#i’m in spain but the s is silent

[thecampjuicebox]

The latest patch ruined my day and I can no longer kiss Astarion/Halsin in my personal playthrough or Gale in my stream playthrough.

The dialogue and kiss scene itself just gets skipped over. If you need me, I’ll be sobbing.

[pepperonidk]

opening twitter today

[gemstone-roses]

Please

Cooper Howard x fem reader

Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.

Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my tits on pain meds. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

I am in Spain without the s.

You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.

Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.

you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.

“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.

“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.

“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.

“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.

“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.

Your breath hitches at the contact.

“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.

“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.

“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.

His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.

“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.

“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.

“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.

“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.

“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.

“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.

“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.

You nod, and whimper.

“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.

you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.

“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.

“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.

“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.

When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.

“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.

You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.

He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.

“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.

“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.

He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.

“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.

“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.

“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.

“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.

“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.

“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.

He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.

“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.

[drabblesandimagines]

Bliss

Leon Kennedy x afab reader When I am on my period, you get period fluff

You wince as your stomach twists, jab the mascara wand into your eye rather than coat your lashes and swear, gripping the bathroom counter with your other hand.

“Great.” You hiss, closing your eye and grabbing a wet wipe, trying to salvage what you’d applied to your bottom lashes as your eye starts to water. The box of so-called express pain relief pills you’d downed greedily 30 minutes ago taunts you from the counter. They had barely touched the surface of the tormenting cramps that had started this afternoon and you wonder if you can sue the pharmaceutical company for such blatant lies.

You try and steady yourself with measured breaths, opening your eye cautiously to inspect it in the mirror. It looks a little red and you groan. You’re bloated, sore, stupidly emotional – irrationally cried at the fact that a spam email had made its way into your actual inbox at lunch - and the last thing you want to be doing right now is getting dolled up in one your classiest and form-fitting little black dresses, don high heels and socialize for the evening, no matter how much you’d been looking forward to it ahead of your visitor.

And not to mention that it’s at the bloody White House.

Leon had returned from Spain two months ago to silent fanfare - wouldn’t be good for US morale to know the President’s daughter had been kidnapped by a cult and infected with a parasite in the first place. Working as an intelligence agent for the DSO meant you’d read of the horrors from the report, comforted Leon when he awoke from nightmares of blackened veins, tentacles bursting forth from skulls, so you’re grateful that the President insisted Leon was given some time off work, though his first day back was looming on the horizon. Last week, on embossed white card with gold accents, sealed by a wax stamp came the invitation in a cursive hand to one Mr Leon S Kennedy and partner to the Presidential dining room.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door in Leon’s familiar rhythm.

“You nearly ready, sweetheart? I think the car will be here soon.”

“Sorry. Yeah,” you call back, “Final touches.” You turn back to the mirror and grab the mascara wand, cautiously covering your top lashes to even things out before frowning at your complexion. Are you breaking out too? A wave of pain rolls through your stomach once more and you grimace. Maybe you should’ve gone with a heat pad after all, but this dress is snug - it’d look bulky and weird on your stomach and the Secret Service guys will be all over it in the security checks.

You zhuzh up your hair one more time, plaster on a smile and unlock the bathroom door, finding Leon leaning up against the wall opposite. He lets out a low whistle as you emerge, hair falling into his blue eyes, and you duck your head in embarrassment at the attention. Honestly, right now you’d prefer him to look anywhere but at you.

“Hello, beautiful,” he smiles, looking unbelievably handsome in his best suit. He’s forgone the tie as usual – can’t stand them – but still looks appropriately smart. He stands up from the wall, slips a hand around your waist to pull you in for a kiss but you flinch at his touch, causing him to stop and frown. “You okay?”

“Mm, I’m fine.” You try and step out of his grip to head towards the stairs. “We should go keep an eye out for the car.”

His arm remains firmly in place. “You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m a great liar,” you retort. “Comes with the profession.” Your whole job depended on it, really – gathering intelligence was a lot of charming people into feeling comfortable around you, loosening their tongue into sharing secrets or giving you access to places you’re not meant to be.

“Not to me.” He’s got you there. “What’s the matter?”

You sigh, feeling a headache coming on to add to the list of ailments. “Can we leave it, please?”

“I don’t want to leave it – something’s wrong.” Leon is stubborn, doesn’t like to leave things hanging. He knows how precious life is, doesn’t want to leave anything to be dealt with later in case later never comes.

He stares at you - pout on his lips and those blue puppy dog eyes.

“Period.” You mumble, hoping that would suffice.

“Ah.” He nods.

“What does that mean?” You know it’s the hormones talking, even as you say it, but you’re stubborn too. It’s completely irrational, but his tone’s rubbed you the wrong way.

“It’s a sympathetic ah. Anything I can do to help?”

“No,” you grumble back. “I just want this evening over with.”

He looks confused, then. “I thought you were looking forward to it - you were excited yesterday-”

“I was,” you snap back. “But now the last thing I want to be doing is wearing this stupid tight dress and heels and get in a limo, be felt up by Secret Service agents for five minutes to make sure I’m not sneaking in a bomb between my thighs, and then go and dine with the President of the United States and his daughter, trying to remember what seven different types of silverware are meant for what course and then eating tiny bites and drinking bitter expensive wine, all when I could be at home, in my pyjamas, eating pizza and ice-cream and watching absolute trash on TV, cuddling my boyfriend.”

“Okay.” Leon cups your face. “Breathe.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a little winded from your rant.

“Good.” He smiles, dropping his hands and pulling his phone out of his trousers pocket. “Now, go get changed.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Sorry?”

“Get changed – go put your pyjamas on.”

“But dinner-”

“I’ll cancel, and then I’ll order us some pizza.”

You stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “You can’t cancel on the President.”

“I rescued his daughter, he owes me.” Leon shrugs, as if he was just asking for a raincheck. “Besides, it’s Ashley who wanted this the most. We’ll reschedule.”

“No, I just need to tough it out.”

He raises an eyebrow at your word choice. “You do not.”

“You do it all the time – dragging yourself about the place with bullet and stab wounds.”

“Sweetheart, you have to agree that’s a little different. Us having dinner at the White House is not a life or death situation. I didn’t have a choice but to grit my teeth and get on with it, you very much do.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight. “Besides, you put up with enough that’s out of our control by these guys – missed anniversaries, birthdays, dinners - when they send me out on missions. I’m not going to sit and make you go through an uncomfortable evening when you don’t need or want to.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, quietly.

“Positive.” He steps forwards, gives you a chaste kiss on the lips in reassurance. “Go and get comfortable – I’ll handle it.”

--

30 minutes later, you’re laying on the couch, head in Leon’s lap as he runs his fingers through your hair, another rubbing your back – dressed in loose pyjama shorts and one of his old sweatshirts, a hot water bottle that he’d made pressed against your stomach and one of those “so bad it’s good” reality relationship shows playing on the widescreen. One that Leon insists he detests, but remembers everyone’s names and asks what happened on previous episodes if he misses one.

“Was Ashley okay?”

“Fine. She’s already texted me three alternate dates.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow at the screen. “I thought they broke up.”

“Uh-uh. He proposed.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “This cannot be real.”

You sigh, content, and nuzzle into his thigh. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

The doorbell rings, announcing the pizza’s arrival. You reluctantly sit up, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach as Leon gets up off the sofa and starts to head towards the door.

“Leon.”

“Mm?” He pauses, turning slightly, removing his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“How come you’re still in your suit?”

“Well,” he resumes walking to the door, “I read how endorphins can help with period pain, and I know how happy a certain someone gets when they get to admire my ass in this particular suit…” The wallet slips from his fingers, bounces on the carpeted floor, and he bends down, slowly. “..so what kinda boyfriend would I be to hide it in sweats when they’re feeling poorly?”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[leonw4nter]

Hi! Imagine like pop star/extremely popular music artist gf or s/o and Leon met them by being their body gaurd? I think a drabble of this would be so cute, or even just headcannons!

The Theories Of My World Revolving Around You

Bodyguard!RE4R!Leon x F!Popstar!Reader || Read next: 2

Chapter 1: "Running Up That Hill"

“Agent Kennedy, may I repeat that  you are too unstable for another overseas mission–”

“Lab reports said that I am just fine! They cleared me and stated that I’m fit to go to Bosnia–”

“Agent Kennedy!” President Graham exclaimed, both his hands coming in contact with the oak of his desk and creating a loud pounding sound.

“The last mission to Spain nearly killed you! I appreciate the risks and near-death encounters you had just to get Ashley back home but you could’ve died! You made it back barely alive! What about your mental state, huh? I’m sure as hell that dealing with all that crap would do a number on your mind. Physically you claim that you’re doing well, but how are you doing mentally?”

Leon stayed silent, gaze drifting down; President Graham was right: he was physically fit but what about his mind? Is he stable there? He knew he needed a break from all of this but who is going to be in the front lines? What’s going to happen to Sherry and Claire? Who’s going to give up their life just so a hundred others can live? He needed to give himself a break but chaos never rests, it’s just waiting for him to get his guard down.

“Mr. President, I know that you’re looking out for me but USSTRATCOM needs me. A little girl needs me,” Leon softly explains even if he feels his patience wear thin.

“I understand your concerns, Agent Kennedy, but they have many other agents just as capable as you are. You need rest. As for the girl and Ms. Redfield… I can assure you that they will be alright.” was all the older man said. “You will be referred to another protective detail. We are not necessarily laying you off but I need to refer you to lower departments and other less… demanding organizations. You’re dismissed.”

Leon simply sighed and gave the President a small nod, head hung low as he headed for the door of the Oval Office. A part of him felt grateful for the break given to him– that is if you can call it a break. He’s not exactly totally resting, he’s still on duty– just a less demanding one. Another, bigger part of him felt as if he couldn’t just sit around and wait until they’ll call him back for another job. He was just about to worry about Claire’s college tuition, worrying if student loan debt will be an issue soon but he remembered that he gave her her monthly allowance just a while back, which means that she’ll be just fine. As for Sherry, he knows she’s in good hands with Claire as her legal guardian. With the millionth sigh for today, he runs a calloused hand through his hair and decides to head home, too tired to deal with more crap for today.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Never would Leon have thought that he would be thankful for the loud ringing of his phone, the ringtone loud enough to help him snap out of a nightmare he’s been struggling to wake up from. Half asleep and slightly disoriented, he answers the call and brings the phone up to his ears.

“Is this Mister… Kennedy? Kennedy, Leon?,” an unfamiliar voice responds from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Leon says, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Who is this?”

“I’m Agent Corey Morgan. Someone under the agency you’re currently in referred you under my team–”

“What team,” Leon interrupts, his mood already sour because of the nightmare and with work being the first thing he is bombarded with in the morning. The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by Leon’s snappy attitude.

“My team under a celebrity protection detail company,” Morgan responds. “We are Citadel Group and we offer protective services to celebrities. I’m sure you are very much familiar with Ms. Ashley Graham.”

“Ashley must’ve put in a word with her father,” Leon thought to himself. “Citadel Group huh,” he mumbles.

“Yes. We request you to send in your resumé within the day for closer deliberation before we can let you start, even if the things we’ve heard about you are beyond exemplary. I’ll send in a follow-up email as soon as the screening process is finished.”

Leon hummed, already exhausted with all of this. The call ended and he tossed his phone to his bed, too tired to do anything but it’s not like he can get back to sleep again when he knows that only nightmares are there to wait for him. With a groan, he gets up and brews himself a cup of coffee to try and salvage the already worsening day.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He sent in his resumé despite several fields being blacked out, receiving an email hours after stating that he’s been assigned to a singer, codenamed ‘Red String’  and will start duty a week from now. He arrives home from the additional interview, keys fumbling to unlock the door to his apartment. He stumbles in, kicking off his dress shoes and undoing one more button to his white button-up before he shrugs his navy blue blazer off, folding and placing it on the back of a dining chair. He rummages through his cabinets, looking for a heavy-bottomed glass to pour some Jack in. Claire chides him in his drinking but he can’t help but drink right now; he’s probably going to be babysitting some stuck-up diva or be at the receiving end of a tirade of screaming if a small drop of rain lands on their shoulder or something. Flashing lights, Leon remembers; there’s probably going to be paparazzi hounding his client with their obnoxious cameras. Leon catches himself worrying over flash photography, cursing himself; the president was right on the matter regarding his mental health.

“Fuck, Leon. You need help,” he silently mutters to himself as a bitter chuckle leaves his throat. This line of work caused Leon to be more thankful towards the mundane– thankful for the opportunity to even get in 3 hours of sleep in, the fact that the loud noise he heard was just a bus and not an Armadura, or that he simply stepped on a twig on the way home and no BOW is out for him for making such a small, seemingly harmless noise.

He takes another drink before the glass is empty again, refilling it with liquor. He has a week alone with his tortuous mind before he can finally do something, even if it’s less intense than what he’s been conditioned to endure.

NOTE - I srsly had to redo my post again bc my laptop died and whatever I did didn't save 😭 Neways, BIG thanks to the anon who requested this!!! I genuinely loved this idea so much, I had to make it a series :) First chapter is short, next chapters will be a little bit longer than this so just strap in and uh wait ig :3 Also, I don't know how protective detail shit works so this is inaccurate as hell so if you're looking for accuracy then this isn't for you :) That's it and thank you to whoever reads my fics, I <333333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!

The heart dividers were made by @fairytopea , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[24hlevi]

— if you want love

leon s. kennedy (resident evil) x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: after the events of racoon city and los illuminados, leon became different from who he used to be. now, in his most vulnerable moments, all he wants is you to be there with him.

warnings: language, ptsd

wc: 1.3k

The first day Leon arrived home, after the events of Los Illuminados, you could tell that something was off, just by his mannerisms. You hadn’t ever seen him look at you the way he did that night after the long flight from Spain. But you knew exactly what it meant. Leon was never the type to verbally express how much he cared about you, how much he loved you more than anyone else. He refused to let himself be vulnerable around you, believing he had to always be the strong one, the one to protect you from anything that came your way. But sometimes, on days like this, all he wants, all he needs, is to be held in your arms. 

From the very second you woke up, you knew something was different. Sure, Leon always woke up before you, usually sitting with a cup of coffee in his hands as he stared outside. But it was different this time. When you awoke, Leon was gone, his side of the bed made perfectly as you slowly crawled out of the bed. Walking out of the room and down the hall, you found Leon in his normal spot, only he was just staring out the window silently. He didn’t even realize you were there until you gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he visibly jumped, tensing up and turning his head before immediately relaxing when he saw it was just you. 

“Hey, doll,” Leon said to you quietly, looking back out the window. 

“Hi,” You responded, removing your hand from his shoulder. “Is everything alright? You were spaced out.”

“Mm,” He grunted lightly, “I’m fine,” He said after a short moment of silence. 

A short hum escaped from your throat at his answer, and you followed his gaze out the window, looking around at the surroundings, you repeated the question. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

It was silent between you two for a few minutes before Leon looked at you, his eyes filled with sorrow and almost emotionless, almost. It was a rare sight to see him so vulnerable, but you knew that you were the only person he would feel comfortable enough with, safe enough with, that he would let the emotions flow out. After all the hardships he had gone through in the past few years, he was only bound to come back to you with unspoken trauma. 

Leon never replied to you, and instead, he rose up from his seat, grabbed ahold of your hand, and walked back to the bedroom. He laid down on the bed, dragging you down with him, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist and shoving his head into the crook of your neck. 

You were taken aback by the sudden actions, but remained still laid down in the bed beside him, not saying a single word, you didn’t need to. Leon didn’t want to be told reassuring words, that everything would be okay when he already knew that technically for now, it was true, everything was okay. Except him. He wasn’t okay. Not since Raccoon City. Since that first day on the job, he became a different man, a changed man. One who wasn’t the same as the kid he used to be. Now, he was like a broken-hearted puppy. All he needed was you. 

“I love you,” He mumbled into your neck, his words sounding muffled against your skin. His hands had a tight grip on you as if he was worried you would suddenly leave. 

“I love you too, Leon. You know that,” You practically whispered back to him. 

One of your hands was gently caressing his face, your chin resting on top of his head as he didn’t move from his position whatsoever. You didn’t try saying anything more, both for not knowing what else to say, and not wanting for him to spiral any further in his own thoughts. So you remained quiet, your hand moving to run your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. 

All of a sudden, you felt little drops of water hit your skin, and you quickly realized what was happening. Leon was crying. He rarely ever cried, only a few times it had happened around you because of him not wanting to show his weak moments to you, but he didn’t care about that right now. He just wanted to lay in your arms and pretend like everything was okay when it was far from it. 

You didn’t know what to do now, simply just holding onto him with your hand running through his hair in an attempt to make him feel a little bit better, though you didn’t know if it was working or not, unfortunately. Now, his body was starting to shake as he began to cry more into your neck, and your free hand wrapped around him tightly as you tried to calm him down with your actions. 

“Don’t leave me, please,” Leon was hardly able to say through crying. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

You bit down on your lower lip, glancing down at him for a split second before responding, “You won’t lose me, I promise. You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t leave you, not now, not ever.” 

Leon pulled away from your neck, looking at you with puffy, red eyes as he tried to steady his breathing. “I love you so much, baby. More than anything,” He cried. 

You immediately pulled him into a tight hug, wiping the tears off of his face. “I love you too, so much. I will be here with you for as long as you want me to be,” You told him, rubbing his back gently with your hand. 

Leon continued to cry for a few minutes, but you didn’t mind it one bit. You knew what he had gone through, and it was perfectly normal to react this way because of those traumatic things he saw. You didn’t blame him for this happening sometimes. You understood completely. You didn’t push him on talking about what happened. Nor did you try and make him feel bad about these emotions he couldn’t help but feel for he was still just a human. He was allowed to have these feelings, even if he tried to hide them. He was allowed to feel human, even if he felt disassociated from everyone else because of what he went through. 

Soon enough, it became quiet again in the bedroom. Looking at Leon, he had stopped crying, and had actually fallen asleep since who knows how long it had been since he got a proper rest. You gently moved the pillows to rest under his head and carefully unlink yourself from him. Rolling off of the bed, you stood up and pulled the blanket over him, standing above him you let out a quiet sigh at the sight of him. Looking at the time next, you looked back at him and turned off the light, “I’ll let you sleep for a little more,” You whispered to yourself before leaving the room, cracking the door open. 

For the first time in a while, Leon felt at home and he felt safe more importantly. He always felt that way when he was with you. And he was incredibly grateful for you and everything you do for him. Nothing would ever make him think of you otherwise. He would love you for as long as he lived. Forever, if that was possible. 

[dragonfly0808]

Flora: The Thesis

I had a feeling Flora would win, I’ve put my girlie through a lot, let’s do this!

THERE WILL BE MAJOR SPOILERS AFTER THE FIRST THINGS FIRST PORTION, IF YOU HAVEN’T MADE IT TILL CHAPTER 17 OF SEASON 3 (They Live in Spain but the S is Silent) DO NOT READ PAST THE FIRST SECTION

I’M SERIOUS, MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS FOR FLORA’S CHARACTER ARC/PLOT POINTS AFTER THAT PART

First Things First

The first words that I wrote on Flora’s character sheet to sum up her character was in the OG are: kind, gentle mom-friend.

To me Flora in the original was kind of a breath of fresh air, seeing a soft girl get to also be a fighter was awesome (even if I feel like she was the one that was most often knocked out/down, cue the 84 times Flora nearly died compilation videos)

But… she was also a lot of wasted potential since I feel like she never really got her own storylines, or at least nothing interesting and her powers were never explored beyond plants despite being a fairy of nature, not plants.

Also, I found it weird that they just… dropped her love for making potions after season 1 or 2. Like… for what?

Those are a few of the grievances that I wanted to try and make better in my rewrite. Also, Flora was always my fave so I wanted to give her the attention she was deprived of (though, I reiterate, I do really try to pay attention to all 6 girls and, for the most part, am successful, but Flora will occasionally get just a little more attention)

Flora’s main character traits towards the beginning of the rewrite are: gentle, unsure and kind.

The first time we see Flora in the rewrite, she is seen to be very kind and maybe even a tiny bit conformational, quickly telling Bloom that she’ll switch sides and move plants if she wants her to.

She doesn’t really know how to put her foot down, she’ll be working on it but not truly implementing it until season 2.

I think a lot of people’s first impression of Flora would be that she’s a bit naive and even weak, that’s the thing with Flora.

Whilst her softness was forged in steel, it can deteer her from time to time and she easily feels guilty if she can’t make everyone happy. She has people pleaser tendencies that she’s working on.

I feel like in season 1 her softness walks a fine line between being a strength of hers and nearly being a weakness.

Being soft isn’t what what can be to her determent, it’s letting people cross her boundaries.

I also took her love for potions and ran with it, she is a potions prodigy and the teams main healer. She’s very dedicated to school and it shows in her work with potions.

Her main traits stay mostly the same over the seasons. There is still kindness and softness at her core, but overtime she is no longer unsure, she learns how to put her foot down and respect her own boundaries and really just stepping into her own and becoming more powerful and comfortable in her own skin.

She Doesn’t Succumb, She Overcomes

Flora grows a lot over the first 2 and a half seasons

One thing she overcomes, asides from learning to set boundaries and that she’s allowed to not forgive, she also overcomes a fear of being loved.

Flora has a lot of bad luck when it comes to people in her life fucking her over. Her biological father abandoned her and her mom and took all their resources with him, her first boyfriend assaulted her and then her first girlfriend Mirta breaks up with her to get back together with Lucy.

And then, in season 2, Bloom betrays her while being influenced by Darkar.

So… Flora is reasonably afraid when it comes to new people in her life. Especially people she falls for.

That’s where Helia came in. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In season 3, THIS IS WHERE THE MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS COME IN TURN BACK RIGHT FUCKING NOW I DID NOT BREAK MY BRAIN FOR ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLOT POINTS IN THE REWRITE FOR YOU TO JUST SPOIL IT FOR YOURSELF THIS IS YOUR LAST FUCKING WARNING, Flora suffers a major setback in her journey due to two big events.

First off, Sky choses her to burn while under Valtor’s curse and then, her powers seem to morph into something that she cannot understand and that she is afraid of.

This sets her back when it comes to finally being comfortable in her own skin… literally and being more confident.

She is terrified that her friends will turn their backs on her again to take Sky’s side. This fear is quickly quenched by Bloom making it clear on who’s side she’d be on if it came down to it but it still obviously affects Flora and we still haven’t gotten the talk between her and Sky, because she is still not ready to face him properly

Her scars are a side effect of this betrayal and she still has a long way to go before being able to show them

The other set back is in her powers after gaining Enchantix, where all of a sudden, it is a lot harder to make things bloom and heal people and rotting and withering things comes a lot more naturally.

We’ve gotten a bit of an explanation during the Crystal Labyrinth as to why this is the case but she still has a lot to learn in s4 about her new powers.

Thoughts Behind her Main Relationships

Aisha: Aisha is her best friend, their friendship is one of softness and getting out of their comfort zones. It’s the extrovert/introvert balanced friendship that helps them both feel more comfortable in their own skin.

Their friendship is, ‘you’re my safe place. I see you and I breath a little easier. You know me so well I only have to lift an eyebrow and you know exactly what I mean.’

Their friendship is ‘we’ve both been through complete and utter loneliness and we’re both afraid of people leaving but when I’m with you it all just fades away because your heart and my heart are made of the same material. Your softness will always bring me comfort and you’re familiar in a way that makes me want to weep because of how safe I feel at your side’

Helia: These two are just… two people trying to heal from their respective pasts but… okay so, they are two people who’ve been through a lot and have already been on their journey to healing or a while now and know their triggers and what helps them and just find calm and safety with one another.

It’s, ‘we’re both pulling ourselves back together after the worst events of our lives and you make me feel like all of it will never drown me and I know that my soul has known your soul for a very long time.’

But… while they are both on their way to healing, they’re both still scared.

Flora is afraid of someone she falls for hurting her yet again. Helia is afraid of not being able to connect with people, of the people he loves not wanting him.

They find comfort in each other’s love.

In each other, they find understanding and safety. They help each other on their healing journeys.

They’ll never turn away from each other even on the bad days.

Riven: Riven and Flora are soulmates. I have no other word to describe their bond. Even soulmates doesn’t feel like it can fully encompass their bond and how important they are to one another.

They have similar fears and traumas, though they respond in wildly different ways. He can’t let himself be vulnerable, she can’t stand her ground. But they find each other and somehow, they start healing and growing together

Their bond is ‘there are people that you just have to meet in order to become the best version of yourself and I know that if I hadn’t met you I would never have been able to become my best self. There are people that just have something to teach you just by knowing them, there are people that love you so purely that you can do nothing but want to grow with them and teach each other so much just by existing together. And you know that if there are other lives, you’ve met them in every past life and will meet them in every future life because you own a piece of each others puzzles that you both need to complete yourselves.’

Their love is absolutely pure, I just love it and can’t quite find the words to describe just how special it is.

Who is Flora in this rewrite?

Flora is a girl who wasn’t born to be a heroine, who had plenty of excuses to be angry, who had plenty of reasons to lash out at the world. If it’d been anyone else, they might’ve turned out a villain.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t allow her pain and trauma to be the things that define her. They are a big part of who she is, there is no denying that, but it’s not what made her. She made herself. She made the conscious decision time and time again to chose love and softness and kindness.

She’s someone who’s on the verge of being a doormat before we meet her in s1, and who is working since s1 to be better at setting boundaries, to turn her softness into one of her biggest strengths and not just a trait that occasionally bites her in the ass.

She’s someone who is growing into herself, leaning that, while she has to grow, she doesn’t have to change her main traits to be stronger. To be respected.

She’s exploring both her powers and her softness.

Flora is both one of the softest and the strongest characters in this rewrite. She learns that those two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Flora is growth, not change. She doesn’t succumb, she overcomes. She’s not unscathed, but she is healing.

—————————-

Masterlist

Flora Moodboard

Flora’s Instagram

Flora and Aisha Moodboard

Flora and Helia Moodboard

Flora and Riven Moodboard

[jimsbeetroot]

𝐈 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 ♱ (𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠) 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

so, II in spain is coming soon, but found this old draft, which is basically how the story sort of originally was supposed to go. which one do you like the best? and should i continue the sequel(s) based off this ending or my first released I in spain, which you can find here; I in spain

warnings! smut! rough jim! dom/sub! deepthroat! oral sex! pool sex!

words; 4143

summary; in this alt ending of I in spain, reader pushes jim, and he gives her exactly what she was hoping to get!

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jim's face dropped as he looked over at the large - but empty - hotel pool, his surprised eyes quickly shifting back to your grinning ones.

“If you want to have sex, we’ll find someplace else, but I’m not fucking you in a hotel pool.”

You pouted, desperately hoping that your quivering bottom lip would win Jim over, but he only shook his head and looked away.

“Why not?” You mumbled, staring into Jim's chest as you fumbled with the strings of his hoodie.

Jim was practically bent in half, his chin resting on your head as he tiredly skimmed the crowded hotel lobby.

Jim had finally gotten the green light to go on a vacation, and the two of you had packed your bags for two sunny weeks in southern Spain. It felt like a fever dream. No touring, no two weeks without seeing each other. It was just you and him.

“Let’s just go to our room,” Jim suggested. He grabbed your hand, but you wiggled out of his grip.

“But I want to go into the swimming pool!” You whined, stomping your foot into the tiles of the hotel lobby.

Jim shushed you and looked around, making sure that no one was staring at the two of you.

“I want you to fuck me in the swimming pool,” you giggled, but Jim wasn’t laughing at all.

“This is not funny, Y/N,” Jim shook his head and grabbed your hand again. This time, you didn't even have the chance to protest before you were dragged down a hallway by your 6'6 foot boyfriend.

Jim held the luggage in one hand and your hand in his other.

He pushed the elevator button, and the two of you waited silently, before a brilliant idea washed upon you.

"I even packed my best swimwear. You know, the pink two-piece?"

You said, and Jim stared back at you with an unamused glance. He knew that you were trying to get a reaction out of him.

He was the one, who had bought you that bikini, but not to have you flaunting it to everyone. No, that was a bikini strictly for his eyes.

"I might just go without you, then," You huffed as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

Jim had let go of your wrist. He stared at you with a clenched jaw and tilted his head.

"In that bikini? Fucking forget it," Jim chuckled, seemingly thinking you were joking, but looking at your pout and angry stare, he slowly realized that you were dead serious.

"It's just a bikini, James. Why did you buy me a bikini, if you don't want me to wear it?" You asked and looked up at Jim with a question-marked grimace. He sighed deeply.

"I'm just saying; I think you could've chosen a bikini that didn't show off that much," Jim said. He knew, that you were the master of analyzing words down to the bone, and just as he'd feared, your brain began decoding his last sentence.

"Oh, so you own me? Well, maybe you should pack my whole suitcase the next time we travel. Or maybe, you should just approve everything I ever wear. That way, we'll be sure to"

"Okay, calm the fuck down," he hissed and nipped your upper arm as the elevator stopped and an elderly couple walked in. You glared at him and rubbed the red spot on your arm, where Jim had left a mark.

The elevator was silent, as it went up, finally stopping at your level. You walked out, Jim following behind you with the key card.

You stood by the hotel room door and waited impatiently for Jim to unlock it. When he did, you hurried in and threw yourself on the bed.

Jim placed the luggage on the ground and rubbed his shoulders, clearly exhausted from a whole day of travelling. But you were loaded with energy.

You opened up the suitcase and pulled out the pink bikini. "Look, J-"

"Forget it," Jim said, cutting you off. You raised your eyebrow.

"Listen, I'm gonna take a nap. Come join me. Maybe we can take a swim later."

Jim laid down on the bed and reached an arm out for you, but you huffed at his gesture.

"I don't want to go to sleep now, James. I wanna go swim," you whined, stomping slightly as Jim turned around, back facing you and closed his eyes, pretending not to care.

"Fine, then go," he mumbled. You huffed at his response.

"Fine, then give me the key card," you responded. You knew, that you needed the key card to lock yourself into the swimming pool, but also to get back into the room again.

Jim didn't respond.

"James, I said give me the key card," you hissed. He had it on him somewhere, but where? That was a great question.

"Go get another one, then we'll have one each," Jim said, still on his side.

He would've never suggested that if it wasn't for your absolute fear of talking to strangers, especially when you didn't speak their language. Just the thought made you all nervous, and Jim knew that, that son of a bitch.

He knew, that you wouldn't dare to go ask anyone alone, and Jim had no plans of moving from the bed anytime soon.

"Why am I not allowed to go swimming?" You asked, huffing loudly.

Jim sighed in return. "We can swim when I've taken a nap."

"I'm serious, Jim. Just give me the key card," you said and rolled your eyes.

You were starting to get pretty riled up, and Jim knew that. Everything at that moment, depended on that idiotic key card.

You scanned him up and down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Couldn't be that hard to get a hold of, you thought.

You walked over to the side of the bed, where Jim was lying, looking down at him. "Give me the key card," you huffed and pushed his shoulder slightly, although he didn't move.

"Give me the key card," you repeated, pushing his shoulder a little harder this time.

Jim didn't react at all. He just lay on his side, arms crossed over his chest, his long legs folded towards his upper body.

"Jim, give me the key c-"

Before your hand could make contact with his shoulder, he - in a swift move- lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist tightly.

"Aren't you tired of acting like this?" Jim sighed, eyes still closed and grip still tight around your wrist. You toiled to get out of his hold, but it was no use. He was, indeed a great deal stronger than you.

(alt ending begins here)

"Let me go," you hissed, trying everything to get away from him, but then you spotted it. There, the key card was, slightly sticking out of the front pocket of his jeans. Without hesitation, your free hand went to grab it, dashing away from the bed before Jim could grab a hold of you. You exclaimed in victory as you jumped back, standing around 10 feet from the bed. The celebration did not last long, because Jim swiftly sat up in the bed and looked at you, tiredly.

"Give the key card back, Y/N," he sighed. You shook your head with a satisfied smirk. The smirk disappeared quickly when Jim shot up from the bed, his massive frame towering towards you. Before he could come too close, you darted to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Your heart was pounding in your throat. Through the glass door, you could see Jim's figure approaching. He pulled down on the locked handle and you could see him throwing his head back in frustration.

"Y/N, we're not doing this," Jim said. You chuckled. "You may not, but I am," you taunted and began to strip out of your clothes, standing fully nude in front of your stormy-eyed boyfriend. You smirked at him as you put on the pink bikini, that flattered your body better than any bikini ever had before.

The only tricky part left was to get from the bathroom to the pool. You knew, that Jim would seize you the second he had the opportunity, and that was not part of your plan. Jim stood cross-armed before the door, waiting for you to come out.

"The question is, do you really want me to go down to the pool, all alone?" You asked, pressing yourself up against the glass door.

Jim shook his head. "No, because we’re- you’re not going, period," Jim said through gritted teeth. You moaned at his stubbornness. "We'll go down there together later, not now."

You shook your head and mustered up the courage to unlock the bathroom door. You opened the door and as expected, Jim swiftly grabbed you, pulling you out of the bathroom.

"Let me go!" You wailed and held the key card tightly in your hands. Jim stood behind you, arms wrapped around your body as he tried to get a hold of the stupid key card.

"Give me the fucking card," Jim rasped, his massive hands folding over yours, completely engulfing them in his large fists.

"No," you hissed and dug your nails into Jim's forearm as he tried to undo your clenched fist. "For fucks sake," he winced at the painful sensation but kept up his mission to get a hold of the keycard.

"I'll scream if you don't let go!" You yelled, losing your grip on the card. Jim didn't react to this threat until you took a deep breath and let out a loud, high-pitched scream. It only lasted for about 0.1 seconds before Jim let go of your hands and instead clamped his massive hand over your mouth, cursing under his breath.

You stopped screaming, nodding satisfied at how your plan had turned out.

You smiled at the keycard in your hand.

"Congratulations! You get your way, as always!" Jim exclaimed and threw his hands into the air, clearly fired up.

"Thank you," you smiled. "So, I'm going to the pool. You're welcome to join, but it's very understandable if you need a nap," you spoke, sarcastically. "Shut the hell up," Jim mumbled and stepped into his shoes, shrugging and sighing heavily.

"Well, let's go then," he spat annoyed and gave you a slight push. You headed for the door, but Jim stopped you and threw a hotel's bathrobe at you. You caught it and wrapped yourself up in it.

The two of you headed out of the room. Jim towered over you, looking like a big, mean pitbull while you skipped next to him like a golden retriever.

You got into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. You tried to intertwine your fingers with Jim's but he snatched his hand from yours.

"Not right now," he said as if he was warning you. You put your hands up in defence and smiled internally. Your stubborn, impatient attitude had been replaced by an innocent, angel-like one.

You bounced through the lobby, humming jolly tunes, Jim following behind you.

The pool was massive and you were shocked to find that no one was putting it into use.

You didn't waste a second before throwing the bathrobe to the floor, kicking off your slippers and cannonballing into the pool, water splashing everywhere.

Jim sat down on one of the sun loungers, spreading his long legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Come on, Jim. It's so nice!" You exclaimed and splashed a bit of water up at him. He looked back at you, unamused and indeed annoyed.

You rolled your eyes at his stern stare and dived into the water. You loved the water and every time a pool was in sight, you immediately became seven years old again.

"You know, I don't understand what you have against this bikini," you said, appearing from the water again, shaking your head to get your hair out of your face.

Jim's unamused scowl had remained and he didn't say anything. You smirked as yet another idea popped into your head. "You know, it could be so much worse," you commented and stood up in the water. Your hands went behind your back and fumbled with the pink bikini string, pulling it and letting the bikini fall off your body, revealing your tits.

Jim's eyes widened and he darted up. "Stop it, Y/N," he warned you. His voice told you that he was not taking the piss. He was dead serious, practically shaking with frustration.

"Why don't you make me?" You giggled.

You didn't expect him to do exactly that.

Not breaking the eye contact, Jim stepped out of his shoes and undid his belt.

You watched in excitement as he let his jeans drop to the floor. You bit your lip as Jim pulled his shirt over his head.

He stepped into the pool and swam towards the corner in which you were standing and giggling. It was a bit more secluded, hidden behind a massive water slide.

You stood anxiously as Jim came closer to you, not knowing what would come next. To your surprise, he stood up, towering over you and smirked devilishly.

"You're so in for it," he hummed, leaning down, his lip brushing against your ear. You shivered slightly, the anticipation of what he would do next, nearly killing you.

Jim's long fingers traced along your spine, stopping when he reached around your shoulder blades. Suddenly he grabbed the back of your neck, his strong hand jerking you backwards to look up at him. You yelped at the sudden force.

"You've been such a fucking pain today," Jim mumbled, staring down at you, his eyes intense. You swallowed, your throat dry, longing for more of Jim.

Swiftly, Jim grabbed your hips and hoisted you up onto the edge of the pool, the cool air making you shiver. He roughly grabbed a hold of your bikini bottoms and ripped them from your body, still standing in the water.

He gave your thigh a small slap and spread your legs, propping them on his shoulders. He didn't waste any time before forcing his fingers into you, a loud howl leaving your lips, your cry echoing through the room.

"Be quiet. You wanted this, remember?" Jim hissed and you nodded, biting your lower lip to prevent yourself from screaming.

Jim spat on his fingers and continued to dig his index- and middle finger into your cunt. He looked up at you as he leant down, tongue making contact with your sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you groaned and let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

You could barely contain yourself, the overwhelming pleasure nearly suffocating you as Jim's tongue repeatedly flicked your clit harshly.

A loud cry left your lips when Jim suddenly removed himself from you completely. You looked at him, frowning.

"What, you think you deserve to come?" Jim chuckled darkly and shook his head. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you into the water, letting you go fully under before pulling you up, your hair in his fist. You were his doll, and he was doing whatever he wanted with you. You loved to see this side of Jim.

"How about you go under for a bit? Let's see how brave you are with a dick in your mouth," Jim grumbled. He pulled down his boxers to reveal his fully erect cock in the water. He put a hand on the top of your head and forced you down. You took a deep breath before going under the water.

Jim controlled your head, holding it still as he pushed his massive cock into your mouth. He thrust into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. He was rough. After twenty seconds or so, he pulled you up by your hair. "Not so fucking fun anymore, is it?" He asked and looked at your red, watery eyes, chuckling, knowing that he was now in control.

"Mute, are we?" Jim asked. "Let's try again, then.”

Once again, he forced your head down and ruthlessly fucked your mouth. You could feel yourself getting slightly lightheaded so you reached up and tapped Jim's chest. He pulled you up again and pinched your nipple hard. You winced at the sensation.

You were starting to regret your behaviour from earlier. This was supposed to be a nice vacation, but by the looks of it, you would be sore for the next two weeks.

"Grab the edge," Jim ordered you and you did as you were told. Your back was facing him and you felt his hand go between your legs, spreading them apart.

The tip of Jim's cock teased your entrance and without warning, he shoved himself into you, his hand quickly clamping over your mouth.

Your eyes were rolled into the back of your head and you grasped the edge of the pool tightly. Jim's pace was so fast, that it was hard difficult to keep up with.

"Is this what you wanted?" Jim asked, leant down and whispering in your ear.

It wasn't exactly the romantic scenario you'd pictured when you'd begged Jim to fuck you in the pool, but you weren't complaining either.

Pulling out of you, Jim grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. He grabbed your ass and hoisted you around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, digging into his shoulders as Jim once again dug into you, the new position allowing an even deeper penetration.

You whimpered against Jim's wet skin, feeling yourself reaching an orgasm.

Jim one hand went down to your pussy, his fingers rubbing your clit roughly, also close to an orgasm.

It didn't take long before the both of you had come, heavy breaths filling up the room.

"Happy now?" Jim asked and delivered a small smack to your ass.

You nodded. "You know, I'm so-"

"Don't," Jim said and cut you off.

[sh1-n0bu]

congrats on reaching 300 followers!!! may i request for hetalia? (i’m not sure on the maximum amount of characters allowed so i’ll make a list, you can skip anyone you don’t want to write for) how would scotland, wales, spain, portugal, france and northern ireland deal with an s/o who’s always lost in their thoughts? like they’re always imagining up complex storylines with their own characters, impossible scenarios, procrastinating, giving themselves unnecessary anxiety, and it’s turned to maladaptive daydreaming at this point. they know this, and they say they’re trying to change, but deep down they really don’t want to because reality hurts, and they’d rather be lost in their own little world instead. am i self-inserting too much? probably-

✿ 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 ✿

characters: francis (france), allistor (scotland), dylan (wales), antonio (spain) and siamas (northern ireland) x nb!reader

warnings: hints of maladaptive daydreaming, disassociation, insomnia, existential crisis, comfort, fluff, light angst

notes: phew it has been so long since i had last watched hetalia so i had to watch a lot of vids, comps and read the fandom articles to remind myself of them lmao. with that the characters also might come off OOC

hetalia fandom r u still alive????? if so then yall better prepare bc once my inbox gets flooded with hetalia reqs im gonna terrorize yall🕴🕴

francis is a romantic through and through and due to that he daydreams as well. whether it be romantic dates or acts you and him could do together, recreating gentle scenes from his favorite romance novels, plan out your date and anniversaries - francis is a romantic soul and he feels your daydreaming problem to a certain degree.

whenever he notices you suddenly go quiet, eyes hazy and unfocused, staring at something while fiddling with the strands of your hair, nails, the strings of your hoodie or anything you can get your hands on, the man would let out a sigh and sit behind you. pulling your body close to himself and slowly rocking you both back and forth gently - waiting patiently for you to come back to the real world.

but sometimes francis just can’t help but get a little bit selfish. wanting your attention only on himself but he knows it’s wrong.

so that’s why, when you stepped into your shared home with the blond after another draining day at work, he had already prepared a tea party setup with your favorite novel’s theme, dressed up as your favorite character with a charming smile and gentle eyes. candles lit, the freshly baked goods’ scent wafting through the air enough to make you drool alongside a hot, steaming marble pot filled with a chamomile tea.

“mon amour, would you care for a tea with me?”

before you two started dating, allistor thought of your stimming and daydreaming moments as something familiar to his brother, arthur.

perhaps you saw something that the normal people couldn’t see and interact with them like his little brother, so the redhead didn’t ask anything of it nor did he thought it’s anything problematic. however he got smacked in the face by how deeply your maladaptive daydreaming problems run when after your date at the cafe together, you almost got hit by a car when crossing the street with unfocused eyes and slow, dragged steps.

since then, allistor took it upon himself to study and research more about the differences of daydreaming and maladaptive ones, what causes them to happen, the reason for one to end up having such an odd yet harsh behavior.

whenever you would end up stimming with your headphones plugged in, mindlessly and robotically going through your work with an eerie silence - the man would observe you for a while, trying to decipher if you’re slipping a bit too deep into the dreams before walking over to you and gently tapping on your shoulder.

when your lovely eyes would lock with his own bright blue ones he would give you a smile and reach out a hand. a silent invitation for a slow dance with him - a formerly talked upon agreement that you two made to help you reground again after another slip.

“dalrin’ would you care to share your dreams with me?”

dylan loves fantasy creatures and stories like his brothers and due to that the blond daydreams quite often as well. about the different mythical creatures, their origins, territory, how they would live and interact with one another - all sorts of things.

he tends to stim a lot without even noticing as well so dylan would be the best person to share your struggles of maladaptive daydreaming. not to mention the short man always carries around a big sponge or those cute, character shaped stress balls.

the first time when he found you completely unresponsive laying on your bed with your headphones in, dylan immediately knew what was going on. so he silently slipped into the bed next to you, held your hand in his own and rubbed slow circles into the flesh until you came back again.

since then you both had made a promise to each other to try and get better. slowly but surely working on your behaviors, problems and sudden slips. and it’s safe to say that you both had gotten better.

“cupcake! if you slip down the rabbit hole again then take my hand and drag me down with you! ‘cuz i don’t ever want to be without you.”

antonio is a bright and optimistic young man, however sometimes he comes off as blunt and insensitive due to him not fully being able to read the situation at hand.

perhaps it’s due to his inability to read the room that he was able to snap you out of your slip so easily and effectively when you two first met. a simple pat to your shoulder and voice asking you “what are you doing sitting around without doing anything for?” definitely stopped your daydreaming.

after you had said your answer to him in an unsure voice, the bright smile wearing man simple smiled even brighter and asked you if you wanted to be friends.

and since then antonio and you two became friends. meeting up in small shops, restaurants, gardens, everywhere anywhere all at once until one day after almost 2 years of friendship the young man asked you if you would like to take your relationship a step further.

whenever he finds you stimming with your fingers while gazing at someplace far away, he just can’t help but get a bit sad. you wanted to be someplace that’s not here and antonio didn’t want you to go somewhere where he can’t be with you.

so he would always rubs simple shapes into your hand or shoulder, giving you an unusually melancholic smile with his pinky raised.

“pinky promise to always come back from your wonderland to me?”

siamas is a loud and chatty fellow - the perfect human representation of a golden retriever if only he had blond hair instead of red.

it was all thanks to his bright personality that you have been getting better and better at regrounding yourself back again when alone.

when siamas first saw your behavior with his own eyes he immediately knew what it was. so the redhead calmly walked over to your sitting form on the couch, kneeling before you and started to plant butterfly kisses on your cheeks. trailing them slowly over your acnes/moles/freckles until you snapped back and let out a giggle at his sweet antics.

he always has a lot of different toys, chibis and cute little bracelets connected to his keychain so whenever you two are going out kn a walk or a date, when he feels your hand become loose in his own he would proudly pull out his keychain and put one of the toys into your hand. gently squeezing yours - which is holding the toy - in his own, giving you a smile and a proud kiss to your forehead when you ground yourself back.

“welcome back honey. so what do you think of getting for dinner today?”

[odi-et-amo85]

I’m in Spain, but the “s” is silent… 🫠

[mwebber]

“On the bound” fluff maybe? Everyone needs a bit of fluff ❤️

debated linking something older or copying and pasting something from the doc, and in rereading this i thought it was kinda cute. takes place in 2011, but before "wrestling in dirt pits."

. ⋅ ˚̣- : 

Thurgau, Switzerland - August 2, 2011

On Tuesday morning, Mark texts her that he’s going around Europe for a week and a half, and asks if it’s okay for him to crash at her old flat in Walchwil.

She has no fucking idea why he wants to put himself through more travel than necessary, nor why he wants to come all the way to Switzerland when he could enjoy the sun in Spain with Fernando, or hell, go home to Australia, if he wants the torture.

“You have the keys,” she says when he picks up the phone, incredulous. “You don’t need to ask.”

It might have been her place on paper, but it was theirs in practice—a quiet escape from their lives that the UK couldn’t afford them, a spot to go between races or during the breaks. 

“Well, you might have sold it, I don’t know,” Mark responds tetchily. “But thanks.”

“What.” Offended, she stands up, already beginning to pace the length of her porch. “You’ve still got your stuff there, I wouldn’t sell it without telling you, obviously.”

He sighs, staticky over the line. “I don’t know, okay? Sorry for asking.”

His tone says it all, and she flushes, suddenly embarrassed. Of course he wouldn’t just—use the space. They’ve broken up.

“Whatever,” she mutters. “Have fun.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : 

The day Mark arrives at the flat is the day Seb decides to make the hour-long drive there. Her usual parking space is taken up by Mark’s motorcycle. 

He doesn’t even seem surprised to see her when she unlocks the door, the knowing bastard.

“Hope you brought food,” he greets her. Casually, he takes her bags.

She flicks her hair out of her face. “Honestly. It’s like you’ve never met me.”

Their evening is routine, and quietly domestic for how they slide into each other’s spaces again. It’s dinner, and washing up, and laundry, and cleaning, and sitting next to each other on her squeaky couch in their sleepwear, nursing their late night tea. Mark has his reading glasses on as he flips through a car magazine he got back in England. Seb leans against his side, silently skimming through the articles, her teacup warm in her hands.

She doesn’t ask, but he answers anyway, after the last page has been flipped, and their silence drags on for longer than it should. 

“I came to pack my things, the important stuff,” he explains. “Or at least see if I needed to rent a truck, or something.”

Of course he wouldn’t come out here without a reason. She allows herself to process the idea: Mark, picking his way out of her past, and not just her present or future. Nobody uses this flat anymore, but it’s frozen in a moment of time when they were together, and changing it would mean changing them.

“Why?” She clears her throat, sets the teacup down. “Now, I mean.”

To her surprise, he chuckles. “You haven’t seen?”

She sits up properly. That tone—he’s doing that thing where he knows she’s the butt of the joke and won’t tell her, and it used to be exasperating, but now it’s terrifying. “What?”

“Relax.” Smiling, he pats her knee. “It’s pretty funny, actually. I’m now one of F1’s ‘most eligible bachelors.’”

“It’s been a year.” She levels him with a flat look that he waves off dismissively.

“Fans are going crazy over you and Jenson now,” he says, and glances down at the back of the magazine, an ad for Cadillac. “It’s all looking very official.”

If Seb didn’t know him inside-out, she wouldn’t catch the way his expression falls minutely. She’d feel sympathy for him, in any other life.

Carefully, she puts her hand on his shoulder and leans against him again. “It’s not official yet.”

He quirks an eyebrow, turning to face her. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And his expression—

Turkey, 2010, was when she thought he’d never look at her like he loved her again. In the wash of the golden light around them, his hazel eyes are bright and warm, and the amused twitch of his mouth is begging to be kissed, and he still gives her butterflies in her stomach, after all this time. 

“You’re staring,” he whispers, like he hasn’t been staring right back at her.

Lightly, she pinches the frame of his glasses, and slides them off to fold and set them on the coffee table. He scrunches his face with it, blinks hazily at her when she’s done.

“Stay with me,” she requests. Her voice comes out soft, barely more than an exhale.

He leans closer, or maybe she does, or maybe they both can’t help it. When they kiss, it’s like every atom in her body settles before coming back to life again, renewed and jubilant. She brings her hand up to cup his jaw, ends up knocking into his own hand instead, and they stay there, fingers linked, lips sliding naturally together.

Seb keeps her eyes closed when he tilts his forehead against hers and breaks their kiss. If she opens them, she doesn’t know what she’ll see.

“'Forever, baby.'” His small huff of laughter is a burst of warmth against her skin. “Or however long. If only we knew.”

“Two nights,” she kisses his cupid’s bow, the tip of his nose, squeezes his hand. “Stay?”

Risking it, she peers at him through one eye, and then relaxes. He doesn’t look angry or sad, just—eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed pink, like he wants to kiss her again.

He tugs her back in to do just that. There’s a sudden, desperate edge to his movements that she reciprocates. Inevitably, she ends up on his lap, and then hitched on his hips, and then on her back, in her old bed.

They make love where they’ve done so countless times before, rolling in sheets that smell like laundry detergent and warmth and home. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : 

“I think I might love him,” Seb confesses, later. She’s tucked in Mark’s arms, curled around his body, tangled with him. Distractedly, she draws random patterns over his chest, sliding on the soft fuzz. “I don’t know. It’s not the same.”

He has his fingers in her hair, smoothing over and playing with her curls. They haven’t stayed in the afterglow for a while. It’s both healing and damaging, to indulge in it now.

“How does it feel?” The question is punctuated by soft kisses to the side of her head. She hums into it, then returns the gesture on his throat, his pulse point steady and warm beneath her lips.

How does it feel? It feels like—

“The beam of a flashlight in the darkness,” she tries. “Or a campfire on a cold night, like when we went to that beach in Australia.”

“I remember.” He smiles against her scalp. “You were so scared.”

“It’s like everything in the wilderness is designed to kill people,” she grumbles half-heartedly. It’s an old conversation, ill-fitting on them now. Ghosts of who they were shout gleefully in the distance, the memory of their words too vague to make out.

Mark is quiet for a moment, and his fingers still where they’re wrapped in her curls. “Am I the darkness to you, then?”

It’s laughable, how insecure he can be sometimes. But she doesn’t laugh—she squirms until she’s in his line of vision, gazing down at him, holding him close.

“My love,” she kisses him once, twice. “You’re the sun itself.” 

With practiced ease, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“My sunshine,” he says, like he used to, and the nickname splits her open, a knife through the stitches that hold her together.

Wordlessly, she kisses him again.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : 

On Saturday, she’s on a flight to Greece with Jenson, and Mark is en route back to England, and their little studio apartment remains as intact as it can be—a memento of heaven, when it was just the two of them, and the love they nurtured. 

[someone-you-do-not-know]

🧑‍🦰and 🤔 for Denmark!

🎶and 💓 for Spamano

🤡 for Romano only :)))

Aaaaaa, thank you!!!! :D :D :D

Denmark: 🧑‍🦰 - Have they ever dyed their hair? Ever cut it themself? Cut it? For sure. So many times. Sometimes while high on mushroom during the Viking age (you can imagine the hilarious result), at other times while being a depresso-espresso after Norway left in the 1800’s (not as fun a result). I think he would probably have dyed his hair during the 1960’s or 1980’s, probably dying it red or the fakest bottle blonde you can imagine (he’s blonde, yes, that’s not gonna stop him), but I don’t think he liked the result much. Sometimes, natural is best.

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand? Honestly, so many things– 😂😂😂 He can be a bit of an idiot. I have so many serious things and topics that he just. Wouldn’t get. Ever. But. Let’s keep it fun and lighthearted. It is Hetalia after all. Denmark would never understand the art of coffee. The man (nation) doesn’t get the difference between instant coffee and espresso etc. He is addicted to it though. Puts a bit of milk in it too.

Spamano: 🎶 - What’s a song they really like? Since this is for the ship, I’m interpreting it as a song they both like. Their song. The song that is actually their song is probably some folk song from the 1500’s, but they have accepted it’s never going to be played at the clubs no matter how much Spain requests it. Romano would go with a Måneskin song, but Spain literally cannot stop blasting Dos Oruguitas from Encanto, and Romano has begrudgingly accepted that he also likes it.

💓 - What are some signs they’ve fallen for someone? How do they show their affection? In this dissertation, I will… All the small signs will literally take me several hundreds of thousands of words, and this is why we write fanfiction, right? Right? Just gonna mention some of my favourites instead.  Gift giving. Both of them love giving gifts and seeing the other one’s face light up with joy from getting just the right gift. They have some particular gifts between them that’s just running gags – anything Ferrari related for Romano, stupid shirts for Spain, anything tomato themed for both of them (of course). Another one is a loving silence. Both of them can be kind of loudmouths (Spain in general, Romano when he’s mad), but they don’t really talk over each other that much, especially not when it’s just the two of them. A conversation can be like a dance, and they have mastered that art (I know you know what I mean). Spain can be quiet and just listen to Romano for hours, and Romano can pause in the middle of an angry tirade if he can see it’s starting to get on Spain’s bad side and let Spain talk. Both of them have a tendency to just look at each other silently. They actually invented long, loving gazes, and America took the idea to Hollywood who didn’t quite get it right. One of the silliest things Romano will do for someone he’s fallen for (Spain) is that he will recite poetry to them – even poems he’s composed himself. He doesn’t care that it’s not modern, and Spain loves it (like that voice obsessed idiot he is). Spain will show up unexpectedly on the doorstep of the one he’s in love with (Romano), which would annoy Romano if it was anyone else. It still does annoy him a little bit, but Spain usually has the best timing and shows up when he was starting to miss him, so Romano can’t really be too angry about it. 

Romano only: 🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about? SPAin–  … I’m sorry. But it’s also a little true. I want to write a serious answer, but now I’m just making myself crack up, because I think I’m funny.

[missallanea-archive]

@priesm: “ i’m in spain… but the ‘ s ‘ is silent. ” for luna!

"So dramatic... The future really doesn't stand a chance, does it?" Never mind that all Usagi had needed to do was a bit of a run, and she was lamenting this much? Meanwhile, she had managed to keep pace with her, despite Usagi's stride being easily double her own. Without shoes, on the hot pavement, she would like to add.

"U-sa-gi." Each syllable is accompanied by a small paw tapping her right between her hairbuns. "You need to learn to push yourself harder. Stopping as soon as you meet resistance is no way to grow stronger."

200 random dialogue prompts

[verypartialobserver]

Ok little rant I know nobody sees these because I have basically no followers but I finally firsthand encountered a “scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds” situation.

So context I (a gay Jewish American) am studying in Spain for a few months and staying with host families, and my current host family (an elderly couple maybe 60-70 years) is incredibly kind and sweet and accommodating to me, they are always advising me where to eat where to go which is cheap they really enjoy talking and are just like lovely people.

I was talking to them today and I was curious about the political parties in Spain I think the conversation started with them asking me about Biden oh do you think he is too old that kind of thing. They are both self professed centrists “oh we hate the left and the right is crazy” but they both vote right wing and have some different opinions than me on so called “radical feminism” and “those university types who don’t want to work and don’t want a king” they both seem in favor of democracy and like socialized medicine and such.

At some point in the conversation I was a little tired of being lectured about the insanities of the left in incredibly fast Andalucian Spanish (south of Spain accent they don’t pronounce their s sounds at the end of words it makes it quite difficult for me to understand) so I changed to topic to history because you know that’s my passion and I asked them who they thought the greatest Spanish leader was.

Franco. Immediate response. “oh Franco for sure.” Franco. The dictator. The admirer of Mussolini. The silent ally of Hitler. Franco. The destroyer of the second Spanish republic. Francisco fucking Franco.

The reason this lovely couple supported a literal fascist who killed 100-200 thousand people in the “white terror”: “he kept the streets safe”

Sacrificing everything, all morality all equality all notions of democracy of liberty of rule of law to ensure no homeless people or other “undesirables” live on the streets. A state of affairs which existed because even petty crimes were punished by oh I don’t know LITERAL TORTURE IN PRISON.

I’ll probably delete this later I’m a little bit spooked

[sneezyminniejo]

Unpleasant Side Effects

I decided to write a quick LUCY fic. It's pretty short, but It's good enough. Hope you enjoy

TW: EMETO

The members of Lucy had been on vacation and were meeting up to begin practicing for their next comeback. All four members were excitedly discussing the concept as well as talking about what they had done for their vacation. However the second youngest was quieter than usual.

"Wonnie, how was your vacation?" Yechan asked.

"It w-was good. I went to Sp-spain with my f-amily. Also c-aught a c-cold." Wonsang tried not to cough while he was talking with limited success. He ultimately fell into a semi intense coughing fit as soon as he finished. It was intense enough that he could feel one of the members pat his back in sympathy.

"That didn't sound good Won. You sure you're good to start practicing today? I'm sure we can wait a couple of days when you're feeling better." Sangyeop said.

"I'm on the tail end o-f it. As long as I don't t-alk or s-sing too much, I sho-ould be fine." Wonsang opened the thermos of tea he was carrying and took a few sips to rid himself of the irritation in his throat. The others didn't look completely convinced, but since Wonsang knows his body best, they went with what he said and got their instruments set up.

The first half of practice went okay. The group managed to learn two of the songs on their next album. However Wonsang kept interrupting with intermittent coughing fits.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait to continue learning the songs?" Yechan asked after Wonsang had another bad sounding coughing fit.

"I'm sure. My cough sounds worse than it is." Wonsang said.

The group decided to take a break from learning the new songs and instead decided to play some of their older songs. It was when they were playing Flowering that things went south. They had just finished the first chorus when Wonsang abruptly stopped playing. He turned to the side and brought his elbow up to his face as he began to cough. Wonsang knew that it was going to be one of his prolonged fits, so he somewhat clumsily removed his bass.

Wonsang spent a good thirty seconds coughing into his elbow. He was using his other hand to hold his elbow firmly against face. All of a sudden, without any warning, the sound of Wonsang’s cough changed. In an instant the other members could hear a slight strangled noise followed by a splash. They all looked at Wonsang, who was now staring at the floor with a shocked expression. There, at his feet, was a small puddle of vomit. His arm and hands were also covered in vomit. There had been a bit of a splashback as well, meaning that the lower half of his face and shirt collar also got hit.

“And that concludes band practice. Let’s get you home hyung. You clearly need rest.” Gwangil put down his drumsticks before standing up to lead his stilled shocked hyung out of the building. Even though Wonsang had driven himself to the company, Gwangil wasn’t about to let his hyung drive when he had just thrown up.

“That was unpleasant.” Wonsang said before once again coughing harshly.

“Hyung you should have told us that you felt nauseous.” Wonsang didn’t entirely know how to respond, so he stayed silent for the trip home. His first priority upon getting home was showering and changing his clothes. He really did not desire to be covered in puke for longer than he had to. When he exited the bathroom he found that Gwangil had set up the couch for him with a bucket sitting on the floor. He temporarily ignored it in favor of going to the kitchen to reheat some kimchi.

“Hyung, I don’t think you should be eating that if your stomach’s upset.” Gwangil said somewhat worriedly.

“I’m fine Gwangil. My stomach isn’t even upset. I just coughed a bit too hard.” This earned a confused look from the maknae.

It’s simple. I was coughing hard enough to contract my stomach muscles, accidentally expelling my stomach’s contents all over with no warning.” Gwangil definitely didn’t look like he believed his hyung.

“Alright hyung, but I’m going to stick around for a while. When you do wind up being sick again, I will be right here to help you.” Gwangil also took out his phone and texted Yechan an update. He then sat down on the couch and turned on the tv to wait.

Turns out Wonsang was right in why he had thrown up. There were zero repercussions to him eating kimchi closely followed by a burger. Although Gwangil was questioning how someone could find a burger appetizing right after throwing up. The maknae made sure to text Yechan updates and the older two were relieved to hear that Wonsang suddenly puking was just an unpleasant side effect of his cough.

[aemonds-sapphire]

girl we’re in this aemond shit for life coz why tf did I just start sobbing after reading weakness??I’m in spain but the s is silent 😿

Wait 😭 I shed a couple tears writing it but I really didn’t think people would…. 🫠 thank you for sharing your thoughts with me 🥹

But yeah…. Aemond has such a hold on us 🫠🫠🫠🫠