#pardon the arm I got lazy

[victuuriaa]

More pirate Sevika for the simps

[renhanaschewtoy]

Favorite Bartender

This one also got away from me OTZ I hope I did okay with Strade. Pardon my translation all I have is Google. I'll write Ren the cosplay handler when I get back from a con next week. If you're at Colossal North lmk! 💖 NSFW MDNI

There was something endearing about dive bars, there was something exclusive about them in their own right. People knew each other, there was a decorum of understanding. Regulars were their own type and new folk, out of towners, well- they usually couldn’t appreciate it fully. The Braying Mule was well and good, always rife with interesting people, but nobody could be “on” all the time. Strade knew that. In his own time, on the quiet nights he decided to be out but lay low, not on the prowl, not looking for an easy bright eyed mark, he was in this dive bar. The name didn’t even matter, the sign was so worn it had been taken down in a storm years ago- the owner just never bothered with it. Regulars kept business in order and they helped keep the place in check. Strade included himself in that roster. Granted nobody really knew him, all by his design. But he was endearing, he was liked here. Maybe it was just nice to shed away a little, wear a different mask.

And sometimes, even he had to admit, the acrid smell of the place reminded Strade of his own little projects. Pushing open the door, Strade moseyed up to the bar, giving a little nod and grin to a few other regulars who greeted him similarly or with a small wave or raise of a glass. Settling on an old worn stool, he leaned on the sticky lacquered wood and inspected the beer taps.

“You can stare at ‘em from sun up to sun down, they still haven’t gotten that funny sounding beer you keep trying to pitch.”

A teasing lilt of a voice draws his amber gaze over to your form shouldering the door behind the door open dragging a bucket of ice to dump into the bin and let the metal lid clatter shut. A grin pulls your lips as always. Ah- you. The feisty bartender who wasn’t afraid to talk shit to anybody, get their hands dirty if need be, keep the establishment and all in it in line with a way that was firm but fair. Admirable. “Ah, liebling, I didn’t know you were working tonight!” Strade mirrors your grin with a warm chuckle.

That was bullshit.

He knew your schedule.

He preferred to be here when you were here.

Though of course, sometimes he had to skip out or change it up so nobody, or you, got wise.

You give a playful roll of your eyes as you deftly pluck a stein and pull a tab with the glass tilted at the perfect practiced angle. A rich dark dark beer sits in front of him on an old cardboard coaster so worn it should likely be trash at this point. “It isn’t the one you were talking about but…you must’ve worn him down. He got a German beer.”

“You spoil me!”

“All I did was pour it.” You chuckle and lean against the back of the bar folding your arms expectantly, awaiting his verdict. Maybe it was because it was your job to serve him but Strade liked the attention you paid to him. It was different from the other patrons and regulars. You didn’t snap at him, your lips didn’t curl in a sneer at him, you didn’t wave him off. No- you paid attention, you listened, you participated. All beautiful qualities wrapped up into once very enticing package. Strade gives a little contented sigh before lifting the glass to his lips and taking a healthy swig, setting the glass down and wiping the foam from the corner his lips with his thumb.

“Hmm…it’s good. Strong.” Strade comments with a nod of approval before lifting his eyes to see you look some pleased with yourself about it. You could say all you wanted, but Strade picked up your tells. You were probably the one bothering the owner enough about getting a keg of something for him. You sweet little thing, you. “Do you know what it is?” He leans forward on his elbows with a tilt of his head as a lazy grin curls his lips. You look away and shrug.

“I dunno something something doppelbock or whatever.” You fib lamely, pretending as if you didn’t care, as if you weren’t pleased with your little stripe of success. Strade huffs a chuckle and leans back on the stool giving a hum of acknowledgement as he takes another sip. “How much do I owe you then?”

“Nah, on the house.” He knew that was coming, you always give him a few freebies here and there under the usual saying that everyone gets a free beer here and there with their regular patronage. But that usually only held after he had one or two, not just off rip. He gives you that disarming smile that makes most women swoon. It isn’t that you’re immune to it perse, rather a little more used to it. A motion of endearment to match your own. Strade watches you idly bustle around the bar, serving other customers, fetching fresh bottles, wiping down the bar- though the latter, it didn’t matter how much elbow grease you used. Occasionally he watches whatever is playing on the TVs around the joint, sipping his beer- of which you never let stay empty for too long. You always insisted it was muscle memory and your years of working but Strade noticed that he was given far better attention.

Drumming his fingers on the bar, he lazily looks to you, “It’s a slow night.” He muses thoughtfully, “Do a shot with me. It’s too lonely to alone.” His grin splits to show a flash of teeth and you chuckle, setting down a few clean pint glasses with a shake of your head as you lift a small, narrow can to your lips.

“Sorry, Strade. I don’t drink on the job.” You admit easily with a languid shrug as you take a few sip, Strade’s eyes glimpsing down to the column of your throat as it works to swallow your energy drink. He wonders what your throat might feel like in his grip, how smooth the skin would be against he callouses of his palms. How your pulse would flutter if he applied just the right amount of pressure. If he kissed that soft, unblemished skin, perhaps left marks. What did you like, he wondered? Did you prefer to be taken soft and gentle, peppered with praise and coos of endearment? Or did you like to be roughed up, bruising grips and mottled marks to decorate your skin while you’re growled filth at and degraded? It was a curious thought he entertained quite often, even so much as when he did take a victim home, sometimes he would imagine you when they were face down in the cheap foam mattress, when their hair was in his hand as he bucked his hips into their mouths…but you’d be different. You were different.

“Mmm…what a shame. You aren’t allowed to have a little fun?” Strade flutters his eyes for a moment to focus back on you, with a curious little brow arched on your face as you caught him daydreaming for but a moment. “Come on, it can be our little secret.” He teases mock conspiratorily, leaning towards you on the bar as. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Ah, I just don’t wanna risk getting messy on the clock.”

“One shot won’t fuck you up, liebling. You’re made of stronger stuff.”

“...You’re not going to let up until I do, eh?”

Strade pretends to look half heartedly apologetic but you both know he isn’t in the slightest. And to him a foot in the door is a foot in the door, sure- a shot on your shift is but an inch and he would just love to take your world. To become your world. He watches you give an exaggerated sigh of defeat and roll of your eyes before a playful smirk pulls your lips while you fish two shot glasses and begin to fill them. 

Taking you, owning you, breaking you- it’s all part of the same pipe dream. As tempted as Strade is, as easy as it would be; you had family and friends, you had a wide social circle that was sure to garner attention with your disappearance. And he would be directly connected to you with this little song and dance routine he’s come to adore so. Doing such to you is a thrilling danger he can only flirt with but never act on. And that’s part of the allure of it all, of you. The shot glass is pushed in front of him, some of the liquor spilling over the rim before he picks it up and meets you half way in a cheers. “To our little secret.” He grins and you both tap your glasses on the bar twice before clinking your glass against his, downing your shot with the same practiced ease that Strade does. Strade watches you exhale through your nose before shooting him a smirk. “See? And you’re fine!” He chimes and you roll your eyes playfully before scooping up the dirty shot glasses.

Strade shuffles up beside you, easily stringing an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side. He smells of the beer you poured him, of lingering cigar smoke, a cologne of spice and musk that's as oddly comforting as it was masculine. “I'm…uh, just around back that way.” You mutter with a blush rising over your cheeks and pointing towards the back of the block. Strade chuckles to himself and nods, leading and preening at the feel of you leaning against him in kind. His large hand gives you shoulder an affectionate squeeze as you walk with some amicable conversation and goofing as usual, Strade's charm laid on a little thicker as he feigns a slur as if it was all your pours that impacted him so.

Hours tick and tock on by before you’re hollering last call for the bar. Strade settles up his tab and leaves you hefty tip that you, as always, try to give at least part of it back. Strade shakes his head, running a hand through his wavy chestnut hair. “You’ve earned it.” Strade insists as you pout at him before begrudgingly pocket the money. Not that you weren’t grateful but it felt excessive. Not that it mattered to him. “Hm…Let me walk you to your car.” Strade hums as he stands from the stool and fixes you with an expectant look.

“What? I’m not going to be done cleaning up here for like…another hour. I’ll be fine. I do it all the time. I’ve got my means.” You reply, waving him off as you begin to collect empty bottles and discarded napkins or coasters around the establishment. Strade’s huff is brief, but he rolls his shoulders back. Maybe he was being gluttonous after convincing you to break one little rule. “Besides, nobody but staff after we’re closed.”

“We already share one little secret, what’s one more? Surely some help and getting home sooner would be nice?” Strade urges, already beginning to upturn some barstools on other tables and onto the bar counter. Seeing you pause and chew your lip, seeing him already being able to sink his hooks in you, in any little way, is simply delightful. You play tough, you’re feisty, but clearly you like being looked after, like the attention he grants you. But you relent and give him a little smile that curls your lips, looking almost bashful. Strade gets a better look of behind the bar, be a little closer, be a little more alone with you and ultimately that’s all this was about really. Fostering trust, drawing you closer. Though it felt as if he was more in your orbit than anything but he was loathe to give up that control. This could only go so far, after all. Eventually you both finish up with your tasks about closing down the bar and you pull keys out of your pocket to lock up the doors as Strade waits behind you, hands leisurely in his pockets while he takes in the stillness of the night, or rather early morning. As if you two were the only people left alive for a moment.

“Ah, your chariot, liebling. Be safe getting home.” Strade grins as you unlock your car and he reaches for your door with a playful flourish and bow. You snicker to yourself, that ever charming grin pulling on your lips as you move to tuck into the driver's seat. He closes the door as your car rumbles to light and you give a shy little wave before pulling away which Strade returns. 

Fuck does he want more. Want you. Standing there in the empty back lot he gives himself a moment to envision you again. Spattered in warm, sticky blood…begging under his hands for mercy…what kind didn't matter, tears beading your lashes, the way your eyes would roll back and flutter in agony or pleasure… Strade’s cock begins to stiffen in his pants as a shaky sigh parts his lips, lidded gaze watching your taillights disappear down the street.

×××

Perhaps he couldn't do all he wanted.

But there were some he could.

Coincidences were funny things, unexpected, sometimes happy, sometimes messy, Strade usually embraced them with his large open arms. The confidence of a man who lived and knew that he could spin just about any scenario to his favor. Tonight was a night he opted not to go to your humble bar. Sometimes, distance made the heart grow fonder after all and Strade couldn’t bear to let you make him go soft. Well…you usually had a different lingering affect but that wasn’t here nor there. There were some critical things he wanted that you simply couldn’t satisfy. Strade knew better. Nobody should shit where they eat. Strade was many things but he wasn’t stupid. So tonight was a little more routine, a little more…designed for the inclinations that you couldn’t sate. But Strade could pretend through perhaps someone who looked a smidge like you.

Oh goddammit. God, of course he would come over and say something- you made a point to make eye contact. You suck in a breath through your teeth and force a smile as you turn to look at Strade; toothy grin on his face and holding his stein close to his chest. “Hey Strade. Yeah, uh…got cut early so figured I’d have a night out.” You shrug, unable to hold his honey colored gaze for too long which seems to raise his brows, a curious twinkle in his eye as he sets his mug down on the table beside your glass as you idly poke at the straw and shift the ice around. The woman he had been chatting up wasn’t beside him but you could feel her eyes prickling at the back of your neck.

At a different bar across town, Strade was posted up a heavy glass stein laden with a dark doppelbock like you had last served him. Fortunate that the bar served something similar but not quite the same. It seemed to be the theme of the night as he chattered up an oblivious and bubbly woman, they had hair just a few shades off from your own- too (short/long) to quite fit you but Strade could make do. Their eyes were a darker tinge of (color) from your own, their smile didn’t carry that unspoken sarcasm, her clothes nearly polar opposite but that was the least of his concerns. Those certainly didn’t matter at all. “A shame you got stood up, truly. But I will say- their loss is certainly my victory.” Strade chuckles smoothly as the woman gives a titter of laughter, covering her painted lips with her hand trying to be coquettish. He leans in to murmur the final string of words that will put the nail in the coffin.

“Hey- uh…can I get a (preferred drink)? Thanks.”

Strade would know that voice anywhere. What were you doing here? Today was usually another one of your closing shifts. His attention falters as he looks over to you and catches you glimpsing at him with a rather annoyed side eye before turning your attention back to the bartender. Taking your drink you flash the bartender a grateful smile and slip your tip on the bar before quickly turning on your heel to disappear into the throngs of other people in the bar. Your lips set in a tight line as you skulked over to your friend settled up at one of the tall tables and you leaned against it with a bitter sigh.

You had no right to feel this way, to feel jealous. Strade was a regular, he was a patron where you worked. You weren’t blind, you knew he was good with his words, you knew he was charming. You naturally had tripped up at his charms but felt damn good that you’d never gone ass over tea kettle for them. Maybe it was foolish to think you had chemistry. Maybe it was stupid to have a secret little self rule not to date regulars- after all there were plenty of other bars. But seeing him lean over that woman, being so close to her, that lazy little grin he often gave you, the way the woman looked up at him so enamored…it made your stomach twist in taut knots. Your friend raises a brow inquisitively that you simply shoot them a look that makes them swallow their words as you raise your glass to your lips for a sip.

“Buddy! I didn’t know you would be here! What a nice surprise.”

“A night out, well- I’d say that’s a good reward for you, hm? Be served rather than serving? I could never forgive myself if I missed an opportunity to buy you a drink myself.” Strade places a hand to his heart in playful theatrics that for a moment make you forget your sour mood and a small smile quirk your lips.

“I mean, I’d hate to interrupt your night. You seemed pretty uh…busy.” You’d cringe at the delivery of your own words, a small grimace crinkles your nose for but a moment as your shoulders stiffen. It takes all Strade has not to let smug satisfaction come over him as he hears the bitterness tinge your statement. You were jealous. Oh, he relished in that, he adored it even. You simply had a way of always just making his evenings. Elation rose in his chest as a better opportunity presented itself in you. Sure- your beautiful blood would never paint his basement but if Strade played his cards right, he was more than certain he could make you scream and cry in other ways.

“And miss such an occasion? Please. This was a boring night until you came along. As always.” Strade replies smoothly with a toothy grin, “It isn’t every night we get to be on the same side of the bar.” And with any luck he can get you all to himself. Play the right cards, say the right things, get you wrapped around his finger, or his cock- whatever worked. You return his smile, your shoulders relaxing as you look up at Strade and give a little bob of your head to relent.

“...Yeah, yeah you’re right. It could be fun.”

“Of course it’ll be fun, have you met me?” Strade gives you a little wink before being interrupted by the woman who decides she’s had enough of being sidelined.

“Uhmm…I thought we were leaving?” Her arms wind around Strade’s arm, pressing herself against him with an exaggerated pout, trying to set a tone as you simply look between Strade and the woman, as Strade simply arches a brow to her, and your friend raises their brows to their hairline, sipping their drink with rapt attention as if watching some sort of reality TV program.

“Hmm? Mein Gott, wie peinlich…” Strade mutters for but a moment, his words and tone are genuine though some irritation belies the sheepish look he forces onto his rugged features. “Just a moment, buddy.” Strade gives your shoulder that same squeeze as the nights before as he places a hand firmly on the other woman’s back and leads her away from the table. Your throat grows tight again with an irritated exhale.

The night carries on, you getting a little bolder with each drink, every shared shot as you laughed and joked, growing a more and more affectionate with each little sip of courage Strade was happy to give you. But you were smart, you didn’t want to wake up hungover and with no recollection of this night. You wanted to remember whatever it was that you got from him, be it another simple walk to your car and a night of revelry or if it was tangled up in either of your bedsheets. And Strade was all too happy to oblige, watching you flaunt your mettle in the bar but being careful all the same as not to lose your head. Strade wanted you to cut loose. Wanted you to be as untethered and wild as possible. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Your friend had since excused themself quietly- reading the room and sending you a knowing little wink and wave that you gleefully grinned at.

Unbeknownst to you, ever the opportunist, Strade wasn’t willing to let the other woman go either. After leading her out through the alley and cracking her head hard enough to the wall to hear the skull fracture, she was swiftly bound, gagged and deposited in his trunk. A midnight snack for a later date. So when he returned with a reddened cheek, he had an easy story to spin.

“The fuck happened to you? Christ.” You remark, instinctively reaching out to his cheek before retracting your hand.

“Ah…well, she didn’t quite take so well to being told I…wasn’t interested.” Strade remarks with a roll of his broad shoulders and he could almost see that flicker of approval in your eyes that he’d opted to spend his night with you instead.

“Feels like I should be the one buying you a drink.” You quip playfully, nudging him with your elbow, you’re careful with your contact now, you don’t want to seem too eager. And that’s fine. Strade flashes you a grin of pearly whites before slinging an arm around your shoulder again to tug you close in a side hug again.

“No, no, no, I am a man of my word, liebling. Tonight is all about showing you a good time.” Strade chuckles warmly, the timbre of his voice sending a shudder down his spine that he can feel against his built frame. His hand slips from your shoulder to the cinch of your waist this time with a firmer squeeze, possessive. And you leaned in. Like he knew you would.

“I could go for a cigarette right about now…care to join me?” Strade’s voice is low in your ear, warm breath fanning over the side of your neck as he carefully tucks a strand of (color, type) hair behind your ear before his hand slips down past your hip to slip itself into your back pocket. A large hand gropes the plush of your ass through the denim eliciting a sharp inhale from you, a rosy hue blooming over your cheeks as you bob your head and let him guide you out the back door as the crisp night air meets your exposed skin.

“I didn’t know you smoke.” You look up at him curiously as Strade tucks the two of you into the cover of an empty side alley.

“There’s much you don’t know about me yet, liebling. But I could say the same for you, no?” Strade’s eyes glance to the side before returning back to you, leaning against the brick wall so cavalier, so unaware of what Strade could do to you, all he wants to do to you.

But he would take this, there was an outlet for later.

Sweet serendipity.

Your eyes drift up as you see Strade’s frame looming over you, silhouetted by the moon. Suddenly aware of how close he is to you, that you can smell his cologne again and your breath hitches slightly before you swallow thickly. “...Stra–mmpf!” His name is barely off your tongue before his lips crash onto your own. Hungry and all consuming as Strade descends upon you, devouring you as he presses you back against the cold brick wall, pinning you to it and the bulk of his body. His teeth nip at your lower lip, demanding entry that your foggy brain is powerless but to comply to. You can taste the bitterness of beer on his tongue and he can taste the sweetness of whatever you had been ordering on his tab. Strade’s groan is swallowed as your arms lift to string around his neck, fingers carding through his hair and nails raking against his scalp. He feels your back arch, pressing your body closer to his own, Strade lets a low growl at your willing surrender as he shifts a thigh between your legs, applying pressure to your aching core. Strade’s lips leave your kiss swollen lips to let you pant and catch your breath, rivulets of spit connecting your mouths as your lidded, glassy eyes slowly lift to Strade.

“Look at you, liebling…” Strade coos almost mockingly and it makes something tighten in you abdomen  as the vice grip on your hips moves you lightly as if to help you ride his thigh that pulls a ragged moan from your throat. “Mmm…needy, hm? Don’t think I didn’t see that…that look from before…” Strade mutters as he dips his head to kiss along the curve of your jaw down to your throat, teeth nipping and tongue laving at the spots to leave a litany of marks in his wake. Little mewls leave your lips as you squirm under his grip, wanting to be closer, trying to form words but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “...Don’t be embarrassed. I liked it…I’m flattered.” Strade purrs as he feels your hips buck against his thigh eagerly, hands fisting his wavy tresses that sends shockwaves straight to his cock that strains against the zipper.

Large hands drift to the button of your jeans, popping them open and the draw of your zipper being pulled down that makes your lashes flutter. “W-Wait…woah, St-Strade…not here, I-”

“Mmm? Why not here?” He teases, dragging the fabric down the smooth skin of your thighs that you suddenly tried to clamp shut. “No, no…” He tutts softly, prying them back apart, “Wouldn’t this be just so perfect? We are in private…and if someone were to see, well…” His tone is alight with amusement, “They could be jealous instead…that I have you.” Your nervous eyes can’t tear themselves away from the sight of Strade crouching between your legs, forcing you to lean back against the wall in nothing but your underwear that he moves about to expose your throbbing, eager sex. “Behave, liebling…I don’t do this for just anybody.” And that might be one of the truest things he’s ever said. Control was always a given, Strade to take what he wanted, perhaps you made him feel…generous. All the attention you’ve fawned upon him in your own way, how pliant you showed him you could be- and only for him, that was something that deserved to be rewarded. To melt you, make you more malleable in his hands. His tongue traces shapes and patterns along your sensitive flesh, one hand keeping your thighs apart before one disappears to nudge a finger at your entrance before easing a finger in, crooking it against that spongy spot of nerves before thrusting slowly as he spelled his own name with his tongue in a way that had you fighting against bucking your hips.

“F-Fuck…St- shit..! Strade…!” Your breath fans out in ragged pants as you watch him lave attention over a bundle of nerves paired with a thrusting digit that almost has your knees buckling. “...’m gonna…!” You keen eagerly, lashes fluttering as he feasts upon you wetly, soft sounds in the alley with your muffled moans as you bit down into your knuckle to feebly stifle your wanton sounds. Pressure builds and coils tight in your belly, flirting with the edge of euphoria until Strade bites the inside of your thigh eliciting a yelp from you. “The fuck?!” Strade stands up fast, with a dexterity and agility that didn’t match his size and stature, that had your body falter slightly against the bricks. Strade’s hand holds your chin in place  as he looks down at your lips and your furrowed brow. Your pleading was so sweet, so beautiful…god- he could make you beg more. But for now…well, Strade has his ways, as always. “Strade, please…” You groan and he seems amused all the more.

“Open your mouth.”

“Wh..huh?”

“Open, liebling. I won’t ask again.” There’s an authoritative edge to his voice that has your core throbbing, leaking as you’re exposed in the alley. The thrill of it all sending lightning through your veins as you slowly part your trembling lips. Strade gives a low, rumbling hum of approval before spitting onto your tongue making heat flood your cheeks and a humiliated whine in the back of your throat. “Swallow. You should be grateful…you taste so good.” Strade watches you close your mouth, your throat bob slowly as you swallow and sigh before your breath is stolen from your lungs again in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moan greedily. Parting for air is brief as you feel large calloused hands gripping your waist to pull you further upright, shuffle you around until your front is pressed to the brick, the fat of your cheek pressed to the cold bite of brick but Strade seems to mind the pressure and strength he holds over you as you’re bent, pants now pooled around your ankles but you’re too far gone to care. You arch your back with purpose, pressing your ass back against his hardened cock with an eager obedience that Strade adored so.

“So good for me, liebling…like you were made for me…” Strade huffs as you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle coming undone, a calloused hand groping the fat of your ass before shifting your underwear to meet with your jeans below you before you feel the bulbous head of his cock press against you. The hand on your ass moves to grip your hip and keep you steady while the other trails up the beautiful curve of your spine, up the nape of your neck before his fingers tangle in your hair, the grip is firm enough to sting a little but not hurt. Strade could if he wanted to, temptation was there most certainly but he’d go slow for you. Breaking you in piece by piece with rough affections that would leave you satisfied. He could feel how eagerly you were, how badly you wanted this, and how readily you responded to his means. You whine with his fingers in your hair, pressing your hips back and urging him in. And that’s all Strade needs, to have you wrapped around him. And wrapped around him you will be. Until you are bent and broken, full and delirious; treated better than anyone one else. You were something different, something special. Untouchable but in a way immortal to Strade.

Maybe you could be something… special and more permanent.

He was already flirting with something similar in Ren back home but you…oh, what fun it could all be. Thoughts for another day.

With a sudden snap of his hips, Strade buries himself in you with a brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs and has you choking on air as your body quivers at the sudden intrusion. “Ich kann fühlen wie du dich nach mir sehnst (I can feel you aching for me)…”Strade huffs with a smug smirk curling the corners of his lips as he sets a ruthless pace, the wet sound of skin colliding with skin, his heavy sac slapping against you with each push of his hips that you reciprocated in kind as your teeth dug into your lower lip trying to keep your sounds hushed but your body betrayed you. Strade bent over your back nipping at your ear as he stilled to more shallow thrusts to torture you further, “Just imagine, Liebling…someone seeing you spread out here for me…” He lilts in that low silken tone that has your walls clenching around him, fluttering with each filthy, honeyed word that drips from his lips. “Just a perfect little cock sleeve…just for me, yes?” Punctuated by a deliberate roll of his hips that has your lashes fluttering and eyes threatening to roll back into your skull. A sharp tug to your hair leaves your mouth agape as you tighten around his dick again with a breathy groan. “...Say it.”

“Sh-shit…please! Yes, please!” You nearly sobbed, desperation and want clouding all rational thought as you begged Strade, giving him the allowance to do as he pleased with you. Soft mutterings in his mother tongue left his lips; an assortment of praise, of filth, obscenities as his thrusting became staccato before a long, low growl parted Strade’s lips, muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Spilling into you with rivulets of thick, viscous cum while your walls milked him greedily, your own orgasm threatening to have your knees to collapse around you but Strade was quick to move his thick arms around your middle to keep you up, keep you in place as he pumped you full of his cum until it dripped out of you obscenely, forming a small puddle on the concrete. The vacant alley was only given life by the two of you panting raggedly to catch your breaths, Strade’s grip still a vice you wouldn’t be able to break from.

“Hhnngh!...fuck…just for you!” You manage to choke out pleadingly, trying to push your hips back but Strade halts entirely in a way that makes you whine.

“You can do better than that.”

“I d-don’t…wh…uh…” The brick digs into your palms as you try to collect your addled thoughts, of what words might appease him, “Haah~...mmm…J-Just for you, Strade.” You try as his name seems to be all that can fill the folds of your brain; his taste, his smell, the feel of him felt ingrained into you.

“That’s better…” He croons to you, however the feeling of you throbbing around his aching cock was just as torturous for Strade but he could be patient from time to time, when it counted anyway. Impulse won most of the time. “Taking me so well…” his breathing labored as you could feel him pressed to your back, hips pistoning with newfound vigor as Strade’s hand left your hair to close around your throat. No pressure is applied, simply relishing in the feeling of your erratic pulse as he fucks all coherent thought from your brain as he uses the leverage to bring your face to his in a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, as if to consume you whole, that you would be devoured. “Mnnngh…hah…sucking me back in like that…such a slutty little hole…” Strade growls against your mouth as his hips slam against your ass so hard you were certain you’d be bruised by the end of it. “...fill you to the brim…” He huffs, a deep flush had risen from his throat to his cheeks, a heady look that washed over his features as sweat beaded on his brow dampening the curls that fell over his forehead.

“F-Fuck…” You breathe, slowly raising your hands to rest on his forearms, giving them a little tap, “I just…I can’t…” You were still trying to collect your thoughts and you could almost feel him smirk against your skin as you felt his breaths warm your sweat slicked skin.

“...Maybe I can interest you in a nightcap? At my place?” He hums, dislodging himself from your depths with a deep grunt as he watches you quiver and leak. You seem to take stock again, remembering where you are, as you quickly reach to tug up your underwear and jeans, pulling your shirt back down as Strade tucks himself back into his pants and adjusts his belt. You look so pretty like this, embarrassed but thrilled, debauched but dressed again- the tell tale signs of what- or rather who, happened to you, evident on the outside and inside.

“Huh? Oh, no…I don’t think so.” You breathe with a little chuckle and Strade looks at you, a dark and almost hollow look upon his face but for a minute that you seem to misinterpret. “Just cause my place is closer. C’mon.” You give him that fond, disarming smile as you dare to reach for his hand and lead him to the parking lot that has the brief uptick of annoyance assuaged from Strade entirely at your quick turnabout. He pushes a small smile on his lips before raising a hand to cup your jaw before holding the back of your skull and pressing another searing kiss to your lips.

“Give me your address and get ready for me…I just have to stop home very quickly. But I will be there.”

“If you stand me up, I’m pouring you Malort every time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, liebling. You said so yourself, you’re just for me now.” He flashes you grin that holds an underlying meaning you can’t quite ferret out, but you giddy stride to your car to do as your told for a promised nightcap.

[trinitvii-r]

VP Squared - First Class Impressions

prologue | part i

(ffvii x reader

Genesis should’ve known anyone who got on well with Rufus Shinra would be a load of trouble. Sephiroth thinks it’s a funny turn of events that his friend is the one experiencing stress, rather than causing it.

Angeal’s just happy to be there, really.)

“Dibs,” is the first thing out of Genesis’ mouth as he walks into the conference room.

You know he was referring to you, but you don’t even spare him a glance before returning to your conversation with Rufus… to make it clear to everyone in the room that your VP is and will remain your main priority.

Behind the silly little red-coat-wearing-in-the-middle-of-damn-July man, Angeal looks rightfully embarrassed and is trying to drag the man away. Sephiroth chooses to ignore them both, and makes for his usual seat.

Undeterred, Genesis walks closer to you and stretches out his arm, pointer finger raised straight at you. “Dibs,” he repeats.

You and Rufus share a look for no longer than a second, and your VP immediately understands. He has an amused look on his face as he says, “Go ahead.”

You no longer mask the annoyance you feel as you spit out the words, “Piss off.”

Genesis squeaks out, “I— beg your pardon?!”

You turn away from him, and focus your attention to Rufus once more.

The blonde flicks you on the nose, and laughs at the pinched expression you make. “I would’ve thought you’d say the more colorful word.” Translation: I was hoping you’d say the more colorful word.

You fiddle with your cup of coffee, making a point to keep Genesis hanging, knowing damn well he’s still hovering. “I thought it may offend his delicate sensibilities.” Translation: You know what I mean.

Rufus snorts. As you drink your coffee, Rufus looks up at Genesis, and explains, “They just called you a little bitch.”

You may not have SOLDIER senses, but you swear you hear Sephiroth choke on his spit.

With a mild tone, you reprimand Rufus. “I said I think he’s a wuss.”

“Creative license.”

In unison, the two of you couldn’t resist to snicker. A sight that oddly further aggravates Genesis.

The Commander bites, “That’s it! Newbie, I’m gonna have a lot of fun breaking you in.”

Excuse me?

As you rake your eyes over Genesis’s form, you hear a voice somewhere else in the room ask, “Should I call Human Resources?”

Genesis looks half-murderous, and half-flirtatious as he smirks down at you.

You give him a cheshire grin and say, “Do your worst, Carrot-top.”

Sephiroth absolutely loses it.

Or at least by Sephiroth standards. The man is chuckling, and you could see his shoulders shake as he tries to rein in his mirth.

You pop him a finger gun à la Reno, and cheekily say, “Excited to work with you, General.”

Both Genesis and Angeal drop their mouths open in shock when Sephiroth gives a lazy mock salute, and says, “The feeling is mutual, rookie.”

You turn to Angeal, and give him a wink. “Same goes for you, Commander Hewley.”

A flustered Angeal murmurs, “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

Genesis should have known you’d have no nice sentiments to spare for him. And he’s proven right when all he gets is a lousy, “You can drop dead for all I care, Red.”

Sephiroth excuses himself, and you could vaguely hear a deep laughter resounding in the hallway.

This is the scene President Shinra walks into, and he looks completely defeated. A triumphant grin forms on Rufus’ face.

All your posturing from earlier morning seems to have faded away, and now Genesis finds himself the sole subject of your attention. He gulps as you stare up at him with wide eyes, an almost enamored expression just for him… or at least his fireballs.

“That was so sick.”

Turning his nose up at you, and in a pathetic effort to hide the red dusting his cheeks, he answers, “What a crude way to address my talent.”

He’s surprised when you don’t respond with some quip. Instead, you whine, “C’mon, man. I’ve never even said that about Rufus with his guns.”

Filing away that tidbit about the Shinra brat, Genesis couldn’t help the giddiness he feels at your words. Not the words he would have preferred, but the sentiment certainly was there. Close enough. If throwing fireballs at dummies was what earned him your respect and admiration, then that’s what he’d do.

A part of him is terrified at his outright sense of urgency to impress you. He brushes the thought away when you grab onto his coat sleeve, and beg, “Please teach me, dude.”

Again, not his choice of words, but for now, dude will have to do.

“Rhapsodos, move! You’re blocking the view.”

The mood is instantly killed by the Shinra brat.

It starts off like this.

News gets passed around that you were assigned the Rufus babysitting gig.

Hand in hand with that, news gets passed around that you somehow made it into the SOLDIER program.

Along with that, the fact you threatened Heidegger with a knife. (A velocity edit of the security feed of the moment is the top retweeted and liked tweet of the day. A bubbly filter AMV of Rufus lowering your knife for you is second.)

It only gets weirder from there.

Sephiroth’s, Angeal’s, and Genesis’s fanclubs have wildly varying takes on what happened in the meeting. Ranging from funny — You apparently had some top secret Turks-esque information that Genesis’ beautiful auburn hair was actually dyed from a bright orange that he had always been self-conscious of, and that you had called him by a mean nickname (Carrot-top) that kids in his village used to bully him with, and ended with Genesis bursting into tears. — to oddly conspiratorial — You were investigating reactors with the Turks when you fell into a vat of pure mako, and that President Shinra had decided to officially make you SOLDIER as a coverup for the fuck-up. You apparently became so powerful that you were named Sephiroth’s Lieutenant General, and that had made Genesis cry.

Genesis being reduced to tears seems to be the thread holding all these rumors together.

By lunchtime, everyone and their mother had their own theories on The Situation.

Which was why Cadet Cloud Strife had to do a double take when he saw you following after Genesis Rhapsodos, followed by Rufus Shinra following after you, and Sephiroth following after Rufus Shinra.

What.

Cloud nearly dropped his soup in surprise.

As you passed, he could barely make out the words, “again” and “just one more.”

And if Cloud knew anything about the Shinra rumor mill, it’s that they would take those words and lewdly misinterpret them. He could already hear Janice from Accounting typing loudly on her phone. Great. He wouldn’t need to open his inbox to know he’d see yet another wildly smutty Genesis fan fiction disguised as a newsletter.

Screw Zack for signing him up for those fanclubs.

Even before you leave the canteen, the winning theory is that you and Genesis enter into a whirlwind romance burning hot like the fireballs he flings onto unsuspecting targets, but alas you are a free spirit who refuses to be tied down. This theory also ends with Genesis in tears.

Cloud notes with a hint of amusement that the sight of you stacking up your and Rufus’s plates and neatly disposing of the trash is the most babysitter-like thing you’ve done all day. You even clean up for Sephiroth who reacts with a slack jaw and the most bewildered expression, and Genesis who stares at you as though you’ve just told him the secrets of the universe. The redhead could almost be described as swooning when he thanks you profusely.

You simply look at the man as if he had grown two heads. After a beat, you smirk. “Alright, hot stuff. Take it easy for the rest of the day, yeah?” You nod subtly at Rufus, who takes it as his cue to stand up, and says his farewells to the other two.

As the two of you make your way out the canteen, this bit of conversation once again throws everyone into a frenzy:

“Still think he’s a wuss?”

“Yeah, but not when he’s swinging that thing around.”

That thing in question was fireballs, but the rest of Shinra didn’t know that.

Definitely not it.

Anything but that.

When Lazard the Bastard told you you’d have to pay your dues as the newest SOLDIER, you did not expect it to be that.

“Well, what did you expect? The rest of them were cadets first. I can’t just hand everything to you.”

You tried the Rufus excuse, but Lazard brushes off your concerns. “I can assign a First on him for a couple hours.”

Like he heard you, Rufus looks up from his phone, and gives you a nod and a smile.

Gods. Right when you wanted Rufus to be a brat and demand his way, suddenly now he’s all goody.

With a scowl, you tell Lazard, “Let’s get this over with.”

Blood everywhere.

Gross.

Oh, and Angeal’s here too.

Nice.

“What’s up?”

Angeal had to admit. For someone who’s elbows deep into cleaning bloody blades, you sure had a draw to you as you hum some kind of melody. He wordlessly sits next to you, and wipes down the first weapon he could get his hands on.

A half hour later, he gets the feeling that you’ve got quite the mouth on you. Though, he’s seen you behave more casually with the other Turks plenty of times, and sometimes with Rufus himself, it’s a bit jarring to be on the receiving end of it.

“—Not gonna lie — but don’t you dare tell anyone else — if Rufus didn’t have those photos on him, and he had to get an actual SOLDIER babysitter, I would have preferred you.”

‘Wait. What.’ Clearly, Angeal was a bit distracted by how efficiently you can clean blood that he had neglected to hear some damning information on how you may have gotten this new gig. Oh well. He can try chatting with you another time. Besides, your new position would only make you more accessible to him.

Heaving a sigh, and resting your bloody knuckles on your hips, you give Angeal a grin. “Wanna hide these rags under Genesis’ bed?”

As if you even need to ask.

When Rufus drags you by the back of your collar like a cat out of Genesis’ private quarters, he can already tell this scene is only going to cause more chaos.

A wide grin fights its way to his face.

He had made the right call for his personal SOLDIER.

[arcaneauthor]

Tattoos Tell A Story

Part 2 now up (here), Part 3 (here)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!reader

Summary: Coloring in Ghost’s tattoos has become somewhat of a habit. It’s this habit that’s leads you to discovering a tattoo he had gotten done without your knowledge.

Warnings: Fluff, like so much fluff

A/n: This is my first time posting on tumblr and I have no idea what I’m doing. Requests now open! Pls give me some ideas😭

You found it one day during one of your little “coloring sessions”,A little habit you’ve picked up ever since that one rainy day in July. Ghost had just come back from a mission and you both wanted to soak in as much of the other as possible, just bask in one another’s presence. Three months with nothing more then a letter exchange here and there, you were gonna enjoy as much time with your boyfriend as possible.

You remember lightly stroking his arm as you curiously asked him why all of his tattoos were so dull.

~*~

“Pardon?” He questions if he heard you right.

“Your tattoos, all of them are just black. There’s no color.” Your eyes still haven’t left where you are softly tracing one of his tattoos, a depiction of an assault rifle rapped in thorns.

He raises his other tattooed arm for inspection, as if he had forgotten what it looked like.

“I don’t need em’ all flashy. Besides,” he shrugs,”Think they look better this way.”

You make a noise of disagreement, shaking your head, until a thought seems to strike you, raising your head from where it was previously laying on his shoulder, eyes looking up at him with a mischievous glint.

“Wanna bet?” Is all he gets before you bolt out of his grip, standing up to dig through the bedside drawer, grabbing a case of markers out before diving back into bed, a little too excitedly seeing as how the whole thing rocked.

You hold the case up to him as a kid would show a crayon drawing to their parents.

He stares at the markers before flicking his eyes to you.

“What are ya doin’?

You completely ignore him as you smile, a little manically, and turn to grab his arm and get to work.

He may have complained, but he never stopped you.

And he would never admit it out loud, but it did look kinda cool

It also put him to sleep

~*~

And now your little “coloring sessions” have become a bit of a recurring thing.

Sick and stuck in bed? He gives you his arm.

That time of the month and you’re curled under the covers with cramps? He’s already grabbing the markers for you.

Just having a bit of a lazy cuddle session? You’re instinctually grabbing his arm.

Today, it’s the third option. He had once again just got home from a mission and, though not as long as some of his other send offs, it still seemed way too long to you. You were sitting against one another, your back to his chest, one arm hugging you to him, the other clutched in your grasp as you fill in his uncolored tattoos with your pack of markers. His masked face was pressed against the side of your head as he watched your hands delicately glide the marker across his skin, sometimes throwing in a cheeky comment or two about how a certain color didn’t go somewhere, which earned him a slap to the thigh.

You finished filling in the rose near his elbow, moving further down towards his hand, but something catches your eye.

You’d done this countless times now, you probably know his tattoos better than he does at this point. You know that the ink goes a little off line on his skull tattoo, you know that there’s a little stray mark beside the oak tree on his bicep. You know every detail and mistake.

That’s how you know this wasn’t here before.

It’s a small little heart on the inside of his wrist, not filled in because of course it isn’t.

You bring it up closer to your face for inspection, and that’s when you notice it

The writing inside.

Y/n

It…was your name?

You whip around to look back at him with questioning eyes.

The mask completely covered the lower part of his face,though his eyes gave away the soft smirk lurking beneath.

“The boys wanted to celebrate the win. Tattoos were Mactavish’s idea.” Bastards trying to be all nonchalant about it.

“But-but, why this?” You shove his own arm into his face, like he didn’t already know what was on it.

He shrugs,”Racked my brain for an idea, but, seems you’re the only thing on my mind these days. Couldn’t get ya out of my head-“

He huffs as you plow into him with a hug, immediately engulfing you in his muscled arms.

Simon never was one for excessive pda or poetic words, rather he showed love through his actions. Attempting to cook for you, making you bubble baths, bringing you heating pads and medicine for your cramps. And this was just another one added to the list, maybe the best of them all in your opinion, cause a tattoo-a tattoo’s pretty dang permanent. In his mind, you know, this is his promise of forever to you. His version of a promise ring.

There’s no tears shed, you never were much of a crier, but the emotions were definitely felt. The warmth, the happiness, the love, all of it was basically drowning you at this point.

“You know tattoo removals hurt right?” You lean away enough to look him in the eye,”Like-like what happens if this doesn’t work out, if you decide you’re tired of me,I don’t know, piggy backing you all the time or something and you have to go get this covered?” You motion to his arm.

It’s said as a joke, but he can still somehow detect the hint of serious worry in your voice.

He lightly grabs you under the chin,”Sweetheart, if I let a catch like you go then I deserve the pain.”

Alright you know you said you weren’t a crier, but that might have brought some moisture to your eye.

He doesn’t even try and stop you as your reach to roll the mask up to his nose, a testament of how much he trusts you. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tenderly cup his face to pull him into a kiss.

It’s slow and gentle, just a smooth glide of your lips against his. His hands gently rubbing up and down your sides. You lovingly gliding your thumb across his light stubble, breathing in his musky cologne. Although intense, the kiss contains absolutely no heat, no sexual insinuation. Instead, you feel only one thing.

Love

“I love you.” You relay breathlessly as you pull away, gently knocking your forehead against his.

You share a few breathes before he replies

“I….care, about you too,” you slap his arm with an unimpressed look,”Kidding! Of course I bloody love you, got your name tattooed on my arm for gosh sa-

You cut him off with another kiss.

~*~

Bonus:

You were once again laid on the bed, squished up against his side with a thick arm wrapped around your shoulder. Your eyes caught sight of your name engraved in his skin.

You smirk at the sight,”You know,” you break silence, catching his attention away from the tv,”It would have looked better if you had gotten the heart filled in with red.”

He’s a little confused for a second before catching your line of sight. He rolls his eyes, jostling you slightly as he sat up to reach beside the bed. Now you’re the one confused.

“Well, if that was the case,” he rolls back over to present you with a red marker,”You wouldn’t get to do it yourself, now would ya’?”

You grab the marker, sparing glances between it and the proud look on Simon’s face.

Your man, This man really got a tattoo with the intent for you to do your silly little coloring on it.

Yep, definitely love him.

[quicksilverserpent]

I dont think civilian is a coherent category. Nor a very useful one either. Not unless all youre trying to do is manipulate useful idiots in a low effort way.

If youre a settler and the foundation for your whole lifestyle and prosperity is the violent dispossession of an indigenous people you cant truly claim to be an innocent bystander to that conflict.

If youre a member of the bourgeoisie and all the various arms of the state repressive forces committing all the violence in society from the exceptionally high pitched to the everyday cruelties are doing so on your behalf to enforce the social arrangements beneficial to you then you cant actually claim youre not a participant in that war. If youre a member of the ruling class its really even more important to winning any war effort to kill you and thereby end your will your desires and critically your ability to use your many resources to make those manifest than it is to kill whatever poor gullible sap youve hired to do your bidding. And so to go say "no you cant kill me ive got immunity youve got to restrict yourself to dealing with my replaceable underlings or else youre not respectable" its just so transparently bullshit.

Insurgents really are just ordinary people like anyone wlse whove been forced by their desperate wretched circumstances to take up arms by the crushing weight of the violence of imperialism and it is wrong to single them out from the rest of population as acceptable targets for the occupation just because theyve chosen to defend themselves and their communities from it. If someone punches you and you hit back your self defense doesnt vindicate or pardon their assult it doesnt give them a permission slip to beat the shit out of you only one of you has any "right" to be violent here.

Theres no equality in a war theres always an asymmetry yes everyone has their own narratives about who is right and who is wrong but thats the thing is some narratives are just bullshit theres no need to consider them or humor that shit whats important is seeking the actual truth.

All military occupations recognize who theyre fighting thats why draining the sea to leave the fish high and dry to suffocate is so frequently used to crush insurgencies which can move with ease among the population exactly because theyre a deeply enmeshed part of it that grew grassroots from it no matter how much the oppressors deny it for propaganda purposes.

Incumbent national regimes dont make these principled distinctions between these categories when its not convenient they go and slaughter whoever they feel they need to in order to accomplish their objectives civilian is just another rhetorical weapon to be applied to everyone else's conduct not their own a do as I say not as I do type thing.

When its wrong to kill someone its never about whether or not theyre a civilian thats really just a poor articulation of what the issue actually is its lazy and its just taking advantage of a prebuilt discourse which was built largely by and for war criminals ironically.

[cloudshuffle]

a bubble of memory. yan!childe

index / prev / next

That night, you stand on the deck of one of the Fatui’s many ships. It has a name, one that you’d forgotten as soon as the captain had ceased his boasting and left you alone.

You shake yourself. It’s just your nerves talking. The salty sea air might have been fire water to these Fatui sailors, invigorating and life-giving, but it feels more like poison to your lungs, infecting you and spreading like a disease.

The deck swarms with activity, bodies perspiring from the hard work despite the chill. So you don’t notice Nadia, sneaking up behind you like a cheeky little cat to give you a little surprise.

“Boo!” she exclaims. You jump slightly, but return her friendly embrace.

“I could see you from the dock. I thought you were an alabaster statue at first, so moody and mysterious staring out like that,” she teases. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

You turn back landward, towards the glimmering lights. You’d already said goodbye to your parents, who hugged you deeply and wished you safe travels. Why did the lanterns mimic the glittering moon on the ocean so closely? You stare, waiting patiently for a stirring in your heart that never comes.

“Oh, everything.” You wave a hand to encompass ‘everything’. “Liyue, a new branch for the bank, a new people and their culture. There’s a lot on the horizon for us.”

“I know!” she squeals, and grips your arm tightly. “So, listen. Just now Vlad dropped his hat, and I helped him pick it up, and he said ‘thank you, Nadia’!”

“That’s great. At least he knows who you are.” You give her a smile.

Nadia opens her mouth to speak, but a shout interrupts her.

“Form up!”

The activity had gradually ceased while the two of you were talking, and now Ajax… Tartaglia, pardon, was coming on board to carry out final inspections.

The two of you take your places in two lines, standing face to face. You stand opposite one of your colleagues, a young man slightly more senior than yourself whose name you’d never learnt. You saw each other often, but never exchanged words any further than cordial greetings. You doubted he knew your name either.

A shifting ripples down the line. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tartaglia stride up the gangplank onto the deck. His expression is set and cold, vastly different from the curious, piercing look he’d had during your earlier encounter. You can feel each of his footsteps resonate through the wood, into your own heart.

He takes his time, prowling past with the laziness of a predatory cat. Each soldier tenses under his gaze, and you can feel each of their prayers to Tsaritsa evaporate into the cold air as he passes them by.

Tartaglia pauses by you. You can feel him radiating heat like a small star, carrying a curious sweetness with him on the air.

You can almost feel each cell in your body alight where his gaze passes over you. It lingers on the hollow of your neck, where your necklace rests, and you return his appraisal, holding his gaze steadfastly.

He moves on. The whole interaction had taken but a brief heartbeat.

“Move out!” he commands, the cry coming from the unfamiliar part of him that had been moulded into a harbinger. You obey on instinct, filing into the cabins and out of the way as the sailors scatter to prepare for your trip.

This is the part of the journey you most hate - the waiting, the stillness, the uselessness. You duck into a cabin, lined by bunk beds that you share with Nadia and two other women. It’s just small enough to be stifling, with all four of you awake and active.

You haul yourself up to one of the top bunks, earning a dirty look cast by one of the women whose names you don’t know. You turn your back on her, curling up on top of the blankets.

Above you, the clomping of boots reverberates through the wooden deck, the shouts of men crying into the clear night, the unfurling and whipping of great fabric sails. Archons. What you would give to be up there breathing the open air, rather than trapped down here in a small cabin with people who may or may not be enjoying your company.

There’s a small circular window set into the wall, but looking through it would mean turning over to face the others, and you don’t quite feel like it yet. Instead, you slot a finger underneath your mask, prying it off and laying it next to your pillow.

It’s a simple affair, a piece of cool metal accented by a red stripe over the left eye. It’s been on for long that you run a hand down your own face, having to remind yourself of what you truly look like underneath it.

Running your thumb along the blunt edge of the mask, enjoying the serene rocking of the ship, you close your eyes.

────────────

The sunlight flickers, dim and wet, high above you. You can feel yourself sinking, feel the darkness reaching out with welcoming tendrils, shielding you from the cold.

A few bubbles escape your lips, but you can feel nothing but a calm acceptance. This is the end. I never knew the end could be so peaceful.

By the fire, your babushka liked to tell you tales of the old heroes. Battling ancient giants of lore, facing down hordes of barbarians, wrestling with the sun itself to make it stay in the sky longer and fend off the darkness. In your dreams, you were standing right by those heroes, slaying foes.

No more stories. No more fires. I hope I go to heaven. I shouldn’t have stolen the last herring from Papa.

Something thuds against the ice. You shudder in the otherwise still water.

Another thud, and the light splinters into a million crystal shards. You can feel a pounding at your chest. It’s the darkness, already inside you.

A small shape plunges into the water, trailing bubbles behind their little feet. You close your eyes.

— word count: 1026. thank you for reading!

[evans23]

Daughter of mine

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : When a mere acquaintance of Judge Turpin announced to him that he had a daughter, The Death's Judge is flabbergasted.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Abandonment. Neglectful mother. Mention of prostitution.

A/N: Hello dear 😁 I wanted to try something else with Turpin. Hope you'll like it. No proofreading because I am lazy 🫠😅

Part II - Part III - Part IV

Also read on AO3

Richard was walking briskly through the court corridors, a bunch of papers under his arm, his wig still on his head.

"Richard ! Richard !" he heard shouting behind him.

The sound of the irritating voice makes him walk faster. The Beadle wasn't here, having got a leave of absence for personal matters. 

Personal matters... harlot matters, thought Richard, chewing the inside of his cheek while his pursuer continued to call him. Due to the absence of his minion, he will have to talk to this clodhopper of a lawyer. He knew who it was just by earring the far too sharp voice of this incompetent. Matthew was his name and he was an abomination, bringing opprobrium to his respectable profession. 

"Richard !"

Turpin halted at once and turned towards Matthew with a severe look, one that only the Judge Turpin has the secret of.

"Yes Matthew," he hissed, ready to tear out the eyes of the poor man running behind him with a little spoon. 

"Richard !" said again Matthew when he eventually reached the Judge.

If he said my name one more time, I would judge him for anything suitable would come to the mind of The Beadle, thought fiercely Richard.

"Yes ?" said Richard frowning his eyebrows with disgust at the view of the reddened pudgy face of his non-beloved colleague.

"I need to talk with you. An urgent matter."

"No more case today, I adjourned the court, I have some important business to attend to."

Without waiting for an answer, Richard began to walk again but Matthew held him back by grabbing his sleeves.

It asked Richard all his masterfulness not to slap the poor lad in the face. After all, he was a respected judge, always controlling his emotions. He was the fucking Death's Judge fucking Turpin, he thought vehemently. 

"Richard, believe me, you want to hear it." told the little man, totally oblivious to the anger which was boiling into Richard.

"Well, what is the matter ?"

"Not here. It is too personal. Come to my office."

"No, mine !"

His command doesn't leave any room for an objection from Matthew but the joyful man wasn't offended at all by the behavior of Turpin. After all, his reputation preceded him and the young lawyer wasn't easily deterred from his optimistic good mood.

"Well, I listen really attentively to you," said Richard once he had closed the door of his office. 

He sat gracefully on his chair, denying the right to do the same to Matthew by not inviting him to do so. 

"Richard, I don't know how to say that," began the lawyer taking a seat anyway.

Turpin sighed inwardly, more than annoyed. Yes, definitely, this young fella was in to lose his eyes.

"With simple, short words and in a very economical way. No more than three or four words," said Richard without an ounce of sarcasm.

He wanted to go home and read the new book he had made come from India. 

"You have a daughter," said straightforwardly Matthew.

If Richard was caught off guard, he didn't show any signs of it. 

"I beg your pardon ?"

He didn't know if he should laugh or keep his straight face while threatening the man in front of him with an upcoming hanging. His hanging !

A bit taken aback by his bluntness, a thing he didn't know he was able to, the lawyer fidgeted on his chair for the biggest displeasure of Richard.

"Boy, I don't have the day. If you have something to say talk, otherwise leave me alone !" thundered his voice.

"Richard. I am serious. I have been called last week to acknowledge the will of a dying woman in a poor house in the outskirts of London. The woman claimed that her daughter is yours."

"Well, if a dying woman has claimed that her bastard is mine, then it is certainly true," he responded sharply, "are you really as daft as you come across when one's meet you the first time ? Even though you come across to me as stupid and incapable each time I have to process a file in which you are working. You are nothing of a lawyer," he chided severely, his nostrils almost spitting fire.

“Yeah, actually I was forced by my father to follow his steps, however, I wanted to be an art…”

“Matthew !” Cut off Turpin, his anger threatening to erupt any time soon.

“Yes, sorry,” answered the poor man, putting himself together before going on. 

“Well, the lady, plagued with a terminal disease, asked me to draw up a will. She didn’t owe much but the few jewels have been entrusted to me to be handed out to her daughter in due time. She was afraid to have it stolen by the nurses after she would have passed away.”

He stopped, waiting for any reaction from Richard which comes with a gruff comment. 

“I don’t care about the pieces of jewellery. Who was the so-called lady and what about her bastard, who she claimed to be from my seed.”

“Yes, yes, to the point Matthew,” tried to brace himself the lawyer who began to flicker under the unyielding piercing eyes of Turpin, “her name was Elena.”

Turpin went pale. It was a long time since he had heard this name. Seven years, almost eight to be precise. He couldn’t deny having known this girl as he had almost married her. But it was another story. A sad one.

After having lost the only one he has ever considered as his soulmate, he had set his sight on a girl named Lucy, the barber’s wife of the poorest quarter of the town. He was desperate to forget Elena and he thought getting that pretty little thing would help him to get rid of his sorrow. 

As a matter of course, the barber’s wife didn’t accord him even a glance and, mad with rage and grief, he had almost perjured his honourable position as a Judge by charging his husband with a false crime on the purpose of sending him away in a barren land called Australia, but he came back to his senses just in time, releasing the barber and swearing to himself to never ever falling in love. Women were nothing else but suffering and betrayal. 

“Elena,” repeated unconsciously Richard.

“Yes, Elena Bryant. She must have been a really beautiful lady when she was at her best because I could notice the beauty of her fine features even with the illness making her face break out.”

“Yes, a real beauty, indeed,” whispered Turpin.

“Her daughter is nothing short of a beauty herself. A real little doll.”

Turpin shook his head, retrieving his mind.

“My acquaintance with this girl doesn’t mean I am the father of her undesirable burden. And believe me, this woman was nothing of a lady. She came from a poor family with no proper upbringing. It was a miracle that she could read and her writing was as awkward as the one of a young kid.”

“Yeah, well, apparently she wasn’t too dull because she taught her daughter to read. She is a lively child, intelligent and so on. She has been sent to an orphanage nearby here.”

The lawyer stopped, gauging Turpin who stayed totally indifferent or at least he guises himself to look as if, yet inwardly his mind was racing.

“How old ?” He suddenly asked.

“What ?” asked Matthew, puzzled.

“How old is the girl, Matthew my patience lay thin !” said Turpin with a thunderous tone.

“Oh, six years. Almost seven. Quite soon, actually.”

Richard could have fainted with how his head was spinning. Six years, almost seven. Was it possible ?

“Her name is Catherine.”

Turpin grabbed the edge of his desk with so much force that is knuckles turned white. Catherine. He had told Elena once that should he have a little girl, he would like her name to be Catherine like his late and beloved grandmother, the only person in his life to have shown him genuine affection and taught him what love was, at least until Elena. 

“And what will be the destiny of the little bast… of the little girl ?” asked Turpin between clenched teeth.

“The mother would like you to have her custody. After all, according to her, you are the father.” 

It remains unproven, thought bitterly Turpin. After all, after having left him, she went from one man to another, living a depraved life, selling her body to earn a living. Richard knew it as a fact after having had a glimpse at her beloved Elena while he frequented a well-known brothel. The sight of her disgusted him through his bones and he had to keep his nerves under check not to drag her outside by her hair and require an explanation for her awful betrayal. He had reasoned himself, reasoning his injured soul that doing that would give the girl too much importance. An importance she didn’t deserve even less now than she wasn’t more than a disgusting whore. 

The daughter could be from any moron but him. Yet, now was ingrained in his mind a slight doubt. 

“What should I do ? For the little girl ?” asked Matthew.

Richard thought for a long time before answering that The Beadle would take care of it. Matthews acquiesced, uncertain if he was satisfied with Turpin’s answer, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, leaving the Judge’s office with a nod.

The next day, The Beadle was assigned the task to find the girl and… well, make a report. Turpin didn’t want to spread out the rumour he could have a bastard in the nature and even if The Beadle had his trust, he preferred to wait before taking action.

“Sir,” echoed The Beadle’s voice.

Startled while he was deeply lost in his work, Turpin acknowledged his presence with a nod and a frown eyebrow.

“I have seen the little girl,” he said carefully.

“And ?” growled Turpin.

He was almost expecting The Beadle to tell him she was his spitting portrait, that even if he didn’t know why he had to meet that child he had immediately understood when he saw her. Unfortunately, his answer was quite disappointing.

“She is very short for her age but she has a pretty face. A little doll, a future beauty,” said The Beadle with a glint of envy in his eyes.

The Judge felt the urge to threaten his assistant to put him under arrest for talking like that of a little girl but he retained himself, instead, he asked him to tell him more.

“She is a polite little darling, not really interesting due to an obvious lack of education.”

The Judge nodded, not quite satisfied with the report of The Beadle.

“My lord, may I enquire why this little girl has caught your eyes ?” asked honeydly the rat-face man.

“No,” was the cold answer of The Judge.

What was the matter of having an assistant if he had to do the work himself ? He thought angrily. Yet, after all, one was better served by himself than by someone else.

And so, the next morning, his carriage hit the road for the orphanage. The venue was a gloomy old building almost in ruins. The roof was leaking, the windows let the wind go through the immeuble and the floor was dirty. 

The headmaster of the orphanage, a hunchbacked old woman with a severe face, which could have matched Turpin’s straight face, wasn’t agreeable at all but when she recognised The Judge, she became nothing more than kindness and bowing. Unimpressed, Turpin asked for Catherine. 

While walking along the corridors, he noticed the famished children, filthy and wearing rags. The old woman stopped in front of an almost unhinged door.

“The girl is here. Doesn’t speak a lot. In need of a good beating if you want my opinion.”

“No, I don’t,” answered Turpin without paying more attention to the headmaster.

The Judge knocked at the door then, as no answer was coming, he entered. Sitting on the bed with what looks like a stuffed wolf in her arms. His stuffed wolf ! The one he had as a child and he had offered to Elena at the beginning of their relationship for the girl having him at her side every night. 

“May I sit next to you ?” asked Turpin to the girl who hadn’t looked at him yet.

She nodded, keeping her head low and didn’t even moved one toe when Turpin took place beside her.

The tiny room, which was more a cupboard than anything else, was as filthy as the rest of the orphanage. The sheets were filthy. Probably they haven’t seen water for ages, thought Turpin.

“What is your name, girl ?” asked Turpin even though he already knew the answer.

“Catherine,” whispered shyly the girl.

“Quite a pretty name.”

If she had heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it. Apparently, being silent was her biggest skill.

“I have been told that you were a well-behaved lady but let me tell you that a lady looks her interlocutor in the eyes when she is talked to.”

And for the first time, she tilted her head up, her awfully beautiful green eyes meeting The Judge’s. And he knew. 

Richard had thought he would know if the girl was his only if she had a bit of him etched in her face. The truth was she wasn’t looking after him at all. No hooked nose, hazel eyes or even blond hair. No, she had the black curls of her mother, the small button nose of her mother, the magnificent features of her mother and the eyes, the incredible, beautiful, unforgettable beautiful eyes of his Elena. Definitely, she didn’t look like any Turpin he knew, but deep inside him, deep into his heart, he knew. The girl was his.

He left the room without a word, asking his coachman to go to the courthouse fetching Matthew and at the end of the afternoon, the girl was officially under his protection. 

She wasn’t very talkative but the truth was that she was rather impressed by the charismatic presence of The Judge. On the other hand, Richard didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to talking with a child even if the said child was his and he shouldn’t feel nervous around her. 

However, he wasn’t sure if he was in front of an innocent child. Her mother sold her body, what her daughter could have seen ? But he had something worse rattling his mind. Does Elena could have committed the sin of selling her owndaughter ? Richard didn’t know how to broach such a topic without shoking the child, even less should the girl be utterly oblivious of her mother's profession.

“Where are we going ?” asked a little voice, interrupting his running mind.

Sitting on the bench in front of him in the cramped carriage which was bringing them back to Richard’s house.

“Turpin’ Manor.”

“You live in a Manor ?” asked Catherine, whereas she was trying with all her will to not sound too excited.

“Yes, dear. And you too now,” answered Turpin with an amused look on his face. “You are going to live a very different life now. You will get a proper education, food thrice a day, a warm, clean bed, proper clothes for a little lady in your position and a name. Believe me, you will want nothing in your life from now on.”

He could see the flabbergasted expression on the girl’s face at the mention of a warm bed and food put every day on the table. Unable to hold it anymore, he asked the question that was burning his lips the more diplomatically he could.

“What did your mother do to earn money ?”

Catherine shrugged indifferently.

“When a lady is asking a question, she must at least acknowledge her interlocutor and at best give him an answer,” he scolded gently, yet with a growling tone. 

“She was a waitress,” answered the child without looking at him. 

“A waitress ?” repeated Richard.

“She worked at night for a rest… rest… I am not sure of the pronunciation,” confessed Catherine, fixing her gaze on his.

“A restaurant ?” suggested Richard.

She nodded while hugging tighter her little wolf.

“And who was looking after you ?”

“No one,” whispered the girl, her eyes filling with tears. “I was alone every night from 6 in the afternoon until 8 in the morning,” she added, crying now.

“Hush, hush, no need to cry child,” said Turpin, holding out his large hand to squeeze awkwardly the small and almost fragile one of Catherine.

“Why are you crying now ?”

“It was frightening, being alone every night. I hate being in the dark but mom couldn’t afford us to let a candle burn all night.”

Turpin’s face softened. Catherine was so mature and skilful in her way of speaking that he had almost forgotten she was only 6, almost 7. 

“Well, you will have all the light you need during the night. No one will mind. Stop crying now.”

“You promise ?” asked the girl with bright eyes.

“Yes, I promise. A servant will kindle all the light you need in your room to sleep well far before your bedtime,” said Turpin, trying to mask his irritation. 

The happiness of the child for such a little promise made his previous irritation fade away and he could almost feel his heart melt at the view of a so genuine gratefulness.

“And… did your mom have a husband ?”

He swallowed his saliva with difficulty, hoping to have a definitive answer about the innocence of his… of Catherine.

“No. I have never seen a man in our house. Mommy told me she would never bring a man in our house because her heart was broken and she couldn’t love anybody else but me.”

“So never had a man lay his hand on you ?”

“No. Mommy would have killed anybody who would have hit me.”

Richard let out a sight he didn’t know he was retaining. So, Elena had at least succeeded in protecting the child from the depravation of the world. Of her world.

“And I would never let anyone hurt you in any way,” said Richard, the promise of a terrible fate for the one who would dare to just stare at the little girl.

When the carriage stopped, Richard stepped out before helping Catherine to go out. He held her without difficulty in his arms to put her on the ground. She was far too skinny, thought Richard. She weighed nothing in his arms and he had felt her bones protruding through the meagre fabric of her dress. Something that wouldn’t last now that she was living at Turpin’ Manor. She would be fed properly and never where he would tolerate to see her shiver because of a gust of wind. She will have all the clothes she needed to stay warm. Definitely, the life of Catherine was going to change for the better. 

After a quick introduction to the staff, composed of a cook, a butler and only two maids, he made her visit her new house, jubilating when the girl gawked at his impressive library and then laughing genuinely at her happiness to discover a huge, beautiful, warm and already lit room. Her own room was far more bigger than the dilapidated house where she had lived with her mom.

She sat on the bed, her wolf still in her arm, looking at Turpin with a mix of gratitude and something else he couldn’t decipher.

“Happy ?”

“Yes,” was the simple answer of Catherine but her eyes were telling so much more.

Thank you, I feel safe, I am happy, I think I know who you are. 

“Good. You will have your own maid who will help you to get dressed every morning and night. She will do your hair and starting next week you will have tutors teaching you everything a lady should know and even more. I expect your best behaviour and assertiveness in your study, understood?” said Turpin with severity.

The girl nodded once before biting her lower lip.

“Something amiss ?” asked Turpin, frowning an eyebrow.

“How should I call you ?”

Father was is first thought but he could be a bit overwhelming for the child. After all, she didn’t know yet and he didn’t want to rush her with the truth. First, he wanted to win her trust. Maybe even her love. 

“Well, my name is Richard and when it is only the both of us, you can call me so. In public, you will call me Lord Turpin like a proper lady should do.”

The girl didn’t answer him, instead, she looked intensively at him as if she was trying to discover the secret of his soul, which he hoped, she would never be able to do so.

“Are you my father ?” she asked abruptly.

Caught off guard, Turpin gawked at the boldness of the child, impressed by her perspicacity. Lying would be stupid but saying aloud the truth was overwhelming for The Judge who was still trying to proceed with the novelty of his paternity and the fact that he had now a child living under his roof.

“Your wolf… has it a name ?”

“Merlin. Like the wizard.”

“Well, Merlin was mine when I was your age.”

He hoped this answer would be enough but Catherine was only a child and the subtlety of the world escaped her.

“So I am right, you are my father ?”

Richard swallowed with difficulty and almost shocked when the girl took his large hand into her little one, her eyes bearing hope and gratitude.

“Yes kid, I am your father,” he eventually answered not without emotion and a mix of new feelings invading him deeply through his heart and soul.

Catherine offered him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

Definitely a Turpin smile, he thought proudly, recognising in her smile his. 

“Yes, I am your father and from now on you will be known as Catherine Elena Victoria Turpin.”

Catherine squeezed his hand and weren’t he so awkward and reserved about his own emotion, he would have hugged the child. His child. His daughter. 

“Everything will be fine now, daughter of mine,” he whispered as an everlasting promise. 

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Belly Dancer - 11

Warning: smut, language, rough sex, slapping, AND SO MUCH CUTENESS.

You woke up before Harry did, his arm around you. Everything felt almost like a dream, you had the guy you had feelings for next to you, asleep, touching you. you got into the bathroom, took a shower.

You got out of the bathroom with a towel around your body, hair in a microfiber towel just to watch Harry scrolling on his phone, still on the bed. You took a seat on the chair by the vanity as his eyes looked at you over his phone with a lazy smile on his face, "Good morning, Rapunzel."

"G'morning, Gatsby." You said with a smile back. You took off your hair towel and started drying the ends using the towel.

"Jessica called, we'll meet for breakfast in half an hour before going to the beach so you better take a shower."

Harry nodded and placed his phone aside. He straightened his posture before he stretched his arms and legs. He yawned and got up, walking over to you, he was in his boxers at the time. He gave your temple a small kiss.

"Harry! My hair is all wet." You glared at him, but he just shrugged.

"Where's the issue? Why don't you use a hair dryer?" He asked, going to the wardrobe to get a new fresh pair of boxers.

"I don't use them as much, plus I'll use oil on my hair anyways." You said, grabbing the bottle of hair oil.

"Why's that?"

"Salt water can damage the hair, so I put oil on the hair, not the scalp, to protect my hair. Used this method back home and it works like magic." You said, massaging your hair with the hair oil. "Whenever I forget to do so my hair will be all fuzzy and I end up looking like a wicked witch." He chuckled at your words.

"Can you do mine, too?" He asked, running his fingers in his hair, walking towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, sure, baby." You answered finishing your hair just when you heard the shower run.

You stood up and took out a white bikini. You took off your towel, and pulled on your bikini. It was high material, had straps around the waist and belly, it was exposing your body perfectly and hugging all the right places. The top part of the bikini was sheer exept from the shape of the flower that covered your nipples and a good part of your breasts.

Harry got out of the shower with the fresh pair of boxers on, but stopped when he looked at you.

"What in hell is that?" He arched an eyebrow.

"What is what?" You asked, putting on sunscreen all over your body.

"Turn around, want to see it." He crosse his arms, walking towards you.

"Why?" You stopped with the sunscreen, furrowing your eyebrows.

"As I said, I want to see it." He gave you no expression and you were in no mood to fight so you turned around then faced him.

"Well, that's revealing." He commented looking at your hips and breasts.

"It's a swimsuit, Harry." You huffed.

You were happy that he was jealous, but bothered because no way in hell were you changing for him.

"I don't like it."

"Well, too bad, I'm wearing it." You rolled your eyes.

"Love, I'm not saying that you can't wear it. I don't have a say in this, yet." He spelled 'yet' slowly, you raised your eyebrows at him once he finished his sentence so he huffed. "Fine, as long as I'm with you, you can wear what you want."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All I'm saying is that you are already attractive, plus that revealing bikini, I should be making sure that no bugger think they have a chance with you." He raised his hands in surrender. "Wear whatever you want, love, you're all mine." He smirked pulling you against him.

"Don't you like my swimsuit?" You pouted putting your arms around his neck, his eyes were walking over your exposed flesh.

"I love it, baby. It's just so sexy, makes me want to rip it off of you." He bit his lip before kissing down on your neck, you hummed at his touch.

"Stop it, Harry. We gotta go." You breathed and he huffed, pulling away from your neck.

"Fine, just put on a beach dress or something." He looked at you with puppy eyes, you rolled your eyes, "Fine, put some clothes on you too okay?"

He smiled almost to himself that you listened to him.

--

"You're late." Jessica glared as you and Harry walked over to the table they were having breakfast on.

You had a white fishnet beach dress on over your bikini.

Noah gave you a fake disgusted look, you gave him the finger in return. "Good morning to you too." You said directly to Noah as you sat down, facing Jessica and Noah.

Good thing that the hotel was for adults only.

Angela sat there eating her breakfast in silence.

Harry said good morning to everyone before he asked you, "Love, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Anything, H, but don't fill my plate, please." You said with a smile before he kissed your temple and left to get you both breakfast.

You loved that he always kissed you in front of people with no shame, it made you feel safe somehow.

"Look who got herself knocked up." Jessica teased as she reached to point at your visible hickeys that Harry gave you the night before when he took you in front of fhe mirror.

"Shut up, bitch." You rolled your eyes in embarrassment.

"Wow, y/n, you kiss him with that mouth?" Noah teased, eating his omelette.

"We do a lot of things, wanna hear?" You winked at him and he stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"Ugh, please, no."

"I'll be happy to tell you that he spent all night licki-" You were cut off by Noah placing two fingers in his ears and screaming so he wouldn't hear a thing.

You and Jessica laughed at him. Noah was a really good person, and you loved the type of friendship you had with him. He made Jessica happy, and that was all you cared about. He pulled his fingers away from his ears and you got your attention back to Jessica, "Why didn't you tell me that sex was this fun?" You giggled but got an eyes roll from Noah.

"Shit, here we go again." He sipped from his coffee as you and Jessica kept chatting.

Angela was there, sitting, eating in silence. But she was listening to everything you said. Like always, Angela was the person that was always there and almost felt invisible. They can hear and see everything, but not talk.

Harry got back with your plate and a coffee for you, you gave him a thank you and he gave you a smile, then went again to get himself a plate and coffee.

Just when he sat down next to you, you were starting eating, giggling with Jessica and teasing Noah. You felt Angela so quiet, you couldn't bear it, you didn't want her to feel left out.

"Ang, you look beautiful in this beach dress." You smiled at her and she gave you a shy smile back.

"Thank you, y/n, yours looks lovely." She kind of whispered.

"How's Elijah?" You asked before taking a bite of your toast.

"He's well, but he's mad at me." She shrugged, hopelessly.

"Of course, he is, Angela. You don't spend time with him at all." Jessica said and you hit her leg under the table. Angela's expressions went down even more after what Jessica said so you glared at her.

"What? I'm just saying. Moms should spend time with their kids, my mom never did and it still pisses me off." Jessica defended herself.

"It depends on why she can't spend time with him. Angela is working her ass off to provide for her son, to help him get into the college he deserves when he's older. She's a single mother to a ten year old kid for god's sake." You said, actually frustrated with Jessica.

"I wasn't trying to sound harsh, I swear. It's just... kids don't see things the way we do, they think that the parents are putting their job above them." Jessica explained softly. "Sorry, Ang, I didn't mean to sound so harsh on you."

"It's okay, I understand." Angela gave Jessica a small smile and then there was this awkward silence.

"We're here to have fun, okay?" Noah broke the silence.

"Yeah, no need for fights." Harry approved.

"That wasn't a fight, you should watch when Jessica and y/n like really fight." Noah smirked. Noah loved causing fights between you and Jessica. It was his thing.

"How does that go?" Harry chuckled.

"Shut up, Noah." Jessica warned Noah.

"I'll have to show you." Noah's smirk grew wider. "Y/N, Jess told me all about the nipple piercing."

Your eyes grew wide and looked at Jessica who hid her face with her hands. "You slut!"

"It just came up!"

You reached and slapped her face lightly, her mouth went open and pulled at your hair. Noah got comfortable on his seat as he watched you.

"Should we stop them?" Harry looked at Noah who was laughing when you and Jessica started pushing each other, having a silly fight.

"Hell no, let's throw food on them!" Noah laughed.

Harry and Noah were enjoying your fight while Angela giggled a little at how you and Jessica fought like two kids in kindergarten.

"Guys, I think we really should stop them." Angela said as you grabbed Jessica's arm and started biting it. The fight was getting serious.

"Damn we should!" Noah exclaimed as he grabbed Jessica by the waist, trying to pull her away from you, while Harry, too, stood to get you away from her.

"You're going down, bitch!" Jessica panted, trying to push you away from her. Harry and Noah tried to make you let go of Jessica's arm, but no help. Feisty, you were.

Harry carried you on his shoulder, so your belly was on his shoulder, but your back was straight enough to look at Jessica as Harry was walking away with you on his shoulder. That was enough to make you let her go.

"Next time I'll bite your head off!" You yelled at her.

Harry kept walking with you on his shoulder, but you kept kicking him to let you go. He walked out the hotel with you still on his shoulder, "If you don't stop kicking me, I'll spank you in the reception. I swear to god!" He warned you.

"Let me go, Harry, people are looking at us."

"Is that so?"

You looked up and saw Jessica, Noah and Angela walking less than a feet away from you and Harry. You pulled your middle finger up at Jessica. That enraged her, she ran over to you so she can hit you, Noah ran behind her to pull her away.

You started fighting with her while you were on Harry's shoulder, arms going everywhere to try and hit each other.

"Stop it, Jess!" Noah panted, holding her by the waist.

You stopped fighting and when you were about to reach the beach that was so close already, you said to Harry, "Let me down, please my stomach hurts."

"If I do, will you be civil?"

"Pinky promise."

He put you down gently and you made eye contact with Jessica as she mouthed, "I'll kill you."

You pulled your hair up with your scrunchie, "Let me get that bitch!" You tried to walk towards her, but Harry kept you in place with his arms.

"Bring it on!" She exclaimed.

"I swear to God if you both don't stop it, I'll lock you in a room till you snatch each other's heads off!" Noah panted, tired of holding down Jessica.

"You started it, Noah!" Harry, panted, holding you.

You locked evil eyes with Jessica.

"Okay, okay, I'll be civil if she is, too!" Jessica said.

"Fine!" You lift your hands up in surrender.

Harry cautiously let go of you as Noah did, you kept your gaze on Jessica.

"Oh my god, we bought that together!" You squealed, pointing at her slippers.

"Yes, I love it!" She squealed as well, you went hand in hand as you both chatted about the slippers you got together while walking on the sandy beach.

Harry and Noah stood there, staring at you both, not believing that you were just biting and calling each other names.

Angela walked past them, holding three beach bags, one was yours and one was Jessica's, she giggled as she watched Harry and Noah's expressions.

"Girls." She commented, following you and Jessica.

--

You took one of the towels you brought and put it on the sand, took off your beach dress, you could feel Harry's eyes on you the whole time from his deck chair, Harry had blue swim shorts along with white loose soft shirt on. His abs and tattoos were made to make girls go nuts, but you didn't mind him showing it off like he was minding you showing off your body in the sheer bikini that only covered the intimate spots. His eyes found a group of guys chanting as you took off your beach dress but that you didn't care about.

You laid on your stomach on the towel and untangled the straps of the top of your bikini. Harry bit on his lip, his possessive side got the best of him at that point, he found himself standing on his feet taking off his shirt.

Angela was on the deck chair next to Harry's. Jessica and Noah didn't waste time and were already swimming in the ocean.

"Mr. Styles," Angela started, taking his attention.

Angela wore a floral one piece swimsuit, she was listening to music which she paused to get Harry's attention.

"Please, darling, call me Harry." He smiled softly at her.

"Okay, Harry." She smiled. "Do you need help with sunscreen?"

He was startled a little, but she was an innocent, shy person so he nodded at her. He sat on his deck chair, his back facing her, he gave her the bottle of sunscreen. She took it from him and spurted some on her palm, Harry's eyes were on you, thinking.

You had your earbuds on, listening to music, enjoying the sun. Your eyes were closed behind the sunglasses you had on so you didn't watch Angela's fingers spreading the sunscreen on Harry's skin.

Harry's mind was thinking of the deal he had with Ray...

“You like being the first, eh?” Ray’s smirk widened and Harry smirked along.

"Very."

“It’s a deal.” Harry answered, crushing his cigarette in his own ashtray, almost burning the tips of his fingers in the process.

“Then when can I have her?”

“As you said, I like being the first. I like taking my time.”

“Is it a deal then?” Ray crushed the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray.

He felt uncomfortable when Angela's fingers were getting dangerously closer to the hem of his swimsuit especially that it felt like she was trying to dip her fingers into his skin so he stood up immediately with an awkward smile. "Thank you, Angela." He thanked her and walked towards you, leaving her watching him take a seat next to you on the sand, taking one earbud from your ear before he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh.

"You need to stay away from the sun till your skin absorbs the sunscreen." You told Harry who had one earbud of yours on, listening to whatever you were listening to.

"I will if you come with me, I don't want to be all alone." He pouted and you grabbed his cheeks and made him lean in to give him a kiss on his delicious lips.

"Okay, but first, tie my top." You pointed at the straps. "Unless you want people to check the color of my nipp-"

"No need to say such horrible things." He smirked, tying your straps.

He helped you up, you took Harry's hand and walked towards your spot. Angela was still listening to music, looking at the blue ocean.

You tapped on her shoulder and she paused the music and looked at you, "Did you say something, y/n?"

"You're having next week off, honey, paid." You smiled at her and she smiled back.

Harry had already sat on the deck chair next to Angela's, thighs apart, you took a seat between his thighs, still listening to music.

"Beggin'" by Maneskin was on.

You both started singing, playfully, acting the lyrics.

I'm on my knees when I'm beggin'

Cause I don't wanna lose you

You were swinging your arms around, Harry's hands held yours so you both swing your arms together.

You had so much fun, singing together, till he took out your earbud, placed them where they belonged. He held you right in his arms, his chin on your shoulder, eyes on the ocean that had few people swimming.

"I wish we could stay like this forever." You said, smiling at the ocean.

"We can."

"How so?"

"We can make it work, every year at the same time, we can come here."

"Oh, so you're making future plans with me?" You were kind of surprised. Good surprise, though.

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, confused.

The hell with waiting, Jess. You thought to yourself.

"We are just dating, H, for about seven months now. I don't know how long it takes here, so you're thinking of our future, that's news to me."

"Ugh, y/n, I like you, that's all that matters."

"But?"

"But what?"

"I thought there was a but."

"No buts, I like you, I think you like me, too."

"I do."

You were kind of confused, maybe because that's not how things went back home. If he thought that you were his, why wouldn't he ask you to become his girlfriend? But you had to suck it in, you were new to this whole thing and had little knowledge of how dating works there.

Jessica and Noah got out of the water, panting and laughing, reaching for their towels. Jessica's hair splashed you with water, "Hey! You're annoying." You scolded her.

"You love birds need to get into the water, it's so good." She said, drying her body with the towel.

"Let's test the water?" You tilted your head back into Harry's chest, looking at him.

"Whatever you want, princess." He smiled at you, kissing your eye.

You both got up, hand in hand. You looked over at Angela, "Honey, don't you wanna swim with us?"

"Thanks, y/n, I'm fine." She gave you a small smile, you nodded at her and went towards the water.

Angela's eyes were on you both all the time, when you ran in front of him and him running after you, he caught you and carried you bridal style and got you both into the water. Her expressions didn't say much, but Jessica noticed Angela's eyes.

Noah took Jessica's attention, "I'm happy for her, she deserves happiness." He was laying on the deck chair, wearing his sunglasses.

Jessica looked at you and Harry, you were splashing each other with water before he caught you, grabbed you for a passionate wet kiss, then her eyes looked over at Angela to see her lips curl upside down.

"I don't think all of us are happy for her." Jessica whispered almost to herself, but Noah didn't hear it.

"What was that, babe?" He asked.

"Nothing, Nu." She answered, eyes going between you and Angela.

--

"What should I wear, H?" You raised two dresses in their hangers.

Your body got the tan you wished for, it was good for your performance tomorrow. You all decided to have dinner at a beach restaurant close to the hotel

One dress was navy blue, glittery, short and the back almost non existent. The other dress was red silk, short, not covering much cleavage.

He looked over at both dresses.

"You look breathtaking in anything, love." He smiled.

"Okay, which one makes you feel more urged to do me?"

He smirked, "The red one."

"Red dress it is." You said, throwing the other dress on the bed. "Let me ask you random a question."

"Go ahead."

"What's the thing you wanna change about yourself? Like in your personality."

"Hmm, that's a tough question." He took a few moments to think. "I want to change how I react when bad things happen."

"How do you react?"

"Sometimes, I lose my temper, some other times I just lose track of what's actually happening."

"How so?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I'm in a bubble and everything is happening in the background. What about you?"

"I want to change my anger. If I ever lose my temper and get angry, damn, I become so aggressive." You said as you were taking off your towel, standing naked before Harry.

"I don't think I saw you that angry before." He said, looking at your naked figure.

"Thank god! You'd lose interest in me just like that." You snapped two fingers before putting on your baby blue lace panties. You weren't going to wear a bra because of the dress.

"What happens when you get angry?"

"Oh, you don't wanna know." You put your dress on, making sure that your breasts look good.

"Try me." He stood up, walking towards the wardrobe to take out his clothes.

"Get me angry and you'll see." You winked, spurting some leave-in cream on your hair, scrunching your hair in front of the mirror, still standing on your feet.

"I don't want to make you angry, I want to make you pleased." He smirked throwing his clothes on the bed, walking towards you and stopping right behind you.

"Oh, no, you just fucked me in the bathroom." You giggled when he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Just a quickie." He whispered as he kissed your the hickeys he gave you. "I want to see you at the table, knowing that I just fucked you in this tight short dress."

You smiled at his words, pressing your ass against his dick that was growing harder in his boxers.

"Can't say no to the man that fucks me good." You hummed as his hand went under your dress. His fingers brushed against your pussy over your panties, then pulled it down a little mid-thigh. He lifted your dress up to see your ass, his eyes sparkling with lust and hunger for your skin.

"You love it, don't you, princess?" He asked, but didn't give you time to answer as he gave you a hard spank on your ass, gaining a loud moan from you.

"Oh god, Harry." You moaned.

"I love it when you say my name. Say it again." He whispered on your ear, spanking you one more time. You felt your ass getting warmer and was sure that his big hand left a mark on you.

"Harry," You breathed, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. "Fuck me."

He pulled you towards the bed, you hit the back of your knees on the edge of the bed so you fell back, laying on the soft sheets.

He pulled your legs up and spread them, your pussy on full display before his eyes. He didn't waste a minute, his head got in between your thighs and he started sucking your pussy lips and all your pussy juices.

Cloud nine, you were there.

His tongue went up and down on your clit that got you to dig your fingers on his soft hair and eye roll back.

"Oh, god, yes!" You screamed repeating 'Yes' many times.

His eyes looked up at you, watching the dress as it was pulled up on your waist. He reached to get your breasts out of the dress, squeezing them and twisting the nipples to get them hard and nice for him as he was nibbing on your clit.

"That's so good, baby," You squirmed and mumbled something in a foreign language he thought was Italian or Spanish.

Slowly, he slid two fingers in your pussy, his mouth still sucking on your tiny clit. His fingers were fucking your hole deep inside, and so fast you could faint in pleasure.

The sound of his fingers fucking your wetness got him over the edge, he couldn't handle the pressure in his boxers so he let go of you and didn't pay attention to your whining when he pulled away.

"You're a bastard!" You whined, panting and kicked him slightly in his abdomen.

He glared at you, pulled a condom from the drawer of the nightstand next to him, ripped it open with his mouth. Your fingers ran on your clit to rub to get some pleasure.

He got his cock and balls out of the boxers, wrapped his dick in the condom, and slapped your hands away. And then you were taken by surprise with the light slap on your cheek that he gave you just when he entered your pussy hard.

"Holy shit!" You breathed.

"You're calling me a bastard, huh?" He glared at you as he was giving you slow but so fucking hard thrusts. "I'll fucking ruin you."

"Fuck yes! Ruin me, please." You screamed in pure pleasure, nails dugging deep in your spread thighs.

He grabbed you by the neck and made you look at where you both were connected, his forehead against yours.

"See that? This is where the bastard is, you little slut." He said, his other hand on your lower belly.

"Yes, Harry, yes, I'm sorry!" You breathed.

He gave you another small slap on the cheek as his thrusts became faster, his other hand still pulling your head to watch yourself getting fucked with his cock.

"Bet you are, princess." He said, between panting. He got his dick out, rubbed it between your pussy lips and then thrust in you again. He did that a couple of times. Your eyes rolled back a little, filled with pleasure.

You clenched around him as you were about to cum, but you couldn't say anything so you just kept calling his name at the top of your lungs.

"Shit! Do that again and I won't be able to control myself." He hissed at the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock. He fucked you faster as if it was the last thing he'd do in his life, giving low moans.

You bit your bottom lip, looked into his eyes and clenched again on him as you came from your high, losing control of your body.

"God yes!" You screamed, body shaking and with zero control your body pulled away from his cock halfway.

"Holy fuck!" He whined as he came, also, with zero control. He gave you a deep thrust as he was shooting his sperm inside the condom, holding onto you for dear life.

He let go of your neck, letting you fall on the bed, breasts going up and down as you panted. He straightened up and pulled out of your pussy, looking into your eyes.

"Bad pussy!" He said, giving your pussy a small slap.

You squinted a little then laughed, legs falling down.

"You dared me to clench and I did." You shrugged. He leaned in on you, hovering over you, catching your lips with his for a hard kiss.

"I love us in bed." He whispered.

"And I love being your slut." You winked.

--

All five of you were having fancy dinner and fancy wine. Although you were not a fan of fancy places, your friends and Harry made things more comfortable for you.

It had been so long since you had dated, not since your ex. You learned your lesson to not let any guy in, but something was different with Harry. Things were easy with him, you didn't have to care about everything in his presence. He took care of everything and you just went along, you turned off your mind when he was with you. You trusted him, and that was something you tried to deny.

Harry's hand on your thigh. He had a white shirt on that had black dots on it, his fingers were beautified with rings, especially the rings with his initials.

"Have any of you guys ever traveled anywhere?" Harry asked, sipping from his glass of fine wine.

"Hmm, let me think about it." You answered, taking a bite of your steak.

"I visited India and the maldives." Jessica answered, sipping from her glass of wine.

"I grew up in France, my father is originally french. But I didn't visit any other country." Noah said, shrugging.

"Oh my god! You speak french!" You squealed.

"Bien sur que oui!" Noah smiled widely.

"Je parle français aussi!" You squealed again, chatting with Noah in french.

Harry and Jessica's eyes went between you too as you went on and on with Noah in French. They both had that look, they didn't understand a word you said but they looked stunned anyways.

"Did you know she spoke French?" Harry asked, looking at you, his question was directed to Jessica who took another sip from her wine.

"No idea, she only told me she spoke Arabic and English."

"And Italian." He added.

"Okay, wait up, french fry." Jessica intervened in the conversation between you and Noah. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Why?" You gave a dorky smile.

"Because I just counted 5 languages." Harry answered.

"Five!" Jessica's mouth went open.

"Yeah, she sang in Spanish one time, she was fluent."

"Are you a spy? Your French was perfect. How many languages?" Noah smirked.

"Okay, okay, guys, I speak 8 languages." You said, looking proud of yourself.

"Get out of here!" Noah exclaimed, all of their faces not believing you.

"Arabic, English, Spanish, Italian, French, Swedish, Nubian, and last but not least German." You finished your glass by the end of the sentence.

"How in hell did you manage that?" Jessica asked.

"I had free time." You shrugged.

"Seriously?" Noah raised a brow at you.

"I was always good with languages, so I took my chances and learned languages from a young age." You got more comfortable on your seat, proud that you stunned them.

"And you're fluent in all of them?" Harry asked, giving a smile. He liked that you were so smart to the point that made you learn 8 languages.

"Of course not, I have an accent, but I know how to keep a conversation going."

"Imagine a girl that can moan in 8 languages." Noah smirked.

"Shut the hell up!" You coughed.

"Man's got a point, y/n." Harry smirked, his hand tightening on your thigh.

"Tell us more about you, Harry. What do you do for a living?" Jessica asked. She wanted to know more about him. Jessica spent nights, comforting you from your bad dreams, saw you at your worst, and that's why she felt the urge to protect you.

"Um, I'm a business man." He answered, touching the tip of his nose. You noticed that his body language said that he was trying to hide the truth.

"That's vague." Jessica raised a brow, not believing him.

"Harry doesn't like talking about his work too much." You intervened so Jessica would drop it. She took the hint and stopped.

"Fair enough, when did you come to America?" Noah asked, finishing his plate.

"A long time ago, I came here to work in our family business, my mother and sister are still in England."

"Do you see them often?" Jessica asked, trying to catch if he was a family man or just a guy that left his whole family behind.

"Actually, yeah. Sometimes they visit me, but mostly I'm the one doing all the visits. Gemma, my sister, is married and now she's pregnant so it'll become even harder for them to visit." He answered, truthfully. "What about you guys? Tell me about yourselves." Harry asked the three of them.

"I work as a general manager to a hardware company. Boring job, but I like it anyways. I have a degree in computer science." Noah answered.

"As for me, I thought of dancing for some time and then let it slide. I wasn't very good to begin with. Now I own and run a beauty salon." Jessica answered.

"That's actually impressive, guys." Harry said before his eyes looked at Angela who was looking at her plate, like she was not even listening. But she was. "What about you, Angela?"

"Ugh, um, there is nothing to say." She stutterd.

"Oh, come on!" You encouraged her.

She cleared her throat, "I dropped out of school when I had Elijah, his father didn't want anything to do with him and my parents kicked me out so I had to work. A friend recommended me to Sam, Y/n's friend. And I've been working with her ever since she started dancing."

"That is also impressive. If I were you, I wouldn't be able to handle all of this." You gave her a warm smile.

"True, not everyone can take responsibility like you did." Harry nodded and all of them nodded along. His eyes looked at you, arching an eyebrow, "What about you, Rapunzel?"

"I have a degree in accounting."

"Wow, you never told me that." Harry smiled, loving knowing more information about you. "What else?"

"I had a few small jobs, worked as an accountant for a while, then a content specialist and that was when I came to America." You continued. "Now, and that's news to all of you, I'm thinking of opening my own club."

"What!?" Jessica's eyes widened in happiness and surprise.

"Really? That's awesome, y/n." Noah smiled and gave you a high five across the table.

"How come you never told me? We're together almost every day." Harry asked you, looking happy as ever.

"I had to get things together first, Sam is searching for a place to draw traffic. I plan on making it different, oriental style." You smiled, happy that you were taking right steps in your career.

"How oriental?" Harry asked.

"It will look like clubs in the middle east. You'll see, you're gonna love it." As soon as you finished your sentence, Harry brought you closer to kiss your temple.

"I'm so proud of you, y/n." He kissed your cheek.

"Ugh, get a room." Noah rolled his eyes.

"I'm so happy for you, ahhhh!" Jessica squealed, bringing you in for a hug.

Maybe you decided not to notice, but Jessica when she pulled away from the hug, noticed that Angela was the only one that didn't have an expression on her face nor said a single word of congratulations.

--

The trip was so fun, you got to spend a lot of time with Harry, got to know him better and every time he was present you felt happy.

All the things you refused to see at the beginning, you saw then. His emerald green eyes that you never cared about, were making you dig deep into them, thinking how a pair of eyes could make your heart race. His lips made you want to kiss them all the time, his smile meant that everything was fine. The world felt peaceful just because he smiled at you, the moon felt larger if he looked at it, the sun felt brighter just because its rays hit his skin, and the air felt thinner just because he breathed it.

You never fell in love with someone's eyes, lips, skin, body and soul like you did with Harry's.

In Harry's point of view...

And as for him. If he could write poems, he'd write poems about her till the end of time. She could ask for or demand a star from the sky, even if it was impossible, he would bring one down for her.

To him, he could catch her voice among a thousand voices, like a million violin playing together, no poems could describe it. He wanted her to own him, catch him, and take him wherever, however she wanted. With her, he felt freedom, he was free of everything, and that freedom made him fall in love with her.

Patience was not his best quality, the pain he felt in everything in his life, the burdens, and every agony he faced in his life could not stop him from falling in love with her.

As if life was a feather flying with the wind, he felt with her. Sometimes, he wished that she could stop being herself so he wouldn't fall that hard. Womanizer, he was, but not anymore. She made herself at home in his heart, there was no place for anyone but her.

The way she smiled, swayed, laughed lightly or hard, flicked her hair, and every time he felt her touch, brought him down on his knees. On his mind, he thought, she was so soft, she could fall in a cup of milk and it would still be as clear.

If she was not with him, she was still present. If he saw her standing away, she was still present. She became his soul, he could not let her go. She stayed at his heart, and he locked it behind her.

He fell in love.

--

It was the last day of the trip, you packed your stuff and decided to take some drinks with Harry at the hotel's bar. You wore a floral short dress, the anklet he bought you wore around your skin as if it was a part of him touching you. He was in green shorts and white shirt that was half buttoned.

You both took a seat at the bar and just then he asked you, "What do you want, love?"

"A martini, please." You smiled at him.

He motioned to the bartender who came to take your order, "Martini and one neat whiskey." Harry said to the bartender who nodded.

"Are you still going to take the next week off?" He asked you, you both facing each other.

"Yeah, I am so tired. I need to have some time off, my body is killing me." You nodded.

"If so, why don't you stay at my mansion next week?" He asked before the bartender brought you your drinks.

"Thank you." You thanked the bartender. "I don't know, Harry."

"Why? Bring some stuff and stay with me, I love having you around." He said, truthfully, sipping his whiskey.

"I think we can do that after I give you my surprise. To see if you will still want me to stay with you." You said, nervously, holding your glass.

"Oh, what surprise?"

"I hope it's a good one." You nodded your head to something behind Harry.

His eyebrows were furrowed, he didn't understand what you wanted so you nodded at something behind him again. He turned his head only to see Michael's face, standing behind him. He took a seat next to Harry, and he looked so nervous and only gave a hint of a smile.

"Hell no." Harry said, blantly.

--

What do you think so far?

[tofulikesmala]

Genshin men with a kairi type reader

Notes: this was a request that I got but I accidentally deleted it because I thought it would be saved as a draft and it didn’t so I wrote halfway and accidentally deleted it. If I remember correctly it was 🦇🩷 anon? Anyways I hope you find this post, I thank you for being my first requester and I apologise for writing this late. I would also like to mention that I don’t know who the fuck kairi is so I had to do some research, and I apologise if she’s ooc. And I’m gonna say I don’t know that much about wriothesley so it’s kinda short

Who?: alhaitham, Xiao, Neuvillette, Wriothesley (if there was anyone I forgot, please do message me again so I could write!

genre: fluff (platonic)

reader is around 14-16

Xiao

Well, I don’t know how the frikity frack how you managed to get this guy to give a fuck about you but let’s say you do. Well, he would be passive aggressive. Like example it rains, you are drenched because you forgot to bring an umbrella, so you call out his name. Xi- he’s there. You can practically hear him roll his eyes and sighing internally as he sees you drenched. He pulls you towards him as he mutters foolish mortal under his breath as he teleports you to wangshu inn with him. And with a bit of magic once you arrive there he throws a towel on your face and leaves. But hey he cares! When he discovers your dairy and doodles he scoffs as he asks you what was the purpose of it. You smile gently at him as you explain your purpose. But as someone who has lived so long, of course he doesn’t understand. He would act as if he doesn’t care, but expect to find your dairy missing because he’s gonna read everything💀. Onto another topic. Somehow…. He’s attracted to your liveliness. How energetic you are, and how even though you’re weaker at him, your eyes would be filled with determination to keep him safe as well. All in all, Xiao cherishes you deep inside.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham well….is probably worse than Xiao. In my opinion. But he’s much more true in showing his protective side, after all he sees you as a little sibling. Whenever danger arises, he would be those kind of guy to put a protective arm around you, shielding you from any harm. He admires your courage when he sees you wanting to fight, not wanting him to get hurt as well. But he probably dismisses it as stupidity instead. Now… onto him discovering your dairy and doodles

Alhaitham walks into your room, realizing you’re not there. He sits on your bed, waiting for you to come. He notices something in the corner of his eye. He turns his head slightly as he sees a book opened lying face down on the bed. He picks it up as he wonders “what do we have here” he reads it, to find out it was your dairy, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle when he saw your cute doodles. When you opened the door, your face flushed as you saw alhaitham reading your dairy. Looking at you, alhaitham places the book back down and says “pardon me, but the curiosity got the better of me”

Neuvillette

This man would probably be the one who shows the most protectiveness out of all. After losing two good friends, he intends to lose none more. He always brushes you aside when you want to fight along side him. Your beautiful, cheerful and energetic nature just brightens up his day. He sees you as a friend, a young child who shouldn’t see the dangers of the world yet. Someone he must protect. He’s never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you 😔. Now, where he discovers the dairy and doodles

I’m lazy so let’s say he found it by chance. He gently flips through the pages, smiling as he sees your cute doodles on your dairy. He reads through your everyday life. Warmth filled his heart as he decides, that’s he’s going to make your life much more interesting. As he sees you, he smiles warmly and says “ah, I have invaded your privacy, have I not? I would like to apologise.” He stands up, looking down on you (because we’re short :( ) “Shall we go out for a walk?”

Wriothesley

Well, he grew up in an orphanage, he’s good with kids. Meaning he’s good with you. He’d be that one really caring brother, but he can be such a tease sometimes. With both of your personalities, you guys would click and get along really well💀👍

Let’s just say y’all are talking in your room and he sees your dairy. “Oooo what do we have here?” He grins as he picks up the dairy. Your face turns to one of panic as you tried to take it away from him, only to have his strong arms push away your head gently as he reads it out “Today I blablablablabla” only to leave your faces flushed with embarrassment as he continued to read your dairy. His eyes widen as he chances upon a doodle of him. “Aww this is so cute” as he ruffles your hair. Your groan at him. “Can I have it back already?” He shuts the book with a satisfying thud as he stands up, the book still in his hands. “Nope! I’m gonna read it all!” He smirks at you before exiting the room.

[sporesgalaxy]

Oh boy! Wanna know what the Iran-Contra affair was, in summary? It was a fucking mess!

(From my quick cursory look the wiki page is fine but reminder I'm being lazy and irresponsible by having this be my only source. Look up more stuff about it, look at the wikipedia sources, etc. I originally learned about this in a Class)

so, as briefly as I can explain the basics:

from 1985-1987 the Raegan administration

secretly broke an arms embargo on Iran that the Raegan administration was outwardly really vocal about supposedly supporting

tried and failed to trade weapons for hostages in Iran. Just kept giving Iran weapons for money even when they would not release agreed-upon hostages. Breaching the arms embargo every time.

The money the Raegan administration got from Iran was used to keep funding & training the Contras, a Nicaraguan right-wing anti-socialist revolutionary group. (The U.S. backed a bunch of right-wing political groups in central and south america around this time, for fear of Communism/Socialism)

The money from Iran was used for this because Congress prohibited further appropriation of funds to back the Contras. With, like, the intention of getting the U.S. to NOT back the Contras anymore. But Raegan's guy really wanted to keep funding them. So they did this whole insane scam.

And after all this got out, George H.W. Bush pardoned everyone convicted once he became president. So they just Did All That Shit with No Consequences To Them.

[yeenybeanies]

Wardens

also been a while since i posted this preview lmao. repost from my patreon!! so i saw this image a long while ago, & it's lived rent free in my brain ever since. & now the inspiration from that image is here in words. mind, the size difference isn't as extreme as depicted there, but the big fella's still 358ft tall 👀💦 OCs | ivy of paesaal & the warden 3,475 words mentions of death & vomiting thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!! patreon ✨ ko-fi

There were many words for the giant beings. Sentinels. Guardians. Watchers. Keepers. Most called them Wardens. They were gargantuan, towering beings, standing taller than most buildings. They wore armor like that of a knight, made of an unknown metal that could not be dirtied, that no conventional weapon could pierce or scratch. What they looked like underneath that armor, no one knew. A brave few had tried to slip in through the gaps, hungry for knowledge that seemed so within reach, but there were no gaps to be found. Not even the helmets far above, where there were slots, presumably for the beings to see through, granted any entry. Some invisible barrier kept even the light from penetrating into that armor.

Be it legend or history, it was said that the Wardens were gifts from the Gods, sent to protect the land and its people from otherworldly threats. They were mighty, unbreakable warriors, able to repel the worst evils any realm could produce.

Or so it was said.

No one could remember a time when any ungodly monsters ever descended upon the land. No one could remember the Wardens ever waking from their slumber to fight and defend. No one could even remember the last time a Warden moved. Believers claimed that they were simply dormant, and only came to life when truly needed. Nay-sayers thought the whole tale was a crock of shit, that they were nothing more than huge, decorative statues that royals used as symbols of their egos.

It was true that royalty in Palendra regarded the Wardens highly. Monarchs of the past few centuries liked to claim the Wardens’ as their own, though they had no means of actually harnessing their would-be power. Royal crests and seals depicted the Wardens, and the royal guard donned shining armor styled after them.

One such guard in Warden armor sighed loudly. He stood at attention as he was supposed to, but there was a laziness to his posture.

“Princess Ivy,” he said, doing his best to temper the exasperation in his voice, “there are storm clouds gathering from the south. We should head inside before they let out.”

Seated on the wall against a stone pillar, Ivy continued with her charcoal, scraping it across the parchment in her book. She regarded the new strokes for a moment, then smudged at them with her blackened fingers.

“Princess,” the guard said, sounding more annoyed. “Princess.”

Ivy rolled her head back and groaned. “Ugh. Golrin, you’re interrupting my process! If you have to go take a piss so badly, then by all means! You’re dismissed!”

Though his face was hidden under his helmet, she could tell that Golrin was rolling his eyes at her. He’d been her personal guard for nearly ten years now, almost half of her life; she knew how to read him through his armor.

“Oh, pardon my interruption, Your Highness,” he said, speaking much less formally than he would had they not been alone. Ivy liked it better when he talked to her like this. All of those fake, flowery manners that people were supposed to use around her got so exhausting. Golrin continued, “Much as I would love to do just that, I’m afraid your parents would have me drawn and quartered if I dared to let you out of my sight. Dismissed or otherwise.”

Ivy snapped her book shut, the charcoal piece held between the pages, and slid off of the wall. She tucked the book under her arm, and gestured to the towering metal form behind her. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me while he’s around. You can go!”

Golrin snorted. He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head up, regarding the Warden. Where they stood, on one of the highest rooftops of the castle, they only just barely reached the middle of its chest plate.

“You don’t actually believe that,” he said. “That Warden’s never moved before. And it certainly isn’t going to move for you if you decide to take a tumble over the wall.”

Ivy looked over her shoulder at the Warden, a gentle smile on her lips. No, she didn’t actually believe that the Wardens were guardians of royalty. But she did take comfort in this one’s vigil. Whether they were actually ancient protectors or not, it made her feel better to at least pretend like someone was watching over them.

She’d spent countless hours up on these rooftops over her lifetime. She liked to talk to the Warden sometimes. She didn’t feel like a princess when talking to it, and it would listen to her without judgment—at least, none that she could perceive. Over the years, it had heard many a rant from the Princess, and confessions she dared not tell another soul—not even Golrin, nor her parents. In a sense, the Warden knew her better than anyone else did.

A small stone bounced against the Warden’s armor with a sharp ping, making Ivy jump. She whirled around to face Golrin again, who remained at attention, though he stood properly now. She glanced down at his feet, noting a gap in the cobble that looked suspiciously like it had just housed a stone a moment before.

“That was rude,” she said. “What did he ever do to you?”

“Not a damn thing,” Golrin replied. “That’s the problem. That thing’s nothing but a shiny waste of space.”

Ivy shot an apologetic look to the Warden, then turned a sour face to Golrin. “We’re lucky to have a Warden here. There aren’t that many of them in Palendra, you know.”

Golrin shrugged. Ivy could picture his face, brows raised and lips pressed together, like he couldn’t care less. He was allowed to feel how he did about the Wardens—after all, no one really knew where they’d come from or what they did—but she didn’t understand how he could look at one and not feel the same awe she did.

“Princess, those clouds are right over us,” he said, changing the subject. “I insist we get inside. It’s looking like it’s going to be a nasty storm.”

The sky was growing noticeably darker, Ivy couldn’t deny. The wind was picking up too. She looked up to the clouds in question. They roiled angrily in the skies, like the heavens themself had a grudge against the land. The first drop broke free, splashing down right in the center of her forehead. She blinked in surprise, lashes catching some of the smaller droplets. Golrin reached for her wrist, armored fingers wrapping fully around it, and gently tugged. She took two steps to follow him, but paused when movement caught her eye. Her head snapped back up to the Warden. A sharp gasp left her, her free hand dropping her book to cover her mouth.

The Warden looked different. Its head was turned, tipped upwards towards the clouds.

“Golrin—the Warden! It moved—!”

An explosion of green light shot down from the clouds, striking the land with a force so violent that it shook the tower Ivy and Golrin stood upon. It tossed them to the floor and knocked the air from their lungs. Ivy could feel herself screaming, but couldn’t hear over the new ringing in her ears. She curled in on herself, knees to her chest, arms over her head, book forgotten. Golrin threw himself over her, shielding her further from—from whatever madness was happening.

When the shaking stopped, Golrin wasted no time. He was on his feet in an instant, dragging Ivy up with him. He half-carried her to the door, into the spiral stairway down the tower. She stumbled down the first few steps, her heart pounding in her chest. A look through one of the windows made it stop altogether, though. Her whole body went rigid and numb, frozen in place.

“Princess! You need to—” Golrin started to shout at her, but he too froze when he saw what she saw.

In the explosion’s crater, opposite of the Warden, stood another titan-sized being. It wore armor not unlike the Warden’s, but it was much more jagged and asymmetrical. The being was hunched over, its arms hanging limply, its head moving left and right in unnatural, jerky movements. A sound—what could only be described as a guttural growl—rumbled from somewhere deep within the being. It rattled Ivy’s bones, made her teeth chatter. Seeing, hearing, witnessing this creature struck a fear deep within her that she’d never experienced before. That thing… was no Warden. It was something else. Something sinister. Dangerous.

Golrin gave her a rough shove, snapping Ivy from her trance. “Keep moving!” he shouted, pushing her along. With her blood flowing again, the princess sprinted down the stairs as quickly as she could, her guard hot on her heels. By the time they were nearly halfway down the tower, she heard—no, felt—movement beyond the stone walls. She caught a glimpse outside, just a moment’s look, to see the new titan tackle the Warden. The crash of their metals, louder than any thunder, brought another ring to her ears. The Warden and the intruder fell to the ground only feet away from their tower, the impact creating another wave of tremors. Golrin pushed her again, hard enough this time to send her tumbling down the stairs until she collided  with the curve of the wall. She cried out, but her pained wail quickly turned to one of horror and anguish. Just as she looked back to Golrin, a massive, metal-clad fist tore through the stone like it was paper. The entire upper section of the tower fell away, like a stack of toy blocks being knocked over by a careless toddler. Golrin was there one second, and then he wasn’t. Ivy shrieked his name, her throat already raw.

Another jolt shook the tower—an impact from the wrestling titans at another wing of the castle. More rubble rained down around Ivy, spurring her into a half-stumble half-sprint down the stairs.

Distant screams reached her ears over the cacophonous clashing of metal & brick. The thought of people getting crushed under the titans made Ivy’s stomach roil. It was a miracle in and of itself that she hadn’t yet vomited.

Her shoes hit the ground floor tile, where her legs gave out under her. Ivy collapsed to her hands and knees, head bowed, lungs straining.

Run. Keep running. Her brain shouted, but her limbs wouldn’t move.

Golrin was gone. Where were her parents? The castle staff? The citizens? How many were d—

Her stomach lurched painfully. Ivy’s shoulders shook as she heaved, the contents of her gut spilling out through mouth and nose onto the floor. She was going to die here. The tower was going to fall on her, or she’d get caught underneath a titan, and all she could do is sit here and throw up until it happened.

That wasn’t how she wanted to go. Ivy balled her hands into fists and spat out the last of the bile in her mouth. If she was going to die, it wasn’t going to be in a pool of her own vomit. Despite the wobble in her knees, she pushed herself to her feet, and ran. She shoved the tower door open with her shoulder, and stumbled out onto the road, where she could once again see the Warden and the intruder clashing. The intruder wailed on the Warden viciously with punches, kicks, headbutts—any part of its body it could strike with. The Warden held a defensive stance, arms up, deflecting and dodging when it could. Whenever it did strike out, the intruder slipped out of the way. Clearly it was the faster of the two titans.

Ivy felt like she couldn’t breathe. Seeing the Warden not only move, but fight, filled her with an emotion she couldn’t place. All her life, she’d known the Warden to be silent and still. But now, seeing it fight with another otherworldly being, there was no doubt in her mind that it really was a godly warrior sent from the heavens.

But where had the intruder come from? And why was it here? Why now?

The intruder tossed its head back and let out a piercing shriek. Ivy’s hands flew to her ears, and her knees buckled under her. She may have screamed, but she couldn’t be sure; she couldn’t hear anything over the horrible noise. It felt like every cell in her body, every molecule, was being shaken. Violently. Blood sprang from her nose and her ears, dripping down onto the ground beneath her. She felt like her brain was going to burst inside her skull, and the rest of her organs soon after.

She felt more than she heard the noise stop. For several seconds, Ivy remained curled in on herself, clutching her head between her hands. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move.

A crash shook the air from somewhere up above. Ivy forced her eyes open to see the Warden stumble, reeling from the intruder’s assault. It stepped backward, its massive boot sailing over Ivy’s head. She felt herself scream as the Warden started to fall, and thrusted her hands upward, as if she alone could prevent the tower of metal from crushing her flat. Its knee slammed into the ground a few yards from her, and then its fist, both stirring up dust and debris. Once the dust settled, the princess found herself staring up at the Warden, and it staring right back down at her. She couldn’t see any features through the openings in its helmet, but she knew in her heart that it could see her—that it was aware of her. Her blood turned to ice.

For several long moments, neither of them moved.

Then a bright flash of green light grabbed both of their attentions. The intruder produced another horrible shriek—one Ivy could no longer hear through the blood in her ears. The seams in its armor started to glow and flicker with a ghastly, green flame that steadily grew brighter. More intense.

The Warden looked back to Ivy, and she to it. “You’re supposed to protect us!” She yelled. It was surreal to speak and not hear her own voice, but she continued, “Get up! You have to get up!”

It had to get up! It had to get up and fight that—that thing! That monster!

The Warden stole another glance at the intruder, now almost fully engulfed in flames. Its face stayed hidden—if it even had a face—but she thought she could see determination surge in its body language.

Its hand moved. To Ivy’s horror, the Warden’s hand moved towards her. Fingers extended, palm open.

It was going to crush her.

She threw her hands over her head, screaming so loudly, so hard, that she was sure her throat was bleeding by now. The light vanished, blotted out by the Warden’s hand. Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, and waited for the violent end to take her.

Dizziness overcame her. In the last moments, her consciousness faded.

The hand pressed into the ground, then its fingers curled in, leaving deep gouges in the dirt.

The intruder let out one last shriek before it exploded into a shockwave of green. The Warden turned its back to the blast and braced as flames swelled around it, incinerating everything.

Ivy breathed in with a start. She gasped for air, and pawed at her throat as if she were being choked. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t—

No, that wasn’t right. She could see herself. She held up a hand and inspected it. It looked as if she were standing in the midday sun, but there was nothing around her but blackness.

She realized too that she wasn’t actually standing, nor was she lying down. It felt almost like she was suspended in water, or floating in the air.

Was this a dream? It had to be a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare. Or… or the afterlife. Ivy grimaced. She was dead. She had to be. The Warden… the Warden killed her!

“That bastard hunk of—ah!” She binked, and gingerly touched the lobe of her ear. She could hear! There was no blood crusted on her skin, either, nor on her clothes. In fact, she was completely clean.

This had to be the afterlife.

But… why was it so dark? And empty?

Would Golrin be here…?

Nervously, Ivy called out. “Hello…?” No response. “Um. Hello…? Golrin? Is anybody here? I can’t see anything. Hello? Hey—!” Her body lurched, like it was being lifted. She flailed her limbs, trying to fight off whatever had ahold of her, but there were no hands, no ropes, no chains—nothing tethered to her. “Hey! What are you—let me go!”

A low, rumbling noise echoed all around her, stilling her movements. It almost sounded like the noise that the intruder had made, but somehow… gentler. Kinder. Ivy studied the darkness, and listened until the echoes faded. She couldn’t see anyone, but she could swear that she felt a presence nearby.

“Where are you? Where am I?”

The rumble sounded again, this time with softer, lighter notes interlaced. Ivy’s brows furrowed. There was something to the sound. It wasn’t a voice, per se, nor were there any words, but there was something in it that she could understand.

“You’re… ‘sorry’?” She said. There was sorrow in the rumble, and emotions in her head that did not belong to her. “Are you… talking to me? Who are you? Why can’t I see you?”

Far up above, Ivy noticed light pouring in through what looked to be several tall openings. Windows, perhaps. As the force carrying her brought her nearer, she shielded her eyes until they adjusted to the brightness beyond. Once she could look, she leaned forward to peer through one of the openings.

And her jaw dropped.

From somewhere high up, she looked down upon the charred remains of a kingdom—her kingdom. The earth was blackened, everything reduced to ash and dust. Much of the fire was gone now, though she could still see a few patches of burning green on piles of rubble. At the center of the explosion, there were charred pieces of shrapnel and debris. Remains of the intruder?

Again the… chamber rumbled.

“I… I’m having trouble understanding. Are you saying that I’m alone? What does that mean? Where am I?”

The view outside swung to the left, then to the right, like whatever this place was was mounted on a swivel.

Rumble.

Ivy shook her head. “What do you mean ‘you’ll protect me’? Please, I don’t understand! Let me out of here!”

Rumble.

“I don’t care that it’s not safe! I don’t feel safe here!” She tried her luck with flailing again, to no avail. “I am Ivy of Paesaal, Princess of Palendra! You will let me out of here immediately!”

Suddenly, Ivy was pulled down. The windows vanished, leaving her blind once more. She shrieked and thrashed, kicked and clawed at nothing. So busy was she in her frenzy that she failed to notice when her feet touched solid ground, and the sensation of being suspended left her. Only when she spotted cracks of light in long, straight lines overhead did she realize that she was somewhere else. And she could see! At least a little bit. The room—if it could be called that; it was far too cramped to be a proper room—around her looked like it was made of metal. The walls were unusual, like segmented pillars that curled over her. The floor was a mesh-like material.

The pillars jolted with a soft groan, startling Ivy. She fell onto her backside as they shifted, and slowly unfurled, revealing the ash-filled sky beyond.

One, two, three, four pillars… and a fifth one off to the side… Ivy glanced down at her hands, then back at the pillars. The four had three segments, and the fifth only two… just like…

Ivy whipped her head around, and felt her heart leap into her throat.

She was in the Warden’s hand, high above the kingdom—or what remained of it. The Warden stared down at her, watching her through the black openings in its helmet.

Openings that looked like the windows she’d been looking through only moments before…

By the Gods… had she been inside the Warden’s head?

The Warden rumbled.

“There’s… no one else…” she echoed. And it was sorry. Through her fear and adrenaline, the princess felt another surge of anguish. Moisture welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her now cleaned cheeks. She crawled nearer to the edge of the Warden’s expansive palm and peered over, her shaking hands pressed to its thumb for balance. Just as she saw before, there was nothing but ash down below. All of the buildings, statues, roads—everything was gone.

“No… No, there… there has to be someone else…”

[missvelvetsstuff]

Miss Velvet

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Y/N is a disabled equestrian and therapeutic riding instructor who helps Tony Stark with his PTSD after returning from Titan. When the Avengers bring everyone back he hires her to work with Avengers and SHIELD hires her as therapist and teaching basic riding skills because you never know when a horse will be the best mode of transportation.

Bucky Barnes is a manwhore who is enjoying his freedom for the first time in decades and pays no mind to y/n when she meets the team because he learned to ride from Hydra and too is busy pursuing his next conquest.

Post Endgame but everybody survived, because I said so. And Steve helped get Sharon Carter pardoned so they are together.

Chapter 11

Notes: I'm reposting this because the link is broken on the Masterlist for this story and I couldn't find the original post.

Velvets alarm went off and she groaned but when she tried to get up something was stopping her. Waking up a bit more she realized it was a metal arm holding her down.

"Bucky, honey, I have to get up and feed. So much to do today before Tony's Xmas Eve gathering tonite."

Bucky grumbled "No, no feed, no party things, sleep" and pulled her flush against him.

Velvet grimaced "But, Baby, it's Christmas Eve. We can sleep in a few days. I have to bake cookies and make fudge. It's tradition."

"How is it tradition when this is your first Christmas with the team?" Bucky mumbled.

Velvet whined "Because, it's what I do. My mom and I always baked goodies to take to work and school. She's gone but I must bake."

"Just five more minutes, Doll" Bucky tried to negotiate.

"Lazy damn supersoldier" Velvet smacked him on his right shoulder.

"Demanding woman" Bucky grunted

"And I'm all yours" Velvet grinned. "Come on! We have to get up. Unless you want to make me do all that work by myself" she pouted

"Fine! I'm up. Come take a shower with me."

"Sergeant Barnes! We don't have time for such activities. Get up!"

Once they finally got moving they found that Bobby had already taken care of the horses so headed back to the house for breakfast. Velvet started organizing the ingredients and dishes she needed to bake after turning on holiday music.

"Velvet, Doll. It's almost time to get going. Are you almost ready?" Bucky tapped on her bedroom door.

'What do you think Sarge? Do I look acceptable?'

Velvet walked out in a purple cocktail dress with black lace overlay, her hair down in the back and make-up simple. Bucky stared with his mouth open, his black suit with a pocket square that matched the color of her dress. His brain misfiring when he tried to speak so he ended up just grunting.

Velvet laughed "I'll take that as a yes. You look pretty drool worthy yourself."

Bucky shook his head "You just keep getting prettier every time I look at you."

"Such a charmer" Velvet blushed

"Shall we go?" Bucky offered his arm "Everything is in the car"

The compound was very festive with lights, trees, tinsel and red bows & ornaments everywhere. The whole team was in the ballroom, dressed to the nines and still sober enough to seem respectable but it was early. There were tables with finger foods and treats along one wall and a 20ft tree with presents under and around it. Holiday music was playing and everyone was excited for the evening.

After dinner, everyone was a little drunk and some were dancing for a little while until most were sitting on the huge sectional that was around the tree to make the gift exchange easier.

Everyone had their gift except Velvet until Tony handed her an envelope. Her brow crinkled.

"What's this Tony? The deed to my stable?" She joked.

"Not today. This is a Christmas slash birthday gift since your day is the 26th" he grinned

Velvet rolled her eyes "Wow, didn't expect a billionaire to need to combine gifts like my friends in high school did."

Tony scoffed "Just open it and take a look."

Velvet opened the envelope and read the paper inside, her eyes growing wider as she finished. "Are you for real, Tony?"

"Of course. I mean it was your boyfriends idea but yeah. Wanna tell the rest of the class?"

Velvet looks up at everyone "According to this, after brunch tomorrow we are all headed out on a chartered 747 to Disneyland until January 3rd. Staying in the special suites in the Disneyland hotel. There's the Fantasy Suite, Mickey's Penthouse, Pirates of the Carribean, Adventureland and Big Thunder. Plus my bday dinner at The Blue Bayou restaurant in the Pirates ride."

Everyone cheers and Sam's nephews & Clints kids start screaming "Disneyland! Disneyland! Disneyland!"

Velvet can barely contain herself "It's been years since I've been but my family used to go every year. Perk of growing up in So Cal. Y'all are gonna love it."

Tony claps "Alright kids, let's get some shut eye so Santa comes for the kids and we take off after brunch so get packed."

Velvet barely sleeps that nite, Disneyland holds so many special memories with friends and family, from her childhood.

After a hectic morning and brunch everyone heads to the airport, chatting excitedly about this trip.

Velvet wakes up on her 30th bday in one of the bedrooms of Mickeys Penthouse because Bucky is singing Happy Birthday with a huge cupcake with a candle lit. Velvet blows it out and kisses Bucky long and hard.

"Do we have to be anywhere this morning?" She asks Bucky.

"Yes, you and your lady friends are going to the spa at the Grand Californian for massages and other girly stuff today. We are all meeting at the castle at 7 for a group picture before dinner."

Velvet's phone rings "Oh, excuse my public needs me" and answers to hear a very off key rendition of Happy Birthday.

"Velvet!" Nat yells "Wake up, we have pampering to do"

The girls have a blast being pampered and drinking a whole lot of mimosas. Once they are done they head back to their rooms to get ready for dinner. Velvet has an off the shoulder, purple maxi dress and low heels.

"How do I look?"

"Like dessert" Bucky growls "Here, I have your bday present" and he puts an amethyst heart necklace on her.

"Oh, Buck, it's beautiful" She sighs

"Yeah, almost as beautiful as you. Now lets get going before we're late"

They meet the team at the castle and spend 10 minutes being posed by a photographer before he gets the shot he wants. Then all the families and couples take individual shots.

The theme from Beauty and the Beast Tale as Old as Time'(Angela Lansbury NOT Celine Dion) starts coming thru speakers all over Main Street, when Velvet and Bucky are the last couple to pose and when she looks over at him, he's on one knee. She looks around and everyone is watching them.

Bucky takes her hand "I know we've only been together for 5 months but I believe that when it's right, you know. Nothing in my life has ever felt so right.

Y/N, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Holding an amethyst engagement ring he looks at her with all the love he has.

Velvet starts crying and nodding her head "Yes. YES!" Is all she can get out. Bucky slides the ring onto her finger where it fits perfectly. She hugs and kisses him, speechless and so happy.

Applause breaks out, too much to be just the team and when Velvet and Bucky look around there are hundreds of spectators clapping and whooping for the happy couple.

The group heads to New Orleans Square but passes the entrance to Blue Bayou and Velvet speaks up "Tony, we passed the restaurant" but he shakes his head.

"Another little surprise, we are dining in Club 33 this evening"

"Oh my God Tony, I don't know what to say" Velvet tears up

"When you figure it out text me" Tony quips

After a wonderful meal the group gets ready to leave and Velvet groans "Buck, honey. Imma need you to carry me back to the hotel"

Bucky smiles, "Don't worry it's not far" and leads her up a set of stairs.

"Where are we going?" She asks, looking around

"You crazy kids are sleeping in Walt's Dream Suite tonite. Try not to scare the janitorial staff." Tony answers

The team comes up for drinks on the balcony so they can all watch Fantasmic!

Looking at her ring, Velvet sighs

"I can't imagine a better day. Can we get married here? Ooh, Tony do you know Steve Perry? Maybe he could sing at the wedding."

Bucky speaks up "You hear my girl, Stark? You're paying for the wedding too, right?"

[canirove]

Nayef Aguerd Imagine | three

Author’s note: People on Wattpad keep asking me to write more about him, and the other day I read this combo between @yoursselo and @mountttmase and thought, oh, that could be a nice imagine! So all credit for this goes to them 🥰 I basically just added some context and a bit of dialogue. Hope you still like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

“Thank you for coming to pick me up from work today, Nayef.”

“You’re welcome” he smiles as he opens the door of our apartment. 

“Though you didn't have to, you know? You must be exhausted after this week's training.”

“I could say the same about you after the long shifts you've had this week” he says. 

“Yeah… We both have been quite busy” I say, letting myself fall on our sofa. 

“We have” he sighs, sitting next to me and lying down, resting his head on my lap while I run my fingers through his hair. “I've barely seen you, and I've missed you so much.”

“Same.”

“We should probably make the most of the free time we are going to have during the next couple of days, but I seriously can't move a finger” Nayef says.

“Same” I say again. “I for example really need a shower, but I'm so comfortable sitting here…”

“I could also do with a shower.”

“Didn't you take one after training?”

“I skipped it to go pick you up.”

“Oh, great. So we both stink” I chuckle.

“Yep” he replies. “Maybe we could take a bath together.”

“We don't own a bathtub, Nayef.”

“But we do have a shower” he says, getting up from my lap. “We could take one together.”

“I'm too tired for shower sex.”

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Sure” I snort.

“I mean, maybe a bit” he says with a cheeky smile. “But we both are so tired, that I was thinking about a relaxing shower. We can light some candles, put on some music, you wash my hair, I was yours… those things.”

“And we could use that set of towels your mum got us for Christmas, the expensive one.”

“And then wear our cozy dressing gowns and come back here and cuddle while watching a movie.”

“And maybe order some pizza?” I ask him.

“And order some pizza too” he smiles.

“Ok, then let's do it” I say, standing up. “You get the candles, I go look for the towels.”

“And the music?”

“I am obviously in charge of that.”

“Of course you are” he chuckles.

“C'mon, let's do it before we get too lazy” I say, taking his hand and trying to lift him up from the sofa.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.”

“Nayef!” I laugh when he stands up with a jump and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer towards him. 

“I love you. You know that, don't you?”

“I do” I smile. “But c’mon.”

“Fine” he sighs before following me, taking advantage of walking behind me to hug me again and kiss my neck, making me giggle like an idiot.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Your hair is so soft…”

“Uhm.”

“Simply beautiful.”

“Uhm” I repeat.

“Are you listening to anything I'm saying?” Nayef chuckles.

“I am. But I'm also focusing on the way you are running your fingers through my hair and on how you are massaging my scalp. It feels like one of those treatments they give you at fancy hairdressers.”

“What?” he laughs.

“Like, I knew you know how to use your fingers, but dear lord.”

“I beg your pardon?” he laughs again. “This was supposed to be a cute and relaxing shower.”

“And it is. It's not my fault you are twisting my comment about your fingers.”

“Because you definitely weren't implying anything sexual, were you?”

“Nope.”

“Liar” he says in my ear before turning on the water and rinsing my hair with the same care from earlier. “Oh, this song…” Nayef says once he is done.

“Our song” I smile.

“Did you pick it on purpose?” he says, hugging me from behind like he had done earlier.

“Yes and no.”

“What?” he says as he starts rocking us from side to side, my hands resting on his arms. 

“Since this was supposed to be a romantic and relaxing shower, I chose my romantic playlist, the one that is all songs that remind me of you or of moments I've lived with you.”

“Cute” he says, kissing my shoulder while we keep dancing. If you can call dancing to what we are doing, and inside a shower.

“But, I wasn't expecting to get to listen to it while we were here. I just let the shuffle do its work.”

“Well, it is doing it perfectly” he says before starting to sing in my ear while we still move, a stupid smile on my face. 

“What about this one? Do you remember it?” I say, moving on his arms to face him once the song ends and the next one starts.

“Of course I do” Nayef smiles. “It's the song that was playing the first time we kissed. You looked so beautiful that night” he says, caressing my cheek.

“You, on the other hand, looked so hot” I smirk, moving my hands up and down his back, my fingers following the shape of his muscles.

“I always look hot” he smirks, making me laugh. “And I think it was around this part of the song when I kissed you, wasn't it?”

“Yep. When the chorus start.”

“Then I guess I'll have to kiss you again.”

“You…” should. But I'm not able to finish my sentence, his kips finding mine. 

And like that night, his kiss is the softest one, one that makes me melt in his arms.

“I love you” he whispers against my lips, his hands cupping my face.

“I love you too” I whisper back before he kisses me again, those three magical words being constantly repeated throughout the whole night as we help the other after the shower, when we are sitting down on the sofa with our comfy dressing gowns eating our pizza and watching our favourite movie, or when we go to bed, cuddling on each other’s arms. 

“This has been the most perfect night ever” I say, caressing Nayef’s cheek.

“It has. And do you know why?” he asks, the hand of the arm around my waist moving over my back, his fingers trailing up and down.

“Because the pizza we ate was delicious?”

“Almost” he chuckles. “It was perfect, because I got to spend it with you.”

“Awww, Nayef.”

“I love you” he says, pulling us even closer.

“I love you too” I say before kissing him. 

[sangopearlsz]

#HAIMARA ; first meeting. (FLUFF)

note: this is my first time writing on tumblr, and i got a lil lazy teehee. i luv haimara. their meeting had more but its late and i am sleeby. blububu

Alhaitham was dubious going to the library at night, especially after Sumeru’s crisis was put to rest. The streets of the once bustling town were hazy, regardless of the dawn of night. Visions of the townsfolk putting their vast creativities of work away, to be kept safe away from potential people walking down the bazar avenue. Alhaitham pondered, opening the doors of the empty, dim lit Akademiya, that this was a different change that he was used to. Sumeru, known for its scholarly love, used to be bustling with joy, and career. Aloof to it all, he often preferred the taste of being by himself; avoiding social matters as promptly as he could. Being the acting scribe, it truly was a difficult time to hide his social battery, beknownst the scribe had to take on many governmental matters in the school. Alas, walking through the echoing library, the house of Dana was quiet to his taste. The smell of books and knowledge made his nerves at ease, his grey hair seeming to relax alongside his body composition. His mind didn’t process his tense posture as he sat down at a desk, scrolls under his arm to be promptly studied and examined. His thin lips quirked into a smile at the ends, the thought of consuming his average nightly knowledge in the confines of alone time provided a relaxation he didn’t fathom.

His ears then lifted, and the amberlean eyes of the man widened as a sound of books was heard from the other room, a softer hum of another human suspected. Alhaitham felt himself growing tense again, preparing himself for the most logical expense he could provide. He wanted to start his scroll adapts, but his curiosity of the other person who decided to study at this very late hour consumed his logical mind.

Approaching the desk that dimly lit the floor of the other study hall, a woman was seated at the other desk. Glasses sat on her face, with gentle brown bangs sitting above her eyebrow. Atone to her moderate choice in clothing; a robe which cascaded over half of her body, and the jumper and bag which contained the other half, were attuned with two very obnoxious fox ears, and a bushy tail to attone for them.

A Foxian. His inner voice was slightly alarmed, as there were only four foxian who were capable of living in Sumeru. Not much was known on these species, but knowing his close friend was one, it wasn’t a shocker to him. The girl noticed him, before jumping a little bit. Alhaitham was able to notice her curvy appearance, the belt holding up her chest. And the way her brown eyes were shaped so softly, he felt he had to stare into them. The soft eyebags under her eyes, and similar to he - a heading, glowing green dendro vision.

Is she a scholar too? It seems that my space had been violated, perhaps I can mention it to her that the library is closed ; if she isn’t a scholar, of course.

“Pardon me.” The girl’s smooth voice caused the tall man to snap out of his thoughts, staring down at her. Their height difference was albeit noticeable, her body standing at a simple 5’’6 compared to his 6’’2 lean. Alhaitham’s brow quirked, “I am very sorry if I have over-spoken my stay. I-I am a scholar here.” She held up her Akasha, which revealed her name, age and division. Samara, age twenty one. Vahumana student as of two years ago. A stamped ID, meaning that her ranking was high. His eyes widened, not aware of a new higher up.

“However, if you’re not an Akademiya student, I will have to ask you to leave.” Samara’s ears twitched uncontrollably, as her hands raised to pull them to astop. Alhaitham humphed, “Not necessary. I am the acting grand scribe, I am here to study. I just did not want an intruder in the house of Dana.” His deep voice made the girl’s eyes search away.

“Oh, alright then.” Samara then turned to the bookshelf further away, reaching up for a book. Her tail swayed gently behind her, a soft melody being hummed. In her hand, laid a parenting scroll, and a scroll labeled Eleazar.

“Is there a reason you are studying Eleazar?” His voice then asked, shocked at his interest in this woman. He wasn’t sure if it was the peach perfume that coated her skin that interested him, or the fact that another scholar was studying late, assuming her passion was about knowledge aswell. Samara looked over at him, a wrinkle to her brow.

“Am I supposed to answer this to a stranger, sir?”

“Why, of course not. I just am curious about why you’re examining a disease that was recently cured about. Is it that you are studying to be a doctor, or perhaps are interested in why eleazar is a thing?”

“No, sir. My reasoning for that is quite complicated. As all stories are, I think that I deserve to know the name of the man who is here questioning me, and presumed my appearance in a closed library was liberal, and outcasted.” Samara smiled, her lips thin. “For a scribe, your social etiquette seems very dimmed. Perhaps, those scrolls you are reading are about sociology.”

Alhaitham blinked. He did not expect that from the girl, more or less for her prediction to be right. Speechless, Samara then sat down at the desk, her eyes scanning him behind the rims of her glasses.

“I apologize. I just know it is my duty to keep the town of Sumeru safe. My name is Alhaitham, and I am a third year.” He replied, his eyes then scanning her in return. A nag in his mind made him curious to her searches.

“You can sit if you’d like. I am just researching. Late night is the best time to practice monomials.” Samara whispered lowly.

“Monomials? I thought you were studying eleazar. Did your precision make you change your mind?” The cloaked man sat across from her, body tense but semi relaxed.

“I can study more than one thing. Foxian have foresight, remember? Our memory can be photogenic if we want it to be. I have seen you around before.” Samara quirked, her eyes never leaving her scroll.

“Mm. I prefer to keep social matters alone. I struggle with commentary.”

“I can smell the anxiety radiating off you. There there, maybe Tighnari can find a solutionable option for you to naturally calm down. A stimulant, if you will.”

“Funny, Samara. I mustn’t rely on medicinal needs to get through. Now, if I am permitted to ask, why study later?”

“I am also not fond of the social eye. I prefer to study alone, in the Dana when it is very silent. My hearing is louder, too. And I can search topics without being misinterpreted.”

“Misinterpreted?”

Samara gestured to the maternal books.

“Are you expecting a child? That isn’t a shame. Sumeru’s healthcare is free. Although, you seem young to be producing.”

“Bold assumption.” Samara’s cheeks would dim to a soft pink, before she sighed. “I am not expecting, no. However, I do parent this girl back in Gardhava. She has eleazar, and the cure is still being dolled.”

“Unfortunate.” The man’s lips went into a thin line, a deep sense of empathy pinging. “Was she an orphan?”

“Orphan?” Samara would suppress a laugh, before shaking her head, dismissing her assumption with a lift in her hand. “No, no. She has.. quite a dark past.”

Over the hour, the two studied together, and occasionally bickered. Alhaitham found himself curious of her past, and surprised himself with the desire to know this woman deeper. His social contamination always disliked others, but he felt atoned, soft with her.

It was now 02:13 AM, and Samara slowly stood up, gathering her books.

“I forgot to ask,” Alhaitham looked up at her, both of their eyes radiating the need to sleep, “What is your story?”

“Perhaps, you will find out in due time.” The girl smiled, turning and walking out of the library, her sling filled with books and scrolls.

Alhaitham sat there at the table, staring at the card in her spot.

In her handwriting, Alhaitham’s eyes absorbed the information with a small smile.

Life itself will play out. We will meet again under the same moon.

- Samara.

Alhaitham smiled, tucking the card into his cloak. His questions on this woman were enough to pursue a passion in a meeting again.

[nateslehky]

lil natecale banter (?) scene below the cut. from my coffee shop au that i actually may end up doing something with although if i do i'm 99% sure this scene (which was one of the first ones i wrote for it) won't make the cut because i'd likely make nate significantly less of an asshole lmfao. but like. i still like it so here have it <3

“Yeah, sure, I got you, Sammy,” says Cale into his phone as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll let EJ know when he comes in, no worries.”

He pulls the speaker away from his ear as Sammy rambles about how great Cale, his accent heavy in his excitement.

“G,” interrupts Cale. “I’m at work, you know our rules about cell phones.”

“Sorry, sorry. Merci again. I owe you.”

Cale nods as if Sammy can see him, then hangs up and glances at the clock, sighing as he mentally prepares himself for another four hours of work instead of another thirty minutes.

“You shouldn’t say yes all the time.”

Cale freezes as he places his phone back in pocket. It’s Nate, staring at him from his spot at his usual table, hands around his mug. How he still has coffee left when he’s been sitting there for so long, Cale has no clue.

“Pardon?” asks Cale before returning to wiping down the empty tables. 

“Didn’t you also stay late last week? And you always say you’re happy to do shit. The word ‘no’ does exist, you know.”

A frown flashes across Cale’s face, his hand freezing mid-wipe.

“My understanding of the English language is pretty succinct,” he snaps, forgetting for a second that he’s supposed to have on his customer-service-persona. “Thanks, though,” he adds hastily.

The corner of Nate’s lip curls up into a crooked grin.  

“I’m just saying,” he says, his shoulders falling into a lazy shrug. “They’re kinda taking advantage of you.”

“They are not,” says Cale with a scoff as he wipes his hands on his apron. “They’re my friends. I’m just helping out.”

“When was the last time someone covered one of your shifts?”

“I–” Cale thinks about it for a second, then sputters out, “I don’t know.”

Nate just raises an eyebrow like that’s the answer he expected.

“I haven’t really asked for any shifts to be covered,” says Cale. “That’s why.”

“Maybe you should,” comes Nate’s immediate reply. “You’re here at the same time every goddamn week like clockwork.”

“I like the routine.”

“Sometimes breaking routine is good,” says Nate before taking a quick sip from his nearly empty mug. “For example, you should’ve called out last week. You were definitely sick. I saw you cough all over my drink.”

“I did not!” 

Okay, so. Maybe Cale did have a runny nose, but that was probably just allergies. Maybe his head pounded with a slight ache, but that was probably from lack of sleep. Maybe he coughed occasionally, but if he did, it was most definitely into the crook of his arm, not in anyone’s drink! 

Jesus. He’s not a heathen.

“You did,” says Nate, then downs the rest of his room temperature coffee and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair.

He turns on his heel, sets his mug down in the bus tray and heads out the door, leaving Cale standing dumbfounded with the rag held limply in his hand, the half-wiped table mocking him.

[yuyumnami]

The Oddest Amongst All Part 2 (Raiden Ei x Black Clover crossover)

I think my raiden Ei is a bit ooc... sorry!

Amongst all participants, there stood the oddest of them all. Long braided dark purple hair, which is very uncommon, unlike everyone who is just black, brown, and blonde.

Tall and beautiful, her neck craned toward the sky, mesmerized by many birds flocking surrounding her. She held out her arms when one bird perched on her index finger and chirped.

Raiden Ei is an enigma, that is all Yami could deduce. No mana, no grimoire. Just herself with a super amazing reflex. She dodged his attack like it was nothing, (not that he even give his all in this fight, all his attack is kinda lazy patterned, but still fast nonetheless) simply using her purple polearm that appeared from nowhere.

Maybe that's her magic?

But magic is impossible to have if there is no mana. Some sort of skill, perhaps?

...................

"That's mana. Can you feel them?" Yami's eyebrows twitched in annoyance to see Ei just munching her tricolor dango while comfortably sitting on Charmy's cloud magic.

"Feel...? You mean the wind?"

"No."

"Then no." Her teeth bit a sweet dango before she yanked them off the skewer.

----

"Yawning without covering your mouth? Uncouth. I will pardon your rudeness this time."

Yami found himself twitching.

"Sorry, I don't understand what'chu saying. And can you shut your mouth? I'm trying to fish here." He grunted in his motherland language .

When they first met Yami got the suspicion that Ei might be a noble, or once a noble. Her tone when she spoke was like the nobles would do.

But then it changed when there was a time he murmured words in Japanese, and Ei was there to reply back to him in full Japanese as well. As well as when she was writing, she admitted she knew nothing about the kingdom's letter, instead just write her name in familiar Japanese writing.

"Are ya from the land of sun?"

"No. I am the ruler of Inazuma. The region of eternity, one that is located to the southeast of Liyue Harbor and is a close neighbor of the Dark Sea."

Inazuma, a word that hold the meaning of 'thunder'. But a region with such name, never once Yami ever heard of. Same goes to Liyue Harbor, and the Dark Sea.

Either Ei is delirious and just has a very unexplainable fantasy or some crazy shit happened, Yami wasn't even interested.

---

"Oi." He called at the man behind the counter. "Register her to join the Magic Knight Entrance Exam." He said as he pointed at Ei.

"Cap-Captain Yami!? S-sure! Then- let me look at her grimo-"

"She doesn't have one."

"Eh-?"

"So, Participant 167 is it?"

...................

The Magic Knight Entrance Exam are going to start any time soon as more and more participants filling in the stadium. Yami looked over from the stand, arms crossing on his chest. His grey eyes bored into Ei, observing her every action. While other participants happily chattered among themselves, Ei sat alone admiring the chirping birds.

While waiting for the exam to begin, numerous anti-birds flock the venue as they pester the examinees. As Yami expected, the amount of anti birds around Ei are innumerable.

Anti-birds are birds that would pester the examinees whom have low magical power. The more anti-birds flock an individual, the weaker that person's magical power are.

"Look at her. So many anti-birds!"

"So another weaklings then. Less rival to compete."

"I bet she's a low class. Look at her outfit!"

"I think her outfit is pretty! But... isn't it a bit... revealing?" A girl's voice asked her uncertainties, hinting at Ei's revealing shoulder and thighs.

'Which means she's so poor that she can't even afford clothes to buy a well made dress!"

"What an unsightful view!"

Based on the other examinees face espressions, Yami knew they were bad-talking about Ei. While he couldn't hear them, he sure that Ei could but just paid no mind to them, instead admiring the birds. And based on Ei's expression, he 100% sure that Ei don't know at all of the purpose of Anti-bird but simply birds that worth admiring.

He sighed, while the other captains took their respective seats. 'Well, just do the best you can, Ei.'