#even though that's how it's often expressed

[sab0dssey]

NewlyDad!Simon who is completely lost in panic and joy. When he first found out you were pregnant, right after he returned from a mission, it hit him like a wave. He was over the moon, but also overwhelmed. Simon had never been a man with many words; he was always terse, practical, and to the point. But this news? It was different. The moment he learned, his entire world shifted. His usually steady hands trembled as he looked at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and awe.

For a moment, he just stared, not knowing what to say, his mind racing. Then, before either of you could react, he pulled you into him—his arms wrapping around you so tightly, it was as if he never wanted to let go. His head buried itself in your neck, as though it was the only place he could find any grounding. It was so quiet between you both, just the sound of his breaths and the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

He stayed like that for what felt like eternity, unwilling to move. You could feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. He knew you could feel the silent sobs, the emotion he didn’t want to let out in front of you, but he also knew you understood. He didn’t want you to see him like this—vulnerable and unsure. Not yet. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to let go, not even for a second.

NewlyDad!Simon never lets you do anything on your own. Never. You’re reaching for the remote, and it’s just a foot away? Don’t bother standing up—he’s already got it. You’re thinking about cooking? Forget it. He won’t let you. He’ll either cook for you himself or order your favorite meal—just so you don’t have to lift a finger.

NewlyDad!Simon is like a clingy little puppy—he just can’t keep his hands to himself. At home, he’s glued to you, constantly cuddling, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket. Outside, his hands always find their way to you—resting on your baby bump, the small of your back, or your waist. He just can’t help it.

Even when you’re relaxing in the tub, basking in the candlelit warmth, Simon refuses to let you have a moment alone. He pulls up a chair beside the tub, work files in hand, pretending to focus—but his hands betray him. One moment, they’re on your bump, the next, tracing lazy circles over your shoulder. He’s not letting go anytime soon. Not now, not ever

NewlyDad!Simon who loves to talk with his baby. His hands, large and gentle, find their way to your growing belly with a tenderness that surprises even him.

Every chance he gets, whether it’s in the quiet moments of the day or just before sleep, his hand rests there, as if the touch itself is a promise. He caresses your belly, his fingers lightly tracing the curve, his palm pressed against you like he’s trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside. It’s almost as though he can feel every tiny movement, even when it’s just a flutter.

He talks to the baby—quiet, low words that are almost a whisper, but they carry so much weight. His voice softens every time he speaks, and it’s a tone you’ve never heard before, one filled with a raw love that only a father could express. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, his fingers rubbing slow circles against your skin, “can’t wait to see you, to hold you in my arms.” His eyes never leave your belly, his expression a mixture of awe and tenderness.

When he thinks you’re not looking, his lips brush against the top of your stomach, a soft kiss meant only for the baby. “I’ll protect you,” he says quietly, the words meant for both of you but carrying an unspoken promise to the child. “Daddy’s gonna make sure you’re safe, always.”

His hand stays there, lingering, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels through the simple act of touching. Sometimes, he talks to the baby about what he hopes for their future—what he dreams they’ll be, but more often, it’s about how much he already loves them. How proud he is.

No matter where you are, he finds the time to remind you both of that, as if the baby can hear every word, every heartbeat, every promise. And each time he touches your belly, he’s not just caressing you—he’s speaking directly to the child, forming a bond that’s already so deep.

NewlyDad!Simon who had never been one for big gatherings or being the center of attention, but tonight, he was doing it—for you, and for the baby.

His teammates had insisted, as had your friends, that you both needed to get out. A little normalcy, they said. A dinner with the people who supported him through everything. But Simon? He was already on high alert the moment you stepped out the door. His hand was constantly on your back, gently guiding you, his eyes scanning the room, always aware of your every movement.

The restaurant was bustling, a little louder than usual, but Simon barely seemed to notice the chatter around him. His attention was split between you and the people he trusted—his team. His arm would sometimes drift to your waist, his fingers brushing against your bump, as if to reassure himself that everything was okay. He didn’t let you stray far, always within arm’s reach, his protective nature wrapped around you like a shield.

At the table, he was engaged, nodding along to conversations, but his focus was never fully on the group. When someone leaned in a little too close, his eyes would flicker to them, silently warning them to keep their distance. When Soap tried to crack a joke about fatherhood, Simon’s lips twitched upward in a brief smile, but the moment the laughter died down, his hand found its way to your stomach, his thumb brushing over it lightly.

He’d occasionally glance over at you, catching your eye, as if asking silently if you were okay, if you needed anything. He knew you could take care of yourself, but tonight? Tonight, he wasn’t letting his guard down for a second.

When dinner came, Simon was the first to help you with your plate, carefully cutting your food or offering you bites from his own. He made sure you were comfortable, always attentive, his eyes never straying too far from you. He wasn’t one to show weakness, but with you? And with the baby? His vulnerability showed in the way he constantly checked in, in the way he’d rather have his hand on your bump than anywhere else.

His teammates had known him as a man of few words, but tonight, they were learning a different side of Simon—one who would move mountains to keep his family safe and happy, even in a simple dinner setting. They could see it in the way he watched over you, in the little touches he gave you when he thought no one was looking. He may have been the strong, silent type to everyone else, but to you and the baby? He was all heart.

As the night wound down, Simon was already thinking about how soon he could get you home, make sure you were settled and safe. He never stopped being the protective husband, never stopped being the father-to-be, and he certainly never stopped being the man who would give up everything to keep you both safe.

[r3starttt]

BEHAVE

PAIRING: Caitlyn Kiramman x reader

SUMMARY: Part two of being her controversial young girlfriend but she's even meaner about it.

CW: spanking, finger sucking, lots of degradation, oral, slapping, degradation, mean caitlyn, degradation, grinder-strap-on-vibrating toy I don't know the name, degradation, spitting, degradation, and more stuff.

TAGLIST: @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @patronagrona @halle5s @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @v1ntagecl0wn

"Listen to me." Her voice cuts through the silence. Fury simmers beneath her calm facade, laced with a mocking pity that stung more than outright anger. Her fingers press into the soft flesh of your arm as she drags you into her office, the force of her grip reminding you of her control.

The room itself feels oppressive, with the heavy oak desk and a high-backed chair now threatening to choke you, cage you between their dark tones and Caitlyn.

"You knew the rules before you agreed to this," she began, each syllable enunciated with a deliberate bark that made your stomach twist. Her words carried disappointment, her tone authority. "You knew the expectations and the consequences. And yet,"—her voice dropped, softer but far more menacing—"you chose to disregard them, to act out in a manner that I can only describe as... reckless."

Her eyebrows furrowed, mirroring your own expression, though hers were sharp and accusatory while yours threatened to buckle under the weight of shame.

"Didn't you beg me," she pressed on, her words striking you like physical blows, "to treat you like all the women you claim I've fucked? To take you seriously, to treat you your age and bring you into my world more often?" Her voice rose slightly, the edge of incredulity slicing through the room. Each word felt like a slap, the kind that didn’t just sting but lingered with burn

with humiliation.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you tried to steady the emotions roiling inside you. Your lips pressed into a tight line, but the defiance flickering in your eyes was betrayed by the quiver in your brow, the faint tremble in your bottom lip. Tears threatened to spill, but you swallowed them down, choking on the knot that had formed in your throat.

You were angry—at her, at the situation, at the unfairness of it all. You hadn’t done anything wrong, not in your eyes. All you had done was love her, follow her, give her every part of yourself. But now, that love felt insignificant, dismissed as though it were nothing more than a fleeting infatuation in her eyes.

"You want me to take you seriously?" The words left her lips with a deliberate sharpness. Her tone was cold, biting.

"Then act your age." Her voice hardened. "You’ve made it painfully clear that you don’t understand the gravity of what’s expected of you. Do you even realize what I’ve had to endure? The comments about how out of place you are—too young, too inexperienced?" Her fingers wrapped around your arm again as she dragged you toward the imposing oak desk that seemed to dominate the room. "You're putting me through shame after shame," she spat, her grip releasing only when she had forced you down into her chair. The leather creaked beneath your weight, the unfamiliar sensation making you feel even more out of place, as though you were trespassing in a space meant only for her.

"It was a mistake trusting you." Her gaze was unrelenting, her piercing blue eyes fixed on yours, and you couldn’t shake the shame that burned beneath your skin. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and worst of all, humiliated—not just by her words but by the quiet knowledge that her staff, the people who worked tirelessly in this house, could hear everything. They were witnessing your humiliation through walls that were never thick enough to hold Caitlyn's sharp words at bay.

You sat there, frozen, as she straightened and turned her back to you, crossing her arms in a gesture that only amplified her disapproval. "Didn’t you promise me you’d behave?" she asked, the question rhetorical and searing with its accusation. "I know what’s best for you," she continued, "yet you insist on thinking you know better than me." She scoffed softly, shaking her head.

When she stopped in front of you, she lowered herself to her knees, a gesture that should have been tender but was instead filled with tension. “You don't,” her face was inches from yours, but instinctively, your eyes dropped, guided down by an unspoken need to escape her gaze.

Even then, her presence was overwhelming, commanding your attention despite your futile attempts to avoid it. She straightened her posture. "I can’t keep doing this," inhaling sharply as her eyes flickered between yours and the floor, searching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to find, she finally stated, "I won’t." The two words hung in the air, suspended between the two of you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think—" you began, your voice trembling under the weight of her gaze, but your words faltered as Caitlyn interrupted. It felt more like a command than a rebuke. Her posture was rigid, and the way her fingers flexed at her sides spoke for her.

"I don't want your apologies. I want your obedience." Her tone dropped to a low murmur, the kind that rooted you in place. "You didn’t think," she continued. "That’s the problem. I’ve told you before—I require you to think."

Before you could respond, her fingers reached for your chin, firm but not cruel, her grip tilting your head upward to meet her gaze. Her touch was deliberate, a physical reminder of her dominance, as her piercing blue eyes bore into yours with a force that made it impossible to look away. "Instead," she said, her voice softening but losing none of its edge, "you act on impulse. Without a thought for the consequences. Without a thought for me."

Her grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to send a clear message, one that prickled at your pride and stung at your heart. It was a warning, a silent declaration of her authority, and you felt yourself shrinking under it, guilt pooling in your stomach.

"I’ve tried to make allowances," she went on, her voice quieter now, as though the effort of restraining her anger was beginning to weigh on her. "To excuse the—" she paused, her jaw tightening as she searched for a word less damaging than the one on the tip of her tongue—"stupidities you keep committing. But your disregard for my judgment, your refusal to listen... It sabotages everything I’m trying to build."

Her words were like a blade, carving through the fragile bond you had tried so hard to maintain.

"You’re reckless, Immature. You refuse to see the consequences of your actions, and I won’t be associated with someone who acts this way."

Her final sentence came softer, almost like a confession, and for the briefest of moments, you saw something flicker in her eyes—vulnerability, regret, or maybe even sorrow. But it was fleeting, quickly masked by the steely resolve that had come to define her.

"I’ve had enough."

She straightened, her presence towering over you. "I thought I could rely on you. But instead, you’ve made me doubt myself. You’ve made me look weak."

You opened your mouth, desperate to explain, to tell her that you hadn’t meant to hurt her, that everything you’d done was out of love, not defiance. But before the words could form, Caitlyn silenced you.

"I don’t want to hear your thoughts on the matter."

"You’ve already shown me that your actions speak louder than your words."

Her gaze lingered on you. And for the first time, you realized that no apology, no explanation, could undo the damage you had done. If you were even guilty of anything.

"Stand up." She commands, and you don't hesitate in doing so. Your place on the chair seems replaced by her, in the meanwhile, her hands wrap around your waist, handling you in front of her. "Take them off." You're almost breathless at what she's asking you to do– "Now." Her tone is deep, it bewitches you and you move to do what she's asking for.

The cold air hits your skin, almost making you hiccup. The clothes she once chose for you adorn the bare of your body, matching its tone– because Caitlyn always knows better than you.

How you present yourself, how others perceive you, it's all a live image of what she's capable of. That's why you need to be good, look good, do good— for her.

"All of them." You frown, a doubt in your eyes as to why. You didn't expect soft, nice sex from her, not now. But her urgency yet apathy on her tone makes it all harder to understand.

"Do I have to talk to you like this so you can understand?" Her look shows no mercy on you, tone vindictive as a vice, like the coo, slow and sweet in tone yet venomous in its true nature. "Mhm? Do you want me to treat you like this, then?" Her words come out quick in the same daring low tone. She's pissed.

"Turn around." You don't hesitate under her command. Your ass on full display for her to take. The sound of her clothes and her sudden approach has you freezing. She's no longer on the chair but behind you, holding you in place.

The cold of her skin touches your hips first, going down the sides of your thighs until she comes back to your ass. Her chin rests on your shoulder, almost biting. "You forgot," her tone pauses just enough to spank at your ass, "every touch, every sensation, belongs to me. You belong to me."

Just when the burning was fading, she held your ass again, nails almost digging into the soft flesh until she spanked you again. "Your pleasure, your pain, your obedience - all of it is mine to control."

Your eyes shot close at the burning sensation, it wasn't painful but pleasant and it felt humiliating. Her cold grip moved up, cupping at your breasts to play with your hardened nipples as if mocking you. There was no need for you to speak, Caitlyn knew you, sometimes a bit too much.

"Open." She held the anger in her voice, her nails brushing your lips before she slid her fingers inside your mouth. She didn't move, forcing you to do all the work– you would for the next hours until she could look at you and decide it's enough.

In the meantime, you're almost gagging at how deep she's making you take her fingers. Her free hand comes behind your ass, cupping at your already wet pussy to brush her middle finger against your clit. "You're wet already. Aren't you ashamed of it?" You can see her from the corner of your eyes. Frown on her face, lips open to let her teeth gap show, a shadow on her face due the absence of light in the room and the small hairs falling around her face. She leaned closer to you, her fingers slipping out of your mouth just to spread your drool all over your chin. "You're like every other girl I've fucked."

Her other hand slapped at your pussy before you could even react, forcing both your eyes and mouth closed before her weight behind you faded a little. She repeated the motion a few times, rubbing small circles against your clit just to stop and slap it.

You were left there for a few seconds, eyes closed until the sound of her drawers opening caught your attention.

"Turn around." Just like you've been doing, you obeyed, looking down into her lap. Black straps hugging her thigh, matching the dark blue grinder. "You always do whatever you please and now you're waiting for me to tell you what to do?" She almost scoffed as you did nothing but look. It didn't take you longer than that to sit on her thigh, your hands coming to wrap around her shoulders until she stopped you from doing so. "Use the desk."

If this weren't the circumstances you would cry at the thought of Caitlyn being grossed out by your touch.

Once you were settled, your hips started to guide your body, humping against her thigh. You got easily caught up until her nails dug into your chin and you met her eyes again. "Slow."

As much as you wanted to ignore her, you didn't, slowing your pace and allowing Caitlyn to guide you with just her words and her eyes.

Each move you made came along the wet that made you feel exposed beneath her. For once you truly thought, under her eyes nor you or any woman could ever be more than a toy for when she's stressed or bored of spending her money on the solitude of herself.

"Please." You tried one last time, but the quiet of your tone was ignored. Her reply was to lean back on her chair and look at you in nothing but silence.

You kept on rocking your hips against her thigh, labored breaths brushing through your lips as you grew desperate. "Just- fuck, Caitlyn. Let me go faster." Your nipples hardened, shining under the little light of the room. The shadows and silence between you two felt suffocating.

Yet, just as you were about to beg again, a small click was heard, followed by the buzzing and vibrating between your legs. With the position you were in, your clit was receiving most of them and for a second it had you thinking maybe this was her silent apology, a reply to all the pleas you've let out.

But Caitlyn maybe is incapable of loving anyone but herself.

She leaned forward again, holding your hips in place as the vibrations stopped. "If you want to cum you're gonna do it yourself."

At this point you didn't care, you were not fighting against her. She wanted you to cum too, she wanted to know— feel like she had control of your body. Caitlyn loved watching you crumble and even if she denied you an orgasm the whole night, she would eventually grow bored of it if not desperate and you would get at least one.

So, you ignored her tone, her grip, her everything and focused on nothing but doing exactly what she said. Making yourself cum.

And truly you got close, humping and whining and grinding as hard and allowed with each few seconds of vibration she let you have. But just as you were about to do so, she practically pushed your body off her thigh. "Get on your knees, you know what to do. Don't you?"

You squeezed your thighs together, glancing at how wet her leg was, you could feel it too, the sticky between your legs as if you were dripping— you were.

Then, you obeyed. The cold texture of the floor digging into your knees while she got rid of any barrier between your mouth and her pussy.

She held your hair, guiding your head like she wished. Just as you noticed her figure growing closer to yours, you tilted your head back, looking up at her with an open mouth. And in a matter of seconds the spit was already in your mouth, you wanted more and if she wasn't being so mean, maybe you would've asked for more. "Good girl... see? not hard to fucking obey." Her hand came close to your lips, brushing over them until she slapped at you. The burning rests on your skin seconds after. "You want more?" Her tone was as dark laced as the whole night, but you didn't lose anything on asking for that softness you once got from here. So, you nodded, sticking your tongue out for her to spit on it again. And she did.

Maybe this would be the nicest she could get today.

Her grip on your hair tightened, slapping at your face once again. "Look at me, or we stop."

The second the words came out you were already doing so, meeting her pupils while shamelessly sticking out your tongue and lapping at the wet folds in front of you. You whined, savoring her whole, pressing your nose purposefully against her clit while taking all of her.

You wouldn’t stop until she came, and maybe then she would let you have what you wanted.

At least one last time.

[baeshijima]

okay so i have kind of but not really met anaxa in game but !!

anaxa x sunshine reader.

like... renown infamous genius scholar anaxagoras who doesn’t take anything from anyone is almost akin to a cat when with you, putting on an adamant front only to crumble and — begrudgingly, he tries to stress, though he really isn't fooling anyone, much less himself — ultimately give in to your whims; answering your mundane questions, listening and providing his own quips (sometimes sincere, often snappy) here and there to your endless rambles, trailing behind you hot on your heels only to eventually catch up to your side as you wander off to who knows where, yammering on about who knows what.

(you're planning to visit okhema, is what he gathered from your animated retelling of some bakery you'd heard from word-of-mouth which was supposed to be good. hah! why would you waste your time on such trivialities when you could be graced with the honour of his tutelage on the topic of free speech and— curses, how did you get so far ahead?)

in spite of his… less than successful attempts to thwart these pesky thoughts and feelings from festering within, anaxagoras long since knew the irreversible truth brought by your appearance in his life — from the very first moment you bumped into him amid your haste, stray papers sent flying as the large leather-bound books thudded against the library floor. the less-than-flattering slew of words initally locked and loaded, ready to be spewed, oddly dissipated on the tip of his tongue the second he saw your frantic expression, hasty movements in re-gathering the strewn papers, and clumsy set of apologies spilling from your lips. it was almost trance-like, the manner in which he kneeled as he began to collect the flyaway papers surrounding him.

after returning them to you with a kindly, “who runs in a narrow hallway? watch where you’re going next time, you may not be so fortunate with the next collision,” anaxa naively thought that would be the end of that. he did not foresee running into you more frequently from thereafter, feeling strangely moved as a foreign warmth settled within every time you never failed to greet him with a beaming grin, eventually accompanied by the, dare he speculate after months upon months of pouring over and overanalysing your interactions, affectionate tone when calling his name. having been subject to the numerous days— weeks, even — spent listening to your attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, anaxa really should be immune to the effects. unfortunately for him, he could not be any further from the truth.

(anaxa chooses to ignore how he purposely nitpicked your pronunciation, extending the time spent teaching you how to do so just to hear you say his name a little more. not his proudest moment, but he finds it worth all the extra effort when you greet him as such, his name seamlessly rolling off your tongue coupled with your starry eyes and rapturing cadence as you ramble om about whatever caught your interest that day.)

perhaps he should have expected this outcome. after all, for someone who enjoys his solitude, anaxa has caught himself seeking you out on more occasions than deemed appropriate for mere acquaintances. no, not even friends would be this forefront. it was a predetermined outcome, anaxa deduces, the way in which your presence endlesslh draws him in like a shadow to a light— a moth to a flame.

if only to see your blinding smile directed towards and caused by him, anaxa supposes he wouldn't mind your nonsensical chatter replacing the usual white noise droning on in the background. for how long? well, for as long as he continues to breathe seems sufficient enough.

(you ought to stop entertaining some of those foolish scholars, however. they really are not worth wasting a second more than necessary on when he himself has far more knowledge and wit they do combined.)

[amoressb]

───── H.S.K.T. 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ doing a cute dance trend with your ‘too cool’ bf ｡｡ ʙꜰ!ʀɪᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ.

FLUFF & wc. 1100 + ; kissing, skinship, petnames ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

you and riki were just laying down in your bed watching videos. riki had his hands wrapped around your waist, head on your shoulders watching with you since you were both watching on your phone.

after scrolling for a little while, a couple or friends appeared doing the H.S.K.T. trend and you immediately turned to riki grinning like crazy. he looked at you, his smile faltering, “don’t look at me, i am not doing that.”

“aw cmon riki pleaseee” you sulk. “nooo” he buries his head on you back pulling you closer. you don’t see or feel it but theres a smile growing on his face. you separate his hands and get off the bed getting changed. “yesss and were doing it outside so bundle up. oh AND you’re wearing pink so we can match!” you smile at him. “im not doing that cutesy trend and ESPECIALLY not wearing pink.”

“i cannot believe im doing this” riki sighs looking up after you both finish getting the simple moves down. here he was outside, in pink, waiting for you to finish setting up your phone. “okay you ready?” you turn around to him smiling. he let’s out a breathy yes but with a slight smile as he couldn’t help it when you’re being so cute.

you click start and the countdown starts as you both get into position. riki still had his ‘annoyed’ expression in the beginning but it immediately faded away as you two continued to do the dance.

it started off with you pointing at him first , barely reaching the top of his head and then him doing it to you and ended it off with you jumping onto him giving him a bear hug smiling big, riki immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and looking away while placing his head on yours smiling.

“let’s see how it came out!” you excitedly go to grab your phone and grab rikis hand to come and sit next to you.

looking over the video you notice rikis gaze stayed on you the whole time no matter what, as well as how almost immediately, he started smiling, but still trying to keep up that cool guy facade. you roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at him. you started getting flustered at all the attention he gave you.

from rikis point of view, although from the outside he sometimes looks disinterested, he really couldnt have loved these moments more. every time he looked at you, it felt like the world around you two faded away.

he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders, how your eyes sparkled when you laughed, or the subtle curve of your lips when you smiled. it wasn’t just your beauty, though—it was the way you made everything seem more alive, more vibrant.

his gaze often lingered, even when he didn’t mean to, as if he were trying to memorize every little detail, afraid that the moment would slip away too quickly. you were the kind of girl who could steal his attention effortlessly, and he didn’t mind at all—he was utterly captivated by your presence.

as you two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the video, the world outside felt distant and unimportant. his arms were wrapped around you, pulling you close as you leaned into him, your head resting gently against his shoulder. he could feel the warmth of your body, the soft rise and fall of your breath, and the faint scent of your hair, all of it grounding him in the moment.

every time you laughed or pointed something out on the screen, his grip tightened just a little, as if holding you a bit closer, cherishing the simple quiet moments you two shared. the video played on, but he wasnt paying much attention to it—he was lost in the feeling of having you there with him, in the ease of your shared space, where everything felt right.

you grinned playfully, raising an eyebrow as you nudged riki with your elbow. “you know,” you teased, “i think you secretly love doing all these cute little things with me.” riki shot you a look of mock disbelief, but you werent buying it.

“oh, come on, dont act like you didn’t enjoy matching in pink with me, or filming these couple trends, or—” you paused, looking at him mischievously, “—how you never complain when we go to that ridiculous little cafe for the third time this week.” he laughed, shaking his head, but you could see the corners of his lips twitching upwards, the slight blush creeping up his neck.

“admit it,” you pressed, your voice softening, he rolled his eyes, trying to act exasperated, but his soft chuckle gave him away. “im just being nice,” he muttered, though his warmth and the way he subtly leaned into you said everything. “yeah, sure,” you laughed, nudging him again.

“youre so ‘nice’—thats why you keep asking if i want to do something cute every weekend.” riki rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his expression that gave him away. “okay maybe i do enjoy it,” he muttered, his smile betraying him, “but only because it’s with you.”

“ahhh you love me so bad.” you tease him poking at his chest smiling. you were laughing, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you teased him once again. “you’re not as mysterious—” but before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, cutting you off with a soft, unexpected kiss.

the playful edge in your voice faltered as you felt his lips against yours, warm and tender, shutting down your teasing in the sweetest way possible.

for a moment, everything else faded as you both just breathed, your hands instinctively resting against his chest. when you two pulled away, he smiled, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “okay, enough teasing for now,” he whispered, his voice low and amused.

you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you realized that his kiss was the perfect answer to your playful jabs. “and of course i love you soooo bad princess, how couldn’t i,” he smiles, lips hovering over each other.

riki would do anything for you, no matter how silly or cheesy it might seem. if it made you smile, it was worth it. riki would dance with you in the middle of your living room just because you wanted to, and even let you drag him to yet another cute cafe for “just one more” dessert.

to him, it wasnt about the act itself—it was about the joy of seeing you happy. your laughter, your little excited expressions, your way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary—he would do it all again without a second thought, because to him, making you feel loved was the best thing he could ever do. even if it meant getting rid of his ‘cool look’ for your cute antics.

ooh he’s so whipped for you.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20

[aventurineswife]

Hello! Can I request Jiaoqiu and Dan Heng x reader (separately) getting a tuskpir to help them sleep? And the reader starts to get a bit jealous because they cuddle the tuskpir when they fall asleep instead of them (the reader knows that it's silly and tries to hide it, but it's pretty evident)?

Please and thank you!

Whispers of the Tuskpir

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Emotional Comfort, Jealousy, Vulnerability, Unspoken Feelings, Inner Turmoil, Soft Moments, Quiet Intimacy

Warnings: Mild jealousy, emotional conflict, vulnerability, implied romantic tension.

It had been a long day, and the battlefield’s weight seemed to linger on the mind. Jiaoqiu’s gentle hands worked meticulously, preparing the Tuskpir, its soft ears and soothing aura creating an unusual sense of comfort as you lay beside him. He’d already wrapped himself in the warmth of the creature’s presence, holding it close as he rested against the creature. The Tuskpir’s presence was both calming and healing—its special ability to absorb anxiety and soothe nerves made it a perfect companion for anyone struggling with the chaos of the world.

You had noticed how Jiaoqiu, despite his internal turmoil, found peace in the creature’s embrace. Its elongated proboscis brushed gently against his skin, its presence offering a brief respite from the pain and heartbreak he so often carried. He exhaled softly, a serene smile on his face, as if for once, his heart could find the peace it longed for.

Yet, as you sat beside him, a faint sense of jealousy crept into your chest. You couldn’t help but notice how Jiaoqiu, even with his eyes closed, seemed so at ease, his fingers caressing the Tuskpir’s ears like it was a trusted friend, a companion he could rely on. Your own heart twisted slightly, a strange mix of affection and insecurity rising in you.

"Is the Tuskpir helping?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of unease.

Jiaoqiu smiled softly, his eyes hidden behind the weight of his memories and the long days that had passed. "Yes, its presence is calming. It brings peace… even when the mind is restless." He turned his face towards you, though his eyes remained closed. "It’s strange. I never thought something so small could provide such comfort."

You let out a small sigh, trying to hide the jealousy bubbling in your chest. "It’s good you’ve found something that brings you peace."

A brief pause settled between you two, and you could feel Jiaoqiu’s awareness of your emotions—his perceptiveness was uncanny. "Would you like to join me?" he asked, his voice gentle. "The Tuskpir can soothe more than just my heart, you know."

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but the warmth in his tone reached deep inside you. Still, the feeling of the creature cuddling close to Jiaoqiu’s chest lingered uncomfortably in your mind.

It wasn’t until you finally let go of your thoughts and settled beside him, allowing the Tuskpir’s gentle warmth to envelop you too, that the discomfort started to fade. Jiaoqiu’s fingers brushed against your hand in a reassuring touch. Maybe you weren’t the one who needed the creature’s comfort.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed him to guide you through the storm in your own heart.

The day had been long, filled with the quiet hum of the Astral Express traveling through the vast expanse of the stars. Dan Heng had found his usual refuge in solitude, but tonight something was different. He hadn’t looked tired, but the tension in his shoulders suggested he was far from peaceful. That’s when you suggested the Tuskpir, a small creature known to ease troubled minds, especially when the burdens of the heart seemed too heavy to carry.

Dan Heng, ever so reserved, gave a small nod in response, accepting your offer with quiet gratitude. The Tuskpir, soft and warm, curled up next to him as you both settled by a corner, its shell glimmering under the soft light. The soothing hum of the Tuskpir’s presence filled the air, and Dan Heng, though reluctant at first, allowed himself to relax. The creature nestled closer, its body warm and inviting.

You watched the scene with a strange feeling. The Tuskpir, its long proboscis brushing against Dan Heng’s arm as he leaned back against the wall, seemed to be a silent comfort in his otherwise solitary life. It was clear he’d never openly admit it, but the way his tense posture softened in the creature's embrace suggested a deep, unspoken gratitude.

But the longer you watched, the more something shifted inside you. A subtle sense of jealousy began to take root. You had never seen him so… open. The Tuskpir had his full attention now, and you couldn't help but feel a small pang of discomfort, watching how Dan Heng seemed so at peace with the creature. You didn’t know why, but a feeling of possessiveness crept in.

"Dan Heng…" you began, your voice a little quieter than usual.

He turned his head slightly toward you, sensing your unease even before you spoke. His eyes, though distant, had a quiet understanding. "It helps ease my mind," he said softly, his voice a little more vulnerable than you were used to hearing.

You tried to mask the feeling in your chest, though you were sure your expression betrayed it. "I can see that."

A small silence settled between you two. You noticed how Dan Heng’s fingers absently brushed against the Tuskpir's ear, his usual restraint almost forgotten. The jealousy, though faint, lingered within you.

"Do you want to join us?" Dan Heng finally asked, his voice as calm as ever, but there was a subtle warmth beneath the surface. "The Tuskpir is known to help both the body and mind."

Your heart fluttered slightly at his offer, the tension you’d been holding onto beginning to ease. Maybe it wasn’t the Tuskpir you felt jealous of, but the softness in Dan Heng that you had longed to see. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could share this peace with him.

As you moved closer to him, the Tuskpir nestled between you both, its warmth enveloping you in its gentle embrace. The quiet stillness of the moment felt different now, a bond growing between the two of you—silent, unspoken, but deeply felt. You knew that, in the end, it wasn’t the Tuskpir that had made Dan Heng smile softly to himself. It was the quiet understanding and the trust that had formed between you both in the calm of the stars.

[moonmunson]

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him. 

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested -  worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding. 

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood. 

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times. 

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones -  sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally. 

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. 

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn���t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well. 

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless. 

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty. 

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space. 

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved. 

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve. 

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically. 

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker. 

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you. 

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed. 

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move. 

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside. 

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t. 

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!” 

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown. 

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it. 

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it. 

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you. 

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car. 

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad. 

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go. 

You’re in it now, for better or for worse. 

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence. 

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.” 

You don’t want to lie. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.” 

-

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to. 

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind. 

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him. 

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms. 

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-” 

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat. 

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses. 

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him. 

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.” 

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip. 

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?” 

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference. 

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.” 

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby. 

You look at him, trying to decide where to start. 

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why. 

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.” 

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did. 

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” 

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things. 

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework. 

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

[himluv]

Something I've Not Seen (the real thing)

This little oneshot came about thanks to the Writing Challenge Weekend hosted by @thedissonantverses ! I did find inspiration in a song lyric of my choosing (the title is pulled from "Echo" by Incubus – I highly recommend the rerecorded version off the Morning View XXIII album!)

This piece takes place post-Veilguard.

Enjoy!

Illario sat on the terrace of his room in the east wing of Villa Dellamorte. It was late, or, perhaps early, depending on one’s perspective, and he was attempting to enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning quiet. 

Attempting, because the staff had used his request for coffee as an opportunity to remind him just which Dellamorte they preferred. As if he could ever forget. Lucanis had always favored the staff and so he’d always been spoiled by them. 

But, even watered-down, lifeless coffee on his terrace was better than the bitter and over-roasted cups he’d made himself for the past few months he’d been sequestered in the northern side of the villa. His help with clearing out the lingering Venatori in Treviso, as well as at the final fight in Minrathous had finally earned him a little trust. Not much, but enough. 

Even as a pariah, it was good to be back in his room. To have a quiet moment to himself without Viago’s permanent scowl directed at him. 

It truly was peaceful. The terrace looked out onto a small courtyard surrounded by blooming bushes of crystal grace and lemon trees, birds trilling their morning songs as they flitted among the branches.

Once, long ago, it had been his aunt’s private courtyard, and she’d often spent her mornings reading in the sun. When they were very young, Illario and Lucanis had made a game of trying to sneak up on her through the gardens, but Ana Sofía always caught them. She’d set her book down and Lucanis would freeze while Illario shrieked with laughter and bolted for the bushes. She would chase them, though now Illario suspected she never put much effort into her hunt. 

A woman’s laughter drifted up from the courtyard, startling him. It wasn’t sharp or snide, but soft and sweet. How long had it been since Villa Dellamorte had heard such a sound?

He peered over the railing to see bright auburn hair – a shock of autumn in the summer sun. Rook. She and Lucanis stepped into the courtyard from the narrow garden path, their shoulders pressed close together and their hands clasped. Rook wore her usual, bright leathers, so insistently out of place among all these Crows, while Lucanis wore his usual soft purple shirt, waistcoat, and slacks. 

It was the same outfit Illario had helped him piece together almost a decade ago, he just occasionally added pieces in slightly different colors. 

Illario watched as his cousin leaned in close to say something to Rook and she laughed again. He had to admit, she had a very attractive laugh, full-throated and bright. Rook was attractive, he supposed, in a way Illario would never have noticed if she weren’t around so much. She was… dynamic. Vibrant in a way unlike anything else in Villa Dellamorte. 

Lucanis smiled at her as they approached the small table at the center of the courtyard. No, not a smile. A grin. A salacious grin, even. Illario had never seen such an expression on his cousin’s face before. He had long suspected it wasn’t possible. That his cousin lacked any of the baser desires which so often consumed Illario. 

It was the only thing about Lucanis of which he hadn’t been jealous. Sensuality, desire, sexual prowess – these were things Illario had and Lucanis did not. But, looking down at his cousin now, with his paramour, it was clear Lucanis had found something with Rook. Or, perhaps she had unlocked something in him. 

He watched, stunned, as Lucanis pulled her close and kissed her. And not a romantic, chaste kiss, either. It was a hungry thing with tongues and teeth and clinging hands. He watched, more than a little proud of his cousin, until they broke apart and pressed their foreheads together, sharing breath and staring into one another’s eyes. 

That was what made Illario look away. Such adoration, the blatant intimacy. The tenderness. It was too much. It felt almost dirty to watch them like that, when they obviously believed they were alone. 

In all the beds he’d shared, all the pleasure he’d known – both given and received – Illario had never had that. He had never looked upon a lover and seen their heart brimming in their eyes. Had never felt half the devotion he’d just seen on his cousin’s usually stoic face. 

Whatever Lucanis and Rook had found together, Illario knew now that it was the real thing. His cousin had finally found what they had both always desperately needed. 

Lucanis Dellamorte was in love. 

And, perhaps even more surprising, Illario wasn’t jealous. After all he’d put his cousin through, Illario was just happy Lucanis had something good, at last. Something wholly his. 

And, who knew? Perhaps Illario would prove lucky, for once. Perhaps Rook had a cousin!

[pickleslikesducks]

excerpt from my first published fic

again, really just trying to get my content out there😅

this fic did SO well on ao3, like wayyy better than I ever could have imagined. I'm honestly really proud of it haha

Damian’s POV    "It has been a while since I last saw you. Older Kent said your birthday has passed. You are... fourteen now?"    Jon tilted his head slightly. It vaguely reminded Damian of Titus when he was a puppy. "Uh. Yeah. I am." Damian suddenly remembered that birthdays were somewhat of an important event in people’s lives. He often forgot, considering he rarely even remembered his own birthday, and he never had celebrations as a child.    "How... was your birthday? Did you, ah, get good gifts?" That’s a normal thing to ask, right? Father said Damian was improving in his social skills, but he still got weird looks sometimes at his formal grammar and inadvertently rude behavior.    Jon smiled. That was good. "Yeah, I did!" Jon talked about all the presents he got, and the two of them chatted for hours longer than either intended.    Damian felt oddly content sitting next to Jon. He had a small sense of… admiration? attraction? for Jon. He had described this feeling to Drake once, and Tim had theorized that, since Damian was callous-unemotional, the contentment and the sense of feeling drawn to Jon was probably his body’s way of expressing romantic attraction. Damian was thankful it was dark; he could feel his face heat up slightly at the thought of having romantic feelings towards Jon. He mentally shook his head and decided to just sit and enjoy the quiet peace. 

A/N --- For reference, since Damian typically calls everyone by their last names, Jon is "Kent", Konner is "Older Kent", and Clark is "Old Kent". Ma and Pa have bribed Damian with farm animals and convinced him to call them Ma and Pa (Though he typically calls them "Ma Kent" and "Pa Kent". He's too formal for this world). Super random, but I decided to make Damian slightly callous-unemotional (often called child psychopathy). It's really mild for him, bc I didn't want to make him an actual psychopath, but it still mutes his emotions. He doesn't really feel joy, more like contentment, and he doesn't feel pain really, he just knows when he should* feel pain and plays it off as though he is hurt. He gets frustrated sometimes, but never actually that angry. He was just raised to be a violent kid, so he often lashes out bc of that mentality growing up, but he's not actually an angry person.

[futuristicanoe]

near-life experiences

it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea

MALE reader. sub al <3 feelings ; sex ; issues ; tears [ implied unhealthy lifestyles + alcohol is mentioned ]

Going to a party with Alex usually meant standing by his side and observing other people, since you were not much of a party animal. Neither was he, yet he would still find a way to vanish into thin air suddenly if you forgot to keep him close. Uncomfortably close.

This was one of those rare occasions when you two hadn't arrived at the party together, and your first time seeing him after a couple of months of separation was not planned, or even expected. You spent the entire night studying him from afar.

You noticed how he wasn't drinking a lot. Perhaps because he planned on having something worse than a glass of tequila the next day, so he was balancing it out, but you felt warmth spreading through your chest as one of his – friends? – called out your name, and you saw heat creeping into Alex's face when someone joked about you ogling him from across the room.

"Just making sure he isn't getting into any trouble, that's all," you joked back dryly, since that's what you were supposed to do, for some reason. And because you had missed seeing Alex's face break into a smile.

You loved how his eyes would crinkle when he smiled or moved his mouth around a guttural phrase in one of his songs, and it hit you later on, when he stared up at you, eyes half-lidded and brimming with tears as your fingers held his tongue down, only then did the word come to you.

Pretty.

Not that you had never thought of him as a good-looking man before, far from it, but as he knelt at your feet, pushed his flushed face up against your calf, silently begging you to tug on his greasy hair, you realised just how precious moments like this were, and how often you'd find yourself nostalgic because of them.

His deep, growly voice reduced to soft whimpers, pathetic little huffs as you scraped your blunt nails down his hips. Slick and filthy, all over from hair pomade, sweat, the sloppy kisses you pressed just below his ribs and into his inner thighs. His stomach, supple and thick right where the hem of his boxers peeked out of his jeans.

He was divine. Simple as that.

Pretty, pretty.

Now, where did that word come from?

In the middle of that tasteless party, a girl had come up next to you, leaning against your shoulder and smiling as she followed the line of your nearly unfocused gaze.

"Your friend's really pretty," she said, pointing her nose up at Alex, who seemed lost in an awkward conversation with someone you couldn't even recognise.

Feeling her fingers softly curling in the hem of your jacket sleeve, seeing she had an unlit cigarette balanced perfectly between her lips – already stained cherry pink with her lipstick. It came naturally to ignore the strange feeling her small comment had given you. You simply pulled a Zippo out of your pocket.

But it never left your mind. When you and Alex left the party, somehow still together and respectively sober — you brought it up. Curious.

"Some girl at the party said you're pretty."

He put on his signature grin, a makeshift form of mischief gleaming in his eyes like a promise. "You sound surprised."

You scoffed. "I don't think she recognised you, Al."

His expression flickered back to an unreadable one. "What'd you say to her?"

"Not much, till she asked something else, and then I just said you weren't looking for anything. She was nice about it, though. Nice overall."

Alex regretted being sober. "Lying to strangers 'cause of me, I see."

"There was nothing else to do," you said, before laughing to hopefully ease up the tension. "You've got some boring friends, mate. I don't know why I keep... going back."

Alex hummed, slowing his steps. His gaze travelled around the sky, and the moon reflected in his eyes was almost there — burrowing beneath his eyelashes, hiding. Then he smiled again, like that yellowish little circle hanging high and dry above you two actually gave him an idea.

"What'd you want to say, then?"

"What?" You slowed your steps, too.

"If you hadn't been one of my boring friends, what would you've said to her?"

That was it. Time stopped, replacing the future with something plunged right out of your late-night mirages.

The second you got in Alex's bedroom, nothing seemed to matter. Time bent and coiled like reed stems in your hands. He found himself perched on your lap and pushing you back, too proud for his own good, so you nudged him playfully until he toppled over. Falling from your lap, where he had been hoping to keep circling his hips. He stifled a complaint when he realised he had hit his forehead against something solid, – your elbow? – and you scrambled to grab a hold of his waist.

"Baby?"

You tucked his mussy hair behind his ears. Smiling at the sideburns. His eyes fluttered open. Wide, hungry, unforgiving. Stubborn tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Something tightened deep inside your stomach at the sight. The rawness of it irresistible and nearly suffocating. And not even then did that word come to you, since all you had the chance to do was to stare at his pouty face a moment longer before he lunged at you.

His futile attempts at pretending to be angry with you died down soon enough because you weren't playing along. No, you kept doing what he feared the most. You unbuttoned his shirt and pressed tender little kisses into his collarbones. All smooth skin and divots only deepening as his shoulders curled inwards, the unfamiliar— nostalgic sensation of your breath tickling his chest had him lightheaded.

Long gone was that dirty look he had earlier, and as you rubbed your thumb over the darkening circle under his eye, you saw it all.

"Oh, c'mon, love. You're fucking me up. What'd you have to look so goddamn innocent for?"

Alex narrowed his eyes at that, like he was going to get defensive. "'m not innocent. Just not used to it."

"To what?"

He huffed. "Don't act like you've got a name for whatever this is."

You grabbed both of his wrists. Pushed them together and held him close, just like that. Uncomfortably close.

"I've got a name for everything, and I don't think you'd like hearing about it," you said. Alex frowned. "God, I forgot how stubborn you get when nobody's been fucking you properly in a while."

He tested if your grip around his wrists was strong enough.

"D'ya have a name for me too, Mr—?"

You shut him up this time. Kissed him until he started pawing at your shoulders, like he had any right to be the one expecting more, begging for attention. Like he wouldn't easily go cold turkey on you and disappear the next morning. He had done that before. Left you with nothing more than a couple of bite marks and a strange little Zippo lighter. It was empty, too.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

He shut his eyes tightly as you coaxed him onto his stomach, turning into putty in your hands when you pressed down on the prominent line of his spine, whispering a soft, "Can you arch better for me, love?" And if he had been doing a good job of keeping his emotions at bay all night, he couldn't do it anymore after you brushed your knuckles against the short hair on the back of his neck, and told him just how good he was for letting you do this again. Whatever this was. Frisson ran through his entire body, nearly touching his heart, too. Now, that would have been too much, even for him.

With the position Alex was in — hips lifted and face down, — he easily muffled his noises, no doubt drooling on his pillow a bit indecently and acting too much like a messy little thing. You marvelled at the soft curve of his waist, at how effortlessly your hand slid down his back. Your touches were gentle to keep him pliant, but firm enough to have him gasping sharply, twisting his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You didn't pull away or pause your movements after he had come all over his tummy. Even given you a drawn-out whine and one of those adorable keens. You just pressed your mouth against his temple, breathing him in.

You gently helped him turn onto his back. Desperately needing to see his face more than you had ever needed anything in your life. His bitten lips, sticky eyelashes, cheeks shiny and rosy from sobbing a bit too hard.

The colour, or rather the soft glow of relief, looked almost angelic on him. You leaned in closer, asking quietly, "feeling alright, baby?"

Alex nodded, a small grin tugging on his lips as he saw you staring at him, all awestruck and worried. Stupid, he thought, then nodded once more for good measure. The way he looked almost shy again was doing something horrible to you. It wasn't just Alex and his unpredictability. You could barely recognise yourself.

"Yeah," you said, burying your face in his neck for a brief moment. "That's just what you do, then, hmm? But I knew that already."

He smiled. Toothy and sheepish.

"No idea what you're talking about."

You smoothed his petulant frown over with your thumb and wiped his tears away, too. There wasn't much left, most of it had dried already, leaving nearly invisible tracks on his cheeks and a telltale pink colour in his eyes. "Of course," you said, playing along this time. "I don't mind. I've got you."

Alex sighed in response, letting his fingers touch your chin. He wanted to touch you again, but didn't know how. The frenzy was over. In fact, his bones were aching, and he was starting to dread the filthiness surrounding him. It had reached something deep inside him, something that wasn't even meant to be acknowledged, let alone loved. He tapped your chin.

"You don't mind now. But you will," he said.

"I won't."

"You can't know that."

"And you can?"

"Yes," he grinned. "I can do everything, really..."

"Can you do something for me then, sweetheart?"

Almost hesitantly, he nodded.

"Don't let me miss you like this again, because if you do, I won't go about it the long way. I'll just tell 'em you're even prettier with tears framing that little snarl—"

"No, you won't."

"You can't know that," you said, sitting back.

"Well, I know you."

"Then act like it, baby."

Alex went actually quiet. He heard you whisper something about running him a bath. Jokingly promising to carry him if his bones were truly aching that badly — God, did he say that out loud? — But it wasn't really a joke when you asked if he still wanted the chocolate muffins he wouldn't shut up about during the ride home, and all he gave you was a sleepy nod.

He moved back onto his belly, not caring about the filth anymore. Giddy. Pleasantly turbid happiness scratching him like a lungful of daffodils. Blinking slowly. Already missing the solace he knew he'd find in the warm feeling of your weight pinning him down. He shivered.

A/N: the caption is from Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye by Leonard Cohen. <333 tried writing masc reader since everybody (goblin) seemed to want that ... let's hope it's not bad. Mwah.

[luvsizedfrellie]

ruined pasta, messy rooms, you dumbass (i care)

Ellie was slumped against her worn couch, the dim light from the string fairy lights casting shadows across her pale face. Her usual energy had drained away weeks ago, replaced by dark circles under her eyes and a perpetual scowl. She hadn't bothered changing out of yesterday's flannel shirt, and her auburn hair looked greasy enough to stick together in clumps. The Savage Starlight comic lying open on her lap hadn't changed pages in hours, she'd lost interest somewhere between panels three and four.

The door creaked softly as you slipped inside, dropping your patrol gear beside the coffee table, your eyes scanning the space until they landed on Ellie. For a moment, you just stood there, taking in the scene: empty water bottles scattered everywhere, unwashed dishes stacked in the kitchenette, and Ellie herself looking like she'd forgotten what sleep felt like.

"Hey," you said softly, dropping onto the couch beside Ellie, you didn't reach out right away, respecting Ellie's personal space even though every instinct screamed at you to pull your friend close.

Ellie grunted, not lifting her gaze from the comic. You recognized the sound, it wasn't even a word, just a noise acknowledging someone's presence while begging them to leave her alone. That was bad.

You slid closer, your shoulder brushing against Ellie's. "You look like shit, Els."

Ellie finally looked up, her green eyes duller than you had ever seen them. "Thanks. Just what i needed to hear."

The sarcasm was weak, barely there, another red flag. You reached out, gently pushing aside the comic book to examine Ellie's face more closely. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin paler than usual, and there was a faint tremble in her fingers when she thought no one was watching.

"You haven't eaten properly in days, have you?" you asked, your voice staying soft despite your growing concern.

Ellie shrugged, looking away. That was all you needed to know. You stood up, heading toward the kitchenette. "I'm making you dinner."

The protest came immediately— "No, i'm fine", but you cut it off with a raised eyebrow. "Save it, Els. You're not fine. You're malnourished, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapse. Joel would kill me if he knew you'd gotten this bad."

Ellie muttered under her breath, something about Joel needing to mind his own business, but she didn't fight it. That scared you more than anything, Ellie always fought. Always pushed back. When she stopped fighting, something was seriously wrong.

As you rummaged through the cupboards, pulling out pasta and vegetables, Ellie watched you with an unreadable expression. For once, there wasn't even a sarcastic comment about your cooking. That silence spoke volumes.

The water boiled, steam rising as you added the pasta. You turned to face Ellie, your eyes locked on hers. "We're going to get you fixed up, 'kay? Starting with food, then sleep, then maybe remembering what showers are for."

Ellie looked down, her shoulders sagging further, you frowned, walking over and sat down beside her again, this time wrapping an arm around her shoulders. For a moment, you were worried Ellie would pull away, as she often did when people got too close. But tonight, she just leaned into the touch, letting out a soft sigh as she rested her head against your shoulder. Her head was heavy against you, her weight an unfamiliar vulnerability that you didn't take lightly. You stayed still for a beat, letting her relax into you, unsure how fragile the moment was or how much Ellie could take before she pushed you away. The soft flutter of Ellie's exhale hit the hollow of your neck, and it hurt—God, it hurt to see her like this.

But then, as you opened your mouth to say something, Ellie's voice came first. "You don't have to do this, y'know."

You frowned, inching back just enough to meet Ellie's gaze. “Do what?”

She didn't look at you, eyes instead locked on some faraway spot on the floor. Her hand fidgeted in her lap, pulling at the worn hem of her flannel. "Pretend you give a shit," she muttered under her breath. "I know Joel probably got to you. Or whoever else decided to send you over here to play nurse or... whatever. It's fine, I get it. You don't have to stick around."

The words came out sharp, like teeth, but you could hear the crack in Ellie's voice beneath it all. She was exhausted, completely raw, and so tangled up in the lie she was telling herself that she probably believed it. That no one gave a shit. That you didn't.

It pissed you off.

"Okay, stop," you said quietly, your voice firm but without heat. "I am stopping you right there, Ellie, because that's the biggest load of bullshit i've ever heard."

That got her attention. Ellie's head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing, defiance flickering faintly across her face like a sputtering match. "’Scuse me?"

"You heard me." you didn't flinch, didn't hold back. You grabbed Ellie's chin lightly, but firmly enough that her couldn't look away. Your brows knit together, voice softening but not losing its punch. "This?" you gestured vaguely, indicating the mess in the room, the state Ellie had let herself fall into. "This isn’t on Joel. Or anyone else. I came here because i fucking care about you. And I'm not gonna sit around watching you destroy yourself like this, blowing off everyone who's been worried sick about you."

Ellie looked like she might bite back, like she might throw off your hand and bury herself deeper into her own misery. But something about the steadiness in your voice—or maybe the weight behind your words—kept Ellie planted. The frustration in her faded, replaced by something that set your chest aching: confusion. uncertainty.

"Why?" Ellie whispered, voice cracking on the word. "Why do you care?"

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Ellie, are you serious? i care because it's you, you stubborn dumbass.

The bluntness seemed to catch Ellie off guard. She blinked, and her mouth opened as if to respond, but—for once—she came up short. You could see the gears turning, could see her processing, could see her struggling to let herself be cared for.

Ellie tried to pull back, shrug your arm off, but you were faster. You caught Ellie's hand in yours—not forceful, just firm enough to keep her from slipping away. "You're not getting rid of me that easy," you murmured, your thumb smoothing over rough knuckles. "Not tonight. Not ever. So, stop telling yourself you don't deserve this, because you fucking do."

Ellie's breath hitched at that. Her lips parted, trembling just slightly like there was something on the tip of her tongue she couldn't quite say. Instead, she whispered, "You don’t have to waste your time. I'm not—fuck, i'm not your problem."

"Jesus, Ellie" you sighed, your frustration softening into something almost tender. "You're not a problem. You’re my friend. My best friend." you hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady as she continued. "Ellie. You're important to me. You have been for as long as i've known you. So, whatever this is, we're going to fix it, together. One step at a damn time. But not if you're gone before we even get a chance to try.".

Ellie stared, lips pressed tight, her throat bobbing as she struggled to swallow the lump rising there. She wanted to argue—you could feel it—but instead, she slumped back into the couch, letting herself lean closer into your side. Her chin dipped, and her voice came out small. Fragile.

"Sorry."

Your hand moved instinctively, slipping into Ellie's unkempt mess of auburn hair, pressing your lips to the top of Ellie's head. "You don't have to be sorry."

She didn't pull away this time. Her breathing grew heavier, but steadier as she let herself sink into your steady warmth, her voice was barely audible now, almost scared. "You really care that much?"

Your voice dropped, becoming softer, more vulnerable, almost matching hers as you hold Ellie close to you. "yeah, Ellie. I really do."

The weight of your words seemed to finally break through Ellie's defenses. Her eyes grew heavy, fluttering shut as exhaustion dragged her under. You felt the subtle shift in Ellie's breathing, the way her body relaxed completely against yours, and you knew she'd drifted off. As you looked down, you noticed the slightest sheen of tears clinging to Ellie's lashes and something tugged sharply in your chest but then, a ghost of a smile touched Ellie's lips, and the ache eased, replaced by a warmth that spread through your veins.

You stayed there for a long moment, just holding Ellie, your fingers carding gently through her hair, the silence of the room was broken only by her and your soft breathing.

"the pasta—shit" you realized with a jolt that the pasta boiling away in the kitchenette, now was undoubtedly a sticky, inedible mess, all you wanted was to make things better for Ellie, and you couldn't even manage to cook a simple meal without ruining it.

You cursed the pasta, cursed the mess, but you didn't regret being there, right beside Ellie. You will be up all night cleaning before she woke up yes but, as you looked back down at her, your features softened instantly. It was worth it, she was worth it.

You carefully adjusted Ellie in your arms, your fingers brushing softly against her cheek. You knew, with a certainty that surprised even yourself, that you would do anything to protect her, to ease her pain, to bring back that spark that had been temporarily extinguished.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ellie's forehead. "I've got you, always." you whispered, the words a promise to both Ellie and yourself as she held Ellie close, you let yourself linger in the quiet truth: If only you knew how much i truly do.

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

The Dangerous Lynx Clumsily Seeks Affection

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | His POV | Epilogue

Rough-looking Man: “The hell? Who’s this guy?” 

Emma: “Y……you can’t pass beyond this point!” 

In an alleyway, cut off from the bustling crowd, I stood face-to-face with a group of menacing-looking men. 

I swallowed hard at the sight of the weapons hanging from their waist, but still drew the sword Prince Kagari had given me from its sheath. 

Rough-looking Man: “Not sure what’s goin’ on here, but it seems like you know who we are, huh?” 

(…Not in the slightest.) 

Rough-looking Man: “Get 'em.” 

With a sneering laugh, the men unsheathed their swords. 

Unlike the fake sword I held, theirs were the real deal. 

A dull, metallic gleam flashed as the blades pointed at me— 

But before they could make a move, the man in the front was suddenly crushed by a shadow that fell from above. 

Rough-looking Man: “What the—!?” 

Kagari: “How disappointing.” 

In the blink of an eye, the men are sent flying—swords and all. 

One by one, they slammed into the walls, eyes rolling back as they collapsed to the ground. 

Prince Kagari hadn’t even drawn his sword, yet the fight was over in seconds. 

(No matter how many times I see it, his strength is unreal.) 

Kagari: “Not even a challenge. At the very least, I hadd hoped they would make me unsheathe my blade.” 

(…I wonder how many people in Ruby are actually capable of fighting Prince Kagari.) 

Coming back to my senses, I moved to sheathe my imitation sword, but just as I did, Prince Kagari turned and grabbed my hand. 

Kagari: “Princess, the angle of your stance should be like this.” 

Emma: “I see….” 

Kagari: “And on the battlefield, hesitation will get you killed.” 

Emma: “I didn’t think about that...” 

Kagari: “I figured. Even when dressed as one of my subordinates, you still look weak.” 

Emma: “…I’m sorry.” 

(Cut me some slack—I’m a complete amateur here!) 

(I never expected to be roped into helping with an arrest…) 

Still holding my hand, Prince Kagari placed his other hand on my waist. 

He applied a slight pressure and straightened my posture. 

Despite his usual impassive expression, he seems somewhat satisfied. 

Cat: "Meow…" 

Kagari: "Yeah, yeah, wait there." 

(A cat?) 

A cat appeared out of nowhere, rubbing against Prince Kagari’s feet. 

He knelt down, gave it a quick stroke, then handed it a small, neatly folded piece of paper. 

The cat bit down on the note and swiftly darted away. 

Emma: "What was that just now…?" 

Kagari: "That’s Mike No. 1." 

(That’s an odd name.) 

Kagari: "He often wanders around the city. If you ever need to contact me, you can rely on him." 

Emma: "So instead of a carrier pigeon… it’s a carrier cat?" 

Kagari: "Yeah." 

(What a dependable cat. I’ll have to remember this.) 

Emma: “So the paper you gave him just now…?” 

Kagari: “I called my subordinates. Cleaning up is too much of a hassle." 

Prince Kagari answered indifferently as he rose to his feet, looking down at the unconscious men sprawled nearby. 

Kagari: “This is the ‘gift’ I receive every year, hidden amidst the birthday celebrations.” 

Kagari: “I was hoping for a more challenging opponent this time, but I’ve been let down yet again.” 

(Someone actually sends him assassins on his birthday?) 

Prince Kagari is the main force behind his faction and the trump card of this territory. 

As long as the Demon of Kogyoku is here, the safety of this territory is guaranteed. 

It’s no surprise that there are those who would try to break through his ironclad defense. 

(But still, to go so far to target him even on a day like this…) 

Kagari: “Princess.” 

Prince Kagari pressed his thumb firmly against the space between my brows. 

(…Was I frowning?) 

Kagari: “For now, you’ll remain as my subordinate.” 

Emma: “Even though I’m weak?” 

Kagari: “That just makes you an easier target for them.” 

Kagari: “No one plays the role of bait better than you.” 

(If staying by his side means I can help him in some way…) 

Emma: “Then I’ll do my best as bait!” 

… 

Townsman: “Happy birthday Prince Kagari!” 

Townswoman: “The whole town is making dorayaki today! There’s hardly a shop that isn’t!” 

The moment we stepped into the main street, Prince Kagari was immediately surrounded by the townspeople.

 

Kagari: “…Yeah.” 

Despite the flood of birthday wishes and gifts pouring in, his reaction remained as indifferent as it had been at the castle. 

(Everyone is smiling so brightly, and their words seem sincere, so why is there such a stark contrast in the mood?) 

I try listening more carefully to their words. 

Townsman: “It’s thanks to you that we can live in peace.” 

Townswoman: “Please, protect us for many years to come. We would do anything for that…!” 

(..…) 

(Oh, I see…) 

(This is all just to flatter Prince Kagari.) 

(Since the peace of this territory depends on him, they’re celebrating him out of necessity...) 

(It’s still a celebration, but…) 

Townswoman: "Oh right! Prince Kagari, has Emma wished you a happy birthday yet?" 

My shoulders stiffen at the sudden mention of my name. 

Kagari: “She hasn’t.” 

Townswoman: "In that case, I'll remind her to do so the next time she sees you." 

Townswoman: "After all, I'm sure you'd be happiest if Emma celebrated with you." 

Now that I understood their intentions, I realized why I felt a subtle pressure on me earlier. 

(…But celebrating isn’t something you should force someone to do.) 

What rises in me isn’t just frustration—but something far more painful. 

(Earlier, I had hesitated to celebrate his birthday because Prince Kagari didn’t seem interested in it at all…) 

(But I’ve made up my mind. I’ll properly celebrate him—not as flattery or out of necessity, but because I truly want to.) 

Emma: “…Prince Kagari.” 

Wanting to make a quick escape out of the crowd, I subtly took his hand. 

Townsman: "By the way, Prince Kagari, I've never seen this aide before." 

Kagari: "He's a new recruit, and a highly skilled swordsman at that, so you all should be careful." 

Kagari: "If he draws his sword, your heads would be severed with ease." 

The lie he delivered with a straight face was shockingly effective. 

As everyone around us stiffened in fear, I seized the chance to pull Prince Kagari away, quickly leading him out of the crowd. 

Even after that, Prince Kagari continued receiving several more ‘gifts.’ 

By the time the sky darkened, he finally made his way to the banquet. 

Kagari: "I had a prior engagement today."

Prev | Next

Translation notes:

三毛1号: I find this one a little funny. 三毛(mi-ke) - calico, is part of the word 三毛猫 (mi-ke)(neko) - calico cat, and 1号 (ichi-gō) is a counter. Putting this together, this means that the cat Kagari and Emma came across is Mike no.1, and there’s possibly another cat that’s Mike no.2, and there’s Mike no.3, Mike no.4, and so on and so forth…

▼・ᴥ・▼

[opbackgrounds]

How would you rank the Straw Hats in terms of Emotional Intelligence?

Luffy has the highest. Franky and Sanji would be up there, too, though Sanji's an interesting case in that he's very in-tune with the needs of others while being emotionally constipated himself.

The least would probably be Robin and Zoro. Per an SBS Robin has difficulty expressing herself, which is why she often keeps her thoughts to herself, and Zoro is very much a practical person, even if it makes him quite insensitive at times

Everyone else would fall on a sliding scale in the middle, depending on what aspects of emotional intelligence you're talking about

[veritas-scribblings]

pretend - @black-brothers-microfic - words: 579 [mature: sexual content]

At one o’clock in the morning, James Potter finds himself naked and stuffed into a wardrobe like a damned fucking cliché. He can still taste Regulus on his lips. Feels the touch of him burning hot on his skin.

Regulus is champagne and maraschino cherries. The scent of something expensive, faintly creamy, faintly sweet like fruit. His lips had been soft, yet aggressively fierce. And the location of his thigh, pressed firmly between James’s legs, had been nothing but intentional. Everything about Regulus, James is coming to realise, is nothing but intentional.

And Regulus Black is a fucking menace. Exactly as James knew he would be.

“Knew you’d still be up. You reading, little nerd?”

James cringes. The world around him is dark and he’s stashed away amongst shirts and trousers and suede jackets, but he can clearly picture the expression on Sirius’s face from the tone of his voice, which is trying (and failing miserably) to sound sober.

“Give that back, you prat! How in the hell did you even get inside?”

“With my key. Idiot.”

“You don’t have a key. Whose key is that?”

Sirius had called Regulus “too innocent for you, Prongs,” when Regulus had arrived on their doorstep that summer back in ’77. There had been nothing “innocent” about Regulus at the time, though James hadn’t known it then and Sirius still doesn’t know it now.

James is aware he has a reputation about him. He isn’t quite sure how he even developed this reputation, because he doesn’t do casual sex. Of course, he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it so long as both parties are clear on the sex being casual, no strings attached. He’s even tried it on for size before and had quickly discovered that it wasn’t quite for him. It’s just that he’s prone to catching feelings. And caught feelings often end in heartache, and James isn’t ready for that again.

There’s nothing about this that feels remotely casual.

James hadn’t meant for this to happen. Not with his best friend’s little brother. And certainly not in secret for as long as it has happened. But it did happen. Feelings had been felt and had become an unavoidable obelisk of a fact. Over time, chaste kisses had turned into something…a bit more intense, a bit more passionate. 

And Regulus is a menace.

And now James is in a wardrobe. Blood pumping. Head spinning. Heart racing. Stark naked. Achingly hard. He’d been teetering on the cliff’s edge of his own orgasm before he’d been unceremoniously yanked backwards from it by the sound of Sirius crashing through the front door. And…

“Get…off…my bed, Sirius. You’re drunk. You stink like a pub.”

“Need to kip on your couch.”

“More like vomit on my couch. Absolutely not. I’ll call you a taxi. You can vomit there.”

“Some brother you are.”

Regulus will not be able to make Sirius leave. Not tonight, at least. James knows this from well over a decade of friendship with Sirius. Sirius is as stubborn as an ox and will often play a deadweight to avoid being physically removed from a situation where he isn’t wanted.

James grimaces and slides down the wardrobe wall until he’s on the soft, carpeted floor. He’s going to have to stay here in the dark, he knows, listening to Sirius and Regulus gripe at each other until Sirius finally goes downstairs or falls asleep or is convinced to leave.

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

YOU'RE THE REASON I COME BACK

"Yes mom, I understand." You sighed out of exhaustion, your right arm feeling numb from holding the phone to your ear for so long just to listen to your mom's regular and unnecessary concerns.

"I'm just warning you, Y/n." Her voice heavy with worry that she was only able to express it through mobile phone. "There are many thugs in the streets that your shop is located in. What if someone breaks it? What if they hurt you? What am I supposed to do then?"

You bit back a groan, trying to sound as casual as you could but the irritation in your voice gave it away. You switched the phone to your left hand, letting your right arm finally rest. "Mom, I'm safe, really. You don't have to lecture me like a child. I'm aware of the events that happen around me." You respond was too familiar to sound convincing. That's what you always said whenever your mother started worrying about your safety out of nowhere. She had the habit of overthinking every recent event that happened, only to turn it on you and lecture you about it. She probably heard about the robbery that took place three streets away from your location and started to get paranoid. And yet, it was frustrating - being lectured like a child with no environmental awareness even though you were adult already, with your own job and house.

Your mom sighed in defeat, knowing there's no way she can get through you. "Right... You are. This aside, how's your shop running?" She asked curiously, still with hint of concern in her voice.

You hesitated to answer, your hand forming up a fist by your side. "Eh...Pretty well." You replied, immediately cringing at the lie but it was better than telling the truth about your mechanical shop - that it was better to be closed down soon as hardly anyone ever visited it. If your shop had costumers, it usually were kids that just happened to pass by with their bikes that were barely damaged or not even in the need of checking.

That being said, there's a costumer that visits regularly, as if it was his daily routine. His bike was somehow always in need of fixing, you'd think he's riding with death wish. The name? Hyuk Kwon. Ace of Sabbath crew that are participating in current major cycling event, League Of Streets. Since the day you heard that your regular costumer was participating in such an event, you followed his process. It wasn't surprise that he always comes back with damaged bike, considering how he rides.

Of course you didn't tell your mom about this guy. He was enigma even to you, calm on the surface but raging like a storm on the inside, and he had his way around your shop, his presence felt more rather it was seen. You'd be staring out of the window or scrolling through your phone when you'd feel chills running down your spine and there he was, staring down at you with his casual calm expression. He was like a ghost, poltergeist that kept haunting you even if he wasn't seen to be around you.

Suddenly the door of your shop opened, the guy you were just thinking about walked in with his bike rolling beside him. Speak of the devil. You thought. "Mom, I'll call you later." You hanged up, not waiting for a response. The familiar Cinelli Mash Bolt 1.0 catched your attention, the crack of its frame capturing your focus. "...How did you even achieve that?"

Hyuk scratched back of his head, glancing at his own bike. "Well..." His already low volume trailed in even quieter one. "Let's say, I crashed."

You exhaled. How typical of him. "And send someone to hospital...again?" You stated while walking towards the bike. Your heart ached seeing the state of its frame. This bastard really doesn't know how to take care of his bike, does he?! Even you formed more emotional connection to his bike than he, himself, due to how often you had to fix it.

"No, not today." Hyuk replied, his eyes looking around your shop. It definitely wasn't cleanest but it was the most reliable one he could find in this country. The air was thick with the scent of motor oil and gasoline--a heavy, industrial smell that clung to Hyuk like a second skin. Workbenches were cluttered with metal parts, wrenches and half-dismissed machines. Rusted steel shelves lined the walls, holding parts of engines and tires. He was as familiar with this shop as he was with his own gear.

"Oh, that's a surprise." You retorted. Securing his bike in your grasp, you placed it on the table, where all your tools were scattered around. Your gaze lingered on the slick cracks on his bike's frames - it wasn't anything you could fix in few hours. You shifted your attention to the guy, who has comfortably settled down on your chair. "It'll take time..."

"How long?" Hyuk questioned, slouched in the chair with legs spread wide.

"Around two days. I have to find perfect frame for this little guy." You replied, patting his bike gently.

Hyuk shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "But I don't want to change the frame." He stammered. He has had this frame for years and was most acquainted with. It wasn't just any frame for him...

You snapped your neck to look at him,eyes narrowing as frustration bubbled up. With a sharp exhale, you answered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because broken frame is exactly what you need for peak performance." Bitter smile stretched on your lips, edges curling up in mix of disbelief and frustration as he remained blissfully ignorant of the damage of his bike. The contrast between his calm demeanor and your obvious annoyance only made your smile feel colder.

He huffed, eyebrows furrowing at you as if you were the one shocking him. "That's why I brought it here. Just fix it." He said, his voice thick with hint of superiority, as if he was explaining something that should have been painfully clear to you.

Tired sigh escaped from your lips. There was no point in arguing with him. "Listen, I'm not professional enough to fix a frame this badly damaged. I can only change it into new one." You explained it to him. Hyuk probably was used to professionals handling the issues with his bike, that was blatantly obvious from his first visit, so you had no idea why he was even coming back to your shop. You weren't professional and you lacked experience, especially with bikes. You were much more used to fixing skateboards. "So, it'll be better if you'll take your bike to professional mechanic than me." You added, your eyes glued on the frame, bitter emotion gnawing at your heart.

Hyuk silently observed you, his eyes scanning your expression and, though you didn't notice, his gaze softened. Soft sigh came out from his lips. "...Fine."

With sense of shame, you grabbed the bike tightly and were about to hoist the bike up to put it down on the floor when he stopped you. "What are you doing?" He raised an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you had two heads.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, settling the bike back down. "Putting your bike down so you'll take it to professional?" But Hyuk shook his head, confusing you even more. "No, I meant...You can change the frame." He said quietly, his voice carrying the soft tone.

Your fingers loosened on the bike before completely letting go. For reasons you couldn't explain, warm feeling spreaded through you. "Are you sure? You seem to like this frame." You asked him, trying to push away the thoughts that maybe he was purposely staying at your shop. But you quickly brushed it off as overthinking.

"I'm sure." Hyuk answered sincerely, there was something about his calmness that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace, his gaze never wavering from you, the intensity making the air feel charged, yet comforting. He watched how you started removing the wheels of his bike, each of your movement making him focus harder on you. There was gentle curiousity in his eyes, despite the amount of times he has been to mechanics and watched them fix his bike, it was different from you. Like how you'd start talking to yourself while analyzing the condition his bike was in and telling yourself what you needed to do, or how attractive you looked when focusing on your job. He felt like a creep whenever he'd find himself observing every single of your movement, every single curve of your body or even the rhythm of your breath, but he couldn't help it. He'd always find himself adrift in the quiet allure of your presence, lost in the sight of you as if time itself paused just so he could linger in your presence. Yet, no matter how much Chronos would slow down the time, it was never enough---because you were like a masterpiece, one he could gaze at endlessly. No matter how many skilled hands has touched his bike - fixing it and tuning it to perfection for good performance - it was you who he always came back to, who he always would come back to.

[secretlyazombi3]

Ada Wong's Love Languages ….ᐟ ᰔ

ada wong x gn! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: i’m so sorry for not posting!!! I was sick for a week to the point i could barely move, then the week after i had multiple tests at school in one week so i couldn't write 😭😭 i tried to keep this gender neutral but the reader kind of sways towards being fem. not proof read ! 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

જ⁀➴ #1 - ACTS OF SERVICE ⊹₊⟡ 

᱖ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

╰┈➤ Ada can’t be there for you as much as she’d like. She’s always at work and always trying to keep you both safe, so she has to love you from a distance. She also loves caring for you - it’s a very welcome change from what she does for work every day.

╰┈➤ Whenever she has to suddenly leave again, she’ll do something for you. Sometimes she’ll leave you something you’ve been needing for a while - snacks, a refill of your favorite perfume, etc. 

╰┈➤Sometimes she’ll leave you cash so you can buy yourself something while she’s gone.

╰┈➤ While she’s gone, she tries her best to still do things for you, so expect to have food anonymously ordered to your place randomly. 

╰┈➤ When she returns home from her mission, she tidies things up before you come home or before she even lets you know that she’s back. 

╰┈➤Ada’s a woman of few words, so she’ll do things to help you out without ever telling you. Sometimes you’ll notice that your car’s gas has been filled or that your car’s cleaner than usual.

╰┈➤She likes cooking for you, too. You’ll come home from work and find dinner already done and on the stove. It’s always a bit of a surprise when it happens because she never tells you what she’s planning.

╰┈➤Whenever she has to get up for work earlier than you, she’ll pack you your lunch for when you do leave for work. 

╰┈➤She likes driving you places. Not only is it nice to just spend the little time she has outside of work with you, she likes helping you out. She’s also a bit jealous sometimes, so she wants to take you places so people know you’re taken. 

જ⁀➴ #2 - WORDS OF AFFIRMATION⊹₊⟡ 

᱖ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

╰┈➤ Ada likes to keep herself cool and mysterious, but she still finds ways to express her thoughts and her love for you through small comments. 

╰┈➤Ada’s compliments always drive you crazy, even when they’re something small and subtle. She knows how to make you flustered over the smallest things thanks to the way she speaks. She makes the simplest words sound seductive. 

╰┈➤She likes making you flustered and needy. She hardly acts that way herself, but she loves teasing you, complimenting you, praising you until you can hardly stand it, until you’re begging for her. 

╰┈➤ She loves making small compliments on your appearance. If you wear something new or dress up nice, she’ll look you up and down and say something small like “That outfit looks good on you”.

╰┈➤She likes slipping in small compliments by calling you things like ‘beautiful’ or lovely’ into her conversations with you. 

╰┈➤Ada’s not lovey-dovey, but she does love it when you compliment her back. She loves every compliment she gets, whether it’s calling her pretty or complimenting her attentiveness to you. 

જ⁀➴ #3 - PHYSICAL TOUCH ⊹₊⟡ 

᱖ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

╰┈➤ Ada really takes physical touch seriously. She likes being passionate, so she savors physical affection to make it extra special. 

╰┈➤She likes being the one to initiate kisses, but she doesn’t kiss you super often. She likes catching you off guard with her kisses. 

╰┈➤She gives you forehead/cheek kisses more than other types of kisses. It’s a small way for her to show you how much she loves you without her feeling that she’s being too intimate. 

╰┈➤Neck and collarbone kisses are her favorite ever. Giving AND receiving. She really loves feeling your lips on her sensitive skin, it’s passionate and feels super intimate. She likes being a bit possessive over you, so sometimes she’ll kiss your neck to leave behind an obvious kiss mark so people know you’re hers. 

╰┈➤Sometimes, though, she can’t help herself. If she’s drunk and needy or she’s just come home from a long mission, she just wants you. She’ll kiss you, long and hard, over and over, all over your face and body until you’re covered in her red lipstick. 

╰┈➤She’s a bit shy on obvious PDA, however. She’s used to living in mystery and having to hide. She doesn’t want to make you a target either. So she limits the PDA as much as possible. She tries not to hold your hand or anything when you’re out in the open. 

╰┈➤However, she’ll be a bit more lenient on it if you guys aren’t near many people/crowds or aren’t just out in the open. If you’re shopping together at a small store or something, she’ll let her guard down momentarily and hold your hand.

╰┈➤ Ada loves cuddling, she loves to spoon you mostly but she’ll accept you spooning her too. She likes cuddling you to make sure you’re safe all night beside her. She won’t admit it, but cuddling her is very reassuring. It helps her relax after a long day of work and reminds her that there’s someone there for her. 

╰┈➤She’s also quite a romantic, even though she won’t directly say it. She likes to take a warm bath after she returns from a mission together so you can bathe together. She likes being physically close to you and likes when you wash each other. She loves the tenderness of just being able to clean each other.

જ⁀➴ #4 - GIFTS ⊹₊⟡ 

᱖ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

╰┈➤ Gifts mean a lot to Ada because she knows it’s one of the only ways she can be there for you always. 

╰┈➤She’ll buy you jewelry/flowers/accessories whenever she knows she’s going to be gone again for a while.

╰┈➤ Or she’ll give you something of hers. Whatever it is, she wants you to have something she knows will keep you thinking about her for as long as possible. 

╰┈➤She has a habit of borrowing things from you, too. 

╰┈➤Clothing, perfume, jewelry, anything small she can take without upsetting you. She misses you as much as you miss her, and she needs something to keep herself reminded of you. She’s just borrowing anyways, your items always end up back where they originally were after a while. 

╰┈➤And every gift she gives you is always either doused in her perfume or covered in lipstick kiss marks. She can’t help herself. 

જ⁀➴ #5 - QUALITY TIME ⊹₊⟡ 

᱖ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

╰┈➤ Ada was used to not spending much time with other people, so she’s found ways to manage being away from you for long periods of time. The longer you two dated, however, the more difficult it was for her to be away from you so much for so long

╰┈➤So, she tries to spend as much time as she can once she’s away from work. She’ll drive/walk with you wherever you need to go and cherish moments together, even if it’s as small as running errands.

╰┈➤She likes to talk to you about her day or ask you about your day as you two are cuddling to sleep. She wants to make every moment valuable, but she tries not to keep you up with her rambling. She knows you need your sleep as much as she did.

╰┈➤Whenever she’s away at work and she has time for a small break, she’ll immediately call you. She loves being able to hear your voice and it’s reassuring to know you’re doing okay with her gone. 

╰┈➤ She loves watching you as much as possible, taking in all the small details of your habits. Whenever she’s on the job nearby, she’ll sometimes make a stop by your place to check in on you. She weirdly loves watching you go about your day normally without you even realizing she’s there. Your presence is comforting and alluring to her.

[leggerefiore]

cw: drabble, fluff, short, hoopa making Lear jealous

pairing: Lear/Reader

The pokemon was quite light in your arms as it nuzzled into your chest. You sat down on a bench within the park with a sigh. The sun shined brightly above. It was just about midday, and you could feel something like hunger settling in. You hummed and rubbed its back. While Hoopa may have been quite a mischievous sort, you found that it was very needy with you. Whenever Lear scolded the pokemon, it would float over to you and look at you with such a pitiful expression. The prince only got more frustrated as you petted Hoopa to comfort it.

Apparently, you were far too soft on it. But… Really, with how utterly distressed it would look, anyone would. You simply found the pokemon too cute, even if the prince could resist its charms. Hoopa seemed to enjoy gifting you random things in exchange for your doting. Precious jewels were not uncommon. Though, you often gave them to Lear to add to whatever his own hoard was or returned them to the pokemon while shaking your head. Recently, it had taken to just dropping the prince near you and smugly posing. Lear did not quite enjoy this either. Though, you thought it was cute that it determined you would like your boyfriend more than gems.

Your mind drifted back to the present. “Hoopa…” you spoke softly to the pokemon, “Do you grant wishes?” It tilted its head at your words. Its green eyes stared into your own. Blinking, it nodded. You hummed. “… I'll get you a treat…” an exchange may go down better, “If you help me get someone to relax.” Lear… You sighed. He was utterly determined to prove himself worthy to his father, even at the expense of himself. There were even times he spoke of possibly ending your relationship in order to please his father's plans for him to marry another royal. Those times left you sullen and wanting to never speak to him again. The pokemon seemingly noticed your expression dropping.

“Hoopa like you…” it spoke, bringing a hand to your cheek. You smiled. The psychic-type could talk… It often spoke like a little kid. You told it that you liked it, too. Its smile was bright in return. Pulling away from you, it took one of its hoops and summoned something. Lear fell through the portal with papers in his hands. His frustrated was immediate. Turning to the pokemon, he glared at it behind his sunglasses.

“Hoopa!” his voice was loud and filled with frustration. Hoopa seemingly ignored his upset and floated to you. He watched as it rubbed its cheek against your own and hugged you. Lear's arms crossed against his chest. You wondered what any of this meant.

“Hoopa love them!” it spoke and clung to you tighter. Lear tensed up. “If Lear doesn't want… Hoopa will take!” Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity. The pokemon likely to not really comprehend what its words meant. It was like a kid confessing a crush at the worst, but it was more likely that Hoopa was upset with Lear's effect on you as of late. You thought that, anyway. Well, until the pokemon took one of the rings off its horn and offered it to you. “Hoopa marry!”

It seemed the prince could take the scene no longer. Never before had you seen him move as quickly as he did to call the pokemon back to its ball. You blinked a few times. What was going on…? Lear's expression was nothing but frustration. He stomped towards you and stared at you wordlessly for a moment. Then, something like insecurity appeared to come over him. “…” his hand grasped your own, the fabric of his glove soft against your skin. You were pulled along by him until you both were in a private area.

“… Are you attempting to make me jealous?” his voice was low as be turned away from you. “I feel utterly powerless with you. My title means nothing to you – I'm just another person in your eyes.” You were silent. He let out a sigh. “… I…” his gaze drifted back to you, “I will not lose to a pokemon. You are my betrothed.” You flinched. That was the first time that you had heard that one. “Hmph. You look shocked. I see your commoner mind could not comprehend something so obvious—” You shut him up with a kiss. That was when he went from cute to annoying. His arms came around you as the affection was wholeheartedly returned.

When it broke, he clung to you still. The heat of his body soaked into you. “I will make the announcement soon,” he declared. You flinched. “… We must start planning for the wedding.”

Maybe you had pushed too many of his buttons.

~

“Here,” you offered the box of donuts to the pokemon. Hoopa had been sad all day since being informed that you were now engaged. Well, that was why you thought the reason was. It perked up instantly, gasping and immediately indulging itself. Your heart felt light at the sight of its pure joy. Sitting down, you let your mind wander to all the various plans Lear had presented to you. Really… It felt like he was waiting his entire life to plan a wedding. The announcement had shocked his retainers, but they both instantly turned to help him plan.

“Hoopa granted your wish!” it suddenly spoke, snapping you from your thoughts, “Lear better!” You wanted to laugh and cry. The pokemon really was sneaky. Was that all really an act to get Lear to make a decision. You supposed you could only wonder. At least, Hoopa seemed happy with the outcome.