#like i left her as a memento until it was time to go

[bullet-prooflove]

The Merry Go Round: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: Reality starts to crash down on you in the wake of your recent trauma.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.

Sex, Lies and Cocaine Dreams - John takes his revenge on the man that shattered your dreams.

By The Grace of God - An unexpected ally goes to bat for you during your beard hearing.

Choices - You and John discuss your options moving forward.

The Sexual Revolution (NSFW) - You decide to give John a private show before the event.

A Love Story - Your performance sparks an unexpected conversation with Gamma.

The Problem With Winning The War - The problem with winning the war is that you don't expect the second attack.

Mack The Knife - You come face to face with a nightmare in John's apartment.

There’s a moment after a trauma when reality hits. Everything before that is a quasi-state. The world moving around you but it’s not touching you, not really because your focused on that moment, the one that requires your full attention.

For you the fall comes in the silence, in the five minutes you sit alone in the Suture Room staring down at the six inch slash in your left forearm. You can’t remember if you’re supposed to be stitching it or if you’re waiting for someone else to because the past two hours are scrolling past you like a series of grainy snapshots.

John bleeding out into the tarmac as the rain pelts down upon your skin.

The first time he coded, and then the second.

The police interview after he was wheeled up to the O.R because apparently you had to justify why you permanently disfigured the man who had not only stabbed your boyfriend but was planning to rape and murder you.

“I wanna get off this merry-go-round.” You tell Carol Hathaway when she enters the Suture Room. “You need to fucking sedate me otherwise I’m going to lose my shit.”

“So lose your shit.” She says frankly as she leans back against the door, giving you space. “You have every right to.”

So you do. That iron clad control of yours it finally slips and all of those emotions they just come rushing to the surface.

The horror of it all, the unfairness and that rage, that fucking rage that has you throwing shit around the treatment room because John doesn’t deserve this, you don’t deserve this.

You cry, you sob, you scream until there’s absolutely nothing left inside you but that emptiness and that’s when you sink down to the floor, your back against the wall your palms scrubbing over your exhausted features.

“I don’t know what to do without him.” You whisper as Carol sits down alongside you, her shoulder bumping against yours. “Without his laugh or his smile, I don’t know how to function, how to live, how to breathe…”

“You don’t need to think about that right now.” Carol says gently, her head bowed close to yours. “Carter, he’s fighting with everything he has to come back to you. He’s gonna make it, you both are, you just gotta have faith.”

You nod your head shakily because faith, it’s the only thing you have to hold on to right now. Faith that John’s strong enough to survive this, that you are too.

“What about the other asshole?” You ask using the back of your wrist to wipe away the tears from your features. “Did they manage to stabilise him yet?”

“No.” She sighs. “He coded ten minutes ago. He went into shock, the damage to his airways, it was too much.”

“Oh.” You say, your gaze fixing on the stainless steel suture tray you’d tossed on the floor during your breakdown. “I know I should feel bad about that but I just… don’t. I know it must make me a terrible person…”

“No.” Carol says firmly. “It doesn’t. He tried to hurt you, he did hurt John. I think he deserved everything he got and more.”

“The cops might not see it that way.” You remind her, thinking back over the interview. There was definitely a tone of accusation there when they learned the full story. A love triangle they had called it.

“The lawyer Carter’s grandma hired might make them see otherwise.” Carol responds and your head snaps up towards her. “He’s been reading them the riot act ever since he turned up.”

“Gamma’s here?” You whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. You have no idea what to tell the other woman, how to explain any of this to her.

“Yes. She wants to know if you’re ok and she’s very adamant that she needs to see that for herself so why don’t you let me stitch you up and you can head out there and reassure her.”

“I don’t...”

“Crystal…” Carol says sternly as she raises to her feet and holds out her hand to pull you up. “Nobody’s trying to blame you for this, so please stop trying to blame yourself.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part ten//t.c.

•continued directly from last part!

Warnings: THEY BANG! 18+ readers only please!

Timmy made you lay down on the island countertop in the kitchen. He sighed onto your stomach just before planting kisses there, his hands splayed over your hips. His hands roamed upward, tickling over your ribs. He grabbed your breasts through your unlined bra, your nipples hardened against his palms, making you moan.

Your breath quickened as his lips traveled lower, grazing over your belly button. The tip of his tongue teasing just above the hem of your underwear. “Fuck, Timothée.” you whined.

“Now who’s eager?” he smirked.

“Fuck you.” you giggled, pushing your hair away from your face.

He tucked his finger into the sides of your panties, pulling them down in swift movements. He parted your thighs, kissing each one teasingly, watching your reaction.

You were a puddle between your legs, you just knew it.

Timmy put his fingers to your clit, rubbing slowly.

You shuddered at the contact.

“Pretty girl is so wet for her boss.” his voice purred just inches away from your pussy.

“Oh, you’re just my boss now are you?”

“Technically, I always have been.” his fingers applying more pressure to your wetness. You could practically hear that cocky grin on his face, you didn’t have to see it.

You lay back flat on the countertop, eyes closed, your senses focused only on his pleasure and his provoking words. “Well, boss, I really want to feel your fingers inside me.” you dared. He wasn’t the only one with some biting wit.

“She makes demands, does she?” With that, he prodded at your opening.

You bit your lip, stifling a moan in anticipation for more. He circled your pussy; his long fingers felt amazing already.

With a soft plunge, his fingers were inside of you, sliding in and out. You whimpered, melting against him, you bucked your hips softly in time with his fingers.

You felt his hot breath down there too, then his wet tongue, lapping up drips of your arousal. You cursed under your breath.

He curved his fingers inside you, plucking harshly at that wall, making your pussy feel numb. He kept it up, ramming those damn fingers until you saw stars and basically wailed, like a cat in heat.

“Oh my god.” you panted, your body shaking for a moment, orgasmic convulsions taking route.

Timmy removed his fingers, then lapped his tongue between your soaked folds.

You sat up on your elbows, balancing as best as you could. You watched him devour you, you ran your fingers through his hair. You pushed away the dark fringe threatening to cover his eyes as he looked up at you. You could not believe you were sharing such intimacy with him. Any two people could engage in sex, but this was a session of giving real love to another person. You could tell by the passion in his eyes that he cared for you, that he wanted to make you feel good.

……..

Timmy had carried you from the kitchen to his bedroom. You were left on his bed as he used the bathroom. You had never been in his room, you had walked by it, seen the door slightly opened, but never a full glimpse of the inside. It was rather bland, like a really nice hotel room with little mementos from fans scattered on the dresser along with some ball caps, a watch and a bracelet or two on the nightstand, it was very evident that he slept in this room, and not much else.

You heard the light switch in his en-suite bathroom, and his quick footsteps back into the bedroom.

He was naked now, he went to grab you by the ankles, but you realized you didn’t hear the sink being used.

“You didn’t wash your hands.”

“What?” he frowned at you, frustrated that you were keeping him from doing what he really wanted.

“You didn’t wash your hands after going to the bathroom. Go do it, you nasty.”

He twisted his face at you, “You’re still on my hands too.”

That was too much for you to stand, “Okay, ew, just go!” you waved him away and he laughed at you, but obliged your orders.

………

He came back in, hands clean, but he was more aggressive. He grabbed you, rolling you onto your front, up on your hands and knees.

He smacked your ass, making you yelp in surprise and slight pain. But you didn’t mind that it hurt, it only turned you on more.

He took a second to unclasp your bra and you helped him take it off of you and you heard him fling it across the room.

Then there was a slap to your other ass cheek. You gasped, your back arching at the sting. “Timmy.”

“Too much?” he asked from behind you.

“No,” you shook your head, “I liked it.”

“My baby wants me to be rough?” he asked, grabbing you by the hips.

“Yes.” you answered, your stomach tingling as you heard him call you ‘my baby.’

He let out a breath, “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He pulled your ass toward him. His cock touched your pussy. He pressed the head against your wet hole.

You trembled as he slowly filled you, “Ughhh, I’ve always wanted you, Timmy.” You gripped his comforter hard as he bucked his hips against you.

“Yeah?” he pounded deeper, “Always? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ah, because you’re my boss,” you collapsed onto the bed as he fucked you harder. Your face against the plush comforter, you added, “dumbass. Ahhh!” you moaned as he wiggled his hips, somehow sliding in deeper.

“Oh shit.” you heard him mutter as he held your waist for dear life as he pounded his cock into you, smacking against your ass with each thrust. He cursed under his strained breaths and you were reduced to a moaning, whore-ish mess.

…….

He flipped you onto your back, nearly spread eagle for him and he stuck his cock into you again.

You watched him fuck you, holding onto your own legs to keep yourself steady. His ab muscles rippled before your eyes, his body shined with sweat. You looked up, seeing a few curls flop over and get stuck to his sweaty forehead. His biceps bulged as he held your hips down. He looked like a girl’s wet dream, but you actually felt everything.

You moaned as you reached forward, touching his flat tummy, feeling him contort with his thrusts. “Oh, Timmy feels so good.” you cooed. You were more sexed out than you had ever been in your life.

He took ahold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together. “Your pussy feels like heaven, baby. I knew it would be amazing with you.”

His cock hit your cervix over and over. Your eyes rolled back, the friction inside you caused the numbness now. You bit your lip. “Mm, tell me how long you’ve wanted me, baby.” You needed to hear even more from him, though you were surprised you could even think in this moment.

“Oh fuck, since that first day I interviewed you. I think I subconsciously hired you because I knew this would happen one day.”

“That you’d fuck me?” you tucked your legs around him, eager for the answer.

“Yes.” he leaned onto you, cupping your face in his hand as his movements slowed, his cock slowly seeping out of you, your pussy sucking him slowly back in. He kissed you deeply, “And I’d get to love you. I’ve wanted this feeling my whole life, y/n.” Suddenly, he grunted and his lower half moved rapidly for a few seconds before his cock shot off inside of you.

You both moaned loudly in relief, and you swore his neighbors would hear you both orgasm. But you didn’t care.

Timmy slumped his weakened body onto you, his face in your chest.

You combed your fingers through his hair to soothe him as you both tried to catch your breaths.

February 1, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi

[akirchi]

LIGHTING A CANDLE!

“i hate all of you, and nothing can change that.”

— characters: akira kurusu / ren amamiya, akechi goro

— pairing: akira x gn! reader, akechi x gn! reader (can be seen as romantic or platonic) , akechi x akira

— content warning: swearing , mention of decapitated heads , murdering cognitive , flirting , depression , r! is a wildcard , r’s! phantom thirf get up isnt explicitly described, rather long.

it was like last time but this time you turned out… different? it was like someone lighting you up with a lighter— like lighting a candle but you were the wax this time, not the lighter, melting every time someone relighted it.

you were burning out, and you were not getting better. since when was the last time you actually felt like you accomplished something?

the last time you made someone proud? the last time someone appreciated you or the hard work you do?

when was the last time you were so happy? felt like you were unstoppable? felt like you were worthy of being in their presence?

why were you a wildcard? there was nothing special about you unlike them. they were special, why’d you think you were special like them?

they can accomplish more then you can. grabbed their diplomas and left you in the dust, with what? they didn’t bother texting you? calling you? when was the last they cared about you?

all of your friends succeed in your dream and you stuck here, being a useless, scum bag, author. you were a famous writer now sure, but why’d you think it was like to ann’s modeling job? yusuke’s art? akechi and akira’s detective work?

you were slowly running out of will, and the fire is almost burned out…

“god, are you stupid, [name]?” you groaned while dragging a hand down your face, your black sweater getting scrunched up as you shoved your hands back into your pockets to look at a familiar place.

leblanc. the place your friend group solely promised to meet up every time they had a break, like right now on this entire break. you swallowed a bundle of saliva and forcing yourself to walk to the door.

shaky hands taking the door knob and opening it, the bell ringing and the place going silent to look at whoever opened the door before it erupted to loudness.

“[name]! omg, it’s been so long since i saw you!” ann greeted first with a hug, as you stood there awkwardly and patting her back. her separating, letting her take in your appearance.

“woah! [name], you look a lot skinner and paler!” ryuji said, almost sounding like a insult to anyone who was outside the friend group.

it was obvious that you were gonna make a snarky reply but it shocked everyone when you didn’t but mumble a uh-huh and went to sit yourself beside makoto, going onto your phone.

everyone thought you were just in a sour mood since your two bestfriends weren’t here yet, so they went back to conversing with eachother.

it was so insufferable to be here. the noise felt like someone was drilling into your head, the way they didn’t bother checking up on you. ignoring you like you were just a crumb on a table.

that was until the bell rang again, there stood in all their glory; akechi and akira, the former phantom thieves went up to the two, one gritting their teeth and clutching their fist, sneaking out quickly when everyone was distracted.

the person disappearing all of a sudden didn’t go unnoticed to the two, you were the first person they laid eyes on and the first person they wanted to see on this meetup.

you declined any other meetup, you stopped responding with a decent flow, you just… disappeared off the gc. you never opened it until a few months ago, and that was when this meetup was planned.

the two of them missed you dearly. you were the one who kept them in shape whenever it was just the three of you exploring mementos despite it being such dangerous for a low number of people but hey, you three weren’t the strongest for no reason.

no one knew what you were going through, you didn’t blame them— i mean, you never told anyone about your problems. how were they supposed to know? this was entirely your fault, and you take full responsibility.

“so, you think [name]… has a palace?” a hangout that was supposed to be fun had turned a drastic one. the air was tense and no one dared to cut it. they should’ve noticed it sooner, you walked in acting differently and then disappeared.

“it’s most likely. the odds are there but we’re not really sure. something’s clearly bothering them and it’s formed into a bigger problem.“ akechi placed a hand underneath his chin, clearly hiding behind a mask to cover up the fact that he’s worried and would rather deal with this problem himself.

“either way, have you found out their code words?” futaba pointed out, standing up from the booth. akira and akechi looked at each other for second and nodded, as akira pulled out his phone.

[name] [lastname]

prison

shibuya

the room flickered a bit, sudden memories of their early phantom thieves activities rushing through their head. they truly did miss the thrill of running through palaces, yet they didn’t expect one to be their fellow teammate.

ann sighed, looking down at her lap guilty, “to think they’d have a palace.” yusuke hummed in response, “they think shibuya is a prison for them?” akira pulled his lips into a straight line.

he had remembered how you wanted out of shibuya, to travel the world without any shackles. it’s sorta ironic that you’d think shibuya was like a prison for you, he could almost give a pity laugh.

“enough chit-chatting. let’s go find their treasure.” makoto stood up, saying those words sternly with everyone on board with her words. akechi sighed and pushing himself off the counter, sending the leader of the phantom thieves a look before they were sent off into your palace.

joker looked down, seeing himself and everyone else in their costumes which… confused him. you saw them as threats? you? someone who had always cherished the rest and never crossed them? he guesses things might’ve changed these past years.

as they descended into the palace, cognitive versions of the others had emerged, each one posing as boss and one of the seven deadly sins. what confused him more was that him and crow were nowhere to be seen when they had reached your treasure.

“that was…”

“short yet lonesome?”

“short and annoying, but yeah. that works too.” ryuji replied to futaba, “so, what now? send a calling card and steal the treasure—“ “no. this was far too easy. the last palaces we’ve encountered, we’ve all met the cognitive versions of the holders, we’ve seen none of them.” akechi cut ryuji off, a rather strict and suspicious tone in his words.

makoto agreed with him, adding onto his statement, “haven’t you noticed? all the troublesome shadows we’ve fought have been us, but we haven’t seen joker’s and crow’s yet. which means…”

the sound of hands clapping had echoed through the room, “i applaud you for catching on so fast.” your disoriented voice made everyone snap their head towards shadow you.

your eyes once so bright had looked so dull. shadow you were dressed in your phantom thieves getup (mask off), it almost fooled everyone if it weren’t for your voice and how dull everything about you looked.

with the snap of your fingers, your treasure was gone and multiple prison guards had appeared and pointed their guns at them. akira narrowed his eyes at you, seeing how your eyes were pinned onto the two of them, a look of absolute disdain in your eyes.

“don’t tell me you don’t know?” akechi scoffed at your words, not threatened by the multiple guns pointed at them, “indulge us with your story then.” your eyes snapped towards him, the barrels of the guns now aimed at his head earning multiple gasps.

“i’m gonna be honest with you guys,” your back was faced towards them, not even sparing them a glance when those words were spat out, “i hate all of you, and there’s nothing that can change that.”

with that you disappeared. your words staining something in all of their hearts. was this how you truly felt about them? did you actually enjoy them? where did everything go wrong?

your words dug a deeper pain in the two boys hearts. the one who kept them from fighting each other, hated them..? they didn’t wanna believe it but it came from you, even though it was the shadow version of you, it was still you.

“joker, crow! watch out!” oracle’s voice yelled out, two unknown figures came out, one going for joker first as two daggers clashed.

standing infront of him was the other version of himself, face completely voided of… well, a face. joker looked towards crow, seeing him in the same predicament before joker clicked his tongue and kicked the cognitive version of himself back.

“we gotta get out of here!” morgana shouted out through the chaos, turning into a van with everybody rushing in and pushing past multiple obstacles to get back to the entrance.

akira leaned back against the seat of the booth, panting heavily with a hand clutching onto his shirt. everyone seemed exhausted, mainly because this was the first time they did a palace run within one day.

“so, [name] does truly hate us.” haru muttered underneath her breath, face drooping in sadness as the words sunk in properly. “h-hey.. we don’t actually believe that, right? there’s no way they actually hate us.” ryuji’s commented, voice wavering and trying so hard to cling onto past memories for hope.

“i’m… afraid they do hate us. cognitive versions of different people are usually how they really are and how they truly feel, so… yes, [name] does hate us.” makoto answered, voice filled with disbelief.

akechi stood up abruptly and left, akira following after closely.

“those two are gonna take the news harder. after all, the three of them were so closely knitted, it’s hard to imagine that [name]’s hated them for so long.” morgana mumbled, his body curling up into himself.

“[name].” the stern voice of akira broke you out of your shock. you looked up at the two people you hated with all of your heart with a raised eyebrow, “what?” the lack of kindness in your voice shoved a knife into their hearts.

akira didn’t hesitate and pulled you into a hug, feeling your body tense, your arms on the side of your body. you gritted your teeth, fists clutching— fuck this. fuck him. fuck akechi. thinking they can do this all of a sudden without checking up on you throughout the months you were lonely.

“get off me.” akira’s grip on your tightened, his face burying itself onto the top of your head, “akira, i said get off me.” akechi’s hand placed itself on top of akira’s shoulder, a stern look on his face.

he finally let you go, seeing how you put a distance between the three of you, “nice seeing you two i guess.” you muttered through your disdain before walking away fast.

“let’s go. i did my part.” akechi chuckled lightly, “ever the trickster, huh?” akira’s lips pulled into a light smirk, “that was purely rhetorical, don’t take it seriously.” way to kill the mood.

everyone stood infront of the treasure, seeing it being a photo of everyone together before they all went their separate ways. seeing how they used to be so young and so close brought memories back, how everyone had became a close knitted friend group until graduation.

“you had the audacity to hug me and send a calling card, but didn’t bother to even send a ‘hi’? don’t worry i don’t hate you guys for that. i have much different reasons.” your disoriented voice echoed through the now different scenery outside on-top of your palace.

low-and-behold, you, with joker and crow’s heads reserved in a cylindrical tanks filled with water. the sight made the two boys stomachs churn at the gruesome sight of ‘themselves’.

shadow you could tell how it got the others uncomfortable, it brought a smile onto your face. “don’t think so deep into it. i just helped you with your problem.”

“we didn’t need your help.” those words had made you drop the smile rather fast, “i don’t need your help either.” you scoffed, hatred absolutely fuelling your body.

“i don’t need your help. i never needed it! i didn’t need it back then! i don’t need it now—“ your hands went up to tug at your hair, everything around you becoming a blur. the sight of you going into a frenzy state made joker take a step forward.

“no! stay away. i hate you. i’ve always hated you! i hated you all. i hated how all of you just left me alone! don’t try and force yourself back into my life.” your voice went down an octave, you snapped your fingers, a deformed version of your persona stood in front of you, defending you from any harm.

“try and keep up now—“ you were cut off by a bullet going through you. your hands went up to the wound, your body swaying back and forth as you jumped down from on top of the cylindrical tank, gun still held up and pointed towards the shadow version of yourself.

“if you kill me… you die too.” your own words made you frown, arm returning back to your side as you turned your back on everyone, “do me a favour and let go.” you looked back at yourself, walking close to the ledge and jumping off, disappearing from the place.

“i… i’m sorry. it was my fault. i never reached out and i never told anyone how i truly felt. i’m so sorry.” you apologized through a shaky tone, shadow you fading away and leaving the group photo on the ground.

“it couldn’t be this easy.” haru commented, looking at makoto worryingly, “still. we got it easy, let’s head out now.” morgana ordered as he noticed the palace was beginning to crumble.

“welcome back. a two day palace run, i’m rather shocked.” you turned to the group when the entered lé blanc, a cup of coffee in front of you as you praised them.

everyone stayed quiet as they stared at you in disbelief and surprise, “don’t look at me like that. you’re acting as if i had due date.” you scoffed, taking a sip of your coffee before you yelped when ann had rushed in and hugged you, the coffee spilling onto the counter.

“[name]! i’m so so so so sorry i never checked up on you! or even tried to hang out with you! i’m sorry.” she apologized, the sudden apology sending you into a burst of red filled with embarrassment.

“yeah, we’re all sorry we didn’t see the signs sooner, we did miss you.” why were they all apologizing? wasn’t it supposed to be you apologizing? you made them go through your own mess, and they’re apologizing? what a weird bunch.

you stared at them weirdly after recovering from your embarrassment, “don’t look at us like that!” ryuji suddenly butted in, approaching you and taking you into a headlock, “you went mia on us! you didn’t even show us your newest books!” the sounds of you asking for help brought laughter into the café.

“yeah, i know! i already apologized for that, dumbass!” you escaped from ryuji’s grasp, slapping the back of his head, “clean up the coffee spill if you wanna make up to me.” you ordered ryuji, seeing him scoff and do it reluctantly.

everything went back to normal, yet akechi and akira needed to settle things with you.

“so, how ‘bout a celebration kiss?”

“don’t test me right now.”

[fraugwinska]

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

[praisethegabs]

HOME

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

synopsis: starting a family right after the incident that ended Raccoon City wasn't in your or Leon's plans, but destiny decided to bless you two with twins. Now married and with two kids to raise, life can't be better. Leon finally seems to be healing and moving on, until his job starts to take a toll on him. Again.

warnings: angst (again) with happy ending, mentions of traumas, nightmares, sub!leon and soft dom!wife, mentions of: ptsd, crying during sex, soft smut, p in v, hand job, praise kink, use of pet names. both oc's named olivia and jake as the twins.

word count: 7k

a/n: istg i needed to write something like this. idk why, but the idea felt so great... i like to imagine what was like for leon if he had kids and a normal life, so this is what i got. enjoy it, fellas

"show me the most damaged parts of your soul, and I will show you how it still shines like gold," nikita gill

Starting a family wasn't something you thought about in your early 20s.

But then, Leon Kennedy entered your life. You both met before Raccoon City, and you couldn't help but fall in love with those innocent baby blue eyes. At first, Leon was full of energy, completely eager and enthusiastic about his new job as a cop. You both thought that moving to Raccoon City was a good idea, and you were both happy.

You had just started a new job as an intern journalist, and it was the perfect opportunity for you since you were almost done with college. As for Leon, he graduated from the police academy and was ready to serve. For two individuals in their early 20s, it was the perfect opportunity.

Life can be weird at times.

You both never got the chance to do what you wanted. Raccoon City was in chaos with numerous casualties, and Leon came close to death while battling the Tyrant known as Mr. X. Somehow, amidst all the chaos, you managed to befriend Claire Redfield, a teenager who was searching for her older brother. Together, the three of you managed to survive that night, even rescuing a little girl named Sherry. What happened afterwards were mere consequences.

You knew from the start that Leon was an orphan, and that he was rescued by a cop after his entire family was killed. This is why he helped Claire keep Sherry safe. However, even after that living nightmare ended, the government decided to "ask" Leon to join them. He never told you what happened afterward. He never explained why he had to attend this six-month training camp.

But he was acting differently. Sure, you couldn’t blame him for being distant.

What happened that night traumatized him. He was shot in the shoulder and pursued by Mr. X, narrowly escaping death. You were with Claire most of the time because Leon thought you would be safe with her. He never told you exactly what happened, but you knew him. He changed.

Sometimes, he would wake up screaming, scared, and desperately searching for you, just to ensure your safety and well-being. You would calm him down, talk to him, and help him understand that you are safe and that nothing is real. In the mornings, you would wake him up with breakfast in bed and tend to his wound - which later turned out to be a scar. It was a sorrowful memento of that evening.

Two weeks before Leon left the house, you discovered that you were expecting a baby.

This wasn't exactly what you both wanted, and at first, Leon was mesmerized by the idea of becoming a father, but he was also very scared. Suddenly, he wanted to be at home with you instead of going to this training camp, just like you wanted him to stay. But Leon didn't have a choice. You watched him leave, and something inside your chest told you that this would be the last time you would see this version of Leon, the rookie cop you had fallen in love with.

When he returned home, he was bigger than you had remembered.

His muscles had doubled in size, and he was much stronger, completely different from when he left. His eyes, however, remained the same. It was your Leon, the same man you had met before the apocalypse. When he saw your baby bump and realized it was his child inside, he cried. You had a baby shower, but you didn't know the gender of your baby - you wanted Leon to be a part of everything. So, one week after he returned home, the two of you got married in a beautiful, intimate, and small ceremony. Claire and Chris were in attendance - Chris being Claire's older brother - and you and Leon quickly became friends with him.

Your family lived in another country, and you had no contact with them. You were on your own, and you were glad to have him by your side.

At the end of the year, your twins were born, and Leon was there to witness the childbirth. His eyes were shining just like they did when you both first met. Her name was Olivia. Leon loved that name, and she had her father's eyes and the same blond hair. The other twin was named Jake, and he had your hair and Leon's eyes. Both Olivia and Jake were copies of Leon, and he was proud of them. After the first few weeks, he took care of all the chores around the house and looked after you, Olivia, and Jake. He always said, "You shouldn't worry about that anymore."

But sometimes, he was very scared of someone trying to hurt the three of you. So, he asked to move somewhere else, and suddenly, you didn't have to worry about work or money anymore. He provided everything you needed, and he would move mountains to ensure the security of his loved ones.

The year was now 2002.

He had to leave for a mission with Major Jack Krauser. You stayed at home with your twins and were aided by Claire because they would cause you a lot of trouble. Of course, Leon's job was dangerous, but he always managed to call you and the kids. He never used his ring while on duty and had no pictures of his family with him, afraid that someone would find them and harm the babies. You can be sure that no one at the agency knew he was married and a father of two.

To be honest, you didn't care. You knew that after the incident in Raccoon City, your family meant everything to him, and he would do whatever it took to keep all of you safe. Leon was broken inside, but now he had found a new sense of purpose. He loved all three of you more than anything in the world, and when he returned from the operation, he embraced the twins and showered all of you with affection. Something happened there, but you decided not to ask.

For the twins' 4th birthday, you set a small party for a few friends.

Claire and Chris were there, as always, along with a few of your friends. The barbecue was filled with love and happiness, and yet, you noticed Leon's eyes shining once more. A little reminder that life could be peaceful sometimes, without the horrors of one's job. You would look at him, with all his glorious features kissed by the sun. The way his eyes shine with happiness. He was so beautiful. You felt so lucky.

Olivia was definitely her dad's girl. She loved running into his arms and staying there. She loved it when Leon played with her or bathed her. Jake, however, was more of a momma's boy. Of course, he loved being with his father, but he preferred being with you. They used to sleep together and be each other's best friends until that day arrived.

They were growing up, and now they wanted separate rooms. They would fight sometimes, and Leon was always the reasonable person who would calm them both. He would always talk to them instead of doing something else, and occasionally, on very rare occasions, he would ground the twins.

You knew that your husband was happy with his life. It made him forget about Raccoon City. It helped him heal.

Things couldn't be better for your family. The twins were at school. You finally had time for yourself and Leon. Sex was incredible, and occasionally, you would send the children to Claire's so you could reaffirm your connection with your husband. Leon was very submissive, and you enjoyed being in control, making him beg like the obedient boy he was. You ruined him so deeply that you were certain he would never forget it. Even with two children, you still had the power to touch him and drive him crazy.

Until 2004.

“The president's daughter?" you asked him when he dropped the news about his new assignment. "In Spain?"

"Yes, honey. The president doesn't want anyone to know... that's why I'm going alone," Leon sighed, holding your hands. "But I promise I'll be back before you even have a chance to miss me."

"I already miss you," you muttered, which made him smile. His thumb gently pressed against your lips, while his hand firmly held your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"You know I love you more than anything in this world, right?" Leon asked, his voice smooth, husky, and caring. You nodded in response. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

"Well, you better tell the twins. Good luck, Liv is not in the mood today," you said, playfully tapping his shoulder, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on, honey... this is unfair!" Leon protested, but then he laughed, following you to the living room. He called the twins, and Olivia was already sitting on his lap. "Okay, Daddy's gotta go for a few days to fight the bad guys. Behave and don't get into trouble with your mom, or I'll be the one in trouble, okay?"

"Fight the bad guys?" Liv asked, facing her dad while clutching her favorite teddy bear.

"Yes, sweetheart. They need Daddy to fight the bad guys again. There's someone who needs help," Leon explained calmly, while cradling Olivia in his lap.

"Will you be safe?" Jake asked, as he went to sit with his sister on Leon's lap, hugging his dad.

"Always, pumpkin. When I get back home, I promise I'll take a few days off so we can all be together, okay?" Leon smiled at his son.

"Please, get back home safely, Daddy," Olivia said, burying her face in his neck. Her words brought a smile to his face as he hugged the twins.

You had your twins in your arms as the three of you watched Leon leave in the black SUV. As soon as you closed the door, you activated the non-negotiable security system. Leon needed to be sure that you would be safe with the kids, and you knew very well that he wouldn't be able to focus on his job if he had to worry about his family's safety.

"Why does Daddy have to go, Mommy?" Olivia asked, her eyes shining with tears.

"It's his job, sweetie." Sometimes, Daddy needs to save people so he can keep us safe too," you tried to explain in the best way you could. After all, they were only six years old.

"But what if we need him, Mommy?" Jake asked. You touched the tip of his nose, smiling.

"Well, mommy can protect both of you from the bad guys... and we also have Uncle Chris and Auntie Claire who can help if I need assistance," you reassured your twins with a soothing tone of voice.

"I miss him already," Olivia cried, and then you hugged her tightly.

“I know, baby. Mommy misses him too”

It was the middle of the night when you heard someone deactivating the security system and unlocking the door. After three distinct knocks, you knew exactly who it was.

Leon was tired, distressed, and angry all at once. His clothes were dirty, and he felt quite miserable. His entire body was aching, and he couldn't wait to fall asleep in your bed, holding you in his arms. You, on the other hand, turned on the lights in your room and went immediately to meet him.

The moment Leon saw you, he immediately embraced you, his face completely buried in your neck, sending shivers down your spine, despite the difference in height. Your fingers ran through his tousled blonde hair, and for minutes, words were unnecessary. The way he was holding you in his arms made you think that something really bad had happened in Spain.

"Shh, it's okay... you're home, baby," you whispered in his ear, providing some comfort.

"I'm so sorry," Leon said, his voice breaking.

The last time you saw him so fragile, on the verge of tears, was after the incident in Raccoon City. Witnessing him in that state once more filled you with fear. Right after he apologized, for reasons unknown, he started sobbing and crying on your shoulder. Something was not right.

It took 40 long minutes until Leon finally calmed down. Meanwhile, you kept hugging him and reassuring him with calm words that everything was fine and he was safe at home with you. You gently stroked his hair and often traced circles on his back with your finger.

"I never told you why I left... or why I am doing this job," Leon said vaguely, his eyes focused on something else.

"I never told you why I left... or why I am doing this job," Leon said vaguely, his eyes focused on something else.

"Why does this matter now, baby?" you raised your eyebrow, sitting next to him on the sofa.

"It was because of Sherry. Remember that when Claire left to find her brother, and we attempted to locate a rescue but ended up in that government facility?" Leon asked, his gaze still fixed on something else.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. They kept you away from Leon, but they never told you why. After six years, you would have the answers to this issue.

"That day, they started questioning me, and because I possessed the skills they were seeking, they expressed their desire for me to join them. I only managed to get us out of there because of that," Leon says, his eyes cast downward as if he were ashamed. "But the thing is... they never asked me to join them."

You raised your eyebrows again, confused by his sudden revelation. You knew from the beginning that something - or someone - was being used to make him stay. He finally looks at you, his eyes shining with tears once more.

"They forced me. They said they would kill us if I didn't say yes... and I had no other choice. I asked them to leave you out of this, and I would work for them... I just wanted to keep you safe," Leon sobs again, burying his face in his hands, his voice cracking. "But this last mission... God... the things I saw and did..."

You decided to let him vent. Whatever happened, there was enough to break the wall that Leon had built over the past six years. He was finally allowing himself to feel his emotions, and you wouldn't interrupt him.

"These villagers, they were insane. Controlled by a parasite called Las Plagas, they transformed into monstrous creatures, their heads exploding and their forms becoming grotesque." Leon continued to sob, as the memories of the events in Spain flooded back into his mind. "The cult leader also infected me. He almost turned me into his pet, using the plaga inside me to torture and control my body and mind."

And then, he sobbed again. Seeing your husband hurt like that breaks your heart. Since Raccoon City, you have always been the tough one. You never showed any signs of sadness or trauma because you knew Leon needed your support. Eventually, what happened there stays in the past. But for him, it was completely different.

Gently, you embraced him once more, his head resting on your neck and his breath caressing your skin gently. You felt his warm tears on your robe, but this wasn't something that you cared about at the moment.

"I can't fall asleep... I keep seeing those things over and over again. I see Saddler, Mendez, Salazar, and Krauser," Leon sobs one more time, holding you tightly in his arms. You raised your eyebrows, surprised to hear that name after all these years. "He didn't die. He kidnapped Ashley. He was working for them. I had to fight him, I had to kill him."

"Sweetheart, none of this is your fault," you whispered, trying to calm him once more. Your words were full of assurance.

"He tried to kill Luis and me. I felt so betrayed. I thought he had died two years ago... but he was working for Saddler. He died because of power, something so stupid," Leon said, his eyes closed as he replayed everything in his head. "I just can't believe it. I thought it could be different..."

"Well, you brought Ashley home safely. You did it, and then you managed to come home for us too," you smiled kindly, using your thumb to wipe the tears from his face. "You're here with us, safe and sound again."

"I'm so tired, baby," Leon whispered to you, his eyes still closed as he started to calm down again. "It is always the same bullshit”

"I know," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I'm here, and nothing will hurt you."

You noticed a slight smirk on his lips, and both of you remained there for a while.

You knew that his missions left him stressed and tired. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks, and it always made you anxious because you were scared he wouldn't come back. But you knew Leon better than anyone else. He would always come home.

"Daddy!" "Daddy!" Olivia jumped into his arms when she saw him in the kitchen in the morning.

"Good morning, princess," Leon chuckled, holding her in his strong embrace. "Someone missed me, huh?"

"Where's Jake?" you asked Olivia, noticing that her brother didn't come downstairs for breakfast.

"He's in his room, Mommy," Olivia said, hugging Leon tightly. "I told him to come down and see Daddy, but he didn't want to."

"Ok, I'll take care of it," Leon sighs, gently placing Olivia on the ground and kissing you on the forehead.

You smiled and nodded your head. As Leon went to Jake's room, your daughter helped you prepare breakfast. Gently, Leon knocked on Jake's door before entering. He saw his little boy lying on his bed, with his eyes closed. His room was filled with blue adhesive posters, scattered bears, and toys.

"Hey, big boy. What happened?” Leon asked, sitting on the edge of Jake's bed, with his hand on his son's shoulder.

"I had a bad dream," Jake whispered, trying to hide under the blankets.

"A bad dream? Wanna talk about it?" Leon asked again, gently holding Jake's hand and stroking his hair.

"I saw a man hurting you, Daddy... I felt it too," his baby blue eyes then shined with tears.

"Well, Daddy's back home safe and sound, you see? There's nothing to be worried about, okay? While I'm here, no one will hurt you," Leon smiled, his voice calm and soft, as always. "Now, let's go eat breakfast, or your mom will definitely ground us."

Jake nodded smiling and Leon lifted him onto his shoulders. They walked downstairs together for breakfast, with Leon carrying his child. He placed Jake in the chair, sitting between the twins. Olivia and Jake enjoyed their pancakes with juice, while you and Leon had your favorite meal. Such a warm way to welcome him home.

"Daddy, I did something for you," Olivia said. Then, she ran to the living room and returned with a piece of paper. "I was waiting for you to come back."

"This is so beautiful, princess. I loved it," Leon smiled, as he observed the drawing she made of the family. "Thank you, baby girl."

"Jake drew too," you said, noticing that Jake was away. He seemed sad. "Right, baby?"

"Yes, I did," he nodded, then he ate another slice of his pancake. Your shared glance with Leon conveyed what words couldn't.

A few hours later, Olivia and Jake were playing in the garden, while Leon and you were casually lying on the sofa, watching the twins from the window. He was between your legs, and your fingers were gently running through his disheveled hair. His breath was calm, and he appeared tired, but at least he managed to sleep for the rest of the night.

"I'm worried about him," you sighed to Leon, your eyes locked on Jake as he played with his sister.

"Do you think we need therapy?" Leon's eyes met yours as he lifted his head to get a better view.

"I think he misses you, Lee. Let's be honest, Olivia is like your baby girl, and I think Jake feels that you give her too much attention," you said, analyzing the two.

"Right, babe. I'll fix that, I promise," Leon smirks, passionately kissing your hand.

"Take him to a boys' day or something. I'm sure he'll love spending some time with his dad," you suggested, smiling and leaning in to kiss his forehead.

"Alright, I promise I'll spend some time with Jake. I don't want to miss anything," Leon smiled again, then he leaned in to kiss you.

"Ew, that's disgusting!" Olivia shouted. Then, you glanced at your daughter and smiled mischievously at Leon. Both of you then ran after Jake and Olivia, giving them each a kiss.

2006 was a terrible year.

You knew that someday you would have to explain to the twins the true nature of Leon's job. You thought you would have time for it. Instead, his job decided to rush things, and now you have to deal with it alone.

Leon had gone to investigate something in China, and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable with the idea. Since his mission to Spain, he has completely changed again. Of course, you loved spending more time with him, and the twins loved the idea as well, but he seemed a little sad. Every time you tried to talk and understand what was going on, he would shut himself off and change the subject.

Just like what happened after the incident in Raccoon City.

You were at home when you heard about a submarine exploding and rumors circulating about the Chinese being behind the attack. The last time you had actually spoken to Leon, he was on his way to catch a submarine. Your heart sank at the possibility of him being killed, but somehow, you decided to remain positive. Leon would never leave you alone; he always finds a way to come back home.

But then, just as you were about to tell the twins, Leon returned.

This was the first time you had a fight with him. You needed to tell him how distant he was and the fact that he almost died made you freak out. He needed to open his eyes because he had been away from home since Spain, and you were trying everything in your power to make him see what he was losing.

And right after the fight, Leon attempted to reconcile and make amends.

He was more present at home, spending more time with you and the children. He was being more passionate and caring than ever before, treating you in the best way he could. Even so, he still had nightmares. One night, he woke up abruptly, his face and chest drenched in sweat, his breath labored, and his eyes filled with fear and panic.

"Babe, I'm here. It's okay, it wasn't real. It was only a bad dream," you said soothingly, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair to provide comfort.

"Shit... I-I can't sleep," he muttered, trying to catch his breath. He was very scared.

"Take a few deep breaths with me," you said, placing your hand on his chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat. Leon held your hand for support, to confirm that it was indeed real.

He never told you what his nightmare was about. You attempted to engage in conversation with him, but he mentioned something about terror and fear, implying that it would be better to avoid discussing it. Eventually, after a few weeks, he told you about Jason and what had happened in China. If Jason wanted to scare him, he successfully did that.

You hated Jason more than ever.

After the events of the Eastern Slav Civil War in 2011, Leon decided to quit USSTRATCOM for good. He told you what happened there and expressed his disgust towards the current government. He expressed his anger and stress by fucking you forcefully. Thankfully, the twins were at Claire's, so they couldn't hear your pornographic moans.

Now, he was working for DSO, and he seemed happy.

It was a very peculiar routine. Leon was called during a family quality time and was gone for weeks. When he returned, he would be exhausted to the core, stressed, and angry. The only way to relieve his tension was by using your gentle touch.

Jake and Olivia were at an age where they enjoyed spending time with friends. You didn't mind letting Olivia go to her best friend's house for a sleepover while Jake had fun with his own group. And when you had the house all to yourself, Leon would not only find a good massage but also the perfect stress relief.

"Beg to come, my good boy," you teased, slowing down your hands on his erect penis.

"P-please... let me cum, please,” he moaned so loudly that you knew your neighbors would hear him pleading with you. "F-fuck, I can't take it anymore."

"Again," you demanded, smiling teasingly as you continued to move your hand slowly. You watched as he desperately tried to find some friction, lifting his hips into your hand.

"Please, let me cum, babe,” he whined aloud, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped the sheets beneath him, burying his head in the pillow and closing his eyes. “Pleasepleaseplease I'll be your good boy.”

"The light is green," you whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe. With the trigger words, Leon released himself into your hands, emitting a loud moan that left you satisfied with your performance. His body jerks with the sudden release of pleasure, and he tries to catch his breath again.

“I love you,” he says. 

It was 2013, and you were at home, focusing on your paperwork for DSO since your children were teenagers, and you had time to work again. Jake was at soccer practice, Olivia was with her friends at the theater extra class, and you were alone with Cookie, the stray black and white cat that Leon adopted a few months ago. 

Suddenly, you heard the news about President Benford being killed. At the same time, someone called you. It was Hunnigan. 

She told you Leon was accused of killing the president while on a mission with Helena Harper from the CIA, and he was apparently MIA. You fell onto the couch, your heart beating faster inside your chest. You knew Leon would never betray his own country like that. Not only that, but you knew him better than anyone else. You knew what was about to happen. Immediately, you went to pick up the twins, driving them home in such a hurry that they didn’t understand what was going on. 

“Mom, is there something wrong with dad?” Jake asked, checking his phone with a worried expression. “The president died? Is all over the news” 

“I’ll explain when we get back home” You sighed heavily, your heart beating faster and your hands shaking completely. 

“Is he okay?” Olivia glanced at you, trying to find any assurance. In response, you just bite your lip. 

You said nothing. When you parked in front of your house, you took the twins inside in such a hurry that they started to get anxious. They could definitely tell something was wrong. You closed the curtains and checked the entire place, and when you found nothing, you finally relaxed. 

“Your dad went on a meeting with the president earlier, but I don’t know what went wrong, but he had to kill the president,” you finally said, after sitting with the twins on the sofa. Olivia gasped in shock as Jake remained with his Stoic expression, just like his father. “And at the moment, he’s missing in action” 

If you could protect your children from the truth and the whole world, you would without hesitation. The look of sadness on their faces, the way they leaned in for your support — it all broke your heart. Olivia was crying quietly, Jake was in shock, and once more, it was your responsibility to be the tough one. 

The three of you remained in the living room as your embrace protected the twins, giving them the comfort they needed. At any time, you knew you would receive secret agents at your door, but you had no patience to deal with them. Deep down, you knew that Leon was alive. He needed to be. 

But eventually, after a few days, you started to question if he really died. The twins were at home with you, as you decided to keep them at home after being dismissed from class due to personal reasons. The house, once full of laughs, jokes, and love, was now silent and cold. You were dead worried, waiting for any sign or call from Leon or Hunnigan. Olivia barely left her room, and Jake tried to stay positive, giving you the support you also needed. 

Until he crossed the door. 

The moment Leon walked inside the house, it was like he brought back the light. It was like the missing piece had finally found its way back. Olivia and Jake jumped on him, and for a very long time, tears and sobs were the only symphony inside the place. You were looking at him like he was your sun, the warmth and kindness that always finds a way to melt your heart. He glances at you, and he smiles.

He opens his arms, and when he embraces you, this is exactly where he needs to be.

“I had no other choice. He got infected,” Leon later said, when the four of you were having a family quality time. “And Simmons tried to blame me to cover up for his crimes”

“But you got him, right?” Jake asked, eating his popcorn and focusing his attention on his father.

“Well, kiddo, if I didn’t, I would be dead by now.” Leon chuckles, stroking your hand as you lay comfortably on his chest, smiling.

“Why do you keep doing this, dad?” Olivia asked, sighing. Leon hesitated for a moment. This was a subject never spoken in your family.

“Back in 1998, right after I met your mom, I had recently graduated from the Police Academy, and your mom was about to start as an intern. We decided to move to Raccoon City so we could start a life together, but one week before, I got a call telling me I shouldn’t go. I don’t know why I ignored that call, but we went anyway.” Leon sighed, his eyes looking somewhere else. He never liked talking about Raccoon City. “When we arrived, the city was drowned in chaos, death, and zombies. It was a living nightmare. But at least we met Claire and Sherry, a little girl who was alone. We managed to survive the night, barely escaping the city. The entire city was wiped away the next morning, and when we tried to find a rescue, we ended up in a government facility. I made a deal that day in exchange for keeping your mom and Sherry safe, I joined their top-secret program. One week before I left, your mom told me she was pregnant"

Both Olivia and Jake were surprised to hear about the incident. Sure, everyone knew, but knowing their parents were there and somehow survived was very different. Now, at least, they knew the true nature of Leon’s job and why he did what he did. But, the most important thing in the world, they knew Leon would do everything in his power to keep his family safe.

One year later, in 2014, however, things turned unexpectedly.

Leon decided to go on a vacation in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado after his entire team was killed by a mole. He drowned himself in alcohol, and he clearly was struggling with depression. After everything he went through, he was losing himself again. It was morning when you woke up alone in the hotel room, his side cold and empty. His blonde hair was now dark, he had a beard growing up, and his eyes weren’t shining like usual.

You found him already drinking his sorrows away.

“Babe, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sighed, sitting on his side, holding his hand and squeezing it softly.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this anymore.” Leon muttered, his eyes focused on his own drink and avoiding your gaze. “I had to watch them die… I had to shoot them in the morgue. I lost them all”

“And do you think drinking heavily will ease the pain, Lee? You can’t bring them back, and I know it hurts, but this wasn’t your fault. You tried, I know you did… but sometimes things don’t happen the way we want them to happen,” you sighed again, still holding his hand.

He was shattered inside. Losing his entire team in front of his eyes made him regret every decision he ever made. He was disgusted by himself and found solace in alcohol, which you hated.

“It's a little bit early to be that deep in the bottle, Leon,” you heard Chris say, getting closer with Rebecca.

You smirk, and Leon sighs. He’s going again on a new mission.

When he came back from this mission with Chris, he seemed different. Although his arm seemed to be hurt, he was acting differently. Whatever happened between him and Chris, it worked to make him open his eyes. He enjoyed the rest of his vacation, cutting out alcohol permanently and spending more time with his family. 

He eventually told you about Arias and what happened in New York. Likewise, he told you about Maria. 

Leon was, again, healing. It was a very slow process, but he had his family to remind him that life could be beautiful and happy. He had you by his side, and even after sixteen years since Raccoon City, he was still alive, and nothing bad really happened to you or the twins. Now, he was making his dad jokes again, laughing and smiling more than ever. His presence at home was more frequent, and he definitely decided to stay more with you. 

On the weekends, he would take you and the twins to some random beach, have a picnic, or go camping outside. The family portraits were happier than the previous ones, and slowly, he was starting to show the first signs of his age hitting him. His body wasn’t the same as before, but you didn’t care. To you, he would always be the Leon you met in his 20s. 

A year later, everything was normal again. 

“Ok, slow down. I know you want to go see this prison, but I’m not Flash!” You shouted at Jake while he was speaking aloud about Alcatraz. “Liv, are you ready?”

“Mom, why do you keep treating me like I’m a baby?” Jake rolled his eyes, finally meeting you in the living room, his phone on his left ear. 

“Well, you might be sixteen, but you’re still my baby.” You teased him by kissing his forehead. 

You drove to get the boat to Alcatraz Island because Jake had been asking you for the entire month. He had this history project, and since you were the cool parent, you decided to take him and Olivia on a small trip to the island because Leon was too busy at work, and you wanted to enjoy San Francisco since their vacation was ending. 

But something went wrong. 

You three were at the cell block when everyone started to scream and run. You grabbed Jake and Olivia by their hands and entered one of the cells, locking it. Whatever was happening, their safety was your priority. You took a gun from your purse, ready to keep your children safe. 

“Mom… I-I don’t feel good,” Jake muttered, sliding against the walls. He was pale and sweating, and his breath was very shallow. 

“What happened, baby? What's wrong?” You asked desperately, trying to find any sign of a bite or any other wound. “Are you hurt? Olivia, help me lay him in bed"

But then the same thing happened to Olivia. You were desperate, and their phones were missing. Now, they were struggling against something you couldn’t know what it was, and there was no way to call for help. You sat with them, stroking their heads and whispering soothing words, fighting to keep tears in your eyes. You saw a blonde woman standing on the other side, half of her face covered by her own hair. She watched you with an awful smirk and disdain.

“Who are you?” you asked, your hand slightly reaching your gun.

“I’m the one who will make your husband pay for killing my father,” the mysterious blonde said angrily. “I’ll make him watch your children rip you apart and see him kill everything he loves. And then I’ll make him suffer”

“You’re stupid to think he’ll fall for that,” you said, smiling, but deep down, you knew you were scared. “He’ll beat the living shit out of you just because you thought you could harm us”

She smirks.

“Yeah, if I were you, I’d be worrying about my own skin by now”

“Well, if you think I’ll leave my children alone, you’re wrong. You better find Leon before I find you, because no one fucks with my family and gets away with it,” you threatened with cold, dead eyes, and she seemed to back off.

“Badass, mom,” Jake smirks, holding your hand tight.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Dad’s coming,” you whispered to the twins softly.

You had no idea how she found out about your family, but this wasn’t important at the moment. You had calmed them both, knowing they were struggling with the infection. Seeing them suffer made you angry, and whoever she was, you would go after her and make her pay for hurting your babies. You had no notion of time, but you heard someone. It was Chris and Claire, they were also infected. You hated being the one spared, but you knew you were running out of time.

“Are you guys okay?” You asked both Chris and Claire, hearing them groan in pain.

“Yeah… how about the kids?” Chris asked you back, followed by a groan.

“They’re infected…” you sighed. “I don’t know, it happened quick”

You heard a loud thud. Two people were walking inside the cell block, and then you heard him scream your name, running immediately to you. Desperation floated in his eyes as he saw his twins.

“Babe, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Leon asked with desperation in his voice. He managed to open the cell, hugging you tight. “What happened to the twins?”

“That little bitch infected them,” you muttered, kneeling next to Olivia.

“Maria? Where is she?” Leon asked again, holding Jake in his lap. “Hold on, big boy. Daddy's here”

“Dad… it hurts,” Jake hissed, closing his eyes. Olivia reached for his hand, trying to squeeze it.

“I know, but I need you to hang on just a little bit. I promise I’ll take you home safe,” Leon said, stroking Jake’s hair and, with his other hand, holding Olivia’s.

As soon as Rebecca arrived, she injected the vaccine into the twins, Chris and Claire. Jill had to leave to face Dylan by herself. It was time to end this. As soon as the twins recovered from the infection, you sat next to them with a serious look on your face.

“I need you two to go with Claire and Rebecca. Jake, you need to protect your sister, okay? I’m counting on you two,” you said to them. “Me and Dad will be back for you when we finish. Go, now!” As they leave with Claire and Rebecca, you take your gear.

“You look so sexy when you’re angry,” Leon teased as you two walked to the armory room.

“Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll have to teach you a lesson” You wink at him, which makes him giggle.

Maria was waiting for both of you in the armory room. After an intense fight, Leon managed to kick her, impaling her into some broken metal pipes. She looked at you, and you leaned closer, pointing your gun into her head.

“I told you. No one fucks with my family,” you hissed angrily, right before she dropped dead on the floor.

Alcatraz was a terrible experience. Leon had his face almost purple after being beaten up by Maria, and the twins were exhausted. At least your family is intact again. You were with Rebecca, Chris, Claire, Jill, and Leon outside. He seemed distressed, so you hugged him tightly, kissing his shoulder gently.

“I almost lost them,” he said, looking at the twins laughing with Chris. “And you”

“We’re here,” you said to him, looking into his blue eyes and placing your cheek peacefully on his shoulder.

“I’ll quit.” Leon looks at you. “I’m coming home, and I’ll never leave you again”

You smiled, holding his hand. No matter what happens, at the end of the day, Leon always comes home.

[sunshine-theseus]

Apple and Chocolate Muffins | Katie McCabe x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: owning a café apparently brings you the girl of your dreams Warnings: fluff

Having your own little book café on a corner of a small street in St Albans, London, brings you things you’d never expect.

I’d first bought the place from an older lady, Ms Nelson, who sold antiques. She’d decided she wanted to spend whatever time she had left travelling. She tried to simply give it to me, but I couldn’t accept and ended up paying her half of what was listed.

She likes to send me post cards whenever she’s about to leave a place. I put the most recent on display on the counter and the rest go in an antique memento box she gifted me before she left.

Ms Nelson also introduced me to my best friend Juniper, one of her old workers who helps run the place now.

“3 years here and you still refuse to tell me what your special recipe is. Whyyy?” Juniper’s favourite item, was my special apple and chocolate muffins. It was an item I refused to take off no matter how many times we changed the menu.

“They wouldn’t be a secret then would they June?”

“But I’m your best friend. And I need these in my life daily.”

“I literally make an extra 3, every night, just for you.”

The ringing of the bell on the door stops her from retaliating, and I approach the counter while June finally makes an order for Mr Byrne, one of our regulars.

“Welcome to the Inkwell Café! What can I get you?” I look at the customer, but my breath gets caught in my throat.

It’s like the Gods just sent down and angel to derail my day. Her eyes were a greyish blue and her skin was sun kissed, freckles scattering her cheeks. And her arms… well fuck me.

“Hello?” I hadn’t even realised I’d stopped paying attention until she waves a hand in front of my face.

“S- sorry could you repeat that?” I let out a nervous chuckle, but she just smiles a magnificent smile.

She starts listing off an order and I momentarily get caught off by her Irish accent, but I manage to take down the 3 different drinks. I’m about to tell her the total when she stops me again.

“Oh! And can I get one of those apple and chocolate muffins? Jonas is going to kill me, but I hear they’re worth it.” I give her a confused look.

“My friend Steph, she comes here once a month as a treat and raves about it at training.” Training?

“Oh! Well, here’s an extra one for her! For free of course. What’s the name for the order?”

“Katie”

“It will be ready soon.” I flash a smile before going to make the coffees.

June comes out of nowhere.

“Why is Katie fucking McCabe in here?” she whispers into my ear.

“Who?”

“Katie McCabe. One of the best Arsenal players ever? Captain for the Republic of Ireland Women’s National Football team? How do you not know her? I talk about Arsenal all the time. They literally train right down the road.” I stare blankly back at her.

“How did she even find us? You don’t casually find this café on your way to work.”

“She said her friend Steph comes here, told her about it.”

“Steph Cately!? I’ve never seen Steph Cately walk through those doors.”

“…Who? And you do tend to not pay attention.” Juniper just groans and I finish making the coffees.

“Katie!” as I give her the drinks, her hand brushes against my own. Tingles run up my arm, but I bid her adieu with a small smile and wave.

~~~~~

Katie begins coming in every Tuesday and Friday, and we slowly get to know each other while Juniper freaks out in the corner. Or sometimes Katie liked to just sit and read in a corner for whatever time she had before she left for training. Either way it was nice.

She loved telling me about her younger sister Lauryn who was on her way to joining Katie on their senior national team, and her crazy encounters on the pitch during games. I tell her about how and why I decided to open a book café and retell the stories Ms Nelson sends me. I also desperately try to repress all my feelings for the Irish angel that blessed my shop every week.

I also find out who Steph is. A very nice Australian woman, who does in fact come in once a month for the Apple and Chocolate muffin. I get to know her a bit too, but she usually grabs her muffin and something for her fiancée and leaves.

The first time Katie misses a Tuesday is 4 months after her first visit. I’m disappointed but don’t think much of it until she doesn’t show up on Friday, or either day the week following. That’s when I decide to visit their training ground, obviously dragging June along to do any talking, to see if I can figure out what happened.

I don’t think about how weird it is until Juniper pulls me out of the car in front of their training centre at 9am on Friday after hurriedly closing the café. And a promise for a free coffee to everyone we had to kick out.

“June this was stupid, this is something you do, not me. Why didn’t you talk me out of it.”

“I’m about to meet the whole Arsenal team just because your huge crush failed to come for her regular coffee a few times.”

“But like it is weird she just stopped coming so abruptly, right? Like we were getting along.”

“I mean sure, but you didn’t freak out like this when Mickie stopped coming. And it took us another six months to find out she’d moved to fucking Glasgow.”

“We should leave shouldn’t we.”

I turn around to head back to the car right as we’re about to enter the reception but come face to face with a slightly shorter brunette. One I’ve seen the face of in some recent team photo Katie had shown me, but was otherwise completely unfamiliar.

“Are you trying to get in? The door can be a little tricky sometimes.” How many Australians did they have here?

“Oh no-“

“Yes! We’re friends of Katie; Y/n and Juniper, and we haven’t seen her in a few weeks. We were hoping to catch her.”

“Oh! I think she’s shown us a picture of you actually! She talks about you both quite a bit. I’m Kyra by the way.”

“I know.”

“Nice to meet you.” I talk over Juniper and hold out a hand for Kyra to shake.

“Well, I’m not quite sure why she hasn’t come to see you, but I can bring you back to the locker room, you’ll just need to fill some forms out probably.” She’s already leading us to the front desk before I can deny her offer.

 Not 5 minutes later Kyra is happily dragging us to the locker room, and I can see Juniper skipping next to me, clearly excited.

“Dude you’ve gotta calm down.” I whisper to her.

“More like you need to stop being so uptight. Kyra Cooney-Cross is literally leading us to the whole Arsenal women’s team.”

“McCaaaabe! Someone’s here to see yoouuu.” Kyra calls out as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not my bloody mum again is it? I swear she decides to come surprise me far too often.”

I peak out from behind Kyra and give a small wave.

“Hiii” I say meekly as Juniper jumps into talking to her favourite players.

“What are you doing here?” Katie gives me a quick hug.

“Well, you kinda stopped showing up and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh, y- yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just, I started getting feelings for you and freaked out and thought that cutting you off would help.”

“Y- you like me?”

“Yeah. Like a lot. I obviously totally understand you don’t like me back.” She lets out a sigh and looks at her boots.

“Shh shoosh shut up.” I place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head up.

It was hard to escape the doom of falling in love with Katie McCabe. Her eyes were the perfect shade of blue, her lips the softest of pinks, her freckles like the stars. She had the kindest of hearts and the most beautiful laugh. A creation made by Aphrodite herself.

“I really like you too.” And her lips are softer than you could imagine as she presses her’s hard against my own.

We’re broken apart by an array of whistles and shouts from Juniper and Katie’s teammates and I hide my flushed face in her neck.

“I can’t believe we finally get to meet the girl Katie hasn’t shut up about for like 4 months.” Alessia Russo, one player I am familiar with, comments from across the room.

“You talk about me?” I poke her in the side.

“Y/n you can’t talk you literally don’t shut up about Katie. ‘Oh my god she’s sooo funny and pretty.’”

“Bro what the fuck? That was a secret you were meant to take to your grave.” Juniper simply shrugs.

“As much as I want to stay and tease you about how much you talk about me, and kiss you, we do unfortunately have training.” Katie pouts as she hugs me.

“Oh! Before I forget. I brought you an apple and chocolate muffin.” I pull the baked good from my bag and hand it to her.

“Fuuuck yees! You are literally the best person ever. I need to know your recipe so bad.”

“Mmmm maybe I could teach you how to make them. Tonight, at the café?”

“I’VE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT RECIPE FOR 3 FUCKING YEARS AND YOU’RE GOING TO JUST HAND IT OVER TO HER?” Juniper’s outburst makes the room erupt in giggles.

“How about for your birthday?” She nods solemnly and begins to say goodbye to the other girls as they begin to head out to the pitch for training.

I turn back to Katie.

“I’ll see you tonight…” She leans up and kisses me one more time.

“Girlfriend.” She leaves before I can reply, and I’m left to giggle as Juniper drives us back to the café, to reluctantly reopen for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

The clock shows 6:13 and I begin to think Katie flaked, but right as I’m packing up the ingredients, the bell rings and in rushes a flushed, panting, Katie McCabe.

“I’m so… sorry! Caitlin could only… drop me… a few blocks away… so I had to… run.” She pants out.

“It’s ok.” I peck her on the cheek and take her coat, then offer her some water which she sculls down.

We spend hours baking and messing around. Mostly kissing.

~~~~~

Another 6 months pass before Katie and I decide to move in together in a small apartment down the street from the café.

She now helps me bake my apple and chocolate muffins once a week, insisting she has to always be in a simple cropped singlet after I had made a comment about how good her arms looked when she mixes the batter.

There was something so domestic about baking together that made it hard not to just scream to the world how much I loved the woman. Instead, I stick to wrapping my arms around her waist and whispering it in her ear, periodically kissing her while she cuts the apples or mixes whatever needs mixing.

I can’t wait to tell Ms Nelson her apple and chocolate muffins brought me the most beautiful girl in the world. She and her wife have been begging for a new post card.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

be careful what you wish for.

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene - chapter 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Chapter 1

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Arguing, Fighting, Mentions of Alcohol

A/N: the sequel expected by both everyone and no one.

this took me a while to get to due to me really wanting to capture the vibes of the first chapter. i needed it to end with a bang. but it's here now - big as hell and intense. like Kyley-B, i guess?

i'm not afraid of him anymore. we're one now. we're Venom.

(also uni was kicking my ass but the semester's over now so i can work on more things over winter break!)

“Kyley, I don’t know about this… I think I should go back and change.”

My muttered complaint was almost inaudible over the thundering beats of the music inside the nightclub we were standing in line for, the conversations of the fellow partygoers surrounding us and the rustle of the fabric of my own tight-fitting clothing as I once again tried to pull the hem of it further down, to as much success as I had with the previous attempts - which is to say, very little.

Truly, I didn’t know why I still had that garment. It was a memento from my freshman year of university, back when I thought the following semesters would be filled with partying and drinking that required an outfit up to the challenge, leading me to spending more than I should on a strapless tube dress that left very little to the imagination when it came to my curves and kept on trying to show off even more with the way it rode up my thighs with every movement. Alas, the piece itself did not come accompanied by the courage to wear it; and so for the years after purchase it hung, brand-new, depressedly in the back of my closet, waiting until it could be claimed either by moths or by a cardboard box full of other clothes that I might want to donate. 

Or until the man standing in line in front of me found out about it during a weekend at my house and decided it needed to be seen under any conditions, thus inviting me to a new nightclub that had just opened up in Main Street, an environment perfect for a fit of that nature. Minus the fact that I’d obviously… blossomed since my higher education years, and the lack of fabric that was already questionable at the time was nowadays borderline dangerous, which I’d pointed out before we’d even left the house.

Not a sentiment my companion shared, though. “You look fantastic, doll. Don’t sweat it.” Kyley-B responded distractedly while craning his neck to see the beginning of the line better, through the mass of people waiting to enter.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not even looking at me!”

“Because you’ve asked me this question four times in the last five minutes so far!” He reached out behind him for my hand to pull me forward as soon as the bouncer began to open the double doors to let in another group of people, before anyone in front of us had dared see that happen, and despite the rough reply, I held his hand and walked the few steps with him. “And I’ve told you every time that you’re gorgeous. What, ya think I’m a liar?”

His tone gave out that it was not a question he wanted answered. So I didn’t.

In reality, no matter how much I fussed about the hangout and how different the whole situation was for me, deep down I was grateful for the invitation and his insistence. For the past few months since the Jersey playboy came barreling down into my life in the loudest, most charged way, this had been the usual for us. Our very first interaction had  turned my world inside out - with his cock nearly doing the same to my body - and since then he’d attached himself to me like a tattoo, if tattoos dragged you around to every single thing they wanted to do with little room for questioning. The activities he figured would be most enjoyable in my company tended to be things fully out of my comfort zone, lacking prior warning; a set of circumstances utterly terrifying in any other context, but with him, I came to find them almost… delightful. They opened my eyes to experiences I’d never have had without his hand, which guided me with a gentleness rarely shown anywhere else: he reassured me at every turn while simultaneously keeping me on the figurative edge of my seat, to a point where I was outright expectant of our next meetings, just to find out what else I could learn from him.

And the opposite had been true as well; while he brought excitement and new memories to my life, he was also not averse to stopping and smelling the roses, and this is where I really stood out. When it was my turn to choose something to do and we’d settle for something more peaceful and inside of my little bubble, his very stance would change, turning rather relaxed and centering his focus. Opinions that would normally be handed out abrasively became carefully thought-out and understandable, the intelligence I knew he had inside finally able to shine through. He’d curse less, speak in a lower volume, his mannerisms were more mindful - and what was best, it came naturally, like he just had that inside all along waiting for an opportunity. Although I tried to stay humble about it, I tended to internally brag at the concept that I’d be the one with access to that side of him.

There was only one thing missing in my very own real life retelling of ‘Lady and the Tramp’: our collars. A label.

Months by now we’d spent together, during which we’d done all sorts of activities: I’d been to his house and he’d been to mine, we had visited multiple different places and been seen in public together countless times both at night and during the day, he’d had me naked and bent in various different positions with surprising success, I’d dragged him out of trouble a lot so far, even paid his bail and drove him home once after a bar fight got particularly heated. Our closeness was impossible to deny. 

But, like everything else about Kyley-B, it seemed volatile; even after all that, with the praise and the quality time and the intimacy, I was still clueless about what we were, what my place in his life was if I had any. The warmth I felt in my chest whenever he was close, embers of his own fiery personality that he’d shared for me to keep safe, told me constantly I was special - but how many of these did he have to give? Was he such a blazing flame that just one person would never be able to soothe?

Part of me figured it was more efficient to just take what I could get without pondering the specifics too much, and bask in the satisfaction of knowing at least I was a constant in his life, someone he was always searching for and keeping close. It was more than what could be said of the women that usually surround guys like him. But another part, that which saw those one-on-one moments as heartfelt developments of our connection, screamed in desperation to understand what was really going on; and it wouldn’t accept casualness as an answer, wanting to just grab at that goddamned fake gold chain he always wore and yank until he’d claim me as his one and only. 

Fear held me back, though. Not of him: Of breaking the stalemate only to find my chances weren’t as high as I thought. If I placed such a heavy question - to which the agreeable answer would come with a fresh set of responsibilities - on the table and received a negative response, it would be devastating. It’d mean no part of what we lived together was as meaningful to Kyley as it had been to me, or as enjoyable, repurposing all those moments as just hangouts without any further sentiment behind them. It would wreck my entire perception of the past months into a fine dust of ‘what might have been’. I’d have to start over from scratch, losing a companion who I’d cared so much for and who had shown me so much I hadn’t seen of the world around me, while at the same time knowing that for him I wasn’t more than another woman who gave him the time of day.

It was with all this in mind that I never asked. I just held his hand and let him carry me, both the few steps as the line diminished and the rest of our time together, hoping that our fields of view were synchronized even through the veil of my meekness and the shades of his reputation.

Faster than expected considering the amount of people in front of us, Kyley and I were at the beginning of the line, and soon enough the flooring under my heels changed from concrete pavers to glossy vinyl while colorful beams of light shone different hues onto my dress, shifting its black color into darker purples or reds or greens. The music, which the nightclub’s walls had done a decent job of protecting my ears from, was now positively booming, some remix of famous recession pop songs and old school hip-hop beats - I’d caught many hints of different conversations in line about how the specific DJ who was playing that night was fantastic and really knew how to get a party going, and maybe it was just a lack of knowledge on the subject, but I didn’t perceive the work as all that extraordinary. The space inside was crammed and the body heat of many different people enveloped me rather uncomfortably, making my short dress feel like appropriate attire if exclusively considering the temperature.

Keeping a tight hold on my hand and not speaking - he wouldn’t be heard anyway - Kyley-B brought me away from the doors and further towards the center, creating a corridor for me to walk through safely at the expense of numerous partygoers that complained when hit by his shoulders or arms when he passed by them. I kept muttering some apologies, but they went unnoticed as we continued weaving through the crowd, stopping only when we reached a spot close to the wall, near the bar.

“Party’s pumpin’ tonight,” Kyley said with excitement, leaning towards me to put his mouth as close to my ear as possible - even then, it took some effort from me to make out the actual words. “The guys really weren’t kiddin’. This place’s amazing!”

It would probably take me several more minutes for the word amazing to become one of the possible descriptors for this event in my mind, but I didn’t want to wreck his joy. “I guess it is,” I responded, giving him a smile and hoping it didn’t look as nervous as it felt in my face.

But Kyley knew me, better than any other man could. Not that it was any hard to see in my demeanor how out of my element I was: The way my arms were kept close to my body, making myself smaller to fit in the nonexistent space, the flickers of my eyes here and there as I took in the excessive visual stimuli. “You know what you need? A drink!” He didn’t miss a beat with the offer, which came as high-energy as his previous sentence. “I’ll get one for ya. Don’t go nowhere.”

Just like that, he was turning away from me and trying to make his way closer to the actual bar, one arm lifted to present the wristband placed on him at the entrance for easier ordering. With me being left standing close by, he remained able to see me very clearly, and I noticed him taking full advantage of that by constantly looking over his shoulder to check if I was in place. As for me, well, that red hair would grab my sight anywhere, even with the thick gel on it reflecting the multi-colored lighting.

The music, loud as it was, did a decent job of keeping my insecure thoughts at bay… by substituting it with repetitive beats, but still. I kept my eyes on Kyley from the second he stepped away, begging with them for him to come back quick, but also expressing my gratitude that he was the one going through all this trouble - since I didn’t think I would’ve survived pushing through the wall of people asking for drinks at the bar, which he did with the ease that comes with being someone you don’t wanna mess with. And when he stepped away not long after, one colorful cup with the nightclub’s logo in each hand, I breathed an infinitesimal sigh of relief. I might’ve been tense and uncomfortable without his presence, but I knew he had my best interests in mind - he wouldn’t put me through something he wasn’t sure I could handle, and who knows? Maybe some alcohol in my system was exactly what I needed to let myself loose and enjoy another wonderful night out with him.

Or at least it would’ve been, until she arrived.

I didn’t detect her coming in his direction until she was basically glued arm to arm with him. The first thing that came through my mind was that she reminded me of a walking disco ball; her sequin crop top reflected lights in every which direction, hundreds of her own little shining spots that I had to force myself to look away from considering they spread over just enough area to cover her breasts, and even that coverage was questionable. Between that and the low-rise denim shorts she wore, as much of her skin as legally possible was showing, a slight glisten of sweat on her belly and chest that spoke of how she’d already been heavily partying for a while. Her fit made me look modest, but she displayed none of the discomfort I did, excitedly gesturing at the Jersey playboy to catch his attention - successfully - while making small jumps that made her boobs bounce and the bracelets in her arms shake.

The nightclub went silent. Those light beams still moved, people still danced and their mouths moved while  they continued their conversations, like the volume had been dialed down to zero. All my focus was on the pair some feet away from me, on how Kyley-B stayed put while the new girl came closer, turning in her direction and saying something with a smile on his face; his words were unknown to me, but his laugh was something I’d die before forgetting, and it reached my ears better than the music would. The woman stretched her arms wide as if to give him a hug, but he took a step aside last second - God forbid he spill his drinks, my mind concluded with disdain as something unknown dragged down my back. Thousands of knives straight to my spine, tearing through the bone as easily as they would some tapestry, with the blood they’d spill instead making its way up my throat in the shape of a stinging toxin that made me want to vomit my guts out. Yet I didn’t collapse to my knees in utter agony or let out the horrendous shriek this sensation urged me to. That would’ve been less painful.

My legs moved before I’d made the decision to, which I wouldn’t if it was up to me. But everything above my hips was locked onto itself, the remaining energy in my muscles  channeling towards making that stride happen, while my brain did the work of figuring out the easiest path to my targets in that crowd. What called me to action wasn’t sense, but some sort of deeply ingrained hunch that whatever was causing me so much grief was related to those two being alone together, and that a maintenance of that condition for any extra seconds would have death as a result. Whether mine or theirs.

It didn’t take long for me to reach both of them, with the noise in the space gradually increasing the closer I got to the destination. By the time I was near their side, it was booming inside of my head again, bass-heavy as the fury it warred with. I didn’t know if my heartbeat had decided to sync up with the music… or if it was the other way around.

Proximity to the woman did nothing to diminish my unsettlement. She was a few inches taller than me, the height of my heels included, and a quick look down told me that her own gladiator sandals had the back of her feet lifted in an angle that I’d only describe as uncomfortable. Her squeaky voice managed to disrupt even more the air around us, and I figured she might be well-beloved by the street dogs in town whenever she spoke - that if the noise of her multiple accessories didn’t scare them off, clashing and clinking with her every movement, which she did a lot of to make sure eyes would be drawn to her at all times. Everything about her screeched in need to be seen, and against my own opinion on her merit to be so, she was. 

Before I could announce my own presence, though, Kyley did it for me. “And then I went and- Wait, what?” He interrupted himself mid-sentence, turning to me with a confused look on his face that gradually shifted into pleasant surprise. “Whatcha doin’ here, sweet cheeks? Didn’t I tell ya to wait back there?”

Crash. Awareness suddenly returned to me all at once; where I was, what I had been doing, and the thoughts that I’d had in the span of seconds that led me there. A cocktail of shame, dread and anger stronger than anything Kyley could’ve bought me mixed itself in my stomach as I was now required to both face my own unconscious actions and control my conscious ones. The man’s arched eyebrows and the small smile that spread on his face upon seeing me should’ve filled me with joy, but instead I wanted to punch it right out. For leaving me alone, for talking to this woman, for betraying what we had - but had he? Did we have anything for him to betray? And if we had, would that have been betrayal at all? Picking a fight over something that wasn’t even palpable would dig my own grave of humiliation further, while I already wasn’t at my most comfortable in an unknown environment.

Lying outright would not be an option, as Kyley certainly would call me out, but I also couldn’t turn to him and say ‘Hey, I hate this woman, stop talking to her and any others forever’. So what came out was the softer sliver of the truth, without the blood-curdling details. “I… I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” I muttered with a small shrug, “So I came to see you.”

That’s when a scolding should come into play. The Jersey man detested when his orders were questioned, and so far I’d been obedient enough to not be on the receiving end of one of his thorough lectures, but there’s a first time for everything. However, it did not come to pass; he just tossed his head back in a fit of good-natured laughter. “Impatient little thing, you are,” Kyley teased, giving me one of the cups before throwing the now free arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards his side. “Well, stay here now. You didn’t miss much, we were just talkin’.” 

Not that I knew what I would’ve done with myself if he had said anything contrary, but nevertheless it felt good to be so clearly told to stay. Especially when the order was followed by a very obvious display of discomfort on the other woman’s part, her deep pink lipstick nigh disappearing as her lips pressed into a thin line, which made the smallest movements - she was biting on them, munching on her complaints. “And who is this little thing you have with you today, Kyley, dear?” She eventually questioned, her tone high-pitched and filled with fake cuteness, ignoring me completely as if I were a child. Seen, because she had no choice, but not heard. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, this here’s my (Y/N),” Kyley responded promptly, his hand rubbing up and down my arm. The woman’s long fake lashes batted repeatedly, her teeth dragging onto her bottom lip again, but with the blood that blossomed right in front of my cornea and clouded my focus, I failed to register why. “We both had never been here before, so I said well, here’s a great opportunity to show her off a bit, you know.”

Bless the colorful lights in the space, for they hid the undoubtedly reddish hue that spread across my cheeks at the words ‘show her off’. I brought my cup close to my face in an automatic motion, seeking to distract myself God knows how, and inhaled deeply. The sharp scent of lemon and vodka invaded my nostrils, twisting around inside my head and scratching my brain, cleansing it of the gunk the thoughts of that woman had covered it with. Not the same effect it would have when it finally got to my stomach, but I forced myself to have a generous sip, needing the liquid courage and also some way of seeming less troubled by the situation than I was. So I let it burn the inside of my throat, deliberately concentrating on the alcohol - an objectively bad idea, like that whole interaction.

“I see.” The woman gave one short nod that also served as an excuse to eye me up and down, her gaze lingering both on my face - half-hidden by the cup - and on my dress, which suddenly seemed too simple for the event. “You knoooow, for this sort of thing, you really have to consider the company you bring, Kyley,” she added in a drawl, her bracelets jingling again when she gestured with her hand, manipulating in the air around us the best way to speak her mind. “It’s real grown-up stuff, darling. This place’s not for just anyone.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic cup. Real grown-up stuff. I wanted to ask just what the fuck she meant by that, but it would only make me look silly, because we both knew. She didn’t see me as good enough company, for a club like this or for Kyley. And on any other occasion, maybe as soon as earlier that same night, I might’ve been inclined to agree out of self-deprecation, question my own aptitude to be the partner he needed - this would’ve presented the woman in front of me as a more worthy option, though, and that wouldn’t do either. But the man at my side laughed again, impeding me from arguing for myself. “Well, good thing I brought (Y/N) then, because I know she’s up for it,” he asserted, shaking his head. “Don’t take her for no dummy, Kandee. She looks all cute like that, but she can handle the heat.”

Kandee. A sweet name for a sour person. The sound of my snort echoed inside my cup, but if either of them noticed, it wasn’t commented on. Rather, only her disbelief at the Jersey man’s claims was noticeable, searching for an outlet in the form of several taps of her long, shoddily manicured fake nails on her own bare thigh - which didn’t follow the rhythm of the background song, or of anything at all.

“Oh noooo, far from me to wanna do that, Kyley! She seems like such a dear!” She shook her head as well, more emphatically, huge dangling earrings hitting her cheeks with each turn. Such a dear. A delightful compliment, if not for it being completely fake and also unwarranted considering I hadn’t spoken a word to her yet. “What I’m saying is, maybe sometimes you want to vary your company a bit! If you do…”

And then her hand reached out.

The touch was small, tentative, like a shoplifter discreetly looking around before stuffing a small object inside their jacket. Not noticing, or not caring about, the fact that the security guard had been on to them from the start. It landed on his left shoulder, and though it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme, there was still some relief to be felt at the fact that the man had ditched the usual tank top for the night in favor of a proper form-fitting t-shirt. One extra layer of protection, however thin, between his skin and hers.

Much to my satisfaction, it didn’t linger for too much. One sudden movement of Kyley’s torso as he turned away to look at something else broke contact, leaving her arm lifted in the air awkwardly. Another chuckle shook the drink I was holding onto, and this time Kandee did send a glare my way, making me mask my reaction of amusement with another sip.

“Well, Kandee, some people…” I cleared my throat, alleviating both the burning sensation of the drink and my own nerves at deciding to finally be a part of the conversation. “Some people like to just have the same company all the time, if the company’s… decent enough.”

“That’s right!” Kyley brought his attention to us again and lifted his own cup towards me, mimicking a toast. Kandee’s eyes followed the movement, sharp as a tack. “Smart words, sweets. But don’t drink too fast. Ain’t no one in a hurry.”

Kandee’s hand, the one she had lifted to touch Kyley, briefly balled into a fist in mid-air, now grasping at the points she hoped to make to turn the conversation in her favor. “Yeeeah, (Y/N) dear, be careful,” she cooed wretchedly, having apparently found the line of thought she wished to sew with. Her hand uncurled, and her index moved in my direction now - resting with intent on the rim of my cup and pressing down, as if she wanted to move the whole thing. “The drinks here are strong, you don’t want to… go over the line or anything.”

I quickly pulled my cup back towards my chest, the liquid inside sloshing around in the process. “I think I can handle it.”

“It’s just friendly advice, love…” We’re not friends. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

So do I, I thought as the cup found my mouth again, my gaze defiant while I took another sip. “I can imagine.”

Apparently I needed to work either on my sarcasm intonation or my debate skills, because a grin spread across her face and her lashes batted once more. “Oh, I do, honey,” she continued with a small nod, “But it’s better that you don’t think about it too much either way…”

Another attempt at theft.

And this time, she didn’t even hide it.

Because her arm stretched out again, and this time, her palm was flat and splayed on the left side of his chest. Over his heart, which the beating of now thumped in my ears in the shape of a memory, having heard it so many times with my head laid there.

Into a thousand pieces, it shattered. My respect for the environment around me, my interest in remaining polite and demure, and the fucks I had to give for what Kyley would think of me. I was weirdly aware of the position of my elbow and the movement of my shoulder as my arm swayed - backwards, then forth, one simple flick of my wrist finalizing the act of throwing the drink in my cup in Kandee’s direction. The pull of a marionette’s strings, except I knew who held them. Control was there - and it was being used for what I wanted to do all along.

My eyes brought down to a slow-mo the speed of the liquid splashing onto her body, allowing me to see the impact in its full glory. Her hand backed away from Kyley’s body in an attempt to brace herself that came several seconds too late, and the wet spot on her skin reflected the lights like a disgusting and sticky extension of the sequins of her top. Fitting.

The slow-mo broke with an ear-piercing screech, one that brought all of the clubbers right out of their alcohol plus loud music induced zones and made them turn in its direction. I had a measly nanosecond to garner reactions before my rival made contact with me in a lunge, nails getting caught on my hair as boney fingers found purchase on it. The pull had me roaring in response, my cup being thrown and crashing onto the floor so my hands could try to pull her wrists away - the carrier of the fight’s catalyst now discarded and useless.

An admission had to be made that she had much more stability on her too-many-inches-tall heels than I had on my shorter ones, her legs straight and steady while I had to keep mine slightly apart for any sort of balancing base. But what her possible past experience of pulling this kind of stunt before gave her in efficiency, I had in unbridled rage from my desire to protect what I saw as mine. 

A dig of my own nails on her arm made her let go of my hair, yet I couldn’t even be proud of causing her torment, as my own scalp stung fiercely where the strands she had pulled were located. I wouldn’t know if what I was feeling was legitimate adrenaline, but it was pretty fucking close to the usual descriptions of it, since the pain dulled almost instantly and this time it was me going after her, raising my hand and lowering my open palm rapidly, striking wherever I was able to without further consideration. She began mimicking that move once I had one of her arms in grasp of my free hand, the accessories in her wrist clanging against each other and also against my body, and I found myself gritting my teeth to minimize the painful annoyance.

The makeshift ring we had in the form of dance floor space began to increase in size as more and more people stepped back to watch the scene, mostly through the screens of their own phone as they recorded the ordeal. External hands attached to some overly courageous faceless watchers kept on reaching out to us, trying to halt our aggression, yet they’d recoil quickly after one or two slaps we’d spare for them before going back to our original targets. People were yelling all over, trying to talk to each other or to us - yet the only things that reached our ears or left our throats were our own screams and animalistic growls, communicating in a language I’d never properly learned but knew by heart. Each snarl a constructed offense to Kandee’s irksome looks and demeanor, every shriek a warning for her to stay the fuck away from Kyley-B, wherever he was. The language of violence.

Those slaps began alternating with closed fist punches, any bruises or injuries sustained going ignored since we didn’t want to risk missing a chance to land anything else in. My teeth snapped against air in attempts to bite at any inch of her skin that got close enough to my mouth, while her feet turned in awkward directions when she tried to stab my own with her heel. Only much later did I realize the single thing holding me in that fight was that heart-clenching jealousy from earlier, as in any other situation my defeat would’ve been immediate and outright embarrassing. The strength rage brought me was all too appreciated, condensing around my hands in a glove simultaneously agonizing and comforting to wear.

One of her slaps fell weirdly on my exposed collarbone and she huffed following a tiny snapping sound; the fake nails on her middle and ring fingers now dangled precariously from them, broken and lame. Seizing the opportunity, I brought my own hand to her face, my index landing on her right eye in a very happy accident. With a yelp of utter pain, she covered her eye with one hand and pushed me away with the other unceremoniously, using the movement to propel herself back as well, creating a bit of extra distance to recover while I stumbled against an unknown hard surface behind me. Probably one of the onlookers, but I had no interest in apologizing for the impact. They should’ve known better. Looking down at her, I-

Looking down?

Strong, fake-tanned arms had my legs swiftly grabbed in the span of less than a second, throwing me over Kyley-B’s shoulder like I weighed nothing. The rings on his fingers dug slightly onto the back of my thighs in the successful effort of his hands to securely keep me in place, but I still grabbed at his shirt as if it would somehow save me if I were to fall. People around the fighting area all gasped in surprise with their heads tilted up as well, but the Jersey man had his back to most of them and, without as much as a glance or a word, began to carry me away from the scene; this time, he didn’t have to shove anyone away to make way for himself - people were intentionally stepping away from his path, unwilling to get caught in the mess.

The fight I put up to avoid being removed like that was inefficient, but it was there. Despite the fear of falling from the unusual height, my very present anger continued egging me towards bashing Kandee’s face right in, leading me to thrash around in my precarious position, disregarding potential damage trying to get him to drop me so I could go back to my previous task. The other woman clearly had the same idea, attempting to follow us through the corridor, but Kyley’s long stride had her eating dust within moments and she soon gave up, swallowed by the crowd that filled the space he’d gone through. By then my dress had given up on any coverage and was bunched up at my hips, my ass likely on full display to anyone who tried their luck at staring for too long, but the tension in my mind left me oblivious to it.

“Fuck you! Put me down! What are you doing?” I protested between muffled thumps of my fists against Kyley’s shoulder blade, the punches having as much effect as blowing him a kiss when it came to getting him to actually do what I said.

“Takin’ us outta here before the police does,” he grunted simply, turning his head to avoid the backwards kicks of my heels. Even with his eyes not on the target, he knew exactly where to go, able to continue without issue and helped by the voluntary clearing of his personal road.

“I don’t care about the police! Leave me alone!”

He did not.

My exposed skin felt torn through by a sudden gust of cold when the double doors were opened by an unknown entity to let us pass, and my screams of complaint were silenced by a hiss of discomfort. It hadn’t completely missed Kyley, whose shoulder tensed under my body as the difference in temperature caught him too. Getting distance from the club did nothing to dampen my fury and the urge to get back in there, so it was through sustained kicking and punching that the Jersey man power-walked away from the venue and into the young night.

Kyley-B’s sneakers were crunching gravel when he finally slowed down, reaching his car in the parking lot where we’d left it nearly an hour earlier. My throat was rough and tight from yelling, the alcohol not having given me much to fall back on in regards to that - so my complaints were scratchy and punctuated by cough fits, but not any less present.

“Fucking take me back there, you cretin! Put me down!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed noncommittally, the first actual words he’d spoken since we left the bar. But, instead of unlocking the vehicle for either of us to get in, he stopped right in front of it, bending forward slightly and lowering my feet to the ground.

I knew I wasn’t getting out of it that easy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make an attempt. As soon as my heels sank between the tiny stones, I was trying to make a run for it towards the exit to the parking lot - without any plan of what I’d do if I succeeded or fear of being tackled by a force much less gentle than the man who held me previously. If I was lucky, I could get back in or catch Kandee outside, rip off a hair extension or two as a prize. Having the scent of trouble as part of his notes and knowing what I was doing, Kyley once more stood ground, his hands drifting with a steady grip up my body as he straightened up in front of me.

“Let! Me! Go!” I insisted, trying to break free from his hold with quick movements of my body, deemed irrelevant in face of his strength.

“Fuckin’ relax already,” he huffed, “You ain’t going nowhere now.”

With just one small step forwards of his, I felt my - bare - ass against the hood of the car, cold from being out in the open at night. That chill spread up through my back, making me shudder; only for Kyley’s intense eyes to heat me up all over again, serious and unyielding gazing down toward me, adding a pinch of lust to the flush of rage on my body.

“Says who?” I questioned in a growl, trying to push away from the car and being pressed towards it further in return.

“You do,” he stated simply. Despite how nonsensical the answer was, it was also serious, as if he was doing nothing but placing a fact.

The scowl of anger I held flashed briefly with confusion, my eyebrows twitching. “The fuck does that even mean?”

This time, what twitched were his fingers on both sides of my hips, pressing down onto the bunched fabric of my dress. A smirk curved his lips, their taunting making me want to claw them right off of him - fuck, maybe Kandee was on to something with the unfashionable long nails. “Well, weren’t ya just yelling and screaming and wanting to be heard? You were saying something. I just listened.”

“I didn’t say anything! I don’t want nothing from you!”

“Oh, but you do.” And I didn’t get the chance to complain about how he was repeating himself - because with his hands still holding me, he began lowering himself to the ground, the crunching noises of the gravel beneath his knees deafening in the empty space. The stab of lust, which I was well-acquainted with, that went right through my womb at the sight of him looking up at me with that devilish smile made me groan in irritation with how I needed to rapidly suppress it.

“Stop talking nonsense!” My hands moved to his shoulders to try and shove him away this time, but all I managed from that contact was feeling the lift of them as Kyley-B shrugged carelessly.

“Alright.” He wiggled his eyebrows twice, his cursed smile not diminishing as he dropped his eyes towards what was right in front of him, level with my abdomen. “You talk then.”

There was no way in hell he’d given up so easily. I knew as much. But I couldn’t let the asinine behavior make me forget just how pissed off I was at this dude - this goddamn sexy, strong dude kneeling in front of me like- Focus!

“I have nothing to talk to you about!” Even in my annoyed tone, there was a shaky background to it now - my affections shining through, unfortunately. One of my feet stomped onto the ground once, commanding his eyes back on mine, to be taken seriously - instead, the hand closest to that leg tightened briefly on my hip before both of them began drifting down. It didn’t take long for those palms to reach bare skin, caressing the sides of my thighs, reminding me of just how uncovered the lower half of me had been since he picked me up back at the bar. 

“You do.” Again, he repeated without missing a beat - and, not catching some deep-seated request of the old ‘me’ to be covered again, he brought the bunched dress further up, baring my legs completely; goosebumps all over them both from the slight cold and his touch, though I wouldn’t admit to the latter. “You’ve been yelling so much, it’s fuckin’ obvious. So do tell.” My thighs pressed together when his olive gaze landed on my underwear, the only coverage I had right then - if you could even call that the plain black ensemble I had on. Thin lace, which usually drew from him some sort of husky praise, but all I got was a faint tickle when his fingers began tracing the pattern of it on the waistband.

They hooked onto it after a moment, tugging down with the slowest pace, and the objection that instantly formed in my brain from the anger - telling him to stop, to pay attention to me - failed to make its way to my mouth. How could it? I was there because of him. My body craved Kyley’s touch like the feeling of home. Even those panties had been chosen with him in mind, knowing they’d be taken off later. My muscles were frozen, but my mind ran wild: the result was staying right put while refusing to be his mental peace. “Why don’t you go and ask fucking Kandee if she’s got something to say? Clearly y’all chummy enough for you to wanna know.”

Only later, sober, would I have noticed how easily I fell into his trap, the jealous sentence slipping from me in the form of an accusation while I thought it was a genius clapback. In my defense, it was my first time feeling that way.

The Jersey man clicked his tongue once, his eyes following the movement of his own hands. Down, down, those long fingers dragging my panties to my knees. “I don’t wanna know about her, I wanna know about you,” he insisted, his tone firm in its tease - for once in his life, he hadn’t taken to heart a complaint regarding him. “I’m chummy enough with you.”

I don’t wanna know about her - fuck if that sentence didn’t make the monster inside me growl in appreciation. Green-eyed. Like the man who caused it to awaken. This appreciation put a blowtorch to the ice that toughened my muscles, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably on my feet, testing the hint of movement that had been granted me. “Fuck off with that. If you wanted to know about me, you wouldn’t have left me alone back there,” I huffed, turning my face up to the night sky to avoid staring too much at the man down there to avoid further warming my cold shoulder.

“Mmhmm.” Right as I had committed to avoiding laying eyes on Kyley, my balance shifted terribly, a loud sound booming through the parking lot when I slammed my palms on the car hood behind me trying to stay upright. For the second time that night that he’d done something like this without warning, the man had lifted up my right foot, taking my panties off of that side and leaving the left leg ignored. Methodically, deeming irrelevant the noise or my gasp of surprise when I’d almost fallen - as long as he was there, I wouldn’t. “And that makes ya feel some type of way.”

“Of course I feel some type of fucking way!” With me trying to tug my own foot away from his grasp so I could stomp it on the ground again being fruitless, I settled for slapping the hood of the car a second time, figuring damage to the vehicle would startle him out of the nonchalance - yet he simply caressed my ankle with his thumb, the only show of acknowledgement on his part that I’d noticed when looking down being a particularly forceful blink. “I get my ass all dolled up for you, get out of my own fucking house to spend time with you and what do you do? You go talk to some fucking skank instead!”

A reaction. Sneaky, occurring despite himself, Kyley’s usual Jersey sincerity unable to hold back fully no matter how he tried. His bottom lip got caught between his teeth, his shirt shifting minimally with a brief tense of his shoulders, before he relaxed again. Whether it was the unbecoming amount of curse words in my voice or the content of my sentences, he wasn’t unaffected. “I… Fuck. Go on,” he grunted after a deep breath, resuming intentional movement: bringing the foot he held to his shoulder and keeping it there with one hand, placing the other on the inside of my left thigh. The warmth of his palm so intentionally close to my center would’ve been scorching if not for how heated his teasing moves already had me feeling. 

The feedback hadn’t been enough, and it was driving me crazy, more than I even had gone during the fight. The walls of my throat burned with an acid sensation, wanting to say everything and nothing at the same time, dissolving me from the inside out. Where was his knowledge of me when I needed it? 

“‘Go on!’ I- Look, just take me back home already,” I huffed, trying to ignore the increasingly overwhelming heat inside of me. If I couldn’t have what I wanted, neither would he, regardless of how much I wanted what he did too. ”I don’t wanna talk about this or anything else with you right now.”

With those words, Kyley’s fingers curled more vehemently around my ankle, like he’d been woken up from a state of drowsiness. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and there he was again - intensity that teetered towards brutality, unwavering, infuriatingly dominant. If not for the things left unsaid, I might’ve been the one dropping to my knees there. “Stay,” he ordered, his tone making up in firmness for the usual anger it was conveniently missing. “Kitty wanted to show claw back there and argue, didn’t cha? Now I wanna fuckin’ hear ya meow.”

My thigh muscles quivered slightly, that being the stupidest last-ditch effort they could make to tell me to close myself off - both physically and emotionally - altogether. I knew his insistence would drop at the faintest hint of legitimate refusal from me: Kyley had never done to me anything I hadn’t wanted, and as much as I wouldn’t have admitted that then, he was just too fucking good a teacher to desires I struggled with understanding. Through that burning in my throat, I still couldn’t draw up any refusal, since there was none inside.

Plus the threat of my absence had made the Jersey man all too aware of the itch under his own skin, I could tell. Because he wasted no more time before putting his face close up to my pussy, startling me slightly and making me back up even more towards the car while he deeply inhaled the scent of me. His hand inched even closer, his intention clear - mine, too, when my hips shifted automatically towards him, my clit brushing against his nose.

And there he stayed.

Sight locked onto my face, wide dark pupils reflecting whatever tiny dots of light they could catch from sources nearby. If I focused, I’d see myself in them.

Waiting.

Kyley wasn’t lying when he said he wanted me to meow; if I wanted to be soothed from the ache his proximity had developed within me, then I’d better start talking. His breath so close to where I was most sensitive felt like a caress, bringing me a strange sense of comfort regardless of the nature of that contact.

“And… And I don’t even know what you see in her!” When I resumed speaking, it was undecided, still reeling from the scolding I’d received - but remembering the subject lit a fire under my ass again, and I was interested in rambling again in the blink of an eye. “Everything about her is fake! Her face, her hair, her goddamn-”

I cut myself off with a cry. Kyley’s soft lips had found my clit and wrapped around it, sucking with gentle steadiness. His tongue flicked over it carefully, unwilling to overwhelm me but certainly demanding attention. Which it got. The fingertip of his index circled my entrance with a feather-light graze, annoying in its taunt - the Jersey playboy couldn’t speak, but he was still telling me to talk. And I had to retract every single time I’d shushed someone into silence in my job at the library, because I found myself to be quite the blabbermouth.

“Ngh… Her- ah- her fucking clothes-” His finger breached my entrance all the way to the first knuckle, and the odd absence of the feeling of hard metal against my walls meant he was either favourably missing one on that particular digit or took it off while I wasn’t looking.” “- They’re so fucking trashy! She dresses like a whole-ass hooker, I don’t know what you see in-” Another interruption as his finger began pumping in and out of me, matching the rhythm his tongue had on my clit. Sure of itself, sure of how needed it was.

Whines began spilling from me, half grateful for the permission of pleasure and half critical of it not being nearly enough. The unshakeable concentration I used to build up my animosity towards Kandee was becoming flimsier, my hands balling into fists over the hood of the car like they wanted to physically hold onto that negativity, while the riveting touches I was receiving begged - not exactly silently, given the wet sounds my cunt was making with the pumps of Kyley’s finger - for me to let go and be free.

“And it’s such bullshit that you listened to her… You just left me there… Aaah…”

Every time I tried to resume stating my grievances, more of the decisiveness was shaved from my tone when Kyley showed that he was, in fact, listening. A second finger found its way deep inside me, then a third after a particularly curse-heavy protest; curling inside of me seductively, massaging my G-spot with the magical precision only someone who knew my body better than I did could gather. Meanwhile, his soft tongue lapped and swirled around my clit in earnest, making me even more delirious with desire. 

Closing my eyes in that state brought me right back to the club from earlier: with its colorful lights sparking behind my eyelids, their glow now inviting instead of oppressive. A separate party made specifically for me and under my own terms. Rainbows of neon in the darkness, their hues hitting my skin and healing me with their energy in ways that would make even the highest partygoers back at the real place think maybe they had enough. The thumping in my ears no longer came from mediocre remixes or my heart in the throes of rage - now it matched the tempo of my clenching walls, with the squelching from the thrusts of the Jersey man’s fingers in and out providing a perfect background beat and the less than conscious rolls of my hips towards his mouth being my own way of dancing to it.

Damn, I guess that drink I had was stronger than I thought.

Weaving through the colors and music, there was one other presence. Kyley-B and the reds and oranges that I’ve learned to attach to the memory of him, fiery, burning me up. Because of course - he was the one who brought me all that bliss, who pulled me into that mental space that ressignified all my experiences into something marvelous. Perhaps I wasn’t listening to his grunts of satisfaction at my taste on his tongue, but I could feel them vibrating up my skin, adding to the inevitable climax building up inside me.

“I… I didn’t-… Ngh… Ah-… I didn’t want to… Mmph…”

As the blaze in my lower abdomen roared fiercer and fiercer, the sour coating in my throat had wholly vanished, converted into honey with every whine and cry I let out. Some attempts at speaking were still weakly being made, now more due to Kyley having requested it rather than any remaining outrage, but they got lost almost immediately. 

And I only had the vocalizations of ecstasy to give out when the inner inferno hit me like an outside explosion, endorsed to my hazy mind by the bang of metal when my ass hit the car hood - my straightened knee buckling and denying me of balance when my orgasm struck, any leftover stress and tension rippling right out via my quivering muscles. Over Kyley’s shoulder, his hand tightened around my ankle to keep it held while the fingers on the other continued to fuck me through my orgasm without faltering.

Only when my legs started literally shaking from overstimulation and another metallic sound denounced that I’d laid down fully over the car, my eyes wide staring at the moon above without committing the sight to memory, did the man decide he was “done”. Scare quotes needed, as he never seemed to be quite done with me. He let go of me and got up quickly, one hand already moving to his belt - frankly, the fact he’d managed to go all that time teasing and listening without actually giving me dick was commendable in itself for how out of character that restraint was.

“Ya good enough to handle it now, doll face?” He asked roughly, the other hand moving to my knee, which shook under his touch. My eyes were drawn to it, then to his own, my vision still unfocused from pleasure - but taking in his handsome face and the obvious interest in his features had my mouth watering. I nodded automatically, not trusting myself to speak lest I actively drool.

The next seconds were a blur - he might’ve taken his time with me, but now his hunger was back in full force and he was not gonna starve any longer. His pants and underwear were down in one swift movement, and just as swiftly he’d grabbed my hips and pulled me along the hood towards him, both my legs wrapping around his waist like they’d been trained for such. Then all of his length was inside me; one fast, slick thrust making me cry out again with a volume I didn’t know I even had to give anymore as he filled up the emptiness his fingers left.

“Thank fuck,” he panted, the sheer relief in that breath he let out showing just how much being patient had taken out of him. Waiting for something he wanted was physical pain to the Jersey playboy, and my cunt was finally healing that ache.

Taking advantage of how wet and ready I was, he didn’t wait for me to adapt to his girth; the pace he immediately set was quick and rough, slamming into me with the frenzy a man only gets when he’s one moment away from pleading. He didn’t quite get to doing that, probably would’ve died before it happened, but it was obvious. The hold on my hips, possessive as always, continued pulling me towards him so I’d meet those harsh thrusts like the concept of any space between us was inadmissible, a concept corroborated by the dents his fingers created on my flesh where they held my hips.

With his cock knocking the air right out of my lungs every time its head slammed right into my cervix, and the lightning jolts that struck my body in succession, it was outright impossible for me to form any of those complaints he’d demanded from me earlier - but luckily they were no longer necessary, as my companion appeared to have forgotten all about that situation. And so had I, fully now. Kandee who? What club? At that moment, Kyley-B was mine, irrevocably. Those strong arms that held me so tight, those hips that my legs struggled to stay wrapped around with how fast they moved, those groans and huffs of bliss when I clenched even tighter around him… those were mine.

Mind reader that he was - or likely noticing the smile that had grown on my face, the delight in my features that went past just sexual pleasure -, Kyley leaned towards me when that knowledge permeated my hazy brain, his breath warm against my skin as he rested his forehead on my collarbone. “Fucking beautiful thing you are, sweets,” he husked with a grin of his own, “I’m all here f’ya…”

I hummed in agreement at his words, though they’d take two or three more thrusts before I’d actually understand them. “Here for me…” I echoed in hardly a breath, closing my eyes and letting his presence encompass me again.

The top of my dress was hastily tugged down, possibly by his teeth, letting my breasts spill free from it due to the lack of a bra. Those same teeth briefly bit my hardened nipple and the gasp from the minimal pain I felt dissolved into a moan when his lips began suckling on me, instantly soothing and bringing more sparks of delight to my skin with the movement of his mouth. 

After years, that fucking garment had finally paid itself via the ease it created for that moment to happen - and if I started wearing it more I might have to give it even more money instead.

“And you’re here f’me too, ain’t ya, pretty…? Soft and wet and ready and all that good stuff that you are… Just for me…” Kyley broke his veneration of my breast temporarily to speak between harsh breaths, his hips starting to stray from the speedy pace they had set as he got lost in the heat and scent of my body, frenzy for frenzy’s sake becoming a chase after his release.

Oh, I was everything for him. Pretty, flexible, ready, soft… and most importantly, close. I almost couldn’t feel the metal under me anymore with how my back arched away from it, pressing my upper body towards his own. With a full-body jerk courtesy of the extra sensitivity from being overstimulated earlier, I shouted his name out into the world as I came again, my legs somehow finding strength to wrap around him more fiercely, trapping his body against mine while my cunt milked his cock for everything that it had. This time, I was taking him out with me. And it worked - his roar sent another shiver through me as his throbbing length, still relentlessly thrusting inside of me, filled me with strong jets of his seed. Leaving me full of him. 

With the bliss of climax keeping us together in the beautiful moment that followed, with him laid on top of me and slowing his movements to a stop as we both panted our lungs out, I fleetingly felt an abnormal sense of pride. But as the fog of lust dissipated from over us like dry ice, one specific sentiment I hadn’t had time or need to feel yet ultimately emerged. Embarrassment. Memories of the fight, the punches exchanged, and most of all, the things I’d told Kyley while he was eating me out. Even the pain from the bruises and small injuries I’d sustained from the brawl arose too, having waited specifically for that moment - where I’d be at my lowest, raw enough to feel everything times a hundred. That pride went as it came. Fast and undeserved.

Pretending nothing had happened wasn’t an option. The ordeal was ridiculous, out of character, a severe lapse of judgement; yet it was me regardless. Confessing to all those emotions of jealousy and agony while in one of my most vulnerable moments - with my cunt right on Kyley’s mouth - made it impossible to just ignore. I had done all those things and needed to bear the consequences.

“I… I’m sorry.” I muttered, nearly inaudible, turning my frowning face to the side and closing my eyes. It was too shameful to stare at Kyley in that moment.

A deep breath of his made goosebumps spread on my chest before he placed the softest kiss to the valley between my breasts. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” My repetition came louder, more stiff, with my frown intensifying as I decided to get serious. “I don’t know what came over me there, I…”

“I said don’t.” That firmness I held was mirrored by him - but in his voice, it was way more powerful. Enough to make my eyes snap open. “Didn’t ask ya to apologize for nothin’.”

Kyley’s weight left my body and I looked at him to see he had adjusted his posture; standing tall with his cock still inside of me, a smirk twitching one corner of his mouth when he saw me staring. Those large hands began roaming the uncovered parts of my body - which were virtually all of it - distractedly, palm fully open to feel as much of it as possible. A sheen of sweat lingered on his fake-tanned skin and had also dampened his shirt, making it cling to the point where I could discern his actual muscles - or maybe said shirt was just that tight and I was just that used to his body.

What really confounded me was how happy he seemed. In that smirk, taunting as usual, there was genuine contentment, which I’d learned to recognize in him from those moments we’d spent just the two of us. That memory made my heart clench; those moments, which had been so important to me and I’d worried so much that he didn’t feel the same about them. The embarrassment had also brought back the insecurity about them, and through all I’d confessed, at no point did I actually find out what I wanted.

“But I have to.” I propped myself on my elbows, attempting to meet his certainty head-on by repositioning my body. “I went all crazy. I picked a whole fight and almost made us get kicked out of the club. I ruined our night.”

“Ruined?” Kyley frowned. “I think it went pretty great.” He glanced down, towards where we were still connected, that smirk never leaving.

For emphasis, he moved his hip the smallest bit towards mine one last time, his softening dick moving inside me and making me bite my lip briefly before he completely pulled out. Smooth son of a bitch. But I needed to face the music.

“You know what I mean,” I insisted, “I know I shouldn’t have done all that, but… It was a lot, okay? I got really nervous because you weren’t there and-”

“That’s not what ya tryna apologize for, though.”

“I am!”

“Nah. You didn’t get nervous.” His hands squeezed my shoulders, where they’d stopped their roaming briefly before returning to that. “You got jealous. There’s a difference.”

Well. with or without taking Merriam-Webster into consideration, he wasn’t wrong - nonetheless, hearing it from his mouth was bothersome. “That- that doesn’t matter. I really was nervous…”

“It matters. One’s hotter.”

I gasped. “Huh?”

My reaction made Kyley’s lips twitch at the corners in genuine amusement while he leaned towards me, placing his palms on the car hood on either side of my thighs now. “You got jealous and it was hot as hell.” In tandem with the teasing edge of his explanation, there was certainty. “My sweet little kitten gettin’ feisty with this chick she didn’t even know just because she got too close to me? Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

The feral part of said kitten wanted to ask why the fuck he hadn’t told me that sooner. But, unfortunately, it was asleep, and what was awake was the one that couldn’t remotely conceive what he was on about due to shame. “It wasn’t gorgeous, it was embarrassing!” I protested, “A scandal, Kyley! I started this fight in front of all those people-”

“Beautiful fight, by the way,” he interjected, his left hand moving to reassuringly rest over my right. “You landed some real nice hits on her there. Should’ve known you had it in ya. Made me hard as fuck.” 

“H-hard?”

“Goddamnit, baby, why do you think I took you outta there so fast like that?” He chuckled dryly. “Damn near impossible to stay even a second longer without gettin’ my hands on you, and then you’d have a real fuckin’ scandal.”

My face heated up again, for a different reason. When I thought I’d heard it all from him, he’d come up with stuff like this and make me blush shades of red I didn’t know the human skin could achieve. “What about Kandee, then?” I pushed the words out with a slight struggle, dragging the weight of the matter over my tongue like sandpaper. “I hit her! I hurt her! You care about her, don’t you?”

“FUCK no!” 

The scene that unfolded was nearly hilarious. Losing the taunt altogether, Kyley huffed and shook his head fiercely, reminding me in a weird way of a dog that had just been fed medicine - if I pressed the issue, I might’ve witnessed him actively retching to try and spit my words out. “I never wanted nothing to do with her. She’s garbage!”

Not that I didn’t agree - heaven knows I did -, but such a visceral reaction drew shock from me. “But I thought-” I sputtered, coughing to clear my throat while trying not to appear as pleasantly surprised as I was. I still needed an explanation, after all. “- But I thought you were close!”

Another huff. “Don’t bunch me up with that shit.” He rolled his eyes. “That bitch is fucking annoying is what she is. Pisses me the fuck off. Don’t know a single fucker that wants to be near all that bullshit.”

Even though I refrained from full-blown laughing, the smallest snort still went through my nose, and from how Kyley’s smirk returned, safe to say he’d caught on to that. “But why be so nice to her, then? Why talk to her at all?”

“Because you’re always tellin’ me to chill!” He gestured towards me with one hand. “You’re always doing shit for me. Gettin’ dressed up all pretty and goin’ places with me. I didn’t wanna stress you out.”

Any words I’d ever learned were wiped right out of my mind for a moment, leaving only the specific sequence of I didn’t wanna stress you out. Never before had I seen the Kyley-B care about the peace of mind of anyone - not even his own, considering how he tagged along with trouble in a very close friendship. Regardless, here he was, telling me he’d been nice to someone he didn’t even like specifically because he thought it’d humor me.

“So I thought maybe I could play it cool and she would leave, no sweat,” he continued, “But then you came and I had to commit.”

“... Why me?”

Momentarily, Kyley looked as confused as I was. “What?”

The questioning left my vocal chords mechanically. My insecurity had them well-trained for that. “Why me?” I repeated, placing one hand in front of my mouth to hide at least part of the jaw-dropped expression that I couldn’t shake and which showed in my tone regardless of if I’d managed to visually hide all of it. “Why would you do all that for someone like me? I’m just another girl!”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Don’t do this to me now,” I sighed, “You know it, Kyley. You have so many girls that hang out with you all the time. You can do whatever you want… You don’t owe me a single thing.” My voice got thicker with emotion, and I dropped my hand as I lowered my face. “It really is ridiculous. I got jealous around you and we’re not even together.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then!”

I didn’t need to look at him to tell that the confusion had vanished. Usual Kyley-B, confident, strong-willed and opinionated, was back. And, much like many times before where he’d done something that came out of nowhere, I was left stunned.

Time spent together had taught him how to work around this, given he didn’t wait for me to talk before continuing. “If the issue is we’re not together, then let’s be together,” he declared, “There ya go. No more issue.”

My heart skipped a beat at those two little sentences, jumping at the opportunity to take them for itself. Yet it didn’t matter what it wanted - my rational mind knew how things actually were with Kyley. “That’s not how it works.”

“And why not?”

I swallowed hard, preparing to say the words that were sure to squeeze my chest into a bloody pulp. “Being ‘together’ is not what you think it is, Kyley,” I told him, and sure enough, each syllable was harder and harder to push out. “Sure, we hang out, we talk, we… fuck… But it’s not just that. It’s a lot of other stuff, it’s more important.”

“I know that,” He groaned, clearly growing frustrated with having to extend a question that to him had a clear-cut answer. “Like bein’ exclusive, right? Goin’ on dates, livin’ together and shit?”

Him saying it with all the words so easily wasn’t on the script, but it did save me the trouble of explaining. “Well… Yes. Mostly that.”

“Then I don’t know what the fuck we’re waitin’ for!”

I lifted my face to look at him. He’d crossed his arms and was shifting his weight between his legs restlessly, looking bigger than usual given how small I felt yet somehow… vulnerable at the same time.

“Look, I don’t… I don’t want to take anything from you,” I admitted gingerly, my throat getting agonizingly tighter as I thought about what the fuck we, or at least I, had been waiting for. “You… You like to party, to be with other girls. You don’t want me to take that away from you.”

“Take what away? What you’re talkin’ about ain’t that much different from what I’ve been doin’ already,” he countered, shrugging with naturality. But then his eyebrows arched, awareness of something crossing his mind - something unknown flashed behind his eyes while his upper body tensed up, hands balling into fists with his arms still crossed. “Unless you…”

“No!” I exclaimed right away, my eyes widening. There was no fear in my face or in my voice - only astonishment that such a concept would even be brought up as an option. “I’m not, at all!”

His guarded posture loosened up immediately at my confirmation, but my astonishment didn’t. The clear upset he had displayed at the assumption of me being with other men besides him had me caught up in it. It was familiar - and suddenly I was all the way back inside the club, cackling with that fury I had roaring inside my chest. Kyley… He’d known what that was before I did. And if it had been so strong within me, who’d never dealt with it before… How painful could it be to someone who was like that by default?

My gaze softened towards him, trying to bring him further tranquility. “I’m… Not with anyone.” I repeated, shaking my head slowly. “Are you?”

“Ain’t that what I just said?” The corners of his lips twitched, a pleased smile trying to form. “No, I’m not. Haven’t been since you came into my life.”.

Truth was, I hadn’t been exactly caught up in Kyley-B’s romantic or sexual endeavors -  a deliberate decision that had eaten me up inside, but which the absence of would’ve proven even more unhealthy considering what I thought I’d find out. I didn’t want to hear about all the women he was likely getting it on with, women that my mind perceived as being much prettier, much more fun, much better aligned with what he demanded in life. Yes, the fact that he hadn’t brought it up in conversation either had been a little off to me - it wasn’t like he’d made an effort to hide his popularity from what I’d known of him prior to actually getting involved with the guy -, but I’d attributed it to just… basic human decency he wasn’t impervious to. Not to there being literally nothing to bring up.

“I… Didn’t know that.”

“‘Course you didn’t. Wouldn’t be having this talk if ya did.”

“So… Does that mean…” I coughed once, trying to distract myself from how fast my heart was beating. Put myself together. “You’ve just been… Waiting? For me?”

“Sorta, yeah. I was tryna… be better for you, actually.” And for the first time in that conversation, he averted his eyes. His arms uncrossed, lingering at his sides lazily, making him look every bit like an awkward teenager about to confess to his crush. Reticent and so unlike him. “Get my shit together. Put in the work if I wanna be worthy, ya know? Cut back on the bullshit to show I can settle down and-”

My heels were on the ground before I knew it. The scent of sweat and Kyley’s usual cologne invaded my nostrils when my face found his neck, with my arms wrapping around him with all the strength I could muster. I didn’t care about fixing the dress on my body or cutting back on the emotion; I needed him as close as I could, needed him to know exactly how much I’d cared through the past months, all the anguish I’d had in me each day that passed without being his. Not formally, anyway.

And he’d been waiting to be better for me. How the fuck did he not know he was already the best he could ever be, and that I’d been the one thinking I lacked what was necessary to be his partner? Hadn’t he seen all the changes within me, how much more free I acted when he was around, how he brought forth everything my heart desired in the simplest way possible?

“Fuck you,” I muttered against his shirt, my upper body shaking as tears began to stung in my eyes, making my breath catch in my throat. “Fuck you, you dumbass.”

There was absolutely no bite in my curses, but they still startled the man inside my embrace, who quickly wrapped his own arms around me protectively. “Calm down, sweet,” he murmured back, kissing the side of my head and letting his lips linger there. “This ain’t you.”

“No way. Fuck you.” A sob cut my sentence in half, and I had to take a deep breath before resuming it, overpowered by sentiment. “You don’t have to change a thing.”

“You just called me a dumbass. Don’t I have to change that?”

I shook my head, my nose ruffling his shirt. “Not even that. But you should’ve told me.”

Another kiss, his breath ruffling my hair as he chuckled. “I didn’t want ya to feel pressured.” He confessed, losing some of the worry I’d drawn up in him with my sudden actions. “Wanted ya to come to me on your own terms. Not feel forced just because I was doin’ work. If you were happy with how things were, then… I wanted to stick around and be a part of that.”

“Happy with how things were?” I pulled back slightly, finding him already looking down at me. His olive eyes were unusually gentle, a lightness reserved to either post-coital moments or days where we’d dial back and spend quality time together in more peaceful ways than he was accustomed to. Now I’d have to add ‘charged confessions in dark parking lots’ as a third situation. “Kyley, it’s been… Lovely. Every single day we spent together was awesome. I just… didn’t think you cared about anything more… And I didn’t want to be a bother with what I wanted.”

Again, the concept of distance between us became unimaginable to Kyley. One of his hands found the back of my head and pressed it right against his shoulder again, keeping me there gently. “Don’t ever say that shit again.” Yes, there was heftiness to his scolding, but it was tender - maybe he wanted it to come off a lot nicer than it did. “You could never bother me. Goddamn, doll… You’re amazing. You taught me shit I’d never even imagined. You showed me things I didn’t know I needed. You… You’re it for me, (Y/N).”

My tears began freely dampening his shirt, but I didn’t care. Those sentences, that simple declaration Kyley-B style, direct and honest and endearing and perfect. It might not have been as grandiose as the confessions I’d read in the many romance novels I’d consumed, but did it matter? It was all I ever wanted to hear from the man I wanted to hear them from. And that made it the most wonderful moment imaginable.

Through my tears, I started laughing. A soft, light giggle, swaying my heart into relief and calm by shaking away all the leftover pain. “You’re it for me too, Kyley,” I murmured with a choked sob, “I don’t want you to change. I want to be with you, just the way you are.”

“Then ya got me,” he concluded in a whisper. Unnecessary, given how alone we were outside, but it held weight - even if we’d been in the most populated space imaginable, those words were meant for me only. “You’re always gonna have me, baby. I wasn’t ever anywhere else… You’ve been stuck with me since the moment we met.”

Funny he said that. Because I always thought it was the other way around. The tiny wisp of me, following this great thing that was him. Hoping to one day walk together. When we’d been doing so all that time.

A few sniffles helped with slowing down the fall of my tears, along with him caming me down. His fingers scratched the back of my head distractedly, curling into my hair in a cautious caress. In that moment, in his arms, he held the most precious thing he had. And I did too.

“But… If you want to continue trying to get me to stay by startin’ shit in nightclubs, I don’t mind. I told ya, it’s really fucking hot,” he added playfully, tugging at my hair once before petting it again. “Just want ya to know you don’t have to. No one’s gonna steal me.”

“Screw you,” I chuckled, stepping lightly on his shoe in retaliation. “If you’d told me how you felt earlier, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Maybe not.” He took his foot away from under mine, giving it the smallest kick. ��But I loved to see it. Shows you care, doll. And that… That makes me happy.”

This realization made my tears stop completely with how impactful it was. I… hadn’t seen it that way. All I latched onto was how awful it felt, how ridiculous, how unlike me it was.Maybe it wasn’t unlike me - it was just the part of me that cared about that Jersey playboy a little too much trying to show that.

Taking that into consideration, perhaps his nice confessions and protective stances were… his way of doing the same.

“Maybe I can do that in other ways,” I squeezed him inside of my arms briefly. “Without… You know… Causing a ruckus.”

“Have you ever seen me give a fuck about ruckus?” Kyley said playfully. “We’ll go at your pace, sweets. Gonna be perfect regardless.”

No doubt it would. Yet, considering he was giving me his ‘permission’... Maybe his inner ruckus and mine could mingle more from then on.

Normalcy returned with our light-hearted banter. Our surroundings became irrelevant. We stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity and not long enough, chests rising and falling against each other in peaceful deep breaths while our hearts beat in synchronicity. Not the first time we were like this, and definitely not the last, but special. Like a warm light, one I’d been chasing for so long, had at last wrapped around us, tying us together like never before.

“But look, if I can just say somethin’...”

Heeere we go. That tone of his that drags on, starting unassuming, but promising a Jersey-level rant. I could recognize that from miles away.w

“It’s been fuckin’ hard, ya know? Tryna be nice to so many of these people. This town is filled with so many assholes ya wouldn’t believe this shit. I don’t know how you manage! It’s all…”

Yup, there it is.

I listened to all of it with a smile on my face. Because it was mine to listen to. Kyley-B was mine, he trusted me, he wanted me - prim and proper or starting shit, it didn’t matter. And I’d want him in any way that he came, as long as it was towards me.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[borkunlimited]

Zayne, Keeper of the Shrine

Zayne had inherited the role of holding rituals in your name from his father. The passage of time flows slower for the gods and he hopes even then, he will be one of the faces you will remember when he passes away.

Tags: Zayne & Reader, Fantasy AU, Fluff

Word Count: 585

Author's Notes: This snippet was fun to write. In my drafts, his encounter with you when he was a child was actually the first one I wrote. Enjoy!

────────────────────

Zayne had been granted the gift of sight by no other than you.

A normal human would see a dense forest and nothing more, but in his eyes, he sees your friends, the forest spirits, frolicking about and walking with him while he looks for herbs.

Recently, he had heard you have made a new friend.

“He’s a snake, Master Zayne-”

All of the forest creatures, and even woodland spirits had told him covertly, expressing concerns about your new friend with ashen hair who does not appreciate being called one while whispering rumors that the wandering god is but a god of calamity who wants to devour you.

That’s a new.

Zayne is aware of your older sibling, the tiger god that prowls the mountain day and night, and he has seen that grim reaper who always goes up in the mountain with a determined look only to go down all frustrated but still politely tipping his hat at him.

Should he consider this new character an omen?

Perhaps in this rainy night he will have his answer but then again, kind hearted as you are, one can never predict the whims of a god on giving replies.

The sliding doors to the veranda of his room are wide open, the faint drizzle barely reaching inside, perfect for a late night reading that you have finally decided to make your appearance, carrying a lotus leaf as your umbrella with a woven basket full of herbs.

“Master Zayne will not grow taller if he stays up late.”

“I am no longer a child, Great Forest Spirit, you know that.”

To most with the gift of sight, they would usually see a giant deer in your place but ever since he was a child, he often sees you as a beautiful lady, your hair tied in a braid (You have told him once in passing it is your older sibling who does it for you) and growing on top of your head are pure white antlers.

You have little to no regard for human customs but you have always listened to him so when you step inside to look at the books he is reading, you leave your shoes by the door together with your lotus leaf.

(Maybe he will tell you another time to dry yourself first but he was too mesmerized towards every step you take, flowers sprouting, blossoming, wilting until all that is left behind are wet footprints on the tatami mat.)

“Master Zayne grows up too fast.”

“A year for us is a second for you.”

But he hopes you will remember him, just like how you remembered each of his ancestors and their names, and he hopes one day you will show to him where you hid all the small mementos they have given to you so-

-He can see how his gifts look amongst them.

“Oh, a colorful lotus leaf!”

“No, Great Forest Spirit, this is a parasol. Used by ladies at the capital to shield them from the sun and rain.”

If only the rest of your followers knew how bright your smile is every time you received their heartfelt offerings, they would surely linger here on this land after they pass away to be with you before they let themselves be taken away by the grim reaper.

So, Zayne has taken upon himself to describe it in words, hoping his brushstrokes would do you justice.

Afterall, everyone should know the name of the benevolent forest god and her likeness.

────────────────────

Author's Notes; I supposed one of the characters I had patterned Reader after is actually Totoro. I like how that fluff ball seemed so enamored with trinkets made by humans that he kept all of them.

Check out the roles the rest of the LIs will play for this longfic:

Sylus, The Wandering God

Caleb, The Two-Tailed Tiger God

Rafayel, The Grim Reaper

Zayne, The Keeper of the Shrine

Xavier, The Grand Prince

[rom-e-o]

Do we have any information about what Emmrich's parents looked/were like? Personally, until I hear otherwise, I'm hcing Em has his father's height, overall looks, coloring, and lively, joyful spirit, but his mother's slender build, natural poise and grace, smile, and laugh.

I don't think we have any information on Emm's parents, aside from their names, their jobs (butcher and cook) and some mementos they left behind (his father's knife and ring, his mother's teapot and torte recipe).

Awwww, these are amazing! HCs absolutely accepted. I can so imagine Rupert also being a tall, gentlemanly man. He's a butcher by day, but if you put him in noble's attire, he's look stately enough to pass at court easily. Maybe he's the one that taught Emmrich to have such a jovial outlook and how to find joy in everything? Seriously, Emmrich LOVES most things.

He tries pineapple for the first time from Neve? It's delicious! "Such a sun-bright yellow!"

If Rook is a Grey Warden? "I've heard stories! Oh, you simply must tell me of your adventures!"

Harding is from Ferelden? Let's go camping! Lucanis makes coffee? Emmrich always has a cup, because it's the best he's had! His mas has such an endless passion and zest for everything, it's so adorable. His father influencing that would be delightful. And his mother having that cheerful laugh, willowy frame and graceful movements? Oh, it's so perfect. I can also see Ellanora maybe being the one to teach him about the 'finer things'. They can only afford one teapot, so they have a beautiful one, and take care of it. They can't buy cake, but she has the ingredients to make the most delicious torte you could imagine. They don't have a ton of clothes, so be sure to choose pieces you like, and take care of them!

Jewelry is a luxury, so take care of the gold you have. Treasure it.

He sees her keep her composure and calm even while juggling tons of orders from hectic, rude customers. He learns patience and poise, and how far it goes. He admires her grace, and how precise she is with her movements. I see Emmrich being one of those boys that likes to sit with his mother while she gets ready for the day. From a young age, he observes how she takes care of her skin and hair, and it teaches him the importance of doing the same.

He watches his father shave too, which delights his mother. She knows at that point her boy is going to grow into a fine man who takes care of himself.

"Remember when you're older, dear, a gentleman is never without a brush and a razor," she tells him, poking his nose playfully.

[queenphanessa]

Hi, I hope you're having a good day! ^-^

Can I request Arlecchino x Fem!Reader? Maybe suggestive fluff where she gets possessive and does marking/biting on reader?

Note: Thank you! I hope you're having a good day too! I'm sorry I took a while with this! 😭 I hope you like it!

The Knave was not an easily troubled woman. If she can weather foes, her workload as a Harbinger, the rowdy orphans under her care, and her own irksome colleagues, then something like a few unworthy eyes gazing upon you was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

From her room at Hotel Debord, she looked out her window and saw you. You were so cute with the way you were indulging in your pastime of observing some clockwork meka on this hot sunny day, smiling as they delicately served you macarons that had been provided by the President of Spina Di Rosula.

Speaking of the president, she sure had an eye for fashion, didn't she? Thanks to her, you were adorned in a frilly corset top and a skirt that barely came above your knees. You were nothing but sweet smiles and giggles as Navia posed with you—standing a bit too close to you for Arlecchino's liking, but she deemed her to be harmless—while one of her bodyguards took a picture of you both.

Yes, you were indeed a lovely sight. And it seemed that numerous onlookers thought so as well. Those at the nearby cafe drank you in along with their coffee and people who were in the process of making wishes at the fountain paid no mind to the coins that were carelessly slipping from their fingers as they leered at you. Arlecchino followed the direction of their gazes—only a few of them for the sake of her mood—and realized they were paying close attention to the swell of your chest that your top accentuated and generous sight of your luscious thighs that came into view as you walked to share treats with Spina Di Rosula's president. You certainly were a feast for the eyes.

But a feast that only her eyes were worthy of devouring.

Later that evening, you went to her hotel room to visit her. Being seen visiting a Harbinger at night might cause some whispers, but your beloved was set to leave Fontaine first thing in the morning, so you just had to get as much time with her in as possible.

The second you went through the door, a familiar set of blackened arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Darling, welcome." The Knave wasted no time. She was quick to lock the door behind you before returning her attention to you and peppering your neck with kisses. "You enjoyed yourself today, no?" She toyed with the frills of your top, twirling them around her finger until it was pressed against where your nipple was. "I simply adore your new outfit."

"O-Oh, yes..." You couldn't help but stutter when she got touchy like this. "Miss Navia has been very kind to me."

Arlecchino hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps a little too kind." She gave your top a little tug. "It's a lovely outfit she put you in, but it's much too enchanting. Something like this," she tugged harder, exposing one of your breasts and cupping it in her hand, prompting a small squeak from you, "should be illegal to be seen by eyes other than my own." Marveling in the flustered state she put you in, she slowly dragged her tongue along your neck, before biting down. "In Fontaine's land of ludicrous laws, that shouldn't be out of place, right?" The following morning, Arlecchino had already left Hotel Debord and you were left alone in bed with the sheets wrapped around your naked body in lieu of her loving arms.

But it wasn't as if she had left you without any... "mementos".

When you woke up, the first thing you did was head to the bathroom. And there you saw them and were reminded of the Knave's seldom seen mischievous side.

Where kisses once graced your neck lay a trail of bite marks with the Knave's favorite shade of lipstick, going from your neck, your collarbone, and even to your breasts.

Of course, the thighs that Arlecchino always gave her affection to were not missed. Not a single place on your thighs was left without a bite mark with special attention having been given to your inner thighs. On her way back to Snezhnaya, Arlecchino received word from one of her informants in Fontaine that her lover was quite flustered and indignant to the point of angrily shouting her name.

All Arlecchino could do was chuckle and look forward to the next time she would mark her territory.

[ttinygoldenbird]

Athena "Thea" Second

My Our Life: Now and Forever MC!

Here's what feels like a very long ramble! (even wrote in a very professional way with proper capitalization n everything, lol)

I'm very fond of this lil character I've created for a game series that I cherish dearly <3

-- Step one ✩ ° 。⋆⸜ 

Pronouns: she/her

Nickname: Thea

10 years old and left handed

She has a scar on her neck that travels down to her collarbone but that part’s not really visible. She got it from an accident/clumsy moment before she moved. Now she tries her best not to get hurt.

She has two moles/beauty marks! One under her right eye and the other above her left eyebrow which she loves a lot. They’re like small stars that she gets to keep for herself (aw, my heart).

Star gazer, star lover, star admirer. Writes tiny love letters to the moon. Will absolutely point out and ramble about star constellations at any given time (Her favorite is Orion!) While she's a star and moon admirer by night she becomes a forest gremlin by day. UNTIL it's time for school and she’s suddenly quiet as a mouse.

Loves a bit of academic validation. Feels like she has to be the smartest she can be—to her, she has a pretty big namesake to live up to!

Owns a skateboard and feels like the coolest kid every time she rides it.

It didn’t rain a lot back where the Second’s used to live so! Anytime it rains in Golden Grove, and she’s able to take some time to herself, Athena will go outside, sit curled under her umbrella, and watch the rain blur the forest around her. This becomes a tradition and her very own act of self-love over the years.

She’s quite confident in how she views herself and doesn’t shy away from expressing her thoughts and feelings. She’s very vocal in letting Qiu and Tamarack know how much she appreciates them but she’s not afraid to join in on some teasing. Most importantly, she likes to make her loved ones feel loved!

Starts ice skating classes which she absolutely loves!

First time she met Qiu and Tamarack she whispered, “pretty” without even realizing it. They’re the prettiest people she’s ever met besides her mom.

Attached to Tamarack’s hip and she becomes her first BFF! However, at first she was unsure if Tamarack was genuine because of how many compliments she gave. That changed really quickly after they talked in her backyard after the first day of school. Forest gremlin buddies for life!

Admires Qiu like a lot. Except after learning how popular Qiu was on the first day of school, she develops a small amount of doubt on if they genuinely liked her as a friend. That worry washes away really quickly though!

Wants some stability in her life so moving to Golden Grove is troubling at first until she realizes she never has to move again then she falls in love with her new home.

She’s never felt a desire to meet her biological father because in her mind it’s always been her and her mom since forever. Why does she need to care about this silent figure? However, she does feel self-conscious whenever it’s brought up to other people because she never knows how they’ll react. It became a topic of teasing/judgement back in her old hometown.

She absolutely loves that she looks just her mom. And as far as she cares to know, the color of her eyes is the only thing she has in common with this unknown father figure. And right now? She’s not a fan of them. It’s a feature of herself that she’ll have to learn to love as she grows older.

-- Step two ✩ ° 。⋆⸜

Pronouns: she/her (?)

Still sometimes goes by Thea!

Age 14 and has grown quite tall.

Athena gathers any mementos from each season that she finds most beautiful. Such as, a flower from the first bloom of spring or a striking red leaf from autumn. They’re pressed and kept in a journal with the year and season written in the corner. Sometimes she keeps them because they remind her of Qiu and Tamarack…ohh what’s this feeling?

Still writes and whispers all her secrets to the moon.

Still in love with the stars and moon, skateboards, ice skating, and now takes pottery lessons!

Coffee becomes a staple in her life because she doesn’t know what a good sleep schedule is anymore. Too many late nights spent studying or watching the moon and stars.

Regularly has nail painting sessions with Qiu. Sometimes they even match each other! When she got her new ear piercings, Qiu went with her and got their own piercings

Listens to Tamarack practice her cello any chance she gets. It’s truly magical and if she could, she’d listen forever.

Believes it’s her duty to keep the neighbor trio together forever so the falling out between Qiu and Tamarack is a difficult thing for her. Qiu and Tamarack are her BEST FRIENDS! They can't Not like each other!

Still strives for academic success and validation (Look out she might burn out!)

Will absolutely give a big wholesome or cheesy smile every time for pictures even with her new braces.

She’s a creature of habit at heart so she likes things that are constant. Like her star earrings, gold colored sweaters, and favorite outdoor jacket. Though some things change like ooh new ear piercings! One summer she even dyes her hair a dark navy blue color to be a lil spontaneous! But soon wants her cranberry hair back. Her friendship with Tamarack is perfect to get her outside of her comfort zone that’s never negative.

She’s a pillar of support for her two best friends. Always willing to listen to any worries or problems. And while she keeps a lot to herself now, she will still open up if asked.

She’s always had a steady amount of confidence in herself but at 14 it starts to waver. She’s desperate to find a balance in how she views herself. Especially seeing Qiu experience a journey with their identity and becoming a little jealous of Tamarack’s femininity. Very complicated feelings that are hard to express and she’s always had an answer but now nothing’s clear.

Continues to be very close with her mom. Now that’s she older she’s starting to see her as a friend too! She tells her everything except her struggles with her identity. She needs to find the answer on her own (but oh, Thea, you can lean on the ones who love you!)

So far, I haven't thought too much on who Thea will develop a crush on, but it might start late step 2 or step 3! But, once she realizes she has a crush/likes another person, she doesn’t know what to do. She’s always watched her mom remain independent and she wants to be just like her mom so why does she have silly feelings about romance all of a sudden? There’s a lot to unpack with this one so that’s saved for step 3 Athena! Poor babes </3

And here’s some extra silly pictures that I think represent Athena pretty well!

[jrow]

May Prompts (30)

Day 29 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 31 here.

Journey

He looks up the stairs and thinks about the journey that brought him here.

He was always going to end up back at 221b, wasn’t he?

Something Sherlock said yesterday has stuck with him. I wasn’t even in the story until you came along.

And maybe that’s true for the both of them. Maybe the story—the journey—didn’t begin until he climbed these 17 steps for the first time.

No, that’s not quite right. Maybe it began when Mike spotted him in Russel Square.

Maybe it doesn’t really matter when it began at all. Maybe all that matters is that this is where it continues.

He used to see his life in black and white. Right and wrong. Triumphs and regrets. It was a foolish and simplistic way of viewing the world. He finally understands that he is allowed to feel many things at once. He is allowed to remember those early days with Sherlock fondly while still recognizing the period as one where his demons were left to fester and grow. He is allowed to wish Sherlock hadn’t jumped while still recognizing Rosie as a gift and someone he could never live without. He is allowed to feel sorrow that Mary died while simultaneously feeling incredible joy that he has a future with Sherlock.

To ignore the good is to ignore the bad and vice versa. It’s all a part of his story.

He looks down at the box he’s carrying. It’s filled with a random documents and mementos that he didn’t trust to the movers that Mycroft booked (who are all dressed in suits and look suspiciously like agents that must have far better things to be doing). Some of the contents are from this story—Rosie’s birth certificate, his wedding album, newspaper clippings of early cases with Sherlock—but others are from another life. His mother’s favourite necklace, that friendship bracelet Harry gave him when he was 8, his army ID discs and medals.

Rosie bounds into the doorway at the top of stairs. Her face is covered in jam and he can see a glob in her hair. Definitely a bath night. “Coming Daddy?” she asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before disappearing back into the flat. Their flat.

“John?” he hears Sherlock yell. “Errr, there may have been an incident with your toaster. It looks worse than it is.”

Maybe this isn’t the continuation of a story at all. Maybe it’s the start of a new one.

“I’m coming, loves,” he says quietly, even though he knows they can’t hear him.

He takes the first step.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 10.1k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣ Chapter 1: Memento Mori ❣

Have you ever thought about death?

How many times have you asked yourself, “What will happen to us next?” “Is there something on the other side?” “Will we see the shining light at the end of the tunnel and the white-winged angels, or is it just darkness waiting for us?”

We constantly reflect on this, sitting in the noisy company of friends, frozen for a moment in cold numbness; late at night, when there is no sleep and gloomy thoughts creep into your head; on the subway, bus, or taxi returning home from work or school, desperately understanding the desperation of their situation; recurring days in endless solitude.

We should stop doing that. When the time comes, we will ask ourselves other, more important questions.

Nevertheless, we tirelessly continue to be interested in it. Again and again, until our clock stops.

Sometimes I think all we have after we die are flowers and regrets. In our soul, heart, and mind, every second, there are many events that do not obey any rules of formal logic. All that we lose at death. There is no longer the privilege of choice that we had in life; now we have to settle for small, choking on despair and memories, staring into our own reflection on a silver epitaph.

“Our love will stay with her forever.” It would sound like a dream if it weren’t such a dirty lie.

I don’t think love exists. It’s like a sweetener: we feel sweetness, but the brain realizes it's fake, sending out red signals warning of deception. But we still desperately crave this feeling, however painful it may be.

And yet, after death, our lives go on, and in some special cases, we find ourselves more alive than ever before.

It's our time to watch as the new story unfolds, and the usual roles are played by other actors. New names appear on the waiting list, and celebratory ribbons are given to the new queens. See how fake diamonds sparkle in their luxurious crowns. Despite that, you’re the star of this show. Your name is in the news, in the bold headlines on the front pages of newspapers, and every casual passer-by claims to have known you personally while you still existed in a small, closed time period called life.

So what does it feel like to be the only spectator in the front row? The main subject of general regret.

In our cooled consciousness, a sharp conviction of our own uselessness is born and settles. Friends we used to call the best put your stuff in boxes with ribbons of tape. A family that tears the remnants of your life apart, erasing your name from the family register with a sickeningly straight line of black ink. Acquaintances and colleagues, always smiling with an astringent sweetness that glues their teeth, easily remove your number from the contact list and open their palms in a welcoming gesture to those who came to take your place.

All of them, all these people close to us, express their false regrets about your untimely departure, putting a tick in front of the memorized phrase: “Ah, we are so sorry. She was young and beautiful.” Is that what they usually say?

That’s all; our race for popularity is over. The rules of good manners and standards of appearance no longer matter. Your thoughts, actions, and preferences belong only to you, and at this very moment, we feel freedom. Short time, but still freedom.

It is only a short moment until the lid of the coffin closes completely over us. And here we are, face to face with our past, alone.

As hard as it may be for us to admit it, it's true. All that remains for us after death is regret.

Each of us has our own. Someone feels regret for the love that he could not protect and the loved ones that he has lost forever. We regret the things we’ve done and the words we haven’t said, but most of all, we regret the time we’ll never get back.

The dead mourn more than the living.

Besides regrets, we’re taking flowers with us. Yes, these beautiful creatures are leaving with us to one day wrap around our bones, sever the grayish subtlety of our skin, and grow again above the ground, eating us like a parasite. 

The flowers also symbolize the grand finale of our celebration. When the music dies down and the curtain falls, they will be the only ones who will stay side by side while the guests leave the lavishly decorated hall one by one.

Have you noticed how many bouquets are brought to cemeteries?

I like to think of it as a peculiar payment for our rest. Maybe death is as in love with these deliciously fragile things as we are, and that’s why they’re leaving with us. Silent companions who hold our hand as we go into the darkness.

The path to the origins of the great Sanzu River is paved with bloody lycoris and mournful lilies. Truly a magnificent sight. Ugly and beautiful are two sides of the same coin.

When I was little, Mina told me many different stories. Some warmed my cheeks and stretched my lips in a happy smile; others were gray, like days with incessant downpours. I wrapped myself in blankets and warmed my palms with warm cups of herbal tea, but there were other stories that I didn't want to remember until now.

They were sinister, like a spider hovering on a web waiting to be sacrificed. The words were sharp; they pierced the skin, leaving long, stinging wounds. Meaning has always been terrible; like a blade in the tongue, it could not be swallowed and understood. I was afraid. I was scared to death. I could not sleep in the light of a bright day or in the mist of a starry night; in the coziness of the blankets, there was no warmth or protection, and the mocking laughter of Mina made it worse.

My grandmother scolded her and assured me that all this was nonsense, empty words, and legends formed from idleness, but I knew better. There was truth in Mina's stories, and the realization of this only made them scarier.

The most terrible of them was the story of a young man in black silk robes. Beneath the black veil was a sensual smile, and the fox's heterochromic eyes were alluring and sparkling like stars.

Was he a nine-tailed kumiho? A black reaper holding death itself on a leash? He may have been a vampire, desperate and thirsty, but personally, I was sure he was a ghost. A past woven into a single canvas, thread by thread, stitch by stitch. I think I saw him once, during the Lunar Festival. He was the center of my little universe, the otherworldly and inexplicable, his long black clothes flowing to the ground like a waterfall, and the diffused light of the treacherous moon embraced his silhouette like a caring mother’s embrace.

I thought the world was dancing around him. The children were running around laughing and circling like butterflies in the round dance; the couple were whispering nicely, their palms intertwined tightly, as if it would save them from the inevitable parting; and the others were simply enjoying the festival time, waiting for the sheaves of colorful fireworks to explode in the sky.

His eyes pierced my figure so greedily and sharply. I saw hunger in them. A thirst. A goal. 

And then I screamed. So loud and disgusting in a childish way. With a shrill screech, I rushed into the crowd, hoping to find Mina. The colorful ribbons in my hair rushed into the air, and the wind bore me the echoes of his sweet laughter.

He was mocking me. I could have run, but he could have caught me in a second if he wanted to. For a moment, I looked back to make sure that he was still standing there, covered with moonlight and a myriad of stars, but the long, flowing silk of his black robes melted like a mist in the night without leaving a trace.

Mina laughed mockingly as I clung to the lush skirts of her violaceous hanbok, sobbing, choking with tears, and pointing my finger in the direction where I saw the young man with the fox’s eyes.

After that incident, I didn’t sleep for days, couldn’t eat, and was afraid of every noise.

From that night on, I began to believe in ghosts. They are among us. We can see them, reach them, and hear their whispering voices. Science cannot explain them; they are not subject to it. They are mistakenly called fictions, twisted forms of memories that acquire real outlines and are indistinguishable from the real world.

Science calls it imagination; I call it another form of life. Ghosts exist. They’re always there.

The line between the dead and the living is thin and fragile. If you push it a little harder, it’ll shatter.

It’s true—life after death exists.

I was told once that death is like being submerged in water. First, the lungs start to burn from a lack of oxygen; the body gets heavier; the eyes are baking, but we’re still conscious; and the brain continues to function. Then comes the next step. Our body desperately clings to life, continuing to contract the heart muscle. Bam, bam, bam. Deaf blows on the rib. If you start acting now, there is little hope of salvation. No more than a minute. And then, after that, there’s the final stage. Clinical death. Smooth stripe on the monitor.

Our sinking is over. We have reached the bottom. We have met eternity in the muddy depths, blended with the muddy sand and pearls.

That may be true, but for me, death is no more than a moment—until the last flowers on the grave fade.

I never thought about dying. Until it happens to Mina.

The first time I met death, it was with my first breath. I was born with silence—too small, too fragile, and painfully quiet.

Then there were the piercing sounds of medical devices and the screams of doctors and assistants. I was taken away instantly and carried far into the sterile, transparent box. Death retreated, but it didn’t go away.

I was only three when my parents died. Mina was squeezing my hands and talking about a long journey. Grandma took us to her old country house, where secrets were hidden and hyacinths blossomed. At the time, the very concept of grief was not clear and tangible to me; rather, the feeling was like frostbite, when the skin was already dead, but the pain was absent.

So I knew death before I even knew it.

My grandmother died suddenly. Her life was cut short in an instant, like a thread brought to the flame. I knew it; it seemed long before it happened. That summer, I was going to be at a ballet camp, and Mina was the star of the school, and she was planning on spending time with her cheerleading friends. Just one call changed all our plans. Short skirts and ballet points replaced chrysanthemums and black ribbons. Mina was grieving, taking condolences, while I watched from the sidelines. Grandma's leaving seemed like a dull pain from an old injury rather than a sharp cut, and it was easier to deal with than I thought.

This was the third time I'd known death.

And then Mina happened.

The passionate, bloody, grandiose Mina's death. By closing my eyes, I could see her face again. White, sun-drenched, and blood roses, her long fluttering eyelashes, and scattered carmine strands of hair.

She was not at all afraid to die, as if this scenario had been memorized by her. Isn't it an innate instinct, a fear of the unknown, of death? We are frightened by monsters under the bed and horrors lurking in dark corners. We must be afraid of death. We are obliged to do this from the very moment we are born.

Mina was not afraid. She was never afraid of anything, unlike me.

Spiders, darkness, roses…

The list goes on.

When she died, I realized two things: one, nothing lasts forever, and two, I wanted to know what happened to my sister and what became her trigger. Big red button. At my request, an autopsy was conducted to rule out a drug-induced hypothesis that could have caused mental and emotional distress. Forensics found nothing in her lungs except rose petals. Mina literally breathed flowers. It sounded almost fantastical to me. Even her death was beautiful. Forever the first violin in the orchestra. 

The case of her mysterious disappearance was closed. There was no point in looking for someone who was already dead. I asked the detectives to continue the investigation, but despite my desperate pleas, the police were adamant. My sister’s once-radiant life was packaged in a pair of cardboard boxes with a large-scale signature in black marker. “An Mina, case 117”. With each passing day, everything about Mina sank into darkness, but the mysteries and secrets around her only grew larger.

Once upon a time, I could call Mina an open book. It was easy to read—all the emotions, character traits, and habits—everything in it was exaggerated; there was no middle. Her love was never a simple hobby; it was always sharp, risky, and passionate.

Perhaps that is why she so easily fell into an obsession with roses; her feelings took a dangerous path.

I wanted to know who gave her these fabulous roses, who sent her candy and little sweet notes. There was something wrong with all of this, and not just the fact that the lush pink buds didn’t fade. No. It was a feeling, something very ominous, like a calm before a hurricane. A frightening, unnatural silence when all is silent and the air is gathering in front of the thunder's stunning storms.

There’s a long, unrequited tranquility on the other side of the phone line.

In the Japanese language, there is the expression “koi no yokan,” which literally means the feeling of inevitable love for the person you first met. This is not love at first sight, but a premonition of future love. So it was with these roses; they were not evil as such, but they were the inevitable omen of his coming.

True evil does not come in the form of a little red man with sharp horns and a long tail. Evil is beautiful—almost religiously magnificent. His appearance is divine and seductive, attracting the sweetness of the forbidden. Of course, the Devil himself was once an angel. And not just anyone; he was God’s favorite.

So are these flowers. I’ve never heard of people falling in love with soft petals and spiny stems. No one ever sings strange prayers for roses and dedicates his life to them without a trace. Those roses were bigger than they looked.

I think that Mina’s death was not accidental; it wasn’t suicide. Something broke her, violated her mind, and eventually destroyed her. Whether they were roses or people who gave them, that was my question. It was a secret hidden in the white folds of her lace dress, the dreamy smiles, and the names she spoke with such awe.

During Mina's funeral, I was approached by one of the lawyers who handled her legal affairs. I had to sort out the property rights and the lots of pages with numbers, dates, and places. Mina left me not only secrets but also a great legacy. As it turned out, in addition to our common apartment, she had several other assets in her possession, including her grandmother's mansion, which at one time she received as a sole inheritance, shares in various companies, and investments abroad.

I am now the sole owner of all this.

I had no idea where to start looking for answers or where to find the keys to the secret locks. Maybe I can find something in her files between the lines and the capital letters, or maybe it’s all dry formalities. So, going to the lawyer sounded like a good start to me.

How many can hide from those who command our last will?

Even so, I didn't want to be alone with Mina's secrets if I could find something in her belongings. I decided to call Soomin, who was once Mina’s best friend, the closest, to be exact. She was always there, having fun and crying with Mina, supporting and comforting when needed. Soomin was an integral part of her life. My life.

After the incident with the roses, they split up, not on the best of terms. Their conversation completely ended, but I still continued to spend time with her, and we often went to brunch at various gourmet cafés that Soomin loved so much. She was an elite restaurateur and had great taste, not only in the interior but also in food.

In a way, she completely replaced my sister. Soomin always told me, “No orgasm can ever match a stunningly cooked fondant au chocolat”. Yeah, I could totally agree with her on that.

After dialing her number, I waited for an answer. The wait was not too long, and after the second tone, I heard the melodic voice of Soomin on the other side. “Hello” “Soomin, I'm sorry to distract you from work; can you give me a few minutes?

“Sarang? I can’t believe you finally called me. How are you feeling, honey? I’ve been really worried about you, you haven’t spoken to any of us all this time.” In her voice, there was a sincere concern that resembled a mother's. 

Soo has always been so caring and gentle. In her was the same fascinating brightness that Mina possessed, which brought them very close and became the strong foundation of their friendship, but unlike Mina, who resembled a raging forest fire, Soomin was a comforting flame of home. One was ready to destroy everything around her; the other collected ashes in beautiful vases and kept them as precious memories.

After Mina died, she was there for me when I especially needed support.

“Sorry, Soomin, I’m still trying to get over it." I sounded exhausted, even to myself. The days spent in voluntary isolation completely drained me emotionally and physically. I was the alarm of danger light for my friends. “You know, when she went missing, it was hard for me, but I was still hoping she’d come back. I convinced myself that Mina was fine and that she was enjoying life surrounded by her favorite roses.” It was the first time I had spoken openly about my feelings since Mina’s death. “I never imagined that my sister would slit her throat in front of me. I still have nightmares, Soomin, but I’m calling you for another reason, I have a little favor to ask you.”

“Sarang, you should feel like this; it’s okay. What happened to Mina traumatized you; damn it, it would have traumatized anyone if they were you. We agreed to give you time to get over it at your own pace, but when you didn’t answer our messages and calls, we started to worry. Eun Jung even offered to come to you several times; you know how she is.” She was anxious, and I understood why. “I’ll help with everything I need; just tell me how I can do it.”

“You agree too quickly, Soo.”

“Sarang, please stop. The only thing I can offer you now is my help. I can’t imagine how you’re handling all this, and if you need my help, I’ll be there for you. So stop denying me and tell me what you wanted to ask.”

“Do you remember Mina’s lawyer who approached me at the funeral? I think it’s time I met him. It’s all about inheritance and property, but there’s something else.” I started off insecure. “I want to find out who sent her those stupid roses.”

“Why?” in her voice sounded like sincere surprise. “If you were me, would you want to know how it all started?”

“Probably, but aren't you afraid? Judging by how it turned out for Mina,” she stammered for a second. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.”

“No, you’re right. Absolutely. I’m scared, and if things weren’t so messed up, maybe I would have done something different, but listen, Soomin, I have a strong feeling that I’m always missing something, and it’s bothering me.” “People don't change so dramatically, and certainly not because of the roses. You've been friends with her for so long, so you know her as well as I do, and we both understand that it's crazy to give up everything in your life for roses like that. Especially for Mina.” When I spoke my thoughts out loud, I was even more convinced that I needed answers. It really was crazy. “ She left so many secrets that I want to find a clue. I haven't told anyone, but the roses are still being sent. I received a call from the cemetery administration saying that her grave was littered with flowers, and they needed to figure out what to do with them. Not only that, but I also received several bouquets.” There was no point in hiding it anymore. If I want Soomin to help me, she needs to know about those roses that were sent to me.

“My God, Sarang, you should have told me right away. Did you talk to JiHo? This is an abnormal situation. What if you’re being chased, Sarang? I don’t know, it’s all so scary.”

“You have no idea, but I don’t think we should talk about stalking.”

“Why? Maybe it’s a stalker or serial killer; you should be careful. Please tell me JiHo is living with you now.” “First, I don’t think anyone in their right mind is going to come after me, and second, JiHo and I took a pause.”

“Did you break up?” she asked with an incredulous echo.

“I'm not sure if you can call it a breakup.”

“God, the bastard left you. I always told you he was a rare asshole and would run away at the first opportunity.”

“Soomin, let’s not talk about it, but if you want to hear it, yeah, you were right about him.” The memories of our conversation with my ex were still fresh and festering in my mind like a ball of worms.

It’s very convenient to hide behind phrases like “let’s take a break,” “you need time to figure things out,” “emotional vacation,” etcetera. No one wants to be a part of your grief. At this party, the cake belongs entirely to you.

“Okay, let’s close the JiHo thing. Tell me, do you know anything about who sent the roses? Any ideas?”

“Absolutely nothing; I’m stuck. There’s nothing that can help. No address, no sender’s name, Maybe we can find something in her files or stuff; I don’t know.”

“Yes, it’s possible. When do you want to go to a lawyer?”

“This Friday, if you’re free?”

“Give me a minute,” the papers rustled on the other side, Soomin clearly trying to find the day she needed in her diary. Knowing the nature of Soo, it was difficult to make out anything there; her records were always chaotic, and careful planning was not her forte. In this, too, she was similar to Mina.

“I’m totally free. How about going to brunch first and then to the lawyer?

You could use some fun, and I’ve always wanted to go to this new trending place. I hear they serve incredible fondant au chocolate, and the owner looks like God cut him out. How does that sound? “First, tell me, are we going there for the fondant or the owner?”

“You can’t judge me; everyone’s talking about how attractive this man is; I just want to see.” Soo softly dissipated.

“Have you betrayed your love of chocolate for a man? Kim Soomin is something new. Anyway, everything sounds great. Let’s go and see if those rumors are true, but if I were going there solely for the chocolate,” I smiled at that thought. I’ve really been lacking in communication lately. We should start coming back to the real world. “Do you know the address?” “Sure, I’ll pick you up at 11:00. Please wear something prettier than a black dress.” “It’s a classic, and thank you again, Soo.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, Sarang. Finally, I can call you like that, you know, Rosa, it doesn’t suit you. I’ll see you Friday, baby.”

“I think so, too. Until Friday.” I put the phone aside, taking a deep breath. The long stems of white roses had folded in half in the cramped bin. A luxurious wrapping in a rare shade of Solferino and embroidered topaz ribbons lay next to the bulky pile, and a small note was shrunk into a perfect ball that was also lying in the trash.

Whoever sent those flowers should have stopped doing that. I’m not Mina. I don’t like roses.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

How quickly does the waiting time pass? We count the days, the hours, and the minutes until the exciting event we’re expecting, circled by a thick red line in the calendar, but is it really worth our time, which life has measured for us?

It's so strange; the days are like bottles of sand thrown by a restless ocean onto a flickering glass bank. I remember this one, crystal blue—it smells like strawberry cheesecake and summer heat. And this one, made of gloss and pearls, is full to the brim with grave earth and chrysanthemum petals. I like the one that sparkles with diamonds from the royal frosted glass; it smells like a lover’s pillow, and there are memories of the first love. There is another, very ordinary, and therefore the most precious—empty and at the same time full. If you open it, you can hear the gentle wind whispering your name.

My life is all about memories now. I’m just trying to keep what’s left.

The rest of the week passed unnoticed by me. Time, like the rapid trains at the station, rushed by, and I kept waiting to see the stop I needed in this incessant turmoil.

Existing in space is very simple when it belongs only to you. I did actions that were memorized to the finest detail, simple mechanisms that gradually brought me back to my normal state. Feed the neighbor’s cat. Do the cleaning. Go for a walk. Check the mail. Cook dinner. Ordinary things to take your mind off the colorful bottles on the shelves of consciousness and the endless cycle of nightmares.

And I also noticed that at night, time flows more slowly. Second by second, replace the glowing dial until dawn. And so on until the ruthless rays of the sun insidiously penetrate between the tightly woven threads of heavy boudoir curtains, and the golden shadow spills over the pampered skin like boiling water.

I think I'm allergic to the sun and, therefore, to the stars.

Maybe the whole world.

Today I woke up earlier than usual. Somewhere below the horizon, the sun splashed in the golden ichor of the predawn twilight. Yoru stretched out at the foot of the bed, warmed by tiny drops of warm light that seeped into the room through the window. Last night, she refused to leave, stubbornly ignoring my presence and my tender pleas to return home to her mistress.

Yoru was my neighbor’s cat, perfectly embodying all its best features: a slightly aggressive, capricious, and having a little bit of arrogance. Despite this, she had a strange affection for me and often stayed at my house if she was in the mood.

Other tenants avoided Yoru, considering her a bad omen, and it was not only the polished glossiness of her black fur; she always appeared where death later came. I didn't care; I've always loved cats, and having one of them in my house was a bit of comfort. I wasn't alone.

Sensing my awakening, her almond-shaped eyes flashed with the sharp color of precious stones in the slits of the eyelids—a thick amber glow, not yet warmed by curiosity or playfulness. Yoru tossed and turned, clearly unhappy that someone had disturbed her sleep, arched her back and closed her eyes again.

We could lie like this all day long, in silence and some strange harmonization. I’m sure she’ll get close to me a little bit later, calculating her every move, until he presses on his heart with a peaceful, relaxed purr. Unfortunately, today was not the day I could afford it. Soomin will soon be here, and I need to get a little tidy.

Shower. Food. Simple things. Jars of creams and neatly arranged lipsticks Are there certain rules of appearance when you go to a lawyer? What dress should I wear—a deep neckline or open legs? How decent?

Should I still look mournful? Should I wear a veil? Two months have passed; are other colors acceptable? What will he think of me?

So many questions were spinning in my head while I was going, and it seems to me that whatever I choose, it will still be inappropriate. The story of Mina was not a passing affair; probably everyone in the city had fleetingly heard about her death. One of my friends told me she was called “Queen of Roses” because of the flowers in her hair, and I saw the headlines of the “exquisite death” articles.

The black color dripped venomously to the floor with the long hems of the dresses in my wardrobe; the gray, like a mist, settled in the loops of cardigans and oversized sweaters; and the ghostly white terrified me with thin transparent lace and ruffles, just like on Mina's dress. The choice was not too large.

A jacket dress on a naked body made of thick matte silk, a little pearl, and a high choker collar with long falling threads, It was one of the old jewels I bought in a small antique shop. Vintage trinket in the style of Queen Marie-Antoinette. I had a whole collection of such chokers—some studded with precious stones made of expensive jewelry metals, others woven with the finest threads, like a skillfully woven web. Hard made of steel and leather, and soft, like angelic kisses, made of organza and velour. JiHo once said I had a choke kink if I liked things like that; maybe I did, but my ex was too “vanilla” to close his hands around my neck.

After getting dressed and styling my hair, I sat down on the couch and waited for Soomin to arrive. What should I do now? I was lost. Turn on the TV or read a book? Look at the news feed on Instagram; be sure to look at JiHo's profile to see his new photo. Does he miss me or not? Is someone else warming up his bed now that I'm not around? Is JiHo still wearing the same perfume as before, or has he found something different?

Anyway, I never liked his perfume; it was salty like tears and distant ocean breezes and rancid like decaying wood in the dense Amazon. He called them gourmet; I could only agree if they were worn by someone else, say someone more dominant and powerful. Maybe I would even find this strange, gloomy mixture of aromas attractive, inhaling it from someone else's hot skin and feeling with the touch of my lips a steadily beating pulse in the swollen veins on a strong neck.

How long does love last? Three years or more? For me, it's a moment; for others, it's an eternity. I loved him. It's true. Very strong and very long ago. My love did not resemble the indomitable elements or the explosions of colored fireworks; rather, it was the fragrant bloom of wildflowers and the scattering of stars in the sky. She was comforting, not passionate, and I wanted to see someone like me, someone who could comfort my heart and give me tenderness.

Tenderness and comfort alone were enough for me, but deep inside, I wanted something dangerous, something forbidden. I was devout, one of those people who are called “good girls,” but was it really me or the role that Mina gave me?

Maybe in the far corners of my mind, my thoughts weren’t as good and right as they should be. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself, but sometimes when I woke up from another nightmare, I was glad she was dead. Dark, reckless emotions made their way through my cracks; they were moments of despair as my anger lifted its ugly head and oozed poison and blood. My cruelty and hatred had the color of roses and smelled like chocolate. She had fox eyes and a seductive smile; desire flowed in her veins, and strangled thirst was heard in her voice.

In my nightmares, I saw not only Mina and bloody roses; sometimes there was a young man in long silk robes and a veil hiding his face. He's just a ghost; I met mine years ago, but somehow he seems more real to me night by night when he comes into my dreams without permission. He crept into them like a serpent-tempter into the Garden of Eden, slipping away at dawn like the shadow of two moons, hiding behind a door I could never open.

Unreal in my reality.

I felt the arrival of Soomin even before her long nails methodically began to knock on my door. It was as if the spell had been removed and all the sounds of the world had rained down on me in an instant. Yoru shook off her sleep and whirled around at the front door, waiting for an unknown guest. The clatter of high heels echoed in my apartment, slipping through the cracks of the door locks, and the thick smell of ambergris and blooming jasmine at night walked ahead of her, warning every one of her approaches. If I didn’t know better, I could easily have mistaken her for Mina. That was my sister once.

The whole world was just a part of her life; she was not part of the world. To be ordinary—what a bad form!

“Sarang! Sarang, open up. I’m here.” and in fact, her long nails caught on the dark wood of my front door, causing Yoru to bristle and hiss.

I was absolutely sure they wouldn’t get along.

“Are you awfully loud? Someone told you this, Soo?” I opened the front door wide, smiling softly. “I missed you, Soomin.”

“Don’t tell me about it; I missed that pretty face.” She hugged me, which made Yoru hiss again, attracting Soo’s attention. “When did you get a cat?”

“That’s not my, Yoru cat, my neighbor from apartment 1366, that door.” I waved my hand to the far end of the corridor, where Mrs. Lee’s apartment was located. “I like her; I don’t mind having the baby stay with me sometimes.”

“I see.” There was an awkward pause between us until Soo broke it. “You want to talk about… you know what.” She was worried about this topic; I could see it from the way she shifted from foot to foot, or was it from high heels? In the light of the electric lamps, the steel studs glittered like sharpened spindles from the tale of The Sleeping Beauty.

“Not now. Better tell me about this restaurant we’re going to.” Soomin was easily distracted if you changed the topic of conversation in the direction of a subject of interest to her.

I walked out of the house, taking one last look at Yoru. The cat didn't even think about leaving my space; he was already ensconced in a pile of pillows on the sofa in the living room. If she wasn't going to leave, I wouldn't force her.

“Don’t you need to return the cat to the mistress? She looks expensive.” asked Soo

“She’s a purebred Persian cat, and no, Mrs. Lee won’t worry about it; Yoru can stay with me for weeks before she comes home. This has happened before.”

“All right, if you say so.”

I shut the front door and turned the key, permanently cutting off my escape routes. Today. I have to do this today or my resolve will wear thin, and I will once again voluntarily isolate myself in the comfort of blankets and tightly closed curtains.

"And so, the restaurant..." This was the beginning of a long story that interested no more than random passersby in a faceless crowd.

“You’re going to love this place, I promise. Everything I’ve seen on their Instagram profile is so fascinating, but you know what makes this place really attractive? It’s the owner. Eun Jung was there last week, and she couldn’t shut up about…”

For the next 30 minutes, I heard about this trending establishment. “ Angels' Share” is the most requested boutique café in the last 3 months on all search engines. A luxurious café with exquisite dishes and a magnificent concept.

But most importantly, it is, of course, divine, and Soomin, the owner, was absolutely sure of this. Hundreds of girls lined up in endless lines from dawn to dusk, hoping to see him, at least for a moment.

On your first visit, the owner of “Angels' Share” personally serves you throughout your interruption there. Your name is inscribed in the book of exclusive customers in gold ink. Their main specialty is gourmet desserts, and if you are not seduced by the angelic face of the magnificent man who runs this place, then the sweets melting on your lips will do it instantly.

Full berries of scarlet strawberries in white Belgian chocolate. Mille-feuille with fresh wild berries. The devil's food is the most chocolate of all chocolate cakes, and, of course, the angel cake has the most delicate silk cream of exotic fruits.

As Soomin told me about it, she was clearly having an emotional orgasm. Her arousal was obvious, but I could not understand what she craved more: exquisite desserts or the sweet kiss of the owner.

“I think he's a real angel,” Soo finished her rant after giving a fiery speech about the unique beauty of a man she had never met in her life.

“I'm not sure if it's all true, Soomin, but you'll be able to see for yourself when we get there. You should not trust everything they say. You're too impressionable and trusting.”

We spent the rest of the journey in peaceful silence. This is the type of silence when there are a lot of questions in the air, but each side is not sure when to start asking them. I know she wanted to ask me a lot of things, and in response, I wanted to finally share my experiences and feelings that I had been desperately hiding for the past two months. Nevertheless, each of us remained silent, as if afraid to destroy fragile comfort with uncomfortable words.

When the car stopped, Soomin smiled approvingly at me, as if to say, “Go ahead, my girl!” She was good at it because she was also a cheerleader like Mina.

“Angels' Share” was impressive at first sight, and not only because of the long line of girls lined up in a perfect line and dressed in intricate clothes like collectible dolls on the shelf.

A myriad of flowers, lace, and feathers, pastel shades, and delicate ruffles—all of them looked like animated sugar fantasies. Their cheeks were dusted with pink blush, and their inflated lips were accentuated by a thick layer of transparent sticky gloss with a fine sprinkle of glitter.

Perfectly well-groomed hair is arranged in children’s cute curls or intricate hairstyles with hundreds of sparkling hairpins and velvet bows. The variety of their images was amazing, as was the height of their heels. This place was definitely something special if the girls were willing to sacrifice their comfort for a couple of desserts.

Or it wasn’t about desserts.

At such moments, I especially understood how much we needed someone else's approval. The list of items seems endless: he likes cute girls, girls with an athletic figure, pale skin, and big eyes; she should not be boring; my friends like her; she has long legs and a thin waist; and she is a certain height. I wonder if he'll use a ruler to measure me. Big boobs or a nice ass—which turns him on more? What will our first date be like? That's right; should I call him Oppa or not? Tell me what you want, and I will fulfill whatever you want. I will fulfill every one of your fantasies. Tell me about your desires.

Seduce me. Surprise me. Love me!

I don’t want to live like this. I want to be who I really am, with all my flaws and imperfections. I want to be sharp and rude; I want to be cruel and honest; I want to look as I want, without colorful tinsel and layers of makeup, with cellulite, stretch marks, and a little overweight. That may be so, but it will be me. Just me. 

The voice of Soomin ripped me out of my mind.

“I told you so,” said Soo smugly, purposefully heading for the entrance, circumventing a string of discharged girls. She was a lioness on a hunt, while they were stranded in colorful piles like scared rabbits.

If you do not pay attention to the girls, the exterior is fascinating. Gold, flowers, and crystal resembled the frame of a precious box. “Angels' Share” was positioned in such a way that the sun flooded it from all sides, creating around it a mysterious golden haze of sunlight and a dazzling iridescent play of crystals.

Everything was so beautiful, I won't deny it, but didn't the gingerbread house beckon the children deep into the dark forest where the wicked witch lived? Everything beautiful always has a downside, and someone knows how to mask it better than others.

While I was looking at the details, Soomin dragged me inside and was already talking to the host girl, who was checking the records for a long list of names. She also, like the girls on the street, looked like a doll. Her hair was long and shiny, tucked away from her face with an embroidered rim with Swarovski crystals, and her eyelashes were so lush that they touched her cheeks when she blinked. I would call her beautiful; she licked to perfection, which made it almost unnatural. She had a sweet, high-pitched voice and an overly friendly smile. Annoyingly friendly. 

“Please follow me; I'll show you your table. Since you have visited us for the first time, Mr. Yoon will personally take care of you today. Please enjoy your stay at “Angels' Share.”

YooA—that was the name of this girl—led us up the spiral staircase to the second floor. It seemed that everything around was carved from pale golden marble, with the addition of luxurious interior items and thousands of flowers—or, to be more precise, thousands of roses. Snow-white, cream, pastel pink, and soft peach—the whole space breathed rose buds that stood in tall transparent vases.

The sight took my breath away, and I was inwardly tense. It's okay; it's just a café, not Mina's apartment. You need to relax and not start panicking; it will not benefit anyone.

As if sensing my growing panic, Soomin squeezed my palm.

“Are you all right? You look pale.”

“Yes, it’s all right; there are too many roses for my taste; you know, it brings back memories.” I smiled tortuously in response to her words. I didn’t want to ruin her day; she was so excited and happy when we came here.

“We can leave if you are not comfortable, Sarang.” Soo still held my hand, gently walking her thumb over my palm in a comforting circular motion. “If you want to go somewhere else, this is fine. I can always come back here later.”

“No!” came out too loud. “No, I’m fine. I can’t wait to try their chocolate fondant. You know I’m here only for chocolate.” She said the last part with me in one voice.

YooA showed us our table, although it was more like a small loggia separated by airy chiffon tulle and pearl threads from the common room. I could easily fall in love with this place if not for the languid, enveloping smell of roses and the beauty of their lush, perfect buds.

“Do you think the rumors are true, and we'll see an angel appearance today?” Soomin leaned across the table to talk about the owner, not so obviously?

“I think you'll find out about it now, anyway.” I couldn't finish my thoughts, interrupted by Soo's enthusiastic sigh. It was a sound of undisguised admiration that she couldn't hold back, even if she tried.

The reason for her excitement was right behind me, and I had to look back a little to see what it could have been.

Of course, all the sounds of delight belonged to none other than Mr. Yoon. In part, I could understand why he was called angel-like. His beauty was painfully perfect, to the point where it became almost terrible. His face was beautiful—almost obsessively beautiful, like the face of a stone goddess on a grave. Surreal. The skin seemed to glow from the inside, like molten silver flowing through the veins. He had long hair—ashes, platinum, mother-of-pearl—everything mixed on a diamond cloth. One silvery strand fell delicately over his face.

Are the melodies of an angelic choir in the air, or does it just seem that way to me?

The more I looked at him, the more his appearance disgusted me.

I felt flawed and unsuitable, like a puzzle that did not fit the picture; my heart did not beat faster with excitement or sweet agony; I did not burn and did not desire it as it should. Between us, it was possible to draw thousands of parallels in a myriad of universes, and none of them ever intersected. Beauty is deceptive, like a serpent promising forgiveness. It’s the pain of a bittersweet injection entering our nervous tissue.

What do we know about them—angels? White-winged light bearers, without flaws and ignorant of evil and vicious desires, are submissive and faithful to their ideals and purposes. Silent watchers who look after our virtue. But there are those who are chained and silken, whose wings are torn out with bloody flesh, for they are sinners.

Their name is the fallen. Unforgiven. 

He was not an angel. He was one of them who traded the vaults of heaven for the flames and steel of the nine circles.

His presence was heavy, stifling, and sharp. Goosebumps ran through my skin as an omen of the imminent end.

I could have sworn that the second our eyes met in his eyes, the color of dark bitter chocolate, anger, and disgust thickened. So everything that is perfect collapses, falls, beats, and crumbles like the great walls of Babylon, kissing the transcendental peak of heaven. Like a Venus flytrap, his appearance was a clever disguise of vice and rot in a velvet cage of flesh, and this place is the very gingerbread house that beckons to certain death.

 “Welcome to “Angels' Share”. My name is Yoon Sung Hoon; I own this place, and today I will make sure your stay here is unforgettable.” The voice flowed like honey smoothly and gently, I could melt at this tone.

“I am Soomin, and this is Sarang; we have heard a lot about this place.” Soo’s cheeks were pink from a shy blush, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was embarrassed. This man was clearly something special, if he could make Soomin behave like a schoolgirl in love with just his presence.

His eyes rested on my figure for a second, and I wanted to shrink into a ball under this appraising gaze, as if he was trying to probe me and understand how dangerous I could be. It was only a moment, and then a smile shone again on his angelic face.

“I hope you’ve only heard nice things about us. What do you want today?” I wonder what he is used to hearing in response. I want you and your love, and I will accept everything you would not give me. Will you be my boyfriend? My husband? Will you give me eternal love? Judging by the expression on Soomin's face, this is exactly what she wanted to ask him, but she pulled herself up in time.

“I want to taste your best dessert.” As they say, kill them with your sweetness. Where has my self-sufficiency and t.” As they say, “kill them with your sweetness.” Where has my self-sufficient and confident self gone? Soo, this blushing mess was nothing like hers.

“Of course, only the best is for you. And what do you want?” All his attention was now drawn to me, and I had no pleasure. Yoon Sung Hoon is clearly not used to girls not falling at his feet like moths hitting the glass. Our dislike was mutual. Our dislike was mutual. “What do you want, Sarang? I would recommend one of our most special desserts: a white chocolate soufflé with candied scarlet roses.” Sung Hoon was smiling, but not at all benevolent; there was something mocking in the exquisite curve of his lips, as if he were challenging me: “Come on, try me.”

Roses. Those damn roses again. It always came down to these flowers. Were they my path leading away from the dark forest, or would they lead me straight to the crystal coffin in the tallest tower of the castle?

Instead of politely refusing, as a true lady should, I have given a crude, hoarse, and utterly evil speech:

“I hate roses.”

For me, flowers are as beautiful as the pain of a broken heart. You can call me a heartbreaker. What will your heart taste like? I'm so eager to try it. 

“My apologies.” Sung Hoon bowed his head, hiding his gaze in the lace of fluttering eyelashes and platinum bangs. With this simple action, Soomin once again made a barely audible, enthusiastic sound. “In this case, I offer you our signature chocolate fondant with raspberry jam and glass caramel glaze. Our clients say that he has a heavenly taste, so celestial that he can be sinful.”

Sung Hoon—there was something about him that disgusted me. His way of speaking, his appearance, his behavior—in general, every detail of it The most beautiful apple on the branch will always be wormy. I couldn't understand how he could charm girls in a split second, without any effort, as if it were in his blood—to cause desire and awe.

During our short conversation, Soo did not look at me once, inseparably studying every detail of the angelic man. If I make an incision in his skin, will the gold pour as befits angels, or will it be the viscous and black acid that Pandora once shed from her eyes?

I didn’t like it here. I didn’t like Yoon Sung Hoon, and he probably didn’t like me. How was I in his eyes—insignificant, puny, ordinary? Our dislike was mutual but totally unfounded; I just knew I didn’t want to be in the same space with him. I can’t breathe.

Guests always leave after dessert. I didn't want to linger, so I agreed to fondant. “Okay, I'll take fondant and cappuccino.” I looked at Soomin again; her thoughts were clearly elsewhere, judging by the bitten lower lip and flushed cheeks. “And matcha latte, please.”

“Of course, ladies…” With this phrase, he finally left us, and I sighed deeply.

“I think I'm in love, Sarang.” Apparently, with his passing, Soo’s brain has resumed active activity. “He absolutely justifies all the rumors about him.”

“Yeah, I can agree with that; he’s definitely something very special.”

After Sung Hoon served desserts and another 10 minutes of heated discussion of his appearance, our conversation took its normal course. It’s like ping-pong; the rules are very simple: move from one question to another, follow the theme, and don’t miss your turn. “How's the work?” “Everything is fine.” “How’s your boyfriend?” “You remember I told you we broke up?” “What have you been doing lately?” “Too much to do; I can’t remember, but recently I came back from Japan”, “Did you like it there?” “Great seats and great cuisine.” “How do you feel, Sarang?” Say it again; I didn’t hear you.

“How do you feel, Sarang?” Once again, you speak unclearly.

“How do you feel, Sarang?” It's so loud here, I can't hear you.

“Sarang?!” Can I skip my turn? I’m tired of this game.

I took a deep, slow breath.

“What do you want me to say, Soo? Something that will calm you down or something that should comfort me? ”

“Truth, Sarang. I want to hear the truth from you.” Soomin looked at me so carefully that it seemed as though she was looking straight into my soul.

My mind moved from one thought to another, not knowing what it would focus on. Truth. What is it like, this truth? She is like a beautiful, spiritually disheveled monster with a lesbian couple of black widows in an aquarium; she exists in an endless eternity of joyful decadence and an ecstatic nightmare.

It’s no big deal to tell someone the truth, but are you ready to see your own reflection in someone else’s eyes? They say alcohol is a liquid truth, but I think it's nothing more than a road strewn with bread crumbs, straight into a dense, dark forest. The more you drink, the deeper you go. Sometimes, through the intricately woven stems of condemnation and bitterness, subtle rays of understanding break through, like the light shed by the dual face of the moon. But this happens so rarely that the eyes themselves become accustomed to the surrounding darkness.

I’m still afraid of the dark and, therefore, of the truth. Now I’m sure I’m allergic to the world.

When I looked at the café, I noticed that there were many more people. Bunny girls with colorful barrettes occupied small transparent tables filled with all sorts of desserts; others, similar to porcelain dolls, put their palms to their cheeks, flushed with embarrassment, and laughed loudly, sitting in the same loggias as ours. The sounds of clicks from selfies and aesthetic Instagram photos did not subside for a second, as did the high play of voices merging with soft background music.

This probably wasn’t the best place for such a serious conversation, but was it ever the perfect place to have a heart-to-heart?

“Honestly, I don't know. Really?” I began, stirring the thick, fragrant foam from the cappuccino. It tasted like a first kiss—a little bitter, a little sweet—something that I would like to repeat again and again. “Secrets, secrets, and more secrets—everywhere I look, no matter what I ask, they only get bigger. Everything is as usual: Mina died, and the world is still spinning around her. Remember, I told you that they still send roses? I can say that soon the cemetery will start selling bouquets because there is simply nowhere to put them. Every day there are fresh flowers on the grave.” Maybe I sounded a little petty and annoyed, but I didn't care. “I may not seem like the best person on this planet, but sometimes I feel absolutely happy that I finally managed to bury her in the ground.”  Yes, this is exactly the right moment; you are not mistaken. That was my truth, like salt and pepper, like ashes, like burned dreams.

Soomin shook her head negatively.

“You shouldn't talk about yourself like that, Sarang; you're not a bad person, and we both know it; everyone around you knows it; and even that bastard JiHo knows it. You have gone through a lot, and if I were you, I would have gone crazy long ago, but look at yourself: you are here with me, in the noise of the metropolis, and you have your whole life ahead of you.” She put her hand on top of mine, and the warmth of her body penetrated mine. “Mina was who she was, and neither you nor me nor anyone else could change her. So don't let her ghost poison your life. I'm not a fan of this entire Nancy Drew thing, but I won't dissuade you. If you want my help, I'm on board.”

I laughed bitterly, taking a sip of the coffee that had already cooled. There was something special about it—sweet, ice-cold coffee, like long-cooled love.

“Yeah, you’re right; she was who she was, but I guess we were wrong about that because those flowers broke her in half. In fact, that’s the whole point of the question: where did the roses come from? She was interested in nothing but flowers and some strange prayers. She frightened me. You know, at first it looked like another love of hers; everything was as usual—she talked incessantly about flowers and admired them, but the more roses they sent us, the less she was interested in the rest of the world. Mina withered and languished while the roses bloomed. I've never seen anyone come to our house or meet someone. Nothing, just roses—hundreds of roses. You just can't imagine how many there were.”

“You know, I don’t really want to imagine it. Okay, let’s say you find something in her files. What’s next? You really need this? Maybe we should just let go, you know, scatter the ashes to the wind.” Breaking off a slice of angel cake, Soo mooed in satisfaction as the dessert was in her mouth. “Mmm, I love sweets. Who handled her legal affairs? If this is one of the free lawyers, we should hurry; the queues in these cantors are worse than here.”

“No, no, we're not going to a free advocacy team. Wait a minute.” I pulled out of my purse a small card from a thick black cardboard and handed it to Soomin. Transparent gloss on a soft matt surface looked refined and very expensive, just like the business card itself. “Silver & Black LTD” was the name of the law firm that handled Mina’s affairs.

“You’re kidding me!” She exclaimed, almost burying her face in her business card. “That’s “Silver and Black.” How did she manage to work with them? They’re one of the most elite law practitioners in all of Seoul, and I’d say across Asia. Their lawyers are real sharks in their cases; for the existence of their practice, they have not lost a single case, and the bills for their services are simply cosmic. How does she have so much money? Sarang, did you inherit her sugar daddy too? If that's the case, ask for more; you're much more expensive than a cheerleader, and nerds are always sexier and more desirable.”

“Stop saying that like I’m a whore. I don’t know where she got the money, but are their services so expensive?” My surprise was obvious. Our family was not poor, but we were not rich; we occupied that golden layer in the class hierarchy where we could just live without any worries about tomorrow. Mina and I were well provided for, but judging by Soomin’s reaction, “Silver and Black” could afford only filthy rich and influential people.

“If I were to be offered the opportunity to trade my virginity for cooperation with them, I would have done it without hesitation. Are you sure we have an appointment with them?”

“Soomin!” Frankness was always such a simple thing for her that I felt awkward at such moments. “Of course, I called them yesterday to confirm the details.”

“What? The cult of virginity is overrated anyway, but now I'm much more interested in it.”

“Let me think, more amazing men?” “How did you guess?” Soo smiled sweetly, shoving another piece of dessert into her mouth. I snorted; I couldn’t help it. "Hey, don’t laugh! You should also consider new options, since you and JiHo have broken up. Listen to me, little Sarang, nothing will warm your bed better than a hot big boy."

"Ew, Soomin." She just laughed back.

[thebumblingbookbee]

Kit x Ty College AU (another snippet of WIP)

Ty POV

Ty felt sort of weightless as he bounced up and down on his tip toes, a habit his uncle had done his best discourage by always tapping the top of Ty's head harder and harder until Ty would stop. But it didn't matter now that Arthur wasn't here. He was in Kit's shared uni kitchen waiting for him to return from his bedroom with some sort of surprise for Ty, he claimed it wasn't anything big at all and Ty shouldn't get excited but Ty strongly disagreed.

To distract himself from how long Kit was taking Ty glanced around the kitchen. It was pretty decently clean for a kitchen shared by six twenty-somethings. The dishes were mostly done and drying on the rack, just a few mugs left in the sink. The crumbs of some toast on an otherwise clean countertop. It was however a little cluttered with mementos and ornaments with everyone trying to make space for themselves. An expensive coffee machine, vase of flowers, various textbooks and a deck of cards overwhelmed most of the counter space. He smiled at the photo he had never noticed of himself and Kit on Julian's birthday the month before, photo Ty smiled back wider than Ty had been aware he could smile, a blush covering his cheeks. Kit looked equally happy having just snuck a kiss to Ty's cheek the moment before the click.

He moved his feet down to relax and rest on his heels and walked forward to take a closer look at the photo wondering when Kit had gotten it off Emma and when he had printed it. He made a mental note to ask and clicked the pen in his pocket several times.

"Okay okay sorry!!" Kit shouted as he walked into the kitchen holding a large shoebox. "I couldn't find the ones I got when Mina and I went to the park last week remember? But she's been helping me collect them so she spotted them so if you like them it's her you have to thank really" he cut himself off with a sharp laugh that sounded nothing like his real one and more like a seal. Ty just looked at him waiting to hear what he was going to say to explain why he was so nervous. "Um....I found them anyway I had left them in my jacket pocket....". He then placed the shoebox down on top of Ash's drama textbook, Ty wondered what that contained what sort of homework did a drama student get? But he shoved that thought to the side quickly as he took in the box in front of him.

It was filled with rocks. Ty clicked his pen in his pocket faster and tried to control his breathing.

Kit was already talking again, faster than Ty could quite catch in his excitement but the tone of increasing panic did register. He looked back up at Kit to find that he was not looking at him and was instead staring down at the rocks like they had done him wrong. "If you think it's weird I totally get that Josh said it was fucking bizzare to collect rocks to give to someone-". Ty cut him off "I don't like Josh." Kit stayed silent and blinked at him in confusion "um okay?" He said it like a question with the inflection at the end but Ty didn't want to explain now so he deflected and said firmly "I do not think it is weird." Gesturing to the rocks with his left hand, and reaching in to pick up the purple one ran through with gleaming white like marble. He swayed gently as he admired it, turning it over in his hand and squeezing it at different angles to find the most pleasing way to hold it. He glanced up for a moment to see Kit watching him with his eyes dazed and his mouth just slightly open, he loved catching Kit looking at him like that. Not that Kit was ever trying to hide it, even now as Ty caught him Kit just switched to a soft pleased smile. He didn't speak so Ty asked "Why did you do this?" He felt a bolt of panic dart through that his choice of words might be rude and rushed to clarify "I really like them they are beautiful but I want to know why".

Kit laughed lightly at him shaking his head in what Ty assumed since it was Kit was light hearted amusement and said "I saw you had loads of them lined up along your windowsill at your sister's place when we were there at Christmas. The light was shining in the window on them and I remember thinking how they were all so lovely and unique. After that I kept seeing all these beautiful rocks or stones everywhere and thinking to myself that it might make you happy and then I couldn't stop myself picking it up." He shrugged as he finished speaking as if he had said some casual and completely ordinary.

Ty swallowed thickly. Blinking down at the rocks, of various sizes, shapes and colours. "You just thought I would think they were pretty? So you kept them? Mina was helping you with this? You've been doing this since Christmas?" His questions rushed out of him like demands but he knew Kit would understand. He squeezed the rock in his palm tight opening and closing his fist. "Why?"

Kit beamed at him his cheeks turning a soft rosy pink that made Ty want to reach out and trace his finger along his cheek.

"Because I love you" Kit answered as if it explained everything. "And like I said Mina did help and actually I think she is waiting to hear what you think of them" he laughed. Breathing out a deep breath Ty grinned back at him. He felt like he was weightless.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Adventurer's Bible World Part 9

Senshi's journal (part 1)

In the first edition, the journal goes from 3/15 (The day before chapter 1) to 4/8 (Chapter 51). The Complete Edition extends to 4/29. This part is going to be what was in the first edition.

3/15

Senshi encountered the party because he went to the surface to buy spices. I wonder where he gets the money to do that? He used to run unmanned barter shops on the honor system but stopped because the party kept accidentally stealing his money.

3/16

Senshi very likely came back to this page on several occasions to fill in the details on the party. There's a later page where he misspells Chilchuck's name several times so everyone's names were probably added later. And Chilchuck's section has details that Senshi wouldn't learn until a few days later.

Notice that Senshi originally thought Chilchuck was Laios's little brother. After learning that's not the case and Chilchuck is actually 29, Senshi still thought Chilchuck was a child but now thinks he's an orphan instead.

And his Marcille drawing has the same face shape as his Marcille clone.

I also think he drew the boxes for their names and then wrote their names in them because in Japanese, he seems to be squeezing Chilchuck's name into the box.

3/17

Senshi's being racist.

3/18

Well now I have confirmation on the date chapter 5 happened.

Chilchuck's Japanese pronunciation is a bit more complex than most. It is chi-ru-chi-ya-chu-ku.

The misspellings in Japanese that I can decipher to the best of my ability are "ru", "chi-ru-chi-?-ku", "chi-ra(?)-ru(?)-chi-ya-cha", and "chi-ru-chi-?"

3/19

Senshi has known the orc tribe for at least 70 years at this point. He likely knew Zon's grandfather Dotoy. And I think this is the first time Zon's son Bahay is given a name.

3/20

This entry implies that chapters 10-14 happened on the same day. But the party went to sleep for the night in chapter 13. I think Senshi probably decided to quickly note what happened with Anne without putting a date on it.

I totally get keeping a memento like this. I have some feathers from a turkey I raised that got killed by a racoon.

3/22

Senshi put a lot more effort into drawing Tansu. It's probably because he's a gnome so Senshi has more reason to respect him.

Also, a nice bit of detail here and in several pages is there are charcoal smudges on the next page caused by Senshi closing his journal and some residue on his drawing got on the opposite page.

3/23

Senshi had notes on several tentacles. Did he snack on some while they were passing through?

3/24

Senshi notes his concern about magic use but admits that he might use it if he could. He says Falin and Laios look the same, and it turns out that red dragon meat isn't very good. He went on this journey to eat the red dragon and it was ultimately disappointing.

Her features are still sharper than they should be but this is the only time Senshi doesn't draw Marcille ugly.

3/28

Four days pass between entries. Senshi started writing a date in the upper-left corner of the page but scribbled it out. This entry has some pressed petals from a dryad flower in it so he probably was about to write, realized he should include the petals first, and then started writing after they were pressed.

3/29 - 4/1

Since they're waiting for Marcille to unpetrify, they can't do much. Senshi decided to make a to-do list. He was actually trying to be really nice to Marcille during all this and spend time telling her stories and keep her dust-free.

4/2 - 4/3

This drawing is EXACTLY what Senshi's fake Marcille looks like.

This drawing also caused a charcoal smudge on the next page.

And he just needed to quickly scribble names down so he didn't bother to check if his journal was right-side up. Senshi only wrote down the names of the Shuro party. He never mentions Kabru's party at all.

There's a question mark next to Asebi's name. It's probably because he only got her name in passing rather than asking names directly.

Senshi was eating some pickled dryads while writing his journal entry cause he spilt a little on the page.

Senshi was surprised Laios had the capacity to be sad? What's that supposed to mean? Does Senshi think Laios is mentally disabled and secretly infantalizes him?

Senshi couldn't identify the field ration pellets Maizuru gave him and thought they were dumplings

4/4

For some reason Senshi does not want to talk about chimera Falin nor the shapeshifter encounter.

All Senshi wants to talk about is the party's new cat. And he draws Izutsumi more like a cat. From this point on, he makes notes about Izutsumi's progress with proper posture, holding utensils, being a picky eater, noisy chewing, wandering off, and greeting.

He's using a grading metric in Japan. X means bad, - means not applicable, triangle means partially correct, and circle means correct.

Right now everything except utensils is an X. Utensils is a -.

4/5

Senshi reminisces about the other golems. He says Izutsumi's table manners got better (how she ate the fish) and then worse (how she ate the barometz). Only improvement was "wanders off" went from X to -.

4/6

He drew a map of the village. He probably explored the village a fair bit on his own since he was fascinated by the people raising monsters. One path is labeled "To Forest?". Since this is all inside a dungeon, would you hit an invisible wall at some point if you keep walking?

Senshi's darwing of Yaad looks like Falin. He probably thinks all Tall-men look alike.

Senshi was all for Laios taking over the dungeon.

"Picky Eater" went from X to -. Wanders off went from - to a circle. Both of these can be attributed to the spell that makes monsters docile.

4/7

This is the entry where Senshi ate hippogriff soup. There are water droplet stains all over the pages here.

Senshi pulled out a notebook in chapter 47 and it was actually his journal since he wrote the pillar symbols in it. I can't make any sense of it since I don't know anything about dwarven runes. He did say they were in the south-east area though.

Senshi's journal entry points out that he hasn't actually had any reason to continue traveling with the party since they saved Falin. He joined because he wanted to eat the red dragon (and he ultimately thought it wasn't very good). After helping him deal with his past, Senshi is traveling with the party out of gratitude.

4/8

There's a bit of schadenfreude reading Senshi complain about having all his mannerisms be reduced to anti-elf prejudice. He insists he wasn't acting any different but everyone kept saying he was acting like an elf. I'm glad he learned from the experience. Going forward, he's going to stop attributing Marcille's antics to her elf heritage and is instead just going to attribute them to Marcille just being Marcille.

He also put a lot of effort into accurately drawing Tall-man Chilchuck. Every other Tall-man he drew has the same feminine face, but Senshi was so shocked at how much Chilchuck changed that he needed to draw it as accurately as possible.

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[pawsometoons]

Dream BBQ Countdown!

Day 14: The Somber Gaurdian (Abnormalor and Polygona)

FINALLY AN OC I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT. Somber here has some pretty deep lore compared to most of my ENA ocs that originate from the Abnormalor context.

Somber was obviously made around the time of when Temptation Stairway came out since his design is very much inspired by The Shepherd. He actually used to be called "The Somber Shepherd" before I changed the Shepherd part to Gaurdian since it's a but more fitting to his character and role.

Somber was once one of many gaurdians of a cursed forest in a far corner of Abnormalor that people could enter, but couldn't leave without a guardian's assistance. The Crimson Woods. If one were to enter and not be able to find a gaurdian within a specific time frame and wanders too far, they could either find themselves being attacked by abstract monsters or become lost for long enough to become one themselves. There were once many guardians within these woods, but over time, they began to slowly dwindle. Either losing their lives to the monsters within the woods or dying off due to age. Later on leaving Somber as the very last gaurdian in the woods.

When Somber was in his younger days as a gaurdian, there was someone he had met that had lost their way in the woods. Somber at the time was still learning all of the precautions needed when it came to guiding those who were lost. That being to immediately guide them away from the woods. Which was Somber's first mistake, instead befriending the lost person and letting them stay at his cabin. This person was another Polygona going by the name of Mori. Somber would usually warn Mori to stay inside unless Somber were to be outside with them, at least knowing that the woods were dangerous to be out in alone. That was until Mori got worried about Somber being out for too long and went out to go find him, but in turn ended up getting lost. That was until Somber had heard the roars of a monster nearby and some high pitched squeals after finding Mori's necklace in the leaves that covered the ground of the forest. Somber had rushed towards the noise after snatching up Mori's necklace, only to find Mori being torn apart by one of the monsters of the forest. This sent Somber spiraling into a fit of rage as he immediately attacked the monster head on, leading to him losing half of his face in the altercation before banishing the monster. Unfortunately, however, it was too late. The life had already left Mori's eyes as Somber had rushed to hold them in his arms. Somber would end up burying Mori's body and keeping their necklace as a memento. That and the last thing that he had heard Mori say at the beginning of that day... "Be safe, not just for me, but for yourself too."

After that time, a spirit within Somber's staff had awakened named Gylla. She was basically the only company Somber had for the remainder of his time as a gaurdian, trying to encourage him to communicate more, knowing this isolation wasn't healthy for him.

Nowadays, Somber had sworn off getting attached to others, especially as the final remaining gaurdian of the Crimson Woods. Now immediately guiding the lost away from the woods as quickly as possible... This was until someone had willingly entered the woods to meet him.

Her name, Eclipse. The All Knowing One. (Created by @toneinaflat )

A Polygona widely known for her vast knowledge of not just Abnormalor, but Hyden as well, and it's past. During the time the two had first met, Eclipse has sensed some life within the Crimson Woods after believing that all the gaurdians were gone. And during the time, some great trouble was happening within Hyden and Eclipse had come to warm Somber about it. Though Somber didn't seem to care very much due to being too focused on getting Eclipse out of the woods.

The next time they were to meet, Eclipse couldn't stop thinking about how Somber was stuck there all alone. He had nobody and she just couldn't leave him like that in a cursed land. So Eclipse went back in hopes to learn more about Somber and to help him. It took a lot of pushing until Somber finally broke and explained why he must stay and why he doesn't want to get attached to people again. This was until Eclipse offered to permanently close off access to the Crimson Woods for good. Something I forgot to mention is that Eclipse is not only powerful with knowledge, but is also powerful in magic as well. Some rumors say that she has a direct connection to The Great Runas. But nobody has yet to confirm this. Somber quickly took Eclipse's offer, his emotions now flowing out like a pipe burst. And so now Somber stays with Eclipse in her tower to finally learn about the outside world that he's never seen.