t have to—”

“Hush,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth, evading his lips as they searched for yours as you trailed your kisses down his neck, biting down softly to leave your mark on him, finding a thrill in how there may be a few new rumors in the morning if anybody saw it on him. “You deserve this.”

Joel stiffened at your words, but quickly relaxed again when you rolled him over, quickly ridding him of the rest of his clothes so you could satisfy both your aching core and his throbbing cock in one moment of intense pleasure that you knew would leave you both begging for more, even after finding sweet release in each other.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

You looked over at Joel from where you sat next to him at your bar after you had closed for the night, sharing a bottle of wine you had just gotten in a trade. You had shown it to him once the last patron left, claiming it was way too fucking good and special to even show off when they were around.

“What, bartending?” you replied, knowing from the nearly warm depth of his gaze that that was not what he had meant, but you chose to deflect, preferring to discuss other people’s feelings instead of working through your own. “I mean, it’s not that hard. You pour drinks, you listen to people talk until they get tired, then you pour them some more drinks. It’s pretty great.”

Joel huffed, giving you an unamused look that you laughed quietly at, watching his face soften at your sound of amusement.

“Not what I meant,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your inner thigh from where you had draped one of your legs over his own thigh, sitting in a way so casually intimate it made your heart pang with a desire to be closer to him, in more ways than just the casual sex you had taken up as a regular habit.

Because even though you fucked each other around the clock now, you talked too. Over drinks at your bar or in his house, you and Joel had shared glimpses of your pasts with each other, bonding over similar pain you both had experienced until you ended up here.

“You’re kind,” he started softly, his gaze searching yours before you quickly looked away. Even as you avoided his eyes by staring down into your wine glass, he continued undeterred, “And strong. Way fucking stronger than I am.”

“Bullshit,” you scoffed, and Joel’s hand gently squeezed your thigh as he leaned forward, trying to catch your eye again as you busied yourself with refilling your glasses.

“You are,” he repeated, and you finally looked back up at him at the conviction in his tone, softening at the earnest look on his face. “Honestly, I don’t fucking know how you do it. The shit you’ve been through—it would break the bravest of us.”

Joel paused, glancing around the room of your bar, your pride and joy, taking in the warm, hospitable atmosphere that seemed to hang from each decoration on the wall before turning back to you.

“But you’re here,” he said quietly, looking from your proudly arranged display of bottles behind the bar before glancing back at you, squeezing your thigh again as he leaned forward further, resting his elbow on the bar to get close to you. “You’re taking in poor, weary souls like me and giving them some rest. Making their lives a little bit brighter. Telling them what they need to hear.”

Shaking his head, Joel leaned back to look back into his own wine glass as he took it in hand. “Really don’t know how you do it.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“What?” Joel replied instantly as his head snapped up, eyes wide in what was almost horror at your blunt question. “No. God, no. It’s fucking admirable.”

You quieted at that, sucked into Joel’s gaze as an unmistakable warmth entered it again, leaning closer to him as he whispered, “I admire you.”

The confession felt more like a stab in the gut than the compliment he must have meant it to be, and you turned your head, avoiding his lips as they searched for yours, evading his kiss as you stared at the wine bottle you were quickly making your way through.

“I don’t think you would say that,” you muttered, taking a long drink, nearly draining your glass before pouring more from the bottle, “if you knew who was talking.”

Joel’s thumb stroked across your thigh again, and you let out a shaky sigh, placing your forehead in your hand as your eyes slipped shut. The alcohol and the comfortable weight of his presence was making your carefully built barriers break down, and you felt the shackles of your trauma rattling as you tried to take steady breaths.

He spoke your name softly, and you shook your head, wiping hastily at your cheeks to get rid of any tears that may have escaped in your unfortunate, ever-lingering emotions that you drowned in every time you were alone.

“I can’t take my own fucking advice, Joel,” you laughed, bitterly, shaking your head as you stared down at your own hands, the ones that had held onto so many things so tightly until they slipped out of your reach. “I shouldn’t be giving it if I can’t even reap what I sow.”

“Hey,” Joel said quietly, but firmly, trying to pull you out of your spiraling, but you just shook your head again.

“I don’t think I’m very good at being human, Joel,” you whispered, finally turning back to look at him with wide eyes that spoke of crushing grief that he may have never realized you carried. Or at least, didn’t realize how heavily it weighed on you. “There’s something deep inside of me that’s just…broken. 

Your voice began to shake as you forced yourself to get out the words you wanted to say, “I’m not admirable. Just broken.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, not trying to say anything else as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his large, steady hand finding the back of your head to direct your face into his shoulder.

And then you did another thing for the first time in years.

You cried.

Joel didn’t know how many nights you had spent walking the streets alone before he came along.

He didn’t know how many drinks you used to go through a night when you had the extra stock, or how many fucking friends you had lost because you were too selfish to look past your own problems and care about theirs.

He didn’t know how you enjoyed being a bartender because it made you a beacon of shining light that you knew you weren’t, living for the love and attention you got by giving advice to those who needed to hear it, even though you couldn’t follow it yourself.

But Joel knew when he walked you back to your home for the first time, and you invited him in to see the incredibly bare, cold and lifeless place, that it wasn’t a home at all.

He followed you to bed, where he took you slow and sweet, making sure to cherish you, to gently caress your skin and shower you in kisses, making you feel as precious as he knew you were, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

You didn’t say anything when Joel left his flannel on your bed after that night, choosing to go home in his undershirt and worn, brown leather jacket, just so he could leave a piece of himself behind with you.

He didn’t say anything when you were wearing that flannel the next night he came over, curling himself around you as you slept because, as much as he preferred being the little spoon, he knew you needed to feel secure when you whimpered through whatever nightmares were taunting your unconscious mind that night.

Neither of you said anything when you eventually hung that flannel up in your closet, or when it was joined by a collection of his other clothes, and then even more items that belonged to Joel, miscellaneous things that became scattered throughout your house.

A mug here, a picture there, a wood carving he made for you and then even a fucking fishing pole that would get shoved to the back of your hall closet to never see the light of day.

There was nothing to say when Joel stopped kissing you goodbye.

Nothing needed to be said as he turned your house into a home.

[kaeyas-beloved]

Class 1-A with reader who's a high school detective? Or rather, UA's secret high school detective? Kinda like with Detective Conan! She helps the police solve cases, which she always gets right not through any Quirk but through logic and smarts. It's possible that she has a lot of excuse notes if she's ever late for school, or if she has to leave early to help with an extremely serious case. I bet a bunch of kids will be jealous until they figure out the reason behind her absences,

Characters: Class 1A

Genre: General/Humor/Fluff + Fic/Bulletpoints

CW: gn!reader (you/your/they/them)

a/n: 1) I've never actually watched Detective Conan (yet)! Is it any good? 2) This idea kinda grew on me when I started writing this, I think it's a really cool idea. Thank you for requesting anon, I'm really sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy! (and sorry for any OOCness, it's been some time since I watched BnHA but I still wanted to finish this)

Class 1A w/ a Secret Detective Reader

"Heyyyy it's (L/N)! On time for once are ya?" instantly your head snapped up at the cheerful call, blond hair with a streak of black catching your eye. Finishing off a note within the margin, you straighten and stretch for the first time in what felt like weeks. Both hearing and feeling that oh so satisfying pop you relax, offering the male and the group behind a tired smile. Briefly, you couldn’t help but wonder how Kaminari (and honestly everyone else) had so much energy this early in the morning. Though, upon remembering that they don't spend hours pouring through case files you brush the thought away quickly.

"Hmph, that's a first," the spiky, rough-around-the-edges ash blond tuts. You pay his comment no mind, something between a tired huff and a laugh passes through your lips, it's not like he's wrong.

"Heh, the world must be ending." Though you spoke in nothing but a mutter most heard your follow up. Good natured laughter fills the room, you included in its chorus.

It’s no secret that you're tardy more often than not. At the beginning, most didn’t know how to interpret your routine of a flimsy excuse notes in hand and a rushed apologizing. Were you not used to early morning classes? Traffic hold you up? Are you late on purpose perhaps?

“No, no and no,” you reassured one afternoon. Then why? someone asked, to which you left them with a flamboyant “I'm saving the world!” Everyone was quick to drop it back then - not out of respect, but because they knew if they're getting a dumb, zealous answer like that then they can kiss a real answer goodbye.

Of course, behind the scenes many were dying to know your real reasons. They theorized, sharing their thoughts with one another when you aren’t around. Hell, Kaminari, Mina, Sero and a select few all going as far as to make a post it board, red sting tying info together and all. After all, if Aizawa is always there, ready to deliver a quick and light scolding the second you try to sneak to your seat mid-lesson, it can't be that bad, right? Unfortunately, to this day your secret remains shrouded in mystery.

Your sly joke from mere moments ago sparked a large, seemingly never-ending conversation with the class. In your defense, you did try to stay on task, but really, how could you not spend some time with your friends? Not to mention that it's been far too long, the police and UA keeping you busy. A break is just what you need to stay in tip-top shape.

Attention pulled far from your gloomy detective work, the atmosphere felt light, carefree within the room as everyone talked and had fun. A welcomed change.

The rolling of the classroom doors puts an abrupt stop to the merriment. Being around long enough to know the routine, every teen made their way to their respective seats.

Aizawa said nothing at first, standing dead in his spot in the doorway. No one dared to whisper their concerns about if something happened, but it was safe to say everyone felt on edge.

Finally, he speaks, "(L/N)."

At once their world came to a screeching halt, twenty pairs of eyes darting between yourself and the teacher. Other than when you're late, you never get called out right off the bat, never mind the tone used.

Silence stretched on for several agonizing seconds, not one soul making a sound. Tension only rose when a few caught sight of the police chief out in the hall, additional officers on either side.

Shock morphs into fear. What's happened? Are you in trouble? Have you done something wrong? Got mixed up with the wrong crowd? With each new thought that pops up in their minds a disgustingly familiar feeling grows, threatening to consume them whole. Just as a group of students open their mouths to finally say something, defend your innocence, demand answers, the squeak of your chair being pushed back cuts it all off.

…How are you so calm?

Clear as day you appear unbothered. As if it doesn't appear that your arrest is upon you. So, is it just a cover? A way to hide the fear pumping through your system?

As you stand and walk further and further away from them all, Aizawa hot on your heels, the class is left to wonder if history is repeating. Are they about to be so paralyzed that they'll fail to protect a friend once more?

"Don't do anything stupid. We'll be back shortly," Aizawa's gruff voice says and the door shuts.

-- --

They're already planning your prison break, the sweethearts <3

Most rationale has left the room since no explanation makes sense other than worst-case :/

It's Bakugou - who just so happens to sit next to you - and all his smarts that loudly demands everyone to "calm the hell down", quickly adding that "they're not going to jail you cry-babies, they work for them."

Of course that does nothing to remedy the situation. What does Bakugou know? It takes the ash-blond shoving your discarded case documents into everyone's unsuspecting faces for them to believe him.

Cue a loud chorus of "THEY'RE A DETECTIVE!?" Which is true, you are in fact a detective. Or, a part-time one at least, if the scrawled Detective Work in your writing was anything to go by. Safe to say some of your closest friends are somewhat hurt you didn't tell them. Don't worry they get over it quickly, they've plenty of time to harass you, seeing as you’ve just walked back into the room.

And seeing how everyone is staring at you, multiple papers scattered between the group it's not hard to piece things together.

"The cat's outta the bag I suppose," you get ready for the storm that's coming your way, sitting back down and taking a deep breath.

No teaching was done that day.

Like most reveals that happen, things settle back to normal after a week. Now instead of getting asked why you were late your friends are asking for all the juicy details of your case (none of which you can actually tell them). Doesn't stop some from asking every time though,,,,

Feel free to talk to them seriously. You might not be able to tell them much, but if you're in a slump and need to talk it out with someone they're more than willing to listen. You'll either figure it out on your own or they'll end up saying something that makes everything click :)

You're no longer just UA's detective but Class 1-A's personal super sleuth now. Something's missing? Better call Sherlock Holmes. And with this bunch, you're going to get called a lot. You could make a profit if you started to charge them :|

I can definitely see them bringing you snacks/meals and something to drink if you're stuck working long hours or late into the night <3 Like they'll see your light on and they'd make sure to stop by the kitchen just so they can drop off something for you on their way back.

Stressful or upsetting case? These guys are the best at distracting you. Bakusquad will drag you out to play some video games in one of their rooms or at an arcade. If that's not something you're into or you're not in the mood you can always train with someone and let out some steam that way. Or or or the girls will gladly take you out shopping with them!

Many are more than willing to help you catch up on classwork. They understand that balancing class, being a detective for the school and an internship is no easy task

If you're ever gone for a long period of time because your work takes you out of town or something be ready for a warm welcome back and hugs the moment you walk through the door :)

Oh, and you're absolutely right Anon, no less than 80% of the class is jealous you get to leave early and they remain that way even after learning why lol. "Oh to be a detective and get to leave early!" Literally all of them at one point or another with their own way of saying it.

Tag list: @tickotaku // @decora-peaches // @dorkylittleweirdo // @thylocalcrackhead // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @unidentifiedzombie // @lordbugs // @akiria12167

. . .

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!

[beanghostprincess]

Zolu as Taylor Swift lyrics

"All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret." — peace

This is literally Zoro in Thriller Bark willing to die and keeping it a secret from everybody. I want to throw up. They make me mentally ill.

"Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. Change my priorities. The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury. [...] Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending. Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups. Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff. Baby, all at once, this is enough. And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for. King of my heart, body and soul." — King Of My Heart

King Of My Heart is so Zolu coded, not only because of, y'know, Luffy being literally the King of Zoro's heart, but because of the devotion and the feeling that nobody else compares to Luffy. Also, the feeling of young love and possessiveness between them is so good with this song.

"And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all." — Lover

Zoro is in love with the future king of the pirates. Everybody wants Luffy. Of course Zoro is going to be jealous.

"Wherever you stray I follow. I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man. You know that my train could take you home, anywhere else is hollow. [...] Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. Show me the places where the others gave you scars." — willow

The devotion. Zoro willing to follow Luffy to hell. Luffy wanting to know Zoro better, deeper. Knowing every detail about his scars and dreams. I'm going insane.

"And if I'm gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love. [...] Everyone wants him, that was my crime." — Slut!

Ah yes, being possessive and an alcoholic. Zoro's best character traits.

"'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this. You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless." — Fearless

This is very early Zolu but honestly could just be them being silly and Zoro following Luffy's silly and impulsive shenanigans.

"My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon: I was enchanted to meet you... Please don't be in love with someone else... Please don't have somebody waiting on you." — Enchanted

Sabaody angst haunts me at night.

"You made a mess of me. I pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street. [...] Oh my, love is a lie, shit my friends say to get me by. It hits different. It hits different this time." — Hits Different

They're so... The one for each other. Their love hits different. For both of them.

"So you were never a saint, and I've loved in shades of wrong. We learn to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts. But this love is brave and wild. [...] These are the hands of fate, you're my Achilles heel. This is the golden age of something good and right and real." — State of Grace

They're each other's Achilles heel. I'm gonna cry.

"Time, mystical time, cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? [...] Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you." — invisible string

Thinking that they were destined to be together is cheesy af but I don't care <3

"I see how this is gon' go, touch me and you'll never be alone. Island breeze and lights down low. No one has to know. [...] Every lover known in comparison is a failure. I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now. Never be the same now." — ...Ready For It?

Once again saying that they're the one for each other. And also this song is just the vibes. They have these vibes. I don't want to explain it because I got tired of writing this halfway.

"Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night. Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright. Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings." — Paper Rings

They're so clingy so sappy so cheesy I don't care what dudebros think.

"You were so magnetic, it was almost obnoxious. [...] I didn't come here to make friends, we were born to be suburban legends. When you hold me, it holds me together. And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever." — Suburban Legends

Luffy has always been, ever since they met, magnetic to Zoro. And it kind of bothered him at first, but now Luffy has changed his life forever and he will never love somebody else the way he loves Luffy.

"And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other. In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met... [...] 'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine... We would've been timeless." — Timeless

Once again saying that I love thinking they're soulmates. Because they are. Argue with the wall.

"I'm yours to keep, and I'm yours to lose." — So It Goes...

I love codependency.

"But we might just get away with it. Religion's in your lips. Even if it's a false god. We'd still worship. We might just get away with it. The altar is my hips. Even if it's a false god. We'd still worship this love. I know heaven's a thing. I go there when you touch me. Honey hell is when I fight with you." — False God

Zoro worshipping Luffy like a God will never not be extremely romantic and passionate. Luffy also sees their relationship like this, kind of. They're each other's world!!! Going crazy!!!

"Put your lips close to mine as long as they don't touch. Out of focus, eye to eye, 'til the gravity's too much. And I'll do anything you say if you say it with your hands." — Treacherous

This is just them pining over each other and being extremely intimate and willing to do anything the other says. I love exaggerating everything.

"They said the end is coming. Everyone's up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. [...] And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more". To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it." — Sweet Nothing

I honestly always think about Sanuso with this song because it's way more Sanuso coded- HOWEVER!! I do think Zolu has this domestic and genuine energy whenever they're clingy and don't really ask anything from the other except just being together.

"Big reputation, big reputation. You and me, we got big reputations. And you heard about me. I got some big enemies. [...] I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me. And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul. It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold." — End Game

Do I really need to explain this one when everybody knows they're literally dramatic pirates wanted by the law? And they're very very in love?

"All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life. And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch." — Electric Touch

When OPLA!Zoro said that Luffy had changed his life. That changed me.

"We blocked the noise with the sound of 'I need you', and for the first time I had something to lose." — Holy Ground

Once again this is about OPLA!Zoro but obviously works with our regular Zolu. Zoro was so lost without Luffy I'm gonna cry.

"One night he wakes, strange look on his face. Pauses, then says: You're my best friend. And you knew what it was. He is in love." — You Are In Love

This is the perfect way to describe a relationship between aroaspec people. Also, this is giving Sanuso too but this is not a Sanuso post I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so-

"Don't blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right. Lord, save me, my drug is my baby, I'll be usin' for the rest of my life. My name is whatever you decide, and I'm just gonna call you mine." — Don't Blame Me

I don't need to explain this one.

"My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War." — The Great War

I always think about ASL and Marineford with this one but tbh it is very Zolu too.

[the-amazing-wonderss]

hihi!! i hope both of ur guys day is going good! This is my first time requesting so im a little nervous i read ur rules over like ten times (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) can u pls do Kou, Nene, and Hanako reading their s/o a bedtime story >w< ty in advance :3

A/N: Omg hihi its been awhile since we last posted but we're here and alive still~!! Oh and also If it makes you feel any better, this is actually our first ask 😭??? So we're really excited and decided to have both of us write for it, aren't you a lucky anon?! Anyways I hope you like it! ⎯ Mod ☠️ Omg...a request...Hello! ^^ We added Mitsuba to the list, I felt like a silly fella while writing for him. His brain makes me insane. ANYWAY, I actually didn't write angst. I can't remember the last time I did that. Enjoy~ ⎯ Mod👻 (if tumblr eats this again, I will cry)

Content: Fluff, slight angst if you squint in Hanako and Mitsuba's part, no gender mention for reader aside from the word 'prince' and 'princess' being used. Summary: Reading their s/o a bedtime story

Characters: Nene, Hanako, Mitsuba, Kou

A story about a girl who gets saved by her prince, not in an ideal way like she wanted it to be, but nonetheless, still fell for them anyways. ⎯ Once upon a time I had my eyes set out for a fairytale of my own, wanting to feel like a hopeless romantic with the person of my dreams. But to think that the person I've been dreaming of was actually beside me this whole time... Perhaps instead of me, it was them that was hopeless in the end.

It was during when you stayed over at her house and weren't able to sleep, that she suggested she'd tell you some of the latest stories she's been reading about. Some that you've already heard of (either from her already mentioning it before or seeing it in the media) while others not so much.

When NENE talks about her stories she's very enthusiastic about it. Happy to even have someone listening to her rant on and on about something she's been dying to talk about for awhile, but it's even more special when it's her S/O ⎯ especially if they were the ones to ask her first before she even got the chance to herself.

Her stories lean more towards romance for obvious reasons. Loving the tropes to the story is one thing, but another would be because of how she likes to imagine herself in those sort of scenarios. Embarrassed to even admit it out loud, though it's already clear why she likes them so much.

And although at first she was telling the stories to you to get you to fall asleep, it sometimes ends with you staying up a little later due to her getting a tad bit carried away.

Oh but if you do end up falling asleep right before her? You won't ever see or hear about it, unless you were pretending to be asleep, but Nene is definitely the type to give you a shy goodnights kiss. Feeling brave only because you were asleep, but if not, she'd totally cover her face as she fumes at how embarrassing it is to get caught in her sly act.

A story about a commoner boy who had a princess that loved him dearly, despite his backstory and everything he deemed as 'unworthy' of their love, nothing ⎯ not even his words, could sway their view of him. ⎯ Time and time again you run and hide from me. Behind that wall of doubt and insecurities there's something that you clearly don't see in yourself that I adore so much. When will you finally come to terms and see things my way? Love yourself as much as I love you.

It's weird how you decided to nap in the bathroom. Especially his bathroom where he's poking you constantly until you tell him off.

When HANAKO is reading you a story, he has you sleeping and leaning against his shoulder. His hand occasionally shifting your head back in place when he notices you nodding off or about to fall, or maybe even just doing it to use it as an excuse to pat your head ⎯ who knows? Clearly not you.

But the types of stories Hanako tends to read to you depends entirely on his mood. Whenever he's feeling like a jokester, he'd tell you horror stories just to see your scared reaction as you cling onto him ⎯ or when he's feeling a little solemn, he'd tell the sort of fairytale that ends with bad endings to them.

Differing between those two genres the most. But on the more rarer occasions, does he switch it up to something else.

Something odd, something you wouldn't even expect from him. Something ... that perhaps convey how he really feels but is too afraid to admit it out loud? It honestly depends up to you to actually catch onto it. If not? Then you probably won't ever hear that story again from him.

A story where a ghost finds a human and wishes to stand by their side ⎯ A story where death will not part them, for they belong together. ⎯ I keep thinking that I could be good enough for you - that you could love me as more than 'friends', maybe I am a bit selfish for thinking this. Not that I could ever say it to your face.

Someone decided to be nice today and bless you with a sleepover!! At your own house of course.

MITSUBA didn't plan on reading to you but you told him a few stories of your own. He wasn't sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the smile on your face every time you started reading to him, so he returned the favor.

He wasn't sure what to read until he came up with his own idea. A short story about a ghost, since he knew that firsthand. A story with a ghost about falling in love with a human, a story he...

As he told the story, he could see your smile slowly disappear, almost as if you realized he was the ghost in the story.

"The ghost never told them how he felt."

And that was the last thing he said before being engulfed in your arms. He knew this feeling - he's felt it before. That warm feeling.

The feeling of love.

The feeling of an old memory.

A story where the knight doesn't get the girl ⎯ oh...I guess this is a different ending. A story where the knight gets the prince, and they live a happy life. ⎯ I didn't change the ending! This is how it was meant to be! I...I suppose if you prefer for the knight to not fall for the prince then...Huh? You liked it?!

KOU brought a book of short stories over to your house. He was super excited to be able to stay the night.

Unfortunately for him, you had the same book and it just so happened to be your favorite!

Kou told the story as it was written for a bit.

Until he got to the end.

The story was meant to end with the prince marrying a princess but Kou couldn't bring himself to say it. Perhaps it was because he was never the prince. He was always second.

But it seemed that you didn't mind. It does get a bit boring reading the same story over and over again, and you did like listening to Kou talk.

"I'm...really happy you liked it." He says, almost struggling to get the words out as you blush and smile.

Maybe this really was his story, and that's why he rewrote the ending. Well, you can't say it's impossible for that ending to happen.

[blorbologist]

I AM HERE WITH A 🌟🌟 TO HEAR ABOUT SOMETHING YOU'VE BEEN DYING TO GUSH ABOUT IN YOUR WRITINGS.

EXANDRIAN 👏 WEDDING 👏 CELEBRATION👏 WORLDBUILDING👏

- Wedding rings convergently evolved in a lot of contexts due to some divine events/recurrences (ex: halos of some aasimar and divine casters). Though how they're used varies (some cultures have many, with rings being added as the couple has children or for other life events; some wear them in their hair or as body piercings; some insist the couple or someone close to them make the rings themselves; sometimes they're made as a chain that's ceremonially broken during the wedding and reforged).

- I love the common HC that elven weddings involve ceremonial knots and rope/string tying the couple together! Drow use white-silver threads (heated debate rage as to if this is nods to Loloth or the Luxon in the Dynasty), wood elves will use plant-based fibers grown from each family's land/plants that grow near their home, and all elves will use fancier material to indicate wealth. A common practice for half-elves, especially from societies where they’re more common and can share this knowledge, is to intersperse the weaving and knots with rings, or save the threads to make into necklaces or armbands.

- many Ashari wedding practices (a little different for each tribe) have their roots in Drashari & Age of Arcanum customs that survived. For Zephrah in particular, I like the idea of the couple writing their vows, folding the paper into a bird or flower or something specific to Them (Vaxleth would 100% do a raven) and sending it flying from the cliffs. I'm undecided if they're supposed to use wind spells/cantrips to keep them aloft or trust in the air to carry them and their hopes for the relationship. (The people living downwind think it's good luck to catch Ashari wedding vows, and sometimes make the trek up to return them to the happy couple.) They don't know this is adapted from the spell kites of Cathmoíra.

- Several parts of Wildemount include planting something Important as part of the ceremony. Either something that will grow (a tree, a vital crop, a favorite flower) or not (a memory capsule, an offering, or something meant to decay). If the planting doesn't go well, or if the plant/burried thing gets damaged down the line, it's seen as a terrible omen. Couples living in cities will keep theirs on windowsills or roofs to ensure they get enough light, and it’s a common source of gossip if a neighbor's plant is unwell or if the pot of soil tips during a storm, spilling out the gifts within.

- I've thought. So much. About Whitestone weddings. The city-state was very isolated for years, so their practices are very tailored to their home. Laurels are made out of the Sun Tree's shed leaves, which are also scattered around their feet. Weddings are usually held at dawn or midday for Pelor reasons, and the rings are weighed in scales blessed by Erathis to ensure the partnership is equal. The ceremony is usually held in front of the Sun Tree, and if the couple is very lucky or of high status a fallen bough will be brought with them into their marital home to keep them safe and blessed by its shade (and it's meant to be burnt as firewood should they face a challenge they feel they can't surmount, be it a terrible winter or awful fight). Most couples only get a twig or small branch though. Actually, you'll see soon ;3

- Vex's wedding ring is 100% forged from melted down gold pieces from her own person. Because there's a chance, however small, that one or two pieces used were among those Percy gave her when they first met. Percy includes some residuum in his, partially because he wanted to make sure their rings could both be used as Resurrection components should anything happen... and partially because he still remembers the Sunken Tomb and how his offering of residuum then was not accepted. He doesn’t want to forget what his mistake cost them, a reminder to be careful (what if he had succeeded? would Vax not have - then he might - fuck.).

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act Two: Chapter Three)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

Man, I’ve been feeling like shit lmao

My b12 anaemia has been kicking my ass and I’m not even joking. I went to see Greg Puciato on the 10th and I legit spent the whole first two starting bands throwing up and almost passing out, with zero alcohol consumed. I thought I was gonna die but refused to go home ‘cause no way was I missing Greg loooool I pushed through and it was the best show I’ve ever been to, even if I felt on the verge of death. I also picked up some germs ‘cause now I feel like I’ve got the flu and I haven't even got over whatever I was dealing with before.

I don’t know why my brain has been really struggling with this chapter. I have so much of Act Two mapped out but it's mostly the action and the fun and the angsty bits and the making up and all that. The little in-between parts to get there haven't been written and my brain really wasn't playing ball. Sorry for any typos, It's currently 2 am here and I've literally just finished writing and quickly editing it lol

In the name of our Lord and Saviour, Simon Riley, I beseech you to strike the writer curse from my weary body and allow me to continue feeding my hungry children with Ghostly content.

The last wisps of sleep were still clinging onto Charlotte’s consciousness when she felt her bed dip and the covers rustle and move. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her brain trying to comprehend the shit show that had become her life. For a brief moment, she thought she was back home, dying under the weight of grief and raising a child alone. But then she realised this wasn't her bed, these weren’t her bedroom walls and her husband wasn't dead. She still felt that grief though, it wouldn't shake even if he was breathing and now she had a heaping scoop of betrayal to go along with it. She rolled over to the source of what woke her up to see Beth beside her, giving her a cheeky smile.

“Good morning, mummy,” she murmured tiredly, scooting closer and wrapping herself around Charlotte like a snake. It made all of her tension seep from her body, even if only for a moment. She loved these moments in the morning with her daughter. They made her feel like she was glued back together briefly. 

“Good morning, pickle,” she smiled softly and Beth made a disgruntled noise like she always did at the nickname. They didn't need words as they cuddled together as they both woke up and Charlotte tried to will some backbone to leave the room at some point. 

They’d need breakfast and she hoped Simon wouldn't be in the mess hall. She wasn't sure how Beth was supposed to bond with him when she wanted him nowhere near her. She knew she needed to suck it up for Beth’s sake and Simon was lucky she’d do anything for their daughter. 

“Did you have a good sleep?” Charlotte asked, her fingers stroking through Beth’s unruly curls. The girl shot her a bright smile with a nod.

“I did. I’m excited to go and see daddy at breakfast! Can we go yet?” she asked eagerly and Charlotte tried to stop her stomach from tying itself in knots. 

“Let's get dressed then,” she flashed her best fake smile and Beth giggled, rushing to get out of bed as Lottie sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Can we match, mummy?” Beth asked hopefully and Charlotte nodded.

“You pick what you want us to wear,” she instructed, watching with a fond smile as Beth rummaged around in the bag, pulling some things out and leaving them strewn about the place. 

She picked out two matching hoodies that had Placebo across the chest. Hers was real merch but they didn't make kids stuff so she’d wound up using fabric paint to replicate it on a kids hoodie. She picked out black leggings to match too. They both got dressed in their matching attire, boots to finish off the look and Charlotte really didn't feel like making much of an effort with her hair with how she was feeling so she threw it up into a high pony. Naturally, Beth gave her a look and was only placated once she also had a high ponytail that looked nothing like Charlotte with her blonde curls.

If she thought she felt nauseous on the way to the mess hall, it was nothing compared to how she felt when they strolled in, hand in hand. It felt like everyone’s eyes turned to the two civilians on base and she knew she wasn't imagining how they all murmured to each other. Maybe word travelled fast. 

One pair of eyes in particular felt like they burned her right down to her bones and she glanced over to the table housing the 141, seeing those deep brown hues staring right at her. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and she looked away quickly, ushering Beth to the food. She grabbed two trays, feeling guilty that Beth was babbling about something but she was struggling to pay attention. She scooped some scrambled eggs onto the plates and some bacon. She was just scooping some beans too when someone approached. 

“Well then, who’s this wee pretty lass?” 

Charlotte turned to see Johnny standing there, a smile that she could only compare to sunshine on a rainy day as he peered down at Beth. she clung to Mr Snuffles tightly, blinking up at the man.

“I’m Beth,” she answered sweetly and Charlotte watched as Johnny crouched to be closer to her height.

“What a beautiful name,” he grinned and Beth beamed at him.

“What's your name?” she asked curiously.

“I’m Johnny but people call me Soap,” he answered and Beth giggled.

“That's a silly name!” 

Johnny snorted with a nod.

“Aye, it is, but it's mine and I love it. We need to get you a call sign, aye?” he asked and Beth toddled closer to him, eyes wide as she nodded.

“Yes please, Mr Soap,” she clapped her hands excitedly and Charlotte didn't miss how she was drawing attention. 

“Alright., let’s think…” Johnny rubbed his chin, making a show of thinking and it made Beth giggle again.

“Do ye have a nickname already? We could use that,” he suggested and Beth pulled a face.

“Mummy calls me pickle sometimes,” she muttered gloomily and Johnny chuckled.

“Nah, we don't want a name like pickle, do we?” he asked her, pulling the same face she had and it made her laugh.

“What kinda things do ye like?” he asked her thoughtfully and Beth’s face lit up.

“I like Halloween and spooky things. Ghosts, skellingtons and pumpkins. I like monsters,” she made fake claws with her hands and growled at him. 

Being the good sport he was, Johnny yelped dramatically, falling on his ass and Charlotte couldn't help the grin on her face as she watched the pair, Beth laughing brightly at him. She was quickly warming up to the man. 

“I have the perfect name for ye, and it kinda goes with yer daddy’s” he announced, looking pleased with himself and Beth was practically bouncing on the spot.

“What is it?” she asked eagerly.

“Spook,” he declared with a flourish and Beth’s eyes were almost sparkling. 

“I love it!” she beamed, dancing about a little, the bunny in her hands getting thrown about in the process.

“Awesome!” Johnny grinned, holding his hand up to her and she slapped him a high-five harder than he expected if his wince was anything to go by. 

He stood back up, a slight groan leaving his lips as he back popped. 

“Now that's settled, let's eat, aye?” he smiled, turning to look at Charlotte as he gave her a warm grin that had her smiling back at him.

“Alright?” he asked her and she nodded, feeling somewhat better by his soothing presence. He seemed happy with her answer, clapping her gently on the back before he swiped Beth’s tray so Charlotte didn't have to carry two. 

Beth was happily chatting to him as the three of them made their way over to the table. Price was at the head of the table to the right, the bench along the back housing a man she didn't know with a cap on his head and a calming smile aimed at her. She smiled back nervously and looked away, her hands tightening over the tray. There was an empty spot beside the man and Johnny plonked into it, not before putting Beth's tray on the other side of the bench which was empty. On the head of the table to the left was Simon, whose eyes were glued to her. Beth’s tray was placed beside him and that left the spot between Beth and Price open for her. 

She noticed two of the men who were there at her outburst the day before weren't here but she was glad. It was bad enough being around just this small group, especially because she’d spilled her heart out in front of them. Worst of all was Simon though and the only respite she got from his burning gaze was when Beth climbed up on the bench, having to sit on her knees to reach her tray as she beamed a blinding grin at him and his eyes now went to his daughter.

“Good morning, daddy,” she smiled up at him. Charlotte wished to tear her eyes away and yet she couldn't, seeing his dark eyes peering out of his mask at Beth, all soft and gooey. It was the same look she had herself when her daughter was being sweet. 

“Mornin’, lovie,” he murmured quietly and Charlotte swallowed thickly. 

“So! Introductions since this spooky bastard won’t be makin’ ‘em,” Johnny started with a smirk and Beth gasped, slapping one hand over her mouth, the other pointing accusingly at the Scot, making him go silent.

“You swore!” she exclaimed and the whole table went quiet as they watched her. Charlotte bit her lip to stifle a laugh as Johnny blinked at her for a moment before he let out a laugh.

“Aye, I did, I’m sorry, lass,” he murmured with a grin and Beth raised a sassy brow at him.

“You owe me a pound now,” she held her hand out expectantly and Charlotte watched the Scot look to the girl's hand before back at her face.

“I owe ye?” he asked slowly and Beth nodded.

“We have a swear jar and every time mummy swears she puts a pound in and then I get to spend it,” she flashed her teeth in a toothy grin and Johnny’s lips quirked upwards as he glanced to Charlotte and then back to Beth.

“Well, I don’t have a quid on me right now, but I’ll owe ye one, aye?” he asked and Beth sighed with a nod.

“So, ye already know the Captain and this creepy fu- fool…” he trailed off after curtly cutting his words so he didn't owe even more money to the mini Riley. He slapped Simon on the shoulder and Lottie watched carefully as his dark eyes slid to Johnny, mild amusement and annoyance shining behind them. But when those eyes slid back to her, she felt like a lightning bolt struck her right in the chest and she looked away quickly, picking at her eggs. 

“This one is Kyle Garrick, also known as Gaz,” Johnny finished as he gestured to the only man on the table she hadn’t met yet.

“Nice to meet you Mr Gaz,” Beth smiled sweetly at him. The man smiled, a soft look on his face.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied politely, his eyes turning to Charlotte then.

“You too, Mrs Riley,” he smiled and her hand tightened around her fork.

“Charlotte’s fine,” she muttered tensely and she could practically feel Simon’s eyes burning into her.

“And all you fuc- idiots know Charlotte and Beth, now also known as Spook,” Johnny gestured to the little girl with a flourish and she grinned, making a spooky noise while she wiggled her fingers.

“You gave her a callsign?” Simon asked and Charlotte couldn't decipher his tone. It was so detached, different to what she was used to with him.

“Course I did. She loves spooky shi- stuff, so it felt right. You like it, aye, Spook?” he asked her and she giggled, nodding her head.

“I love it,” she answered happily before she turned her deep brown eyes to her father.

“Do you like it, daddy?” she asked, her eyes hopeful and wide as she stared at him. He just watched her for a moment and Lottie was starting to think he wouldn't answer her.

“I do. Suits you,” he answered, reaching out slowly and stroking her head softly. Her smile widened as she leaned into his touch and Charlotte felt a burning in her chest. 

“We need a call sign for Charlotte then,” Gaz commented, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Grim,” Simon answered before anyone could suggest a thing. Had he shot her in the chest? It felt like it. So many memories flooded her system, memories of a happier time, of a time where he hadn’t betrayed her trust, hadn’t lied to her, hadn’t hurt her. 

“Aye, that's good. Ghost, Spook and Grim, a proper family,” Johnny snorted gleefully

“What can I say? I like a good theme,” Simon answered dryly but she heard the amusement and it sparked an annoyance in her. 

Five years he’d been gone, five years he’d fucked off, only to live in their old base. Was he here every day eating with his friends and cracking jokes like she wasn't at home raising a child alone and drowning in grief? Did he really care that little that he hadn't even checked in with her once? Didn't have anyone look into where she might be, what she was doing? Would he have even bothered to come back if he knew Beth existed? Would he have come back for her? Did he like it here without her? 

She pushed her tray away from her, a vile feeling creeping into her chest like an infection that was spewing puss. She didn't want to be here.

“Mummy, your breakfast,” Beth murmured, looking up at her carefully.

“I’m not hungry anymore, sweetie,” she replied but her voice felt far away, floating out of reach. 

It felt like her eyes weren't seeing, she couldn't get out of her own head. She suddenly felt warm leather on her cheek and with a start, she realised Simon had reached over Beth to cup her cheek, turning her to look at him with pure worry in his gaze. She jerked her head from his grasp like he’d burned her and his arm dropped back down. She didn't miss the pure anguish in his eyes. She needed to get out of here, she couldn't break down in front of everyone, not in front of Beth.

“How about I give ye that tour we were talkin’ about?” Johnny asked her with a grin but there was something on his face that touched her, soothed her spiralling. He’d never offered her a tour, he was giving her an out and in that moment, she knew Johnny meant his promise from the night before. 

“Sounds good,” she forced a smile and Beth grasped her arm.

“Mummy… could I stay here with daddy?” she asked with a smile and Lottie hated the pain that lanced through her chest. 

It shouldn't hurt her that she wanted to spend time with her dad, she’d only just met him and they had a lot of lost time to make up for. Yet she couldn't help the burning jealousy that hit her out of nowhere. He hadn't been here, it wasn't fair that he got to covet her and she got left in the dust.

“That's fine,” she answered, trying her best to keep herself in check until she left. She stood up quickly, not looking at anyone and not really bothering to think about manners to the other men at the table as she rushed out of the mess hall and outside. 

Johnny was right behind her, hand on her back as he led her to a bench. She crumbled onto it, resting her face in her hands. She didn't want to cry, not again. She was sick of it. She wished she could just pretend it didn't bother her what he did. That she could just be happy he was here, happy he was alive. She couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment though. That the one person who swore he’d never do that to her had done it without care. It hurt so much that she felt she might die.

“It's alright, love,” Johnny murmured sympathetically as he rubbed her back. 

“I just… he’s been here this whole time while I’ve been suffering ,” she lamented, feeling like her sanity was slipping through her fingers. 

“I know… I know, lass. I wish I had the words to make this all better. Ye didn’t deserve to go through all this,” he sighed sadly, his hand still rubbing her back. Silence settled over them for a moment as she fought the deep urge to cry, sitting there staring out at nothing as she wondered how it all came to this.

“Ye wanna blow some shit up?” Johnny asked out of the blue. Her eyes darted to him, wondering if he actually meant what he said and he gave her a roguish grin that told her he did indeed mean it.

“Okay,” she nodded with a sniffle. Johnny’s grin widened, a gleeful laugh leaving his lips as he jumped from the bench, grabbing her hand and yanking her with him. He all but dragged her through the base to get to the demolitions section where training was held. 

Ghost sat stiffly, watching as Charlotte rushed from the mess hall, his best mate in tow like a little puppy at her feet. He couldn’t get that haunted look she had out of his fucking head. She looked so lost, adrift at sea with no anchor to tether her to the world. He’d been that anchor once and now he was the cause of her spiralling. He’d wanted to be her anchor again and his touch had brought her back, but it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. 

Having her pull away from him like that was more painful than the gunshot wound to his collarbone last year. The fleeting contact he’d had with her filled his dead heart up with so much warmth before it was snuffed out like it was never there to begin with and he cursed himself for wearing his fucking gloves. He just wanted to be okay with her again, wanted her to accept his touch, wanted to fall into her arms and have her make everything okay again. 

It wasn't okay though, it hadn't been for a while and this was his doing. He wasn't sure he’d ever be able to fix it and having Johnny be the one glued to her side was like salt in his wounds. He knew it was a good thing, Johnny would try and get her back on his side like the good best mate he was, yet it still stung. Hurt like a bitch when he saw her embracing Johnny while she refused his touch so viciously. How easy she’d fallen into Johnny’s arms, how desperate for comfort she was. It hurt. It really fucking hurt . 

He was brought out of his depressing musings by a tug on his hoodie and he glanced down, remembering the little girl sat next to him. Her brown eyes were blinking up at him carefully, tilting her head like she was sizing him up. She was so beautiful.

“Daddy?” she asked him, her voice soft and sweet, wrapping him up like a warm blanket.

“Yeah, lovie?” he asked quietly. It was like no one else existed in that moment but her. She nibbled her lower lip as she shifted where she sat for a moment, looking deep in thought. 

“Can we do something?” She gave him a hopeful smile and despite looking so much like him, he saw Lottie in that smile and he wasn't sure if that eased the ache in his heart or made it worse. 

“What do you wanna do?” he asked, unsure what four year olds liked to do and even if that was possible on a military base. Her eyes seemed to light up as she flashed him a bright grin.

“I know!” she shuffled off her seat, moving to stand as she grabbed his hand and tugged on it impatiently. He stood, seeming to tower over her and she refused to let go of his hand as she started pulling him along. He couldn't hear Gaz’s witty remark but he heard Price chuckle at them both as he left. 

He allowed her to lead him until they got outside and she kept pulling him until they moved over to the patch of grass that ran along the gates near the car park. She let go of his hand and he watched curiously as she plonked herself down without a care. She looked up at him expectantly and his lips tugged up slightly as he moved to sit on the grass with her. 

“Daisies are really pretty,” she murmured happily as she started picking them. He’d never really noticed them before but now she’d drawn attention to them, he noticed they were scattered all over the grass. 

He had no idea what to say, couldn't remember how to act around kids, it had been far too long. Part of his brain tried to remember how he’d interacted with Joseph but that was far too painful and he shoved it away quickly. He wanted to bond with her but he really had no clue how, so he just watched her. 

She picked a bunch of daisies, her tongue poking out of her mouth a little in pure concentration as she started fiddling with them. He couldn't really tell what she was doing with them but after a few moments, she grinned triumphantly and put a flower crown on her head.

“What do you think, daddy?” she asked him sweetly and he melted into a puddle looking at her. The sun shone down on her and he wondered for a moment if he was dead and she was in fact an angel. 

“Perfect, love,” he murmured, his throat feeling tight and uncomfortable and he had to clear his throat to ease the sensation. 

Her smile widened even more and his chest felt like it was expanding. She picked a bunch more and he was helpless, could do little else but watch this little part of himself as she busied herself with the flowers. He still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around the fact he was a father now. 

He’d been so ready for it back then, when he’d left for the last time. He’d been so excited to get back to Lottie and start a family. He’d been excited to watch the bump grow, to watch Charlotte glow as she carried their baby, looked forward to the scans and all the milestones. Looked forward to holding a tiny bundle of his own, much like he had when Joseph was born. 

He didn't have any of that though and it was all his own fault. He’d missed out on the most precious moments of Beth’s life because he was a coward. He’d never be able to get those moments back, he couldn't undo what he’d done. Knowing all the things he’d missed made him wish he had died back in Mexico. It would be a relief from feeling what he was currently feeling. 

He flinched with a blink when something touched him, rousing him from his thoughts. Beth was standing in front of him now, a cheeky grin on her face as she put a crown of his own on his head over his balaclava. He felt a rush of warmth flowing through him and he really didn't give a toss who saw him wearing it. She’d made him something and he wished he could keep it forever, wished it wouldn’t wilt away. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he smiled softly even though she couldn't see it. It was like she could sense it or maybe she was perceptive for her age and picked up on the scrunching of his eyes because she beamed at him, such a radiant smile he wanted to burn to a crisp from it. 

“You're welcome,” she smiled, kissing his cheek over his mask before she moved away. 

He was overwhelmed, too many thoughts and feelings running rampant in him and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. An explosion across base felt like it shook the floor and Beth jumped up, a worried look on her face that had a protective streak surge through him. He steadied her with his hands and she settled closer to him, plopping into his lap as if she’d done it a million times before.

“What was that?” she asked with big eyes, looking towards where the noise came from.

“It's just the demo practice. Its where they learn about bombs and things,” he explained, hoping to ease her worries. It seemed to work as she relaxed into him more. 

“So, it's not bad?” she asked him, blinking her pretty eyes at him.

“It's not bad. You don't have to worry, lovie, I won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you,” he meant those words wholeheartedly. He’d burn the entire world down with everyone on it to keep her safe. 

Another explosion happened and this time Beth seemed fine, pressed into his chest as she sat on his knee. While he wasn't worried as the noises were coming from the demo area, he was sure there weren't any classes or training today. It wasn't uncommon for Johnny to go and play around a bit, the only one to get away with it as the demolitions expert and being one of the 141. Was Lottie with him? Was it them making all this racket?

His eyes drifted back to Beth then, happily sitting on him with their matching flower crowns. He wanted to know more about her, all the things he’d already know if he’d have been around. 

“You wanna play a game?” he asked her and she grinned up at him.

“What kinda game?” she asked him excitedly. 

“We ask each other questions to find out more about each other,” he suggested and there was a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes. 

“I already know everything about you. Mummy told me,” she beamed, sounding more than proud of herself. He felt like someone just gutted him, sliced him right open and let his insides splat onto the floor. He pushed it away though and tried to ignore it. Of course Lottie told her everything. 

“How about you tell me stuff about you, then?” he asked her hopefully and she clapped her hands excitedly. 

“My full name is Elizabeth Anne Riley,” she started. No, he hadn't been gutted before, he was now though. The pain that ricocheted through him tore through skin, muscle and bone. He bit down on his lower lip hard behind his mask, drawing blood. The sensation grounded him though as he nodded, trying not to look too upset. 

“That's a lovely name,” he muttered, voice strained and choked. Her smile turned softer then, blinking up at him and she leaned into him more.

“It's a special name. Mummy told me I was named after special people,” she murmured. His chest felt so tight that he felt like he couldn't breathe. Without thinking about it, a hand came to stroke her hair and he found the feeling soothing to him, easing that ravaging ache in his chest. 

“I’m four but I’m five in two weeks,” she held her hand out, wiggling her fingers at him to demonstrate her point and he felt his lips tug up a little at her excitement. 

“My favourite colour is…” she trailed off, tilting her head with that thoughtful look on her face again. “Black. I like black ‘cause it's all spooky,” she flashed him a toothy grin and he melted once again. 

“Mummy’s sketty is my favourite meal but I also love when she does eggy bread on my birthday,” she beamed up at him and he swallowed thickly, still stroking her hair as he nodded.

“They’re my favourites too,” he replied hoarsely and she gave him a cheeky look.

“I know,” she giggled and he made him smile. 

Without warning, she hopped off his lap, his hand suddenly cold now it was no longer stroking her hair but she flopped down next to him, laying down and making her crown fall a little onto the grass.

“Lay down,” little one was bossy and he knew he had no choice so he obeyed. He held onto his flower crown as he shuffled around before laying on his back beside her. He moved his hand back to his side even though he was sure the crown had slipped off into the grass anyway,

“Do you like clouds, daddy?” she asked him softly. He turned his head to look at her and she was laying there, staring at the sky. 

“Never really thought about it,” he replied honestly. She turned to look at him then, scrunching her face up with the most judgmental look he’d ever been given.

“Look at the clouds. Sometimes they look like things,” she murmured.

“I’ve seen that sometimes. Once I saw a cloud that looked like a co-... clock,” he muttered, shaking his head as he changed his words. Wouldn’t bode well for him as his first day being a dad coming out with that. 

He still remembered that day though, in the sweltering heat of Al Mazra in the middle of a mission. Wasn’t every day you see a cloud shaped like a fucking dick in the sky and he’d have thought he was hallucinating due to the heat if it wasn’t for Johnny seeing it too. The Scot had said it was the best thing he’d ever witnessed in his entire life. When Soap had got Price to look, the shape had changed and the old man was sure they were off their rockers. 

“Look at that one, it kinda looks like a bird doing this,” she pointed at a big cloud before she started flapping her arms around weirdly and he shook his head fondly before he looked back up at the clouds. He just watched them go by for a moment, enjoying the peace he felt. Something he wasn't sure he’d felt in a long while.

“That one kinda looks like a bum,” he murmured, pointing to a cloud.

“Daddy!” Beth burst out laughing, smacking his arm and he found himself laughing. Actually genuinely laughing and not the half arsed chuckled Johnny would draw out of him with a bad joke. It was an odd feeling to laugh like that, he was sure he hadn't done it since before he’d left for that mission, the one that ruined his life. It made him feel lighter.

“You can’t tell me it doesn't,” he huffed playfully and she laughed again.

“... It does, but you're still silly,” she snorted, making his whole body light up. 

She was so precious and he wasn't sure just how to handle it. He was sad things with Charlotte were so bad and he didn't want to think about how the hell he was supposed to fix that mess, but being able to spend time with Beth and bond with her meant the world to him. He could focus on Beth for now, one thing at a time. He’d build his family back up from the ground, brick by brick. He’d done it before, back with his brother and his mum and he could do it again. It’d be painful and probably take a while but he wouldn't waver, wouldn't give up. Not when he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. He couldn't give that up for anything.