#so i might just post it very soon. as a glimpse of what my way of putting these things into words looks like

[starryeyedcas]

Every Destiel Fic I’ve Ever Read [WIP]

Let’s do it! I took this list directly from my twitter

I’m not really going to post my ratings and stuff and I’m not going to copy what I said verbatim because as I grow older my opinions always change and every fic deserves love regardless of what some stranger on the internet thinks! Check these out if you need something new to read :)

Also, side note: A lot of the fics I tend to read are either non-canon or pre S10. If your looking for canon type, recent fics this will not be a list for you and I apologize :(

Also pt. 2: Some of the fics that I have listed on my twitter are no longer available so I have decided to not list them here. It’s very sad because there were some really good ones! Regardless, I’m still trying to keep this list as up to date as I possibly can when it comes to my reading ventures. Either way, I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I do <3

1. NINETY ONE WHISKEY

By komodobits, 401,193 words (not counting other fics in the series)

Please, please, please! Read this if you haven’t yet!! It’s a slow burn, World War II based fic and it’s my absolute favorite fic of all time. In fact I think it may be my favorite story of all time!! I come back to this fic always. If I’m sad, I read it. If I’m happy, I read it. I’ve read it probably 4 or 5 times at this point and it always holds up. I will say though, IT WILL MAKE YOU CRY. Dean and Cas are written VERY well, in fact every character in this fic are written to perfection. You find yourself growing attachments to side characters that you may have even forgotten existed in the show. I seriously cannot recommend this one enough. You will not regret it.

2. A BRIEF GLIMPSE

By cloudyjenn, 12,356 words

I’ll be honest, this one is special for me. This was the very first Destiel fic I ever read back in 2014. That being said, I may be a little biased towards it but I do genuinely think that it’s very cute. It’s a Slice-of-Life esque story with light supernatural happenings; where Castiel is in high school and has a very big crush on his best friend, Sam Winchester. Things start to go awry when Sam invites Cas to a carnival. I won’t spoil too much though! If you want a quick read with some fluff, definitely read this one.

3. SMELLS LIKE ROSES

By unknown :(, 53,828 words

Uhoh! A Djinn fic! I remember this one just hurting me so much. Dean is living his dream life. Everything around him is perfect and he’s mysteriously very happy. When you get to the end of this fic, holy cow the heartbreak. It’s written very well, you obviously can’t go wrong with a fic that slightly follows canon. I really like this one and I might reread it again soon but I cannot stress enough how much it hurts! Stay safe out there.

4. NOT ALL THE WAY THROUGH

By Tracy, around 4,700 words

Shorter fic based around s5 episodes 3 and 4. This one is good but it’s also very painful. I think I like fics that hurt me lol. There are some warnings I want to state! This fic features substance abuse, non con, mentions of torture and A CHARACTER DEATH so please be careful! This is told through Castiel’s perspective and all the summary says is “Castiel’s new life begins and ends with Dean.” So I will leave it at that. (Also as a side note whenever I think of this fic I think of the song ‘And So it Goes’ by Billy Joel. Listen to that while reading and you are sure to shed some tears. Stay safe friends xx)

5. PAINTED ANGELS

By WinnJennster, 105,637 words

This one used to be really popular, so it’s likely many of you have already read it. Either way I will still recommend it. It’s a nice little “reunited” type fic in which Cas is an author and Dean is a painter. I will say, however, that the angst in this fic is HEAVY. Personally, I’m not huge into giant angsty fics like this, or maybe the type of angst portrayed in this one. I just remember feeling a little frustrated by it. YET, this fic has a lot of good memorable moments with some fluff sprinkled throughout. If you love angst, this is the fic for you. WARNING though, you need an AO3 account to read this fic. If you’re not already logged in, you’re out of luck.

6. TWIST AND SHOUT

By Gabriel and standbyme, 97,556 words

Who are we kidding?? Everyone on this website KNOWS this fic. You all could probably recount it backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down. Who knows. All we know is that this fic is a capital S-A-D. When I was in high school, I LOVED this fic. I adored it, no matter how much it made me cry. Because YES there is a MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. And NO it’s not FUN. Can I be honest? After rereading it, I feel as if Cas and Dean are out of character! Doesn’t mean it’s a bad story, absolutely not. It’s beautiful! I think it’s wonderful and obviously I recommend it. But you could change the names of the boys and you wouldn’t even know its based off two characters from Supernatural. This is my hill and I will gladly die on it. Read it if you dare, but remember to beware OOooOOoooOo (another side note: I had to go to the fic to get the link for this post and I swear to God my eyes watered when I read that first sentence. I HATE and I LOVE this fic all at the same time.)

7. SMOKE IN THE MIRROR

By letters_of_stars, 52,327 words

Oh shoot! Dean is an artist and he needs a nude model!! Who do you think is gonna take the bait?!?! In all seriousness though, I really adore this one. YES Castiel is nude and YES Dean is painting him but if you’re expecting smut right from the get go you are mistaken! I wanna say this is another slow burn?? But it has also been a while since I’ve read it. I just remember liking this one a lot. In my original rating, I gave it a 5/5 so that’s gotta mean something. Another little slice of life with a lot of good moments. Check it out!

8. A HOME BENEATH THE STARS

By CheshireMoon, 71,240 words

Hi, it’s me again. The girl who likes fics that rip her heart to SHREDS. I’m gonna be about as vague as can about this one because boy did that ending catch me off guard when I first read it. So Dean is homeless, right? And Cas is a kind hearted, Good Samaritan, astronomer. When the two meet Dean’s life changes… for the better… I’m gonna leave it at that. You could be ignorant like me and skip over the warnings to this fic and just leave it to good will and faith that this fic will leave you happy and giggly. Or you could do yourself a favor and know what’s coming but not know when it happens. Either way, I still recommend this one. I really like it, just make sure you have a fluff fest fic waiting for you on the other side.

9. THE FACE OF HEAVEN

By orange_crushed, 9,772 words

This one is short and so so sweet. Another type of slice-of-life where Dean is just a gay bartender living his best gay bartending life when he suddenly comes across a fallen star whose name is Castiel. It’s very unique and I love it so much. In my original opinion of this fic I said I didn’t like the formatting? And I think what I meant to say is, I don’t like reading long paragraphs but the formatting to this fic is perfectly fine lol. Still a fun little read and it’s pretty fluffy!

10. SO MUCH TANGLED THREAD

By imogenbynight, 37,428 words

Holy crap! Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES. It’s like, Ninety One Whiskey almost, except there’s time travel, and supernatural happenings, and OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS FIC. It’s ends pretty quick but it’s still so so so good. Please read it, show it some love. I think about this one from time to time and I still smile. Much like with Painted Angels, you need an account to read this one. So make sure you’re logged in! If you don’t have an account you best get that invitation fr.

11. DIAMOND STAR HALO

By had, 4,924 words

Just pure fluff told from Sam Winchester’s perspective. I kind of have a soft spot for fics told from a third party perspective because it’s like they’re seeing Dean and Cas how WE see Dean and Cas and it makes me all giddy, I dunno. This is a good short read and you should definitely read it after reading something really sad and heart wrenching!

12. CINDERWINGS

By bendingsignpost, 181,619 words

STOP!! I love this fic!! It’s a Cinderella type story, there’s a masquerade ball, Dean is a PRINCE. Very fantasy with supernatural elements. It’s WONDERFUL. The way the author writes about the world through Castiel’s perspective is super entertaining and funny and I love the misunderstandings that happen within the story. If you love fantasy and monarchy and magic and parties, this is definitely a fic for you.

13. ONE WHITE LIE

By komodobits, 11.179 words

I can’t lie, komodobits is my favorite fic author and so I am a little biased towards their stories. This one is no exception. It’s hilarious, lighthearted, and fluffy. The range that this author has with their fics amazes and horrifies me. How can one person have that much talent? I have no idea. This is just a komodobits appreciation post, you got me. Anywho, Castiel tells a small lie to the Winchester brothers and they mess with him. Not based in canon, a very slice-of-life fic. I love it, please check it out.

14. FORGET-ME-NOT BLUES

By noangelsinthegarrison, 68,689 words

Ahhh I remember this one. Another slice-of-life, have you noticed a pattern? Sam and Jess are getting married! Woohoo! Of course Dean is in the wedding but so is Castiel, someone Dean has history with……….. Basically there’s misunderstandings and mutual pining and it’s fun. It’s got all sorts of romcom elements with just a dash of angst!

15. MUSCLE MEMORY

By komodobits, 18,961 words

Give me a story that’s loosely based off of 50 First Dates and written by my favorite fic author and suddenly I’m in Heaven. I’m a really big fan of movie AU’s, especially well written and this one is no exception. It’s kind of sad though, but if you’ve seen 50 First Dates then you should expect that. Even if you aren’t a fan of movie AU’s, I would still suggest giving this one a read.

16. KIND OF A FOREVER DEAL

By komodobits, 111,460 words

STOP LOOKING AT ME. YOU THINK IM PUTTING TOO MANY FICS BY THE SAME AUTHOR HERE? WELL YOU LISTEN TO ME PAL, THIS WON’T BE THE LAST ONE EITHER!! Ahem, this fic is awesome and sort of a fan favorite already!! Slice-of-life, teenaged angst, summer camp, LoVe, it’s amazing! The way that the author wrote the friendship between Dean, Cas, Jo, and Victor has me in tears. Very wholesome and heart wrenching, highly recommend!

17. IMPERFECT PROPOSALS

By Fallen_Angel_Meg, 111,082 words

Another movie AU! This is loosely based off The Proposal and filled with fluff! You really don’t see a whole lot of crossover fics that are long like this one, but it’s fun to read and you’ll probably fly through it just like I did. Do you like The Proposal? No? Read it anyways xx

18. CHECKED OUT

By whelvenwinge, 27,127 words

Okay this one, is really good. Like really good. It comes complete with original artwork and fantastic storytelling. Castiel is a librarian and he really despises Dean Winchester, an acclaimed author. It’s sooooo good, I cannot stress enough how much I think you should read this. And you’ll get really pretty pictures to look at! The ending is great, the beginning is great, it’s just wonderful. So what are you waiting for? Run along now and read it!

19. SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS

By habitatfordeanwinchester, 2,593

This one is just cute. It’s short and fluffy. Imagine Castiel working at a Chipotle and getting special instructions on a mobile order. Can you guess who they’re from? If you’re sad and need a pick me up, just read this one. It’s so cute!

20. C-S-T-L

By komodobits, 90,377

It has been a really long time since I read this one. But I know that I loved every second of it and I was crying during the majority of it. Either because I had just got done reading 91w or because the story itself made me emotional. Either way it’s a fantastic read! Castiel is an android and Dean is tasked with adding him to their army for the WAR. This fic has wonderful world building, really in-depth character exploration, and the ANGST. I’m probably going to read this one again sometime soon~ JOIN MEEEEE

[seaofreverie]

Officially started writing down my thoughts on every Sparks album

[partycatty]

johnny, kenshi, kung lao, raiden, liu kang > lollipop

thank you for 450 followers! take a chunkier post as my thank you 🫶

suckin on a lollipop n wondering how they'd react >:3

warnings: they all need to be neutered

notes: it's orange flavored btw

[ masterlist ]

liu kang

• oh he tries, he tries so hard to not let it get to him

• but when your pretty lips part to speak and he catches a glimpse of the color staining your tongue? excuse him while he mad dashes to his quarters to smack one out silly style.

• no, not really. liu kang just avoids eye contact, tries to focus on training. perhaps he'd step away for just a moment to remember how to breathe.

• asks you to not eat during training, as it could be a choking hazard. he really just says that so you'd stop before he gets too hot under the collar.

• makes you hand it to him to discard, but when he sees the string of saliva as you remove it from your mouth you find it hard to miss the twitch in his eye.

• when you notice how much it gets to him, you make an extra effort to look up at him through your lashes when your plush lips pull the lollipop out with a pop. it's almost like a little game, how much you can do it before liu kang snaps.

johnny cage

• johnny couldn't ignore what you were doing, he would probably be under the delusion that you're sucking on it like that on purpose.

• takes several double takes throughout the day, having very little shame in being caught. he'd just grin at you and shrug after a light scolding.

• even when you put your lollipop onto your plate to eat or on the rare occasion you don't have one in, johnny's reeling over the tint to your lips. it looks like a pretty coat of lipstick, and johnny's hand squeezes so tightly on his chopsticks as his mind wanders, the boys wonder if it just might snap in two.

• it takes him some time, he doesn't want to come off as too weird after all, but at some point he draws the line when you flatten your tongue and swipe the lollipop down the entire length. johnny snatches it from your hand and puts it in his own mouth.

• could he recall the flavor, or is he too focused on your spit mixing with his? both! gross.

• winks at you as the stick dangles from his lips, trying not to lose his own mind over the taste.

• "i like this flavor," he cockily observes, pulling it out to inspect it. "tastes like you, sugar."

•...gross. did you even want to share? no. are you complaining? mm, not really.

kenshi takahashi

• kenshi cuts the habit short as soon as he notices. training is his priority. kicks, punches, slashes, the way the lollipop coats with your — NO.

• he coldly hisses orders at you to "spit that thing out." doesn't say why, doesn't say much other than that. what else could he say, "don't do that before i pop a hard-on?" are you crazy?

• speaking of kenshi, he's literally losing his mind over it but puts every ounce of anger he has accumulated since meeting johnny into hiding his expressions.

• "are you always this childish?" crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you unwrap yet another one from your pocket... how many are in there?

• hell, he might even try to tell on you. might make a stabbing comment every now and then when you're all together to train. choking hazard this, immature that.

• he wants to do what johnny does and just get a taste, but he's not as graceful. yanking it from your lips after catching it on your teeth, kenshi throws it on the ground and stomps on it, shattering the sugary goodness all over the cobblestone floor. sad face :(

• you want to be mad, to rip him a new one for not knowing how to mind his own business, but you A) have more in your room, and B) notice his blatantly obvious red hue to his face, and you know it's not anger.

kung lao

• all the charm, none of the grace. help this man, the image of your mouth haunts him at the unholiest of hours.

• lao would, at times, flick the stick dangling from your lips just to make it crack against your teeth and make you whine in surprise. he'd shrug and walk off, like it was somehow your fault for having a lollipop in the first place.

• he's not oblivious to your subtle advances when your tongue swirls around the flavored orb, and he's no better.

• "you really are shameless, aren't you?" kung lao crosses his arms with a huff, trying to roll his eyes but looking away feels like an incomprehensible task.

• pesters you endlessly, asks about the flavor and brand and if they're just like the ones at home! but he's just doing it so he can admire the glossy tint to your tongue and lips from the artificial dyes.

• stares so hard, raiden has to heel him in the foot so he'd pay attention to liu kang's lectures and announcements. it's like he's the only one that can hear the amplified swirling in your mouth, and he probably is (that is, because he is straining himself to hear).

• lao would ask if you had any extra in your pocket (of course you do!) and pop one into his mouth himself, giving you a taste of what he's been losing his mind over as his pursed lips suck and play with the lollipop. you thought you could get away with toying with him, didn't you? now it's an even playing field!

raiden

• come on, champion, keep it together! everyone notices the static raising their hairs when they walk by. that, and he's white-knuckling the fabric of his robes so hard they might just tear. thank god for his hat, as it conceals both the sun and his creeping blush.

• the sassy man apocalypse infects even raiden. sure, he's not a timid guy in the slightest, but something about how you toy with the candy makes him feel weak in the knees.

• "do you really need to have one at all times?" he'd ask rhetorically as he tucks his hands under his armpits. "those are pretty unhealthy for you." you become a victim of his polite scrutinizing, insisting that that much candy is bound to have a negative effect on you. anything to get you to put that thing away so he doesn't shock the next person he touches.

• raiden is trained, he is disciplined, he knows better than to stare. but the moment you're in his peripherals, he's side-eyeing you so hard you wonder if he's trying to send a telepathic message.

• whining his name as you pathetically jump up to reach his extended arm, clawing at the fabric after he tore away your lollipop the moment you pulled it from your lips. your subtle pouting brings a smug smile to his face as he watches you fruitlessly attempt to climb up his body.

• "four before noon is more than enough," he tuts, looking up at the lollipop before getting a downright evil idea. he's well-mannered and well-spoken, but if the opportunity to toy with you arises, of course he's taking it. boldness is one of his wildcard traits!

• he pulls the lollipop down into his mouth, sucking it in before you have a chance to protest. staring in awe as raiden moves the lollipop around in his mouth, an eyebrow quirked as he stares down at you.

• "hm," he hums, grinning down at you with the stick between his teeth. "this is actually quite nice." and of course, you're too flustered to argue further, instead retreating to your room to get a new one - and calm down from that sight.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Epilogue

Eyeless Jack x Reader

A Demon's Ache Masterlist

With this final part, EJ's POV is finally complete! There are a few one-off bonus chapters I'm thinking about writing, but they'll either come after y/n's POV or randomly scattered about

I'd also like to start up another longer form series soon, so send in some ideas/suggestions if you have any ^^ A select few will be posted up in a poll to decide the final work uwu

Finally, the entirety of this series is dedicated to @cookiereblogss 🖤🖤

I was previously way too intimidated to write a longer series, despite always wanting to, but with cookiereblogss' incredible support, I was able to overcome that fear. In a way, I'd like to dedicate all of my future fic series to them as well, because I wouldn't have taken that first step without them. Thank you truly from the very bottom of my heart 🖤🖤🖤

And without further ado, I hope you enjoy this short lil smutty epilogue to the series!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

It’s quiet, peaceful

Jack doesn’t fall asleep—he can’t, not after everything that’s happened—but he’s perfectly content holding you in his arms for now

Every now and again, he has to squeeze you just slightly harder to make sure this is real

It’s real—you’re safe, and happy, and he gets to hold you, and he’s still unsure about a lot of things, but you let him hold you, so that must mean things are going to be ok

He nuzzles into your hair, breathes in your scent, tries to savor the moment to its fullest

And it almost works, too

Keeping his mind occupied almost lets him forget about his worries

But every time he’s on the verge of letting go, he catches a glimpse of the mark on your neck, and all of the shame, guilt and worry lumps in his throat all over again

You let him hold you, you let him rest by your side—it’s going to be ok

Carefully, as though the wrong motion might break you, he lifts his hand and traces the mark with the back of his knuckle

The contact has you stirring, and before he can pull away, your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze

A slow, soft smile grows on your lips

You lean into his touch, pressing closer into him

And then he just can’t resist tilting your chin up and stealing a kiss

Compared to the rushed, heated kisses that’d become the norm between you, this is the opposite

Slow and sensual, the warmth of your lips spreads to his chest and fills his body with a pleasant buzz

Your lips are so soft, your body so perfect against his, so warm and wonderfully inviting

You hum against him

Basking in it, basking in the peace of the moment, he cups your face and deepens the contact

He doesn’t expect anything more out of this

He simply wants to enjoy it

But when you make a muffled sound against him, almost like a whimper, something dangerous stirs within him

He tries to take a deep breath, tries to calm his less-than-pure urges, but when he breathes in, the scent of your growing arousal fills his lungs and his head starts spinning

Control it, control it, control yourself

Pushing down the temptation, he brushes his fingers along the slope of your face in an attempt to distract himself by memorizing the curves of your features

He follows an invisible line down your neck with the intention to eventually reach your hips and tug you in closer

But he doesn’t even make it halfway down your throat before you whine and push him off

Shit—he fucked up

Before he can blurt out a rushed apology, you push him onto his back, straddle his hips, and as if that wasn’t enough of a surprise, your lips clash with his, tongue reaching out to taste him like you're insatiable

The combination of it all short-circuits his brain

He doesn't even know what to do with himself; he simply lets you do as you please

It's only when you break the kiss to pull your shirt up over your head that he snaps himself out of his daze

“W-wait, (y/n)—“

He’s already panting, his stomach tensing with a knot of desire, but he manages to gasp the words out before you unclasp your bra

Pausing halfway through the motion, you look down at him questioningly

And at the sight of you, so visibly turned on with your lips freshly swollen from the make-out session—he immediately feels like an absolute idiot for telling you to stop

“Listen, I—“ he stumbles through his words like a horny moron, “I-you don’t need to do this. You know, y-you don’t have to—“

He cuts himself off as you finish undoing your bra, and the material falls away to reveal the perfect swell of your tits

Fuck, how’re you always so gorgeous?

It takes his breath away, and before he can recover, you take his hand and press it to the mark on your neck

The back of his knuckles trace over the bruised skin, slowly, softly, and as it does, you shudder

Your hips buckle, pressing down flush against his own, and a rush of heat has his cock throbbing against your sex

"I-I didn't realize it at first,” you murmur, “but..."

You trail off, and it almost looks like you're holding back a moan as you press his hand harder against your neck

"It's... it's sensitive"

You wriggle your hips for more friction, and he can't help but meet you halfway so that you’re fully grinding against him as you speak

“Whenever there’s any kind of pressure on it, it—it feels warm. Everything feels warm. And it—it aches,” you choke the word out, and fuck, if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’re on the verge of begging for his cock right now

“I need you”

He holds back a groan as the words leave your mouth

And then it finally clicks

You’re in heat

Or, at least, as close as a human can get to a heat, anyways

He remembers reading about fresh marks triggering heats in his research—but he hadn’t realized they could affect humans too

The mere thought sends a surge of arousal—hot, sickly sweet, potent arousal rushing through him, and he has to take another breath to steady himself

But all he can smell is your arousal again, and it takes just about every ounce of his willpower to resist pinning you down and fucking you senseless

A low growl reverberates through his chest before he can hold it back

If touching the mark turns you on, he wonders what would happen if he licked it, if he bit it

With tense fingers, he grabs two fistfuls of your ass and distracts himself by kneading at the supple flesh

He shouldn't use the mark to his advantage—it'd be wrong of him to do so

But fuck if it isn't the most tempting thing ever

You make another sound again, like a sigh and a whine, and he uses his leverage on you to guide your hips over his bulge in impatient circles

You're soaked

He can feel it, even through his pants

He rolls his hips up in tandem with yours again, and he's obsessed with the way your face contorts with need and pleasure as his cock twitches between your thighs

You breathe out a curse, head falling back as you bring your hands up to your tits to toy with your own nipples

“Jack~“ you moan his name like a plea, sounding so needy that all he can do is groan at the sound, at the sight, at the scent of you

His mate

You're his mate—all for him

He wants to brand another mark into you

It's just about the only thing on his mind right now

As if one didn't cause enough trouble as is

But he can't help it; you'd just look so fucking gorgeous covered in his brand

The thought has shivers racing through his body

You yelp, and he realizes it’s because he’s digging his bulge right against your clit while simultaneously thrusting up

Fuck, he wants to ruin you

He wants your clothes off, wants you folded beneath him, wants you gushing around his cock while he abuses your tight little cunt

Long gone are his fears and worries over what happened

He just wants you—he needs you

You squirm on top of him, whining and whimpering as you're guided into riding him

With one particularly sharp thrust, you yelp, jerking forward, and you end up bracing your hands against his chest for balance

Which, in turn, grants him the perfect opportunity to lean up and press his mouth to yours in a heated, messy kiss

God, you taste so fucking sweet

He needs more

It’s all he can think about as his hands busy themselves with the rest of your clothes

And then before he knows it, you’re both naked and he’s on top of you and he’s aching to be inside of you

He barely takes the time to admire your flushed, naked body before throwing your legs over his shoulders, manhandling you without even meaning to, and bringing his length to the sensitive spot between your legs

His cock haphazardly smacks against your wet folds as he pushes his hips forward, and the filthy plea that falls from your lips has him groaning

He can’t wait any longer

Inch by inch, he pushes into you—until he’s almost completely stuffed inside your slick, velvety walls

His breathing’s ragged, his muscles flexed, his cock throbbing incessantly as he waits for you to adjust to his size

The wait, of which, is nothing short of agony

He's almost shaking by the time you relax around him

And as soon as you do, he pushes the few final inches in, and he groans as his tip brushes right up against your cervix

Control himself, control himself, he needs to learn to control himself

He swallows thickly, and then slowly, painfully slowly, he rocks back and forth into you

In and out, the wet sounds you make around him are nothing short of obscene

Your hands reach up to rake your nails down his back, and his grunts of pleasure mix in with your cute little moans and whimpers in a filthy symphony

In and out, in and out

He settles into a rhythm that could almost be described as lovingly fucking into you

But no matter how hard he tries to take things slow and soft, he knows his patience can't last forever

"Jack—n-need more~ Fuck, please!~"

He groans out a curse at the desperation in your voice

How could he possibly resist such a request?

The bed creaks loudly at his change of pace, accompanying the sound of his skin smacking against yours and your sweet, precious little sounds of bliss

He buries his face into your neck, and with the temptation of your flesh right next to his teeth, it suddenly becomes very hard to focus on going easy on you

He can't help it

Pinned beneath his larger, stronger form, you've no choice but to take everything he fucks into you

Your back arches, walls clenching frantically around him like you're trying to suck him in deeper with every thrust

And you're so fucking wet—he can't even tell if you squirted or if you're just that turned on

His thighs are coated in your slick

The pressure keeps building within him until his whole body's tense and all he can think about is filling you with his cum

He realizes he’s murmuring something under his breath, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying—he doesn’t care

All he cares about is the sheer bliss of fucking you like an animal depraved

“Jack—!“

When you cry his name out again, he takes the opportunity to cram his tongue down your throat

Your eyes widen in surprise, but there's no mistaking the way you clamp so deliciously tightly around his cock when his tongue starts stroking yours haphazardly

If he wasn't in the midst of screwing your brains out, if the whole thing wasn't so fucking depraved, it'd almost be sweet

Your walls flutter, hips buckling weakly beneath his strong thighs like you’re getting overwhelmed, like kissing him while he’s so deep inside of you is too much for you to handle

With every ravenous stroke, every inch of his throbbing cock lovingly fucking into you, he feels you tightening, feels the muffled vibrations of your whimpers growing closer

He's just on the precipice of letting go when you suddenly grip onto him—hard

And he almost thinks fuck, he did something wrong

But then he realizes how loud you’re being, how your eyes are squeezed shut and your face is contorted in ecstasy

And he realizes you’re already cuming around him

He buries his face into your neck, grunting out filthy praises into your skin while you ride out your high

And he’s almost proud of how he’s able to control himself—how he can still manage to offer long, hard steady strokes despite your shaking and squirming and shamelessly loud moaning

But then you moan that you're his—you're all his—and just like that, his precious control finally snaps

He doesn’t realize just how hard and fast he’s fucking into you

He hears the bed creaking, hears the frame slamming against the wall, but it all feels distant—like it’s all just secondary to the way your body feels

You feel so, so incredibly fucking good

He snarls your name, lost in the pleasure, and only then does he realize that you’re shaking beneath him and cuming all over again already

Those sounds—those fucking sounds you make as you're pushed into overstimulation—they're fucking bliss

He knows you’re on the verge of reaching your limit, but he doesn’t want to stop—he can’t

He needs this

Even through the haze of his pleasure, he realizes he’s being selfish, but he’s too far gone to care

His tongue traces over your mark, and he’s seconds away from biting down into it—when your cunt clamps around him so fucking tightly that it immediately overwhelms him

You make the sweetest, filthiest sound he’s ever heard, and all of it combined is too much for him to handle

His hips jerk all the way into you, cock twitching uncontrollably, and harder than he ever has before, he cums

He spills himself as deep inside of you as he possibly can, until it feels like he’s fucking into your cervix and filling you to the absolute brim with his seed

He doesn’t realize he’s holding you there—pinning you down and forcing you to accept every ounce of his cum until you’re squirming and shuddering beneath him

Fuck

He pulls out, flinching at how tight you still feel around him, like your body doesn’t want to release him

And yet, as soon as he’s completely out, you immediately snap your legs shut like you're beyond overstimulated

He ignores the aftershocks of adrenaline and endorphins pumping through his system to make sure that you’re ok, he didn’t hurt you, you're ok

You’re panting, dazed and shaking after getting thoroughly fucked out of your mind, but you still find the strength to laugh as you reassure him that you're fine

Even then, it isn’t until you press a chaste, breathless kiss to his neck that he’s finally comfortable enough to lie down next to you and pull you into his arms to cuddle

The two of you bask in the afterglow of your love-making as you catch your breaths

He can hear your heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of your body against his chest as he hugs you into him

You, in return, nuzzle into Jack, your hair tickling his neck, and his stomach does a few backflips into his chest at the simple gesture

He tries to relax, tries to clear his mind and stop overthinking—if only to enjoy the moment while it lasts, but he just can't

As soon as the high of his climax fades away, he’s right back to worrying

Except this time, he finally bites the bullet and asks the question out loud

“Are you sure you want this?”

You stir in his arms, surprised by his sudden question

“What do you mean?”

His nerves kick up to a ten, and he almost considers backing out of the conversation

But he knows he shouldn’t—he can’t—not again

“Like… you know…" he hesitates, "this. Us. Are you sure you want this?”

It dawns on him that you might not fully understand the implications of the mark yet

Surely, at the very least, Slender explained the basis of it, and everything it entails, right?

“…I do,” you answer with a hum

Still somehow not convinced, as though this is too good to be true, he pushes it further

"And, I… the mark… you know it… it’s permanent, right?”

Another hum of confirmation, this time accompanied by feather-light traces over his ashen skin, the contact absent-minded

“Like… Slender told you the conditions, right? We can try to figure a way out of it, but we might be bound together for—“

He doesn’t finish his sentence before you tug his face into yours in another sudden kiss

Your lips are as addictive as ever, and he finds himself already wanting more—always wanting more—even as you pull away

“I thought about it—for a while,” you admit, “and..."

It's your turn to hesitate this time, and the brief pause in your words has Jack’s stress levels skyrocketing

"And I wasn't sure about it at first"

You stop tracing invisible patterns on his skin, and he immediately misses the contact

He’s hanging off your every word by this point

The anticipation’s just about killing him

"It’s kind of a scary thought,” you eventually continue, “and... I've never been good at this sort of thing, but... I-I want this, Jack. I want you"

Even hearing you say it, hearing the words come out of your mouth, it still doesn't feel real

"And I... I know the mark might be affecting me somehow," you reach up, acting on instinct, to brush near the skin of your neck as you speak, "but I don't think it is. I think I’ve known for some time now, but… but I was too scared to admit it”

You swallow thickly

“I... I want to be with you, Jack”

You take a deep breath

“I… I think I’m in love with you”

Jack's heart seizes

It feels like it stops beating right then and there

A moment passes, and then another

It’s like his brain’s trying to decipher what you just said, like surely that doesn't actually mean what he wishes it means... right?

He realizes that he’s not saying anything, and you're growing nervous at the lack of response

But there’s a lump lodged in his throat and he doesn’t think he’d be able to form a cohesive sentence even if he tried

After what happened that night of his transformation, he never thought anyone would be able to love him again

He never thought he’d be worthy of someone’s love

But here you are

You're in his arms, in his bed, and you trust him enough to be this vulnerable around him

He doesn’t know what to say

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just cups your face and kisses you—hard

He forgets everything else around him

The world melts away until it’s just the two of you

Your scent, your taste, your everything—it's electrifying

When he pulls away, you’re dazed and panting once more, and the euphoria of it all is dizzying

He presses his forehead to yours, and you close your eyes, enjoying the closeness

“I love you,” he finally answers

It feels like a dream

He can’t believe he’s able to say the words out loud

You press your lips to his once more, and he realizes things are going to be ok—and he’s not just thinking that to reassure himself

He has you in his arms, and you’re safe, and you're all his, and everything is going to be ok

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind! 

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island. 

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return. 

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers. 

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine. 

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs. 

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down. 

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock. 

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean. 

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you. 

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house. 

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours. 

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets. 

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing. 

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage. 

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger. 

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth. 

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict. 

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock. 

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night. 

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home. 

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted. 

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

--

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess. 

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it. 

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon. 

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean. 

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there. 

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle. 

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back. 

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time." 

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing. 

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten." 

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful. 

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand. 

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."  

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss. 

[moonsaver]

I READ YOUR POST (and also anon!) ABOUT REBELLIOUS! VERITAS/RATIO, GOOD LORD..

Your writing is very good! And I like it! I'm having it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everytime

BUT LIKE, LISTEN TO ME, WHAT IF S/O WAS REBELLIOUS LIKE HIM TOO. But not like actually him, just typical rebellious student back then. Like, breaking the rules, pissing off the teachers, etc

AND, HIS S/O IS LIKE NOW, NORMAL. A PROFESIONAL, and probably embarrassed of their phase back then. I do see them being Friendly and chilled with Ratio?? Or like "Oh crap, it's the old rebellious dude that tries to teach me random smart stuffs"

But in my opinion, I do see S/O just being like "Oh, what's up Ratio" and just being neutral. Greeting him whenever they passed by or see each other again, while also slightly joking about the things Ratio tried to teach them back then. As they told him that they actually listened to his teaching.. Even though it's.. Well, it's used by unsuccessful methods

BUT ALSO, YOU KNOW HOW XINYAN WOULD TELL EMBARRASSING STORIES ABOUT SHEHNE AND GANYU?

S/O WOULD DO THAT, telling Ratio old rebellious phase embarrassing stories to his students whenever they feel afraid of him. Like

"Oh, did you know that your professor (Veritas Ratio), used to talk so much about our teacher that just give the slightest wrong formula, to the point he keeps getting send to the office? Hah! I was there!"

As Ratio stood there with hidden embarrassed look, as he tries to hold the urge to not shut S/O up.

I'M SORRY IF I'M BOTHERING YOU, THE VOICES ARE COMMANDING ME... THE VOICES OF MY SIMPING FOR RATIO.

QNON ANON QNON!!!!YOU ARE FEEDING ME TOO I PROMISE YOU CAN BOTHER ME (its not even bothering me i love these asks),,, THE TENSION THAT IUST DISSIPATWS HAHAHA WAIT WAIT

Under the cut,might be long!

Soso, you're the rebellious kid who's butting heads with the other jerkwad, the only difference between you two is that he's just a nerd on top of being a rebellious kid. He's the "worst" of both worlds.

It's a very cliche enemies to strangers to acquaintances who respect each other to tension between possible lovers. Its kind of funny.

In your student days, I imagine the moment both of you see each other in the hall, you scowl at each other. Or make fun of something the other has. Maybe he's lugging a bulky art project and you make fun of him saying he looks like a turtle dragging his own shell. Maybe you left your bag's zip open and Veritas comments on how "devoid of knowledge" it is, "like your head" (you forgot all your books somewhere, your bag is completely empty). God forbid either of you tried something experimental and the other catches a glimpse of it. If they're not within talking distance, they'll shout on the top of their lungs. To both of you, the louder it is the more humiliation is involved. You'll find this method is often used by Veritas, as he openly quizzes you and chides LOUDLY that you're a BUFFOON and an IDIOT for not knowing a SIMPLE FORMULA. You decide to retaliate by stealing more than half his stationary, so now he has to scramble to gather extras and literally no one helps him cause he's a jerk lol.

Everyone on campus absolutely either hates it or loves it. Theres fanpages of you two with cringe edits,or those really well-made shitpost ones. Sometimes your classmates just bait the other to go a certain place just so you two cross paths and stir up a lot of trouble. The teachers are all done with both of you.

Cut to the future (or present?), reader's a professor too now. Let's assume either of them is unaware when they join the job (as implied by the request).

I imagine professor reader, if they manage to stay calm and just.. talk normally, it does give Dr. Ratio some whiplash. His pride demands he straightens himself out though, so it's not too soon before he himself drones on about some or the other tedious topic. You mention the past and how often you used to butt heads, and Veritas' first instinct is to immediately retaliate the way his past self would have done; but he stops himself in time, and sighs at it. You've painstakingly ingrained that response into him. But he's still slightly embarrassed nonetheless. It's not too soon before the conversation becomes more relaxed (I mean.. considering Veritas,as relaxed as he lets it be), and as a form of "nostalgia" he brings up all the questions he used to ask you back then, only to be pleasantly surprised when you give him detailed but professional answers. It's not too soon before he learns that you've become a professor aswell. Dr. Ratio congratulates you – with reservations of course, which is completely thrown out the window when you tell him you knew all of this because.. you listened to him.

Ugh. Don't make him feel so sappy. A part of him detests it; warming up and being all chummy with a hopeless classmate of all people. But a part of him is.. kind of happy about it.

Which is promptly changed the moment you also realize he's a professor now.

And that his students aren't spared from the nostalgia either.

He's bursting through the door, jaw dropped, angry and shocked face as you prattle on about how much of an asshole he was back in the day to his students. For a moment, he contemplates whether he should just throw chalk at you and make an example of you to his students, or drag you out. After a few seconds of paralyzed contemplation, he immediately grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you out before something else comes out of your mouth.

It's almost the same all over again – both of you bickering back and forth as he's all pissy about you spilling everything to his students! You've positively tarnished his reputation! Perhaps he shall tell your students how you used to walk around wearing a lanyard and a shirt with the institution name written on it in big, bold letters on the first day? Or that time you tripped and faceplanted right into the trashcan while you complained about his (axe bodyspray) deodorant?

Ugh.. he'll just deal with you later. Although he won't admit this even to himself.. it's nice seeing you again. He didn't think of that, it must be the headache you gave him that's making him think all weird.

--

[jujusjunk]

Hi, teenage Israeli Jewish girl from Jerusalesm here, and I’m just looking for a conversation.

So I was looking from some of your posts after seeing your blog on ms. Homochad’s page, and while it seems you’ve grown, some of what you still have said makes me and possibly other Israelis uncomfortable.

Such as saying “isnotrael” or just putting quotations around Israel is general. To me and other Israelis it feels very demeaning, like putting quotations around Palestine, it’s very dehumanizing and very disrespectful.

Not granted it seems that you have grown, and maybe I have been radicalized myself but I feel like everywhere I go I am faced with the fact that everyone who wants to dehumanize me, and even while you might not (now) you’re followers, and earlier just reek of “Israel doesn’t and hasn’t ever existed,” or “Israelis are genociders.” Like I said maybe I have been radicalized myself, it’s just everywhere I go I feel like no one understands me besides other Israelis, though it is refreshing to hear an actual Palestinian voice.

(And this is a little off topic but a couple months earlier that you had posted a meme about “ashke - nazis,” and while you might not feel that way now, I hope you can understand how it is offensive. Especially since Ashkenazi Jews were the most targeted during the Shoah.)

(Also sorry about the death threats.) 

Ok hi, im a Palestinian teenager who’s currently in Lebanon and is still on a very long road towards deradicalizing and trying to be a better version of myself.

I know it makes you uncomfortable, at the time that was the point. I still haven’t really gone through my account for a few reasons, first being I have over 3000 posts I think. Second being I am still not mentally prepared for that but maybe soon enough I will.

I do want to apologize tho, sincerely. The environment I was raised in really would appreciate everything in my old posts just so you can get a glimpse into what I was raised around. I’ve been around this my whole entire life so it really isn’t an easy process to even think about peace with people who have been villains in my eyes for my whole life.

“Isnotreal” is actually something that’s said in Arabic rather than English and it really is just a part of the dialect. Obviously it’s said on purpose but it’s used more than Israel is. So truly it’s more of what I’m used to but I’m working on it.

You have to understand that I can’t and won’t change overnight that’s impossible. And some of my opinions stand solid even though people might not agree with them. And people need to accept that because we are also affected by this.

I am just as much offended by Israelis who sweep Palestinian death under the rug (I know not everyone does and I hold so much respect especially for leftists who actually fight for Palestine and for peace and coexistence). Before I never would have even thought of changing my opinions because of the treatment I received online from Israelis themselves. But I’ve changed.

I’ve always been a peace oriented person until it came to Palestine but I’m working on it and I do believe in peace and I believe in blaming and punishing both sides. But I get to criticize my side and you get to criticize yours. I know how to criticize Palestine without undermining them, without being rude and hurtful. I’ve learned how to criticize Israel without being antisemitic but I still believe that Israelis are better at that than me or in fact anyone on the planet.

I don’t expect to understand you just like how I don’t expect you to understand me and that’s normal and it’s ok and it can be worked out and we can work towards understanding each other that’s ok. We can’t be expected to agree on everything and for life to suddenly turn into rainbows and butterflies. We are going to disagree 100% and we are both going to have a right to hold those opinions and they are both going to be correct and we have to accept that. What’s important is that even when we disagree we are not undermining. I am not decreasing in your value neither are you in mine. We are both human being who have been through horrible things that never should have happened we have each others side to blame.

I still respect you as a human, I don’t blame you for your government, I don’t expect anything of you that I don’t expect of myself and that’s the truth.

IM GONNA ADD THIS AND I HOPE ANON SEES IT

Please feel free to send me as many anons as you wish and ask many questions and start as many conversations as you want. I am very open to having a convo with you and I was so scared that my tone came off as passive aggressive but I swear to you I meant it with the wholeness of my heart. (I was thinking in Arabic and writing in English which is why it might sound a bit weird) I would genuinely love to have a conversation because you genuinely seem like a really nice person🫶🏼

[luveline]

could we get a glimpse into asf birthdays post-hogwarts? maybe r is having a bad time and isn’t feeling good and she worries that her sadness is ruining fred’s birthday but actually fred would rather spend his birthday in bed with ghost than at any sort of party. no pressure though lovely girl <3

love u!! fem!reader

cw mental health issues

Fred didn’t plan a party for his birthday. He works it out like this; it’s his birthday, and he loves you, and you don’t like parties, so he doesn’t really want one. He wants to spend an important day with his most important girl. He wants to see his family for breakfast, and so you go, and that’s enough of anybody else for a whole day. 

“What did you want to do for dinner?” you ask. 

“We just had breakfast.” 

“I know.” You frown at him in a faux of annoyance. “I’m just asking, so we can prepare.” 

“We’re gonna order something. No preparing. A feast. George might come over.” 

“If he doesn’t, he should be ashamed of himself.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that.” 

“Tell him!” You wrap your hand around his wrist for a few seconds. “Don’t tell him.” 

You seem a little out of sorts today. Making your very best effort to not let him in on the secret. Too bad for you, Fred knows you now. He knows when you’re depressed, when you’re freaking out, when you’re about to tip into overstimulation. He reckons he has a thirty percent chance of rescuing you, but he can see the guilt already taking shape on you. You’re unhappy, and you’ve never felt as ashamed of it as you do now. 

You’re squirming. 

“You know what I want for my birthday, lovely girl? You’ll never guess.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want to spend the next couple of hours in bed with you.” 

You manage a smile, though you’re not in the mood for the innuendo you’d misheard. “I don’t know if…” You list off as he takes your waist into his hands, as he pulls you stomach to stomach and leans back. His hands twine over the small of your back. 

“I wanna sleep with your hands in my shirt,” he says. “That’s all, Ghost. Not seducing you.” 

“You can seduce me.” 

“Maybe I’ll try again later,” he says offhandedly. “Will you come and lie down with me?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” you say, letting him pull you as he begins to steer you from the kitchen doorway to the hallway into his room. Your room, just as soon as he asks you to move in. Most of your stuff spots the room, and there have long been drawers emptied for your perusal. 

The birthday card you got for him lays open on the nightstand. He guesses every penny you’ve been paid in the last month was spent on his gifts. He doesn’t understand when you’d managed to buy all this stuff, ‘cos you’re always together, but presents and wrapping paper still lay at the end of the bed as proof of your secrecy. It’s impressive and worrying. He likes it better when you have no secrets.

“I’m gonna need a wheelbarrow,” he says. 

“Surprised you know what that is.” 

“Oh!” he says, pulling the duvet back, and encouraging you down into the mattress with a gentleness that contrasts his snarky tone. “Oh, oh, oh. You’re being mean. That’s cool, I can be mean too. I’ll be so mean.” 

He takes his presents from the bed to the dresser and shakes the blanket out, little shards of papers and tape falling onto the floor for later cleaning. You’re watching him silently. You hold out your hands. 

“Aw, babe,” he says with a sigh, climbing into bed and on top of you, his face slotting in the space over your shoulder. He closes his eyes to breathe you in. Blind, the smell of your perfume is stronger, sweeter. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I love the way you smell.” 

“Freddie.” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better in my life.” 

You curl your arm behind his back. He has to stress how it feels, the perfect weight on him, the perfect size, everything about you is what he wants and he shouldn’t be surprised at how much he loves you, but it catches him off guard anyways. He really, genuinely, just wants you to be as happy as he is —he wishes he could take your unhappiness and put you on better footing. It must be quite disconcerting to feel sad all the time. 

Fred worries it’s scarier than you can handle. The last thing he wants is for it to overwhelm you. 

“You smell like heaven,” he mumbles, pressing his nose to your neck. 

“Sorry.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” 

“It’s your birthday.” 

“I know,” he murmurs, “you got me all those presents. You gave the cutest wake up kiss anyone’s ever gotten.” 

Good morning, you’d said quickly, pressing a soft peck to his lips, your hand on his cheek. Happy Birthday. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, nearly breathless. 

“Nothing has to be wrong, Ghost. It’s okay if you don’t feel very well.” 

“It’s your birthday,” you repeat quietly. 

Fred gives you a smattering of soft kisses. “I know, but it doesn’t matter,” he promises, “don’t feel bad. Let’s just have some quiet time. Maybe you’ll feel better tonight.” 

“What if I don’t?” you ask. 

“I won’t mind.” 

You slip your hand up behind his shirt, fingertip trailing over the ridges of his stretch marks. You’re obsessed with them, and you always say the same thing when you feel them, a whisper he can barely hear. “You got too tall too fast,” you say, fingertip higher, hand flattening as you reach the space between his shoulders. “Do you think you’re done growing now?” 

Fred has no idea. He tells you as much, the afternoon spent whispering conversation until you turn quiet. For a while you cwtch in quiet, and he gives you a couple of minutes to yourself to make lunch, which he eats and you thank him for but don’t touch. By dinner time, you’re feeling well enough again to sit up. You hold his hands and ask if he wants to watch TV. 

It’s a great birthday. 

[venus-haze]

I’ll Keep a Light in My Window (Starlight x Reader)

Summary: After her Believe Expo speech, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on Annie. Among the messages flooding her Instagram DMs is an encouraging one from you, an old friend from her Capes for Christ days. The two of you reconnect, and Annie finds more than friendship with you this time around.

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is my first Starlight fic! I hope I did her justice since this is mostly from her perspective. Inspired by the song from The Get Down because it’s so Annie. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: This is pretty much fluff with some angst, related to canon events and mentions of homophobia in the context of American Christianity. Obviously playing with the plot of S1 for this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Despite the crowd’s chaos in response to her speech, Annie felt her smile falter when she got backstage and was met with varying degrees of rage and disgust. Her own mother looked like she’d spent the past five minutes sucking on sour candy. 

‘Hello!’ Annie wanted to shout. ‘Did you see what I did out there? Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?’

Hughie had disappeared after meeting Ezekiel. She tried to pretend that him not even saying goodbye didn’t bother her. If she could get up on stage and bare her soul to thousands of people in person and millions at home, at the very least she could admit to herself that she was hurt. 

The drive back to the tower was tense. Everyone seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. As if she’d done something wrong. The longer she sat with what she said and did, the more she was convinced she made the right choice. Between what The Deep had done to her and how she was treated after saving a girl from suffering the same fate, they were just mad she called them on her complacency. 

As soon as she made it back to her suite, she pulled out her phone to find her Instagram had blown up even more than when she first joined The Seven. Her phone nearly crashed from the amount of notifications she had. Thousands of comments and messages, either rants or support. She scrolled through her clogged DMs, her stomach churning at the glimpses of abuse that piled on from irate strangers. One DM caught her attention, addressing her by her real name rather than Starlight. 

Hesitantly, she tapped the message to see the full contents.

‘Holy shit Annie!! You’re so badass🤩 Our Capes for Christ counselors must be shitting themselves right now lmao way to go!’

There were a lot of people from her Capes for Christ days, a constant rotation of hopeful young superheroes ready to use their powers for the glory of the Lord. Looking back, it was just a self-righteous vanity project for their parents and whatever religious sycophants hovered around. She tapped your photo, bringing her to your profile. Your brief bio gave your first name and that you were living in the city, but your supe name was nowhere to be found. 

She tapped your most recent photo. In a brightly lit hospital hallway, you posed in black scrubs with a handful of balloons. You’d posted it just a week earlier, the caption celebrating working as a nurse for three years. Most of the comments were congratulating you, but one comment finally jogged her memory.

‘might be thinking of someone else but were you red heart?’ someone commented.

You replied with, ‘Yeah I was a million years ago! Lamest name ever😂😂’

Right. Red Heart. Healing powers. Red Cross spokesgirl. White top with a red skirt and sparkly red shoes that reminded her of the Wizard of Oz. You were on the Capes for Christ circuit with her. At one point she considered you a close friend, close enough to invite you to the roller skating party she begged her mom for when she was ten, only allowed to invite three girls because that’s all they could afford. Memories of skating to Britney Spears songs and balancing a paper plate with room temperature pizza on her lap came back to her. You’d bought her one of the special edition birthday Barbies. Her mom never let her take it out of the box, claiming it’d be worth a lot of money some day. It was probably still collecting dust in their attic.

She could remember you going off to college after high school, dropping your superhero identity not long after. With healing powers, it made sense you’d go into nursing. Her mom had expressed a judgemental disbelief at your decision. Annie wished she at least had a choice like you. 

She scrolled through more of your photos. You seemed to be doing well since you got out. Got out. Like it was a cult. Maybe in a way, it was. 

Annie hit the follow button on your profile and messaged you back.

‘Thanks Y/N! I made a lot of people mad, but I’m glad I did it 😊’ she hesitated a moment before typing, ‘We should catch up sometime! You're still in New York right? I’m pretty new to the city.’

Before she could get too in her own head about whether asking you to hang out was weird when the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, you responded with the names of a few coffee shops on the Upper East Side and that you were off work the following day. 

Her mood had tanked before meeting up with you, getting chewed out by Stilwell and feeling some guilt for Ashley losing her job. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her fault. If they hadn’t enabled a sex pest for years, she wouldn’t have had to make her speech. 

Following the directions on her phone and getting a bit turned around in the subway, she walked up to the coffee shop a few minutes after eleven, when the two of you had agreed to meet. She rushed inside when she noticed you were already sitting at a table with your drink. 

Annie sat down across from you with her coffee, playing with the cup sleeve. “I’m so glad you had time to hang out. I still don’t really know anyone here, and it’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Yeah! I'm not really in touch with a lot of people from back then, but I can totally introduce you to my friends. It’s an adjustment, but the city has a lot to offer if you know where to look.”

“Way more to do than Des Moines at least.”

“I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” you said, lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “congrats on getting into The Seven! Out of everyone in our weird ass group growing up, I always had a feeling it was gonna be you.”

“Thanks.” She gave you a strained smile. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m making the best of it.”

“Sometimes that’s the most you can do,” you said.

“How about you? What part of the hospital do you work in?”

“With my powers, they have me all over the place, but it’s good. I can see I’m really making a difference.”

“That’s what I want. Sometimes I feel like they just parade me around to look nice, but they won’t let me do anything,” she said. “Like that stupid new costume. It’s like they make me wear it just to humiliate me for helping that girl because I didn’t do it their way. I feel like a joke.”

“Not after the Believe Expo. Anyone would be an idiot not to take you seriously now,” you said. “I mean, you said what so many people were thinking but were too afraid to say. It’s bullshit they’re treating you like this.”

“No, it’s—I’ll deal. We’re supposed to be catching up, and I’m like dumping all my problems on you. How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. 

She wasn’t sure how she’d answer the question if you’d been the one to ask. Hughie could be so hot and cold, like he was hiding something. 

You were silent for a few moments before answering. “Not really. My girlfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great! I mean—not great that you broke up, I’m so sorry,” Annie said frantically. “Just you being—dating women. I’m happy for you.”

“That means a lot, Annie. I kind of parted ways with Vought because of it. I mean, they have this progressive face, but then they let Ezekiel spout his bullshit and put their name on that too?” you ranted. “That’s just me. It’s pretty much impossible to have a career as a supe without Vought, so I don’t judge.”

“Do you think I’m crazy for trying to change things from the inside?”

“It can’t hurt to try. Then at least you know you did what you could.”

She smiled. At least she could vent to someone who understood and actually gave a damn. Hughie was nice, but he didn’t quite get it. There was always some kind of disconnect. Maeve wasn’t nearly the mentor she was hoping for. She got it a little better now. Maeve had been in The Seven for years, Annie could only imagine how much it’d wear her down. 

On her way back from getting coffee, Annie stopped in front of a bookstore with a huge Vought display in the window. Her comics were front and center, a cardboard cut-out of her next to one of Homelander. The Deep’s comics were barely visible with clearance stickers slapped on the covers. Serves him right. She couldn’t believe he’d been her favorite at one point.

Sleepovers with the other Capes for Christ girls almost always led to a “who’s your favorite member of The Seven” discussion. The answers were always a lot of Homelander, some Lamplighter or Marathon Man, but you always answered Queen Maeve. Back then, she thought it was because you admired her strength, her trailblazing as the first woman in The Seven. Maybe it wasn’t that simple.

“That’s her! I swear to god it is!” Annie overheard someone whisper-yell.

“Who?”

“Starlight, over there!”

Annie kept her head down, speed-walking up the street. She ducked into the nearest subway, getting on the first train that stopped even though it was going further uptown. Pulling her hoodie up to obscure her face, she sighed. She had everything she ever dreamed of, but it seemed more and more like it was turning into a nightmare.

The following weeks were busy between her obligations with The Seven and helping Hughie with whatever cryptic stuff he was up to. She still found time to see you. Hanging out with you was the only thing that made her feel normal anymore. You were so confident in who you were, she felt comfortable finding out who she was outside of Starlight. With you, she could just be Annie. 

All of a sudden her association with Hughie had Homelander nearly turning on her. Maeve took up for her in nothing less than a Hail Mary moment. Then, to make matters worse, her entire world came crashing down when she agreed to meet up with Hughie despite his fugitive status. She wasn’t born with her powers, no supe was. Instead her mom signed her life away to Vought and allowed them to basically experiment on her. The cherry on top of the melting ice cream sundae that’d become her life was definitely getting shot immediately after finding out the news.

When she came to in the hospital, she saw you in your scrubs, slouched in the chair next to her bed. She reached out, taking your hand in hers. 

“Y/N?” she croaked out.

“Annie!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. “Holy shit, how are you feeling? I did what I could when you got here. You heal fast, so you should be—“

“It’s all a lie! Our whole lives, Y/N! They fucking lied about everything!” she raged, her vision blurred by tears. “At least you got out. I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t call my best friend stupid.”

She laughed weakly, sniffling a bit. “Thanks Y/N, for everything. All this time I was thinking I was doing what I wanted, but it was what everyone else wanted for me. It always has been.”

“Then start living for you, whatever that looks like. It’s never too late,” you said.

Her hand still intertwined with yours, she pulled you closer to her, your faces inches apart. Taking in your features, she admired how pretty you were. She’d always thought so, but didn’t know how to place it before. Since you’d reconnected, however, it was different. Butterflies in her stomach when you'd smile at her. Texts from you brightening her day. Hanging out with you being the highlight of her week. She didn’t have to try when it came to you. 

“I think I’ll start now,” she whispered.

In a moment of nerve-wracking bravery, Annie pressed her lips to yours. Relief swept over her when you kissed her back, smiling against her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew she could get through it with you by her side.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲.

──────────── 𝐰𝐜 — 1k 𝐜𝐰 — fanon!rafe on a one-way flight to simp city, some spice but nothing graphic or excessive, mention of drugs/being high (it's rafe, what did you expect?), 'kid' as a pet name bc he is that guy + cliffhanger? 𝐚/𝐧 — this was originally posted on @holy-pucks for my nov 23 slumber party, but i've decided to upload it here because it never showed in the tags. if you've already read this, i would very much appreciate you showing it some love here as well :) thx a mil in advance, besties! ────────────

main masterlist | MDNI

RAFE CAMERON knew the risk. He just couldn't be bothered to give a shit. 

if one of the loud-mouthed busybodies took issue with his behavior, that's their prerogative. they've been at it so long, drunk and overzealous, their flippant chatter is mere static in the background of his life. 

it isn't his fault their stale lives and expired marriages pale in comparison to the pocket of paradise he carved out of figure eight. rafe didn't ask for their attention, nor did he solicit their opinions — and he certainly didn't invite an audience; his girlfriend writhing in his lap will never be a spectator sport.  

it would be too generous to call it sympathy, but rafe can understand how they might get confused. once you catch a glimpse, you're as good as gone. a lost cause, irrevocable, and clear as day. beauty that effortlessly captivating is impossible to tear your eyes away from, and the original kook princess is bathed in excess. 

of all people, he knows the breadth of her magnetism and is just as weak for it, if not more. egotism drains along with reason when they're simply in the same room, his carnal preoccupation more than happy to fill the vacuum of power. 

rafe commands the island and its inhabitants — with one paramount exception. he wields power because she allows for it. she, who is his indisputable sovereign and to whom he pledges his undying allegiance with innate reverence. 

it was his wandering hands, after all, which led the pair to an empty veranda overlooking the bustling midsummer festivities. 

a laurel of fresh blooms became collateral damage soon after, having been unceremoniously knocked to his feet by her fervent desperation to feel his sun-kissed skin against her lips. 

rafe certainly had no objections. 

with a heap of silky fabric rucked up around her waist and her wrists pinned taut to the small of her back, rafe's girlfriend works him over with both teeth and tongue, the affection carefully choreographed to sync up with the sway of her hips. each nip, suck, or kiss accompanies her precise labors, and any marbled evidence left behind he'll wear with pride, much to the island's chagrin and his sisters' disgust. 

rafe previewed the evening's fireworks display as she bore down on his aching bulge, never once ceasing the light nibbling of his earlobe; it's the tell-tale, strained whimper diced by gritted teeth that incited action.

his hips jerk up in search of sweet relief, inadvertently finding her bare heat well beyond wet and wanting. 

rafe commends his past self for confiscating the lace as they neared the valet podium; the garment fares better as a pocket square. 

close proximity amplifies all those delicious, needy sounds, robbed of their potential prematurely; she is not yet immune to gossip.

it doesn't matter, rafe would know if his girl was close donning earplugs and a blindfold. her pathetic attempt at modesty is hardly an issue. much like how there isn't an inch of skin he hasn't traversed; there isn't a bluff of her's he can't immediately see through. no matter how soft or sudden, rafe can feel his girl teetering on the brink. 

the faint wobble of her bottom lip might as well be a formal declaration; she's trying and failing to keep herself from falling over the edge — the polite little thing knows the price of gluttony.

as he reclines in the stately patio chair, he pulls her down with him. in anticipation, rafe tips his mouth and angles his hips while relishing in the spoiled musings of a person who's never wanted for anything.

rafe relents, mercifully rutting into her as his thumb rubs a certain finger. 

"sooner or later, i'm putting a ring on this hand." 

giggling despite herself, she abruptly leans back to inspect his pupils.

"how high are you?" 

the friction of shifting pressure reluctantly betrays a soft spot in his chainmail cloak. the levity of the moment envelops them in warmth. a brilliant rarity peeks through between the velvety curtain of annoyance: contentment. 

even so, rafe doesn't allow the foreign state of mind or the white-hot burn of pleasure to distract him from his prior ambition. 

"kid, if i was high right now, we'd be halfway to the courthouse." 

she simply shakes her head and buries her face back into the crook of his neck.

rafe has an affinity for grandstanding. she hardly, if ever, took him at his word, simultaneously too smart and too skeptical to make his words into something more than he meant. sometimes, he said things because he needed to know how they tasted, and others, her on-again-off-again boyfriend just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice.

he is impulsive and unreliable, and no amount of love will change that.

rafe relinquishes her wrists in favor of her neck. his palm burns the nape as it keeps her a prisoner to his greedy, electric gaze.

the dull throb mounting under his touch cannot hold a candle to the heartbeat palpitating between her thighs. major and minor, the muscles twitch in anticipation as they, too, are overwhelmed by the casual display of dominance. 

he brings her forehead to rest against his. a novel softness in his voice fans across her gently parted lips. "i know you think i'm bullshitting you, but not this time. i'm so fucking serious, kid. the proof's at home in the top right drawer of my desk."

her disbelief persists, manifesting in an uncouth snort. 

"yeah, right." 

rafe scoffs at the sarcasm-dipped quip; the unwavering effort to make his life more difficult at every turn was actually sort of endearing, he hated to admit. 

"i've had it since our graduation... just never found the right moment, i guess," he shrugs, quieter now.

rafe knows a smidge of feigned ambivalence won't detract from the heated, earnest implication beaming behind his irises. 

the claim is substantiated by her quirked-brow baiting, an act that leaves him frantically fishing for his keys.

if they’re lucky, they might make it to the driveway. 

but the stars underestimate the proprietorial hunger of the kook prince, because they get three lights from the club before rafe parks the ford by the roadside. 

────────────

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

If it wouldn’t be too upsetting, I was wondering about an angsty counterpart to the “M6 meet the parents” post you made awhile ago. Maybe MC finally regains their memories of their parents, only to learn that said parents treated them horribly in some way or another.

The Arcana HCs: When MC remembers having bad parents

~ a lot of people struggle with reconciling a need for parental figures with bad memories of the people who failed to fill that role, and they're not alone. I hope this brings some comfort - brainrot ~

CW for angst, yelling, mentions of toxic parenting

-- to set the scene --

You'd always wondered what your family was or wasn't like. It's been years since your new start on life, and you're content in the family you've found with your beloved.

You did always wonder what the trigger point might be to catch a glimpse of what you used to have - maybe the dad you just passed in the street promising their kid "a treat, but only one, okay?" or maybe the snoozing toddler you saw being lovingly carried home on their mother's shoulder.

You didn't expect it to be the sound of an angry adult yelling at a child for crying outside the window.

Julian

Just as the memories and the yelling and the crying are about to become too much, you hear another familiar voice join in outside your window

You've been expecting Julian home any moment, and it sounds like he's finally here. And like he's ... talking to the kid?

He's speaking gently, and when you peek out the window he's crouching on the cobblestones between the two, using his pocket square to mop up the kid's tears and helping them blow their nose

You hear him say something about grown ups being ridiculous and people who yell doing it because they don't have anything helpful to say and the adult behind him flushes red while the child giggles

There's a moment where you think the grown up involved is about to yell at Julian instead, but one furious look from your beloved is all it takes for them to back off

When he finally makes it inside to take off his coat and greet you, he freezes as soon as he sees the look on your face

"MC? You look upset, my dear, are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Once you're able to tell him everything, you watch his face fall and waver between sadness for your pain and anger on your behalf

"MC ... you deserved to have someone look out for you, too."

He wraps you up in one of his all-encompassing hugs and holds you tight before putting his coat back on and pulling you out the door. It's time Mazelinka made you her honorary grandchild, too

Asra

They saw you tense up from the backroom before they heard what was happening outside

He was just going to take a peek at what was going on, but as soon as he realizes it's memory-related he springs into action

Immediately strides to the shop front, casts a soothing spell on both the people involved (with an added mild sedating effect on the angry adult), turns the shop sign to "closed", and locks the front door before hurrying back to check on you

They approach you cautiously, asking if you're in any pain, and then take you upstairs to snuggle while you work through it

He's not going to pressure you to talk, so he rubs his hands along your back and arms and tucks your head under chin while he asks a few gentle questions in case you need somewhere to start

They'd known that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but you had never gone into very much detail before

He's had his own parental difficulties, and he's still working through the hurt and resentment from their disappearance, but he never had to worry about their cruelty

They're quick to shut down any blame you place on yourself. They think you're the most deserving of love of anyone they know, and you definitely didn't deserve to be treated the way you were

Refuses to let go of you until you're repeating back his affirmations

The next time you see Aisha and Salim, they practically offer to adopt you

Nadia

She overheard it from outside the cafe you were sitting in too

She was already very disturbed from the cruelty she was witnessing, but when she saw that it was bothering you as well she stood straight up and sailed outside to deal with the problem

She doesn't need to use very many words. You watch in slight awe as she comes to stand next to the sobbing child and stare down the belligerent adult until their angry shouts turn into quiet apologies

Refuses to let them off the hook until they apologize to the child as well and vacate the premises. Makes sure the kid is safe before coming back and taking her seat again

Confused about why you're still upset when the issue's already been resolved

Shocked and deeply pained when you tell her what's going on. Will make sure that you're somewhere that feels safe to talk before continuing the conversation

She'll make sure all your needs are met before sitting you down with both your hands in hers and asking you to tell her as much as you're comfortable sharing

Hearing about what your parents were like gives her more perspective on her own. She knows that her own hurt is valid too, but your description puts her experience into a new perspective

Quick to tell you that, since you're marrying her, you're part of her family now

Will invite her parents and sisters back to Vesuvia to smother you with love and properly adopt you into the Satrinava family

Never tolerates shouting in her Palace again

Muriel

He started to freeze up a little himself when you passed by the loud situation on your way out of town

He remembers being that kid on the streets, getting yelled at by grown ups who only thought of him as a parasite in child form

He approaches slowly with the hopes of comforting the kid and finding a safe spot for them, accidentally scaring the grown up away in the process (he was frowning very deeply)

He can tell right away that you're not doing too great yourself, but he doesn't want to rush you so he gives the child a wildflower and makes sure they're safe before walking back home while holding your hand

He wants to make sure that you have the time and space to find the words you need, so he gets you situated in front of the fire and sits next to you with a project

Invites you into his lap as soon as you start to sniffle

Listens for as long as he needs to for you to say what you need. All he wants is for you to know that you're not alone anymore

He remembers what it was like to believe that he was unwanted and what a relief it was to learn the truth

He can't imagine how much it must hurt to go through the reverse

Will hold and comfort you for as long as you need it

He'll blush and need to pause a few times, but he'll tell you that he wants you to be part of his family now, both the family of his past and whatever family you find together in the future

Portia

She doesn't even notice that you're upset

She's too busy storming out of the Palace to where the shouting is happening on the bridge and outdoing the angry adult in both volume and fury. How dare they speak like that to a child!

The kid in question stops crying pretty quickly because they're too busy watching in awe as your beloved Portia verbally beats the adult into the ground

She pauses to give the kid a sweet smile and piece of candy before booting the grown up on their way and storming back inside

Continues to rant while she picks up what she dropped. No child deserves to be treated like that! Who does that adult think they are? If a kid is crying, they need comfort, not yelling! What kind of -

Somehow her passionate ranting is both validating and soothing, but even after you've calmed down a bit you still look upset enough for her to pause when she finally looks at you

"MC? What's wrong?"

Starts pacing and tugging at her hair halfway through your answer to keep herself contained and then hugs you so tightly you feel your ribs creak once you're finished talking

Takes five minutes to tell you how loved you are and how mad she is at your parents before bundling you out the door and into town

She's taking you to eat Mazelinka's soup and become her honorary grandchild. She's also threatening Ilya into becoming your adopted older brother (he doesn't need convincing)

Lucio

Genuinely doesn't think anything's out of the ordinary until he sees you becoming visibly upset

He figures that it must be the person getting obnoxious in a public place, so he flies in their face and tells them to shut up and get lost, they're being too loud and bothering his MC

Surprised when you show some compassion for the crying kid. What are you talking about, kids are there to be yelled at - wait - what do you mean they deserve to be treated gently? He wasn't!

... oh

Awkwardly throws the kid a sympathetic smile before pulling you somewhere less vulnerable to continue your conversation

The treatment you describe isn't foreign to him, but when he imagines it happening to you, someone he wants to protect, his perspective starts shifting and he works himself into a rage

Will suggest hunting down and beating up the yelling adult since he can't do it to your parents

Ultimately begins breaking down a little himself, because his need to protect child you from harm is throwing his own past self's need for safety into sharp relief and he doesn't know how to proceed

Ends up back at your living quarters with you and huddling down on the bed together with the dogs to work it out

It's going to be a long journey, but finding a piece of hurt from his past that lines up with yours gives both of you the courage to start the healing process together

[chaotomatic]

TOTK Trailer things I noticed, the master post <3

Welcome back gamers today I will be going insane

Post 1 of (3)

These towers?? They're not sheika towers. They look like they may be made of wood and are decorated?

Glowing stuff. seems to be leaning up on a hillside. It's most likely this glowing grass we see later in the trailer here

This grass isn't on a particularly steep hillside though, so it might be in patches everywhere. Also- these seem to be murals? Like, it's not in a pattern, it's like a giant something painted a drawing in the grass.

When the lightning flashes, there's a goddamn TYPHOON in the sky. It is STORMING

MUSHROOM AREA?? Malice is EVERYWHERE. The enemies are covered in malice and the fungus seems to be releasing spores? I dont know what else that particle effect coult be. The blue stuff at the bottom looks...collectable. My personal theory is that these could be "tears" you could collect? They float around almost like how wax floats around in Sky Children of the Light, so maybe I'm just biased.

That. That is a goddamn hydra. Dragon. Thing. Nothing like Dinral or Nayru at all, so not a dragon in that sort of sense. This thing is so fucking cool i cannot wait to kick its ass

We get a really good look at this shield, he seems to have a new bow too, but I'm not exactly a weapons expert for BOTW so I could be wrong. This is definitely Sheika-esque, but it's not what we're used to. Maybe this is something from the Sheika 10,000 years ago? Who knows.

The moon is shown to be almost exclusively red. (This blood moon is fucked up bruh) And it looks as though it will stay that way for the whole game, although again I could be totally wrong. The sky's normal (besides the islands) during the daytime. The whole "Night time is more dangerous" thing from BOTW has a chance to be intensified a LOT here.

Especially when the moon is throwing hands and blowing Hyrule up. that's not good. In all honesty, the "blowing up" part is likely part of a cutscene, but its funny to think about. Also I don't think the malice is coming DIRECTLY from the moon, but the moon (or Ganon THROUGH the power of the moon) is summoning these rockets of calamity to fuck shit up.

I. Don't know. What this is. Help.

another glimpse of the glowing grass, but I don't know if this is the same hillside as the one at the very beginning of the trailer or not.

REDEAD REDEAD REDEAD REDEAD WHAT ELSE COULD THAT POSSIBLY BE

Also the first little glimpse of a king bokoblin? Freaky.

At first, I wasn't sure if the storm was going to be relevant but you can see it a bit here again in the top left corner. Maybe something is hiding in the eye of the storm? Maybe you have to appease an entity to clear it, like in the thunder trial puzzle in BOTW.

I will be reblogging with more BS soon so stay tuned teehee

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.3k

chapter summary: new dynamics, new outlooks. the story comes to an end.

warnings: cock worship, oral (male receiving), ass play, anal sex, spit as lube, dirty talking

a/n: this is the last chapter of this series but there will be an epilogue coming very very soon. thank you to everyone who joined me on this journey and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it xx

Railhead - The end of a railroad line where trains can be loaded and unloaded, often in a remote location.

You’re proud, to say the least. Looking back at the train, your chest swells with indescribable emotion. The outside might look rusty and dusty—something Javier was adamant about so no one would want to come take a closer look—but the inside was where your efforts truly shined. Through the windows, you catch a glimpse of the plants you potted in old cans you cut into two and one semi-intact clay pot. A fence surrounds the train, booby-trapped just in case someone lurks nearby.

Javier comes out and stands next to you, he’s chewing on a long-stemmed dandelion. His signature aviators nestled above his head. 

“We fucking did it. An actual living place,” his shoulders raise slightly, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. “I can’t believe we actually did it without killing each other.” 

You roll your eyes and come to stand in front of him. His eyes drop to your lips, then smoothly travel back up to meet your gaze. You smile playfully as you quickly pluck the dandelion from his lips, closing the distance, you slant your lips together. As always, he’s hungry. He cups your waist and pulls you flush against his body, slipping his tongue between your wanting lips. You groan loudly, your stomach doing somersaults as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Every part of you is humming with delight. 

But then Javier suddenly parts, and you’re left aching. 

“Hey—” 

“I got a surprise for you.”  

You blink before answering, “A surprise?” 

“Si,” he chirps quickly, brown eyes shining. He holds your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the train. “Follow me, querida. I’m sure you’re going to appreciate it.” 

“Hmmm we’ll see.” Javier sits you on the tattered couch and disappears into the makeshift bedroom—your shared bedroom. “How did you even manage to get me something?” you call out. “We literally go everywhere together.” 

“I have my ways.” then he adds. “It’s handmade.” 

Handmade? 

He appears from the narrow threshold, he’s holding a small box, “Here,” he says, placing it on your lap. “Maybe you’ll complain less thanks to this.” 

“Charming as always.” 

You carefully lift the lid, a pair of intricately crafted insoles catches your eye. Javier watches you intently, his full attention making your heart stutter. The insoles, are fashioned from what seems to be a combination of salvaged leather and repurposed fabric.

“I—Insoles?” you gasp, tears prick the corner of your eyes. You lift your gaze and your brows furrow as you meet his. “I don’t remember mentioning I had shitty insoles.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

The edges are neatly stitched with a weathered thread, showcasing the craftsmanship that went into it. You notice the tiny details, like irregular patterns and faded hues, hint at a past life.  

Javier grins, leaning in as you inspect your gift. "I found an old leather jacket and some sturdy fabric in one of the abandoned buildings. Thought it might make your life a bit comfier. And hopefully—it’ll make my ears hurt less."

“Don’t ruin the moment, Javi.” 

“I don’t want you crying. I can’t handle you crying.” 

“Aw, big scary Fedra soldier afraid of some happy tears?” 

“Didn’t say I was afraid,” his lips touch your forehead, you lean into the heat of them as he takes a seat next to you. “I just don’t enjoy being the person who put them there.” 

“You do know what happy means right?” 

He waves a hand, “Tears are tears, perla. I’d rather see you smile and laugh.” 

Looking back down, you run your fingers over the textured surface. It’s soft, resilient. The insoles seem to mold to the contours of your hands, promising a snug fit when placed inside your old boots. The scent of worn leather and a hint of dust lingers.

"Try them on," Javier urges, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. He nudges you slightly with his shoulder. 

“Alright alright. Just give me a second.” 

You slip the handmade insoles into your shoes, a surprisingly pleasant sensation envelops your feet. You sigh pleasantly and your eyelids flutter. 

“That good, huh?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Javier watches your reaction closely, "So, what do you think?"

"Handmade indeed," you muse, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You always find a way to make things special," quickly, you lean in, your kiss taking him by surprise. “Thank you, Javier.” 

He holds you by the hip, hands gradually moving lower to your backside. A shudder runs up your spine, your breathing becoming short-paced. 

“Say my name again.” 

“Javier,” you repeat, a bit more breathily this time. He stands up, the sudden movement making your head spin. He’s not touching you anymore. Instead, he’s just staring at you, his eyes like charcoal. 

“Again.” 

“Javier.” 

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, he pushes you towards him, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. You inhale sharply. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “The couch or the bed?” 

“B—Bed,” you stutter. When he clicks his tongue with disapproval, you say, “I want you to fuck me on the bed, Javier.” 

“That’s my good little troublemaker. My sweet thorn.” Before releasing you, he keeps you still, his fingers digging into your neck. “Before I fuck you,” he groans. “I want you to suck my cock, baby. I want you to get it nice and wet, want you to fucking worship it. Understood?” 

You nod in a daze. Javier smiles, a bit of softness showing in his irises. His hand dropping from your neck, he kneads the plump flesh of your ass. “Then I’m going to worship this gorgeous ass. Does that sound fair to you?” 

You swallow thickly, not sure what to say when your head is swimming in deep arousal. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “That sounds fair.” 

The way to the ‘bedroom’ is a blur of quick kisses and rapid stripping; some part of you doesn’t want to remove your boots, you want to continue to appreciate the insoles he made for you, but sadly, you end up kicking them off. 

“Lay down,” you say, taking back some of the control. While Javier pulls down his pants, you suck the skin above his collarbone, tracing the bone underneath with your tongue. A soft whimper reverberates in his throat, dragging your lips up, you kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I haven’t even begun worshipping your cock and you’re already a mess?” You palm his erection, grinning at the way it twitches in your palm. “Are you going to come as soon as I wrap my lips around you, Javier?” 

He grunts and grips your wrist, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish.” 

You know the words are meant to be a lighthearted tease, but they affect you more than you anticipate. You look down at his scar, almost ashamed at the cruel past that ended up binding you two together. 

He must’ve felt it because he lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to him, “We’re not in a battle anymore,” he reminds you. “There are no wars. And even if there were any, I have no intention of joining when I’m desperately in love with you.” 

Love. 

He’s in love? 

With you? 

“I want to witness the beauty the world still has to offer. . . with you.” 

Your eyes go wide, your pulse skyrocketing in your veins. Your chest heaves. Love. A feeling so foreign that you thought you’d never be on the receiving end. Love. An emotion so complex that sometimes it felt you were the only one capable of it. Love. The emotion Javier feels for you. 

Love. The emotion you feel for Javier. 

You don’t say it—mostly because you’ll get choked up if you do—but you do kiss him with every bit of emotion you feel towards him. You breathe him in. Inhale him. You feel his lashes on your skin as he closes his eyes, feel the thud of his heart against your own chest. 

Love. 

What an amazing thing it was. 

And a cruel thing you were only able to find after the world ended. 

“Get on the bed,” you say, softer this time. Javier complies, the bed creaking in protest at his weight. You strip down completely. Your underwear and bra left on the floor. You want to be bare. You want to be safe. And you are safe, with him you’ll always be. 

“I love this pretty cock,” you mutter, kissing the side. The muscle in Javier’s jaw tenses, his teeth coming together. You lick up to the tip and wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the ridge. Before he can get comfortable, you drag your lips back down, following the vein that throbs violently under your soft flesh, you take one of his testicles into your mouth. You suck on it slowly and release it, blowing a bit of air over the spit-slicked skin. 

“Fuck,” he growls, hips jerking. “Fuck fuck fuck—That’s it baby, that’s it. . . Shit—” 

Javier’s head falls back, his dark locks a mess above the white-ish pillowcase. You dip your tongue between the crease of them and flattening your tongue, you lick the underside of his cock. His breath comes in short, fast pants. You take him into your mouth, sucking him halfway until the tip touches the back of your throat. You feel your nipples tightening, your pussy soaked from pleasuring him. Javier cradles the back of your head for dear life, thrusting into your mouth with shallow thrusts. You let him. You’d let him ruin you, you’d let him tear you apart and stick you together again. 

A series of moans and groans drop from his lips. Saliva trickles down his length, going down his thighs. Moaning around him, you grip the meat of his legs and push yourself down. He sinks into your throat desperately, his breath hitching when your throat convulses around him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, pushing you off his cock. “I don’t want to come yet but your mouth is too damn tempting.” You look up to him with a grin, he reaches towards you, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “Next time I’ll fuck this pretty mouth so well you won’t be smiling about it.”

“I’ll hold you up to that, you know.” 

“Good.” 

Javier pulls the pillow under you while he guides you to all fours. Suddenly you’re feeling too exposed with your ass in the air. You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at the sheets. He flattens his palm above your spine, his hand moving all the way down, he stands on his knees right behind you, his cock wet and heavy above the swell of your ass. 

“Just say the word and we’ll stop.” 

“No, I. . . I want it, I’m just nervous because I’ve never actually. . .” you trail off, your cheeks flaring at the thought of speaking openly—which is hilarious when you think about it because this man has literally seen the worst of you. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Promise.”

Javier seems satisfied by your answer and playfully slaps your ass. You imagine him smiling, stoked to have you in a way that no one else has. He parts your cheeks, you hear the sound of his mouth as a string of saliva drips right onto your hole, Javier hums, and with a thumb, he smears it over. Your breath hitches. He hasn’t even done much, yet you’re already dizzy with the vicious way your heart beats in your chest. 

Javier spits again, a pleasurable shudder crawls up your spine. Your nipples tighten. Goosebumps rising across your skin. He slowly pushes in a finger, he stops shortly after, examining the way your back tenses at the pressure. With his other hand, he caresses your spine. It’s soothing and you relax into his touch. 

“Wish we had lube,” he murmurs. You hear the rustle of sheets as he moves. “But hopefully this’ll be enough to loosen you up, querida.” 

His lips are nothing short of sin. You groan at the touch of his tongue, the velvet muscle swirling around you. He groans at your taste, pulls you closer by gripping your waist. You go willingly. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes, your body jolts as he wiggles his tongue inside. 

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the swollen nub. You feel your arousal growing, your body responding to his touch. You moan and squirm, unable to control yourself. It’s too much but also not enough all at the same time. He kisses where he’s been fucking you with his tongue and presses the same finger inside. This time it slides in with ease but he stops half-knuckle deep. 

Your body tenses when he swipes over your clit again. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, mouth moving over the plump flesh of your ass. 

"Amazing," you gasp, your body tingling with pleasure. 

He moves his hand away from your clit and you whimper at the loss of his touch. But before you can protest, you feel him pulling out. Slightly turning, you see him licking his fingers, getting them wet. His hair is a mess, his beard thicker now that time has passed. Your heart swells and your lashes flutter. A beat later, your eyes meet. Javier makes a show up sucking his fingers, smiling around them. 

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asks, pressing both fingers against your hole. 

Instead of words, a choked-out sound drops from your lips. Your head falls back, your body arching as he pushes them deep. 

"Relax, mi amor," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. You wince at the stretch, but his spit makes it easier, and soon his fingers are sliding in and out of you, stretching you open. 

Javier leans over you, his body covering yours. You feel his hard length against your back, and you know that he's just as turned on as you are. His fingers begin to move faster, scissoring and curling inside of you. He moans with you, precome dripping down your back and onto the sheets. Your body begs for more and more and more—

"Please," you gasp, meeting the thrust of his fingers. "I need you inside me, Javier." 

“How can I ever say no when you beg so sweetly,” he rasps, chest heaving. “Mi dulce perla.” 

He pulls his fingers out of you and you feel a sudden emptiness. But it's quickly replaced as he lines himself up with you and slowly begins to push into you. You gasp as he stretches you wide, he stops mid-thrust, waiting for you to adjust. Slack-jawed, you feel sweat beading at your temple. Javier finds your clit again, playing with it until you’re a soaking mess over his fingers, your body squeezing him tight. A loud groan trembles within his chest and he rocks forward, his cock filling you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, voice hoarse. “I could go on like this all day long—until the day I die.” 

You want to quip back at him, maybe mention that there’s no way he can go that long, but you lack the ability to form sentences. An elongated groan slips past your lips instead and you swear he smiles, without even looking you can sense the mischievous smile curling at his pretty, plush lips. 

Javier starts thrusting into you, slowly at first and then building up speed. His hands caress your body, over your back, and down your hips. You can hear the sound of his lower abdomen slapping against your ass, along with both your moans filling the air. His cock hits all the right spots inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You grip the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he hammers into you, the wet sounds growing and growing with every move.

You feel a sudden intensity building within you, rising higher and higher with each thrust of Javier’s hips. He lets out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you harder. You can’t help but moan loudly You’re feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible. 

Javier leans down and whispers into your ear, “You look so fucking sexy like this, taking my cock in your ass. You enjoy it don’t you—my sweet filthy girl.”

His words, along with his cock pounding into your tight hole, send you over the edge and you come with a loud cry, your entire body trembling. Your clit throbs as your cunt squeezes around nothing, pulsing viciously as your orgasm is ripped away. You clench around him and Javier’s movements become erratic. Suddenly, he stills, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. You feel him release inside of you, filling you up as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging his orgasm. Your eyes roll and your lids flutter, your own release washing over you as you come undone with him. He stays buried inside, both of you panting and catching your breath, until he finally pulls out. 

Javier collapses onto your back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You both lie there for a few moments, basking in the aftermath. He eventually pulls out of you and you move to lay on your side, feeling his spent trickling down the back of your thighs, you face each other.

He strokes your cheek gently, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You were amazing, mi vida,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. 

You smile back at him, “So were you,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair. “Though sadly, I don’t think we can do that again for a while. I’m going to be feeling it for days.” 

Just as he opens his lips, a sudden chill settles over your sweat-slicked body and his eyes drop down to your naked body with worry. “Are you cold?” 

“A bit,” you admit unwillingly. You slightly stir, attempting to reach for the blanket. “Winter is finally coming, huh?” 

Javier leans in and kisses you softly, his lips moving against yours in a slow, loving dance. You feel a warmth spread through your body, then you feel it on the outside as he reaches down, grabbing the blanket for you.

“It is.” 

“Is there a reason we’re outside in the middle of the night?” you grumble, hugging yourself, you follow Javier’s footsteps. “It’s fucking freezing.” 

The crisp night clings to your skin, freezing everywhere it touches. You miss the heat of your shared bed, the heat of another body against yours. With narrowed eyes, you glare at the man who is not slowing his steps. Javier takes your hand into his own, forcing you to move faster. He’s been secretive ever since he woke you—and it was definitely not pleasurable to be waken up in the middle of the night, especially in this day and age. 

“Javierrrrr,” you whine, throwing your head back. “It’s cold. . .” 

“You’ll thank me, I promise.” 

“Fine. I trust you,” you chew on your bottom lip and smile. “But mainly because you made me new insoles.” 

He turns to you, eyes round and simply adorable, “Are they keeping you warm?” 

“They are.”

The two of you continue your journey through the night, and as you walk, Javier's hand remains firmly clasped around yours. The crunch of leaves beneath your feet echoes in the quiet darkness, a lullaby that once again makes you wish you were in bed instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Javier leads you to a small clearing. Your eyes go wide when you notice the soft silver beams cascading onto the patch of ground underneath The air is still, and the world seems to hold its breath, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves. 

Your breath catches as you step into the open space, your hand slipping away from Javier’s. A field of flowers had bloomed in various shades, their slender stems standing proud. The delicate petals reflect the silvery light. They remind you of stars, their petals pointed instead of round like you’re accustomed to.

A gasp escapes your lips, and a radiant smile spreads across your face. Your head snaps to Javier, "What are these?" you ask. 

Javier's gaze shifts from the flowers to you, and in that moment, the world fades away. 

“I have no idea what they are,” he answers, finger moving over his bottom lip. “But they only bloom at night.” 

Your heart swells, “They’re beautiful. Thank you” 

He steps closer, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "Don’t mention it,” he brushes your lips together, the warmth of his breath making your melt into the earth. “Besides, they’re pale compared to you.” 

“No need to charm me further,” you grin. “You already have me.” 

“Do I now?” 

“You do.” 

As you share a tender kiss, the first snowflake falls. Then another. The world quiets down, and as you pull away, you notice the first snowflakes gently falling around you. Breaking away you both look at each other, then up to the sky. 

It's here – winter has finally arrived.

Surprisingly, despite the cold, you've never felt warmer. In that simple kiss and under the falling snow, there's a magic that makes everything feel just right.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The grass tickled your bare ankles. You felt lucky to have found some regular shoes. If not you would have to wear your boots that made your feet feel like it was in a sauna. The lovely weather felt like a joke. It wasn’t the reality you lived in, just a mirage of the life before—though even then, it wasn’t quite perfect was it? 

Your grip tightened around the straps of your bag. If you listened close enough you could hear the clatter of all the guns you were meant to smuggle in. The FEDRA was cruel in Kansas City. It was like the boogeyman stories but real. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes scanning your surroundings one last time. It was like a spitting image of a Van Gogh painting. The world was still alive. It wasn’t infected, it didn’t know about the monsters that lurked on the surface.  

Turning around, you continued to walk uphill, your chest starting to ache from both the heat and the constant walking. 

Then you saw him. 

A FEDRA soldier. 

Your eyes momentarily went wide. He wasn’t looking at you, He was fidgeting, constantly looking around as if he was waiting for someone. Worry made a home in your gut. You didn’t think you had the strength in you to fight anyone off today. You just wanted to help the people and get rid of the weight of the guns. 

The vest he wore looked like it dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back, and pistol snug on his hip. You wondered if he would use either one on you—

Your eyes locked on one another. 

Your breath halts in your chest, your heart ramming angrily and fearfully against its boney cage. 

He raised a sole eyebrow, eyes narrowing. He was assessing you, trying to see how much of a threat you were. 

“Who are you?” he asked and pulled out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. “You’ll get hurt if you wander around much, hermosa.” 

You swallowed, “I—I’m just walking by,” you paid careful attention to make your voice sound meek and frightened. You lifted both your hands in surrender. “Please don’t shoot.” 

He lit his cigarette and made no move toward his weapons. You eyed him nervously. FEDRA was not to be trusted. 

“That wasn’t my question.” 

“I just want a place to stay for the night. I was hoping to take refuge here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.” 

The soldier looked through his lashes and he shielded the tiny flame with his hand. When the cigarette finally came to life, he took a deep breath then looked up to the sky. 

“I really want to trust you. You have a kind face,” he said, sounding tired. “But your bag is making me doubt you.” 

You froze, “Please. You can trust me.”  

“And that’s all everyone needs during the end of times isn’t it?” he asked, not really wanting an answer. “Someone they can trust.” 

He lowered his gaze, looking back at you, he sighed. His gaze lingered on you for an uncomfortable long amount. Your feet were glued to the soil, heat blossoming all over your skin. He had a kind face too. In another life, you might’ve even fallen for eyes. 

The soldier suddenly blinked as if hitten by electricity, something he saw bothered him and you worried he saw right through you. Saw that you were a firefly, that you were carrying a shit ton of weapons. But he didn’t say anything. 

“Go.” 

“Go?” 

He looked away, “Go before I change my mind. I have someone I need to meet anyway.” 

So he was waiting for someone. Briefly, you wonder but quickly shrug the thoughts away. You had a mission.

You mumbled a thanks as you walked past him, your arms brushing in the process. As you left, you tried not to think about the electricity that circulated you, about the brown eyes and the tired look in them—

You tried not to fall for the possibility of a happy ending. Tried not to look for him when the chaos ensued, when Kathleen took over. 

You tried. 

And you failed. Miserably. 

[rusty-gloinks]

MURDER DRONES EPISODE 5 : Random details and favorite parts of this episode

Will be putting major spoilers under cuts if anyone has NOT seen the new episode, or has yet to see it. CW/TW: Blood, body horror, murdery stuff! SPOILERS!! AHHH!!! You get the point. I am not responsible for your actions :3

(This post is a mix of different things btw, Md related tho)

None of this will be in order, and I might need to make a PART TWO!!! Since the total is 45 images. :’)

FIRST UP. I would like to take the time to appreciate doll so have some LOVELY LITTLE images of her I took.

She looks so fucking awesome???? Like holy shit. She slayed!!!!!

not to be fruity .but. yea

SHE. also Isn’t that the campsite? Or just a different location with the same appearance.

OKAY. Next up. BABYGIRL . I SQUEALED AT LIKE EVERY SCENE OF THEM SHES SO FUCKING CUTE. MAN😭

BLEEEEEH (I’m going to make this my icon soonthat was the purpose of the screenshot. Also because I love them)

World is mine by Hatsune mi- cyn. World is mine by cyn. The famous vocaloid /j (HSES 😭😭😭😭)

Noticing how her balance is SOOO Much better while holding someone?. Also MOOD .just like me .real 💔

i lov e you🥺EEEK /p. Shes melting

MY SIB AND I WERE FUCKIJG DYING OVER THE PUPPY EYES.LMAO. I love their humor

J* , and they locked her in the basement. I am so SAD about this information

PROTECTIVE BIG BRO MODE…babys

Okay, listen, i know these 2 got shipped before the release but OUCH this makes things so much weirder!!! eugh:( (mainly saw em as friends.tttotallt not becsuse I project my friendship with my silly mutual onto them.no. /sarc)

anyways forget them being friends as my headcanon. THEYRE FUCKING SIBLINGS EVEN BETTER!!! (prjdedcts me and my elder sib onto th— *gets killed /j*

GAY RIGHTS(After the 2nd watch i realized she was making them kiss each other and I started laughing so hard my sides hurt)

Okay glitch QUIT SHOWING OFF. god damn !!!!! Literally appreciating this scenery so hard. 10000/10. :3

YKNOW HW I WANTED TO SEE TEARS IN THE NEW EPISODE!! LOOK. KIND OF CLOSE!!

LOOK HES SOBBING!!!! ALMOST. I GOT WHAT I WANTED OMFG!!!!! YAYYA!!!! (Love it when ppl cry /j

Lovely little lad. Reading abt dogs:) so cute…

subtle hints of favoritism..👀(she obvs likes J more I think,)

I love how immediately i could tell this was drawn by Liam. Canonically J in the show but like his style is so adorable and bouncy!!!! AND LIKE yummyys:3 eated

Cute detail in Uzi’s room. SHE LIKES BABY COWS GUYS. ITS TIME TO MAKE FANART OF UZI WITH BABY COWS. /J

Blushys:)!

For those wondering what this is it’s basically a ripoff of YouTube. The caption is titled "Top 100 Doors ever!!11!" and then the views at the bottom 😭😭. KHAN AND HIS FUCKING DOORS GOD DAMNIT

This part scared the shit out of me i was literally about to cry. I THIUGHTT SHE KILLED HIM

I had to slow this down and repeat the same clip OVER AND OVER Just to get it right, apparently the solver can swap roles? (The order is supposed to be yellow then purple since Uzi takes over as an admin instead of CYN.) very cool.

STP FIGHTING D:

BOTH VRY SCARY :(

Better glimpse of her backpack. Cute little skullbat zipper!! Also batteries. 👍

Apparently DEAD BATTERIES, aka the logo on Uzi’s sweater could be a possible band? Or reference to a band I don’t know? Like how they have my chemical robots (or something like that) as a ref to the band MCR (romance).

Sigh., N was that you.

Conlang? Fictional language? Glyphs? I’m assuming it’s VERY important (since liam lovessss foreshadowing, i will further elaborate). Hoping there will be ways to "simplify" it to english!

Yknow how in episode 2 Uzi takes braidens sentience or sumn like dat. Yea 💀

Alright I’ve hit the limit, gonna rb again with part 2!!!!! Soon. Maybe

[pomplalamoose]

can we get some hc’s for being dilf!lukes work wife pretty please 👀💗

a/n: for inclusivity's sake this is written for a gender neutral reader so everyone can enjoy <3

Hiiiii dear anon!!! Thank you so much for your request🩵

I'm not going to lie though, I found it somewhat difficult to think of Dilf!Luke with a work spouse due to his past and the way I generally like to imagine him to be.

But the concept really intrigues me and I have some ideas, so let's make some specific adjustments for this post to work:

• Dilf!Luke's first wife never died

• in fact he was never married to begin with

• his child is the result of a happy relationship which eventually ended in mutual agreement

• (otherwise he'd never allow himself to grow close to someone in a way like this)

• generally he's a slightly more positive version of himself, especially when compared to my other posts

On the other hand, here are some things that didn't change:

• he's always polite and hospitable, though keeps a distance between himself and everyone else

• a little bit intimidating with how he carries himself

• comes across as stern, though not as strongly as he does in my other posts

• even here I do not mention what kind of work it is he does, except that the two of you work together. I think it's fun to let everyone fill in the blanks with what they'd like best :)

• so imagine the first weeks at a new job: the new surroundings, hours, daily routines, tasks, co-workers...

• possibly you're one of the youngest among them as well and feel a little bit out of place, struggling to fit in among the already established relationships of your colleagues

• it's a lot and you find yourself wishing for someone to take you under their wing, even if it's just for the very beginning

• someone who looks out for you

• someone to have lunch with, to sit beside in meetings

• someone who takes time for you, to patiently answer any questions that might arise

• and maybe, if you're being honest, it's not just anybody you're hoping will do so

• handsome Mr. Skywalker, or Luke, as he introduces himself, works in the room just across the hall from yours, often brightening your surroundings simply by existing

• the most horrible day tends to change into a good one as soon as you catch a glimpse of his remarkable eyes or his private smile directed just at you

• a coincidental meeting by the coffee machine, on the stairs or in one of the many elevators is ways an event you think back to in the evening

• before you know it you're developing a major crush on him and, honestly, how could anyone not feel drawn to him?

• his looks

• his obvious kindness

• to the way he greets you by name when you clock in, his voice still a little bit rugged from sleep

• quickly it becomes your sole mission to catch his attention at least once a day, if even for the tiniest amount of time, just the smallest of interactions

• (you'd happily keep him company for hours on end if that's what he wanted but for now you'll take anything you can get)

• if only it weren't for a little problem

• (not to mention the rather obvious age difference)

• what you were already suspecting becomes a disappointing reality once you start to get more included by your other coworkers

• "he's generally well liked but sadly keeps to himself most of the time"

• "we already tried to get him out of his shell"

• "I see the way you look at him and believe me, many of us have been there.", a very nice elderly lady tells you

• "It's better to get him out of your head, my dear"

• "he's not one to seek out friendships or... other connections at work"

• and while you know they're probably right, that you should put your focus elsewhere, your thoughts can't seem to leave the mysterious older man alone

• like, you didn't even try!

• and so, more or less undeterred by your colleague's words, you make it a habit to include Luke into your work day

• after all there is no harm in being nice

• and no harm whatsoever in maybe flirting a little bit

• it does take him quite a while to warm up to you, though eventually, slowly, his careful kept distance wavers

• it starts without you realizing it at first but then, one morning, a steaming mug of your favorite tea/coffee sits on top of your desk to greet you

• (he's definitely a person to remember small things only mentioned in passing)

• maybe you don't connect the dots right away, still too tired to think properly

• and for a while you're confused, left to wonder; you can't even remember telling anyone about your favorite drink

• when you DO though and peek your head into his room to thank him, his response isn't more than a slightly amused expression that makes your stomach flutter

• sure this will have happened the first and only time, you try not to get your hopes up until small, colorful sticky notes appear in the files he returns to you

• they're often hidden, not to be spotted immediately, showing hand drawn smiley faces or fun little doodles

• and sometimes, when you're lucky, sweet messages written in Luke's familiar handwriting

• (those you treasure the most)

• suddenly, during lunch breaks, you often find yourself in the same spot in the park nearby (maybe intentionally so, maybe not) and end up spending them together

• during small talk that soon turns to more in depths conversations, you learn he likes to bake

• faced with your excitement it's not long after that he'd bring a batch of freshly made cookies with him just for you

• it'd definitely become a regular thing too, with him even trying out new recipes to ask your opinion and being super happy when you like them

• I think this is the point where, going forward, you'd only grow closer over time, eventually reaching that stage where it makes sense to call him your work husband

• he'd recommend books or movies to you, maybe music as well, that he thinks you'd enjoy and likes to hear about what you think he should try in return

• if you're currently learning a new language he'd memorize a few phrases to surprise you with simple greetings or compliments

• (alternatively he doesn't need to and would casually mention that he is in fact fluent, offering to practice with you)

• he'd like to surprise you with litte things to put on your desk

• maybe a fun plant, some cute organizers or, his favorite, completely obscure and very unnecessary trinkets he came upon on random that made him think of you

• on days that he knows will be particularly stressful, he brings in a few pretty flowers for you

• sometimes they're bought, sometimes he picks them on his way through the park, sometimes (very rarely), though he'd never admit to it in front of you, they're stolen out of someone's garden

• when you need a break he covers for you, no questions asked, seamlessly stepping into your role and everyone's way, keeping the others off your back

• during team celebrations, he ensures you get the best piece of cake or the best seat, or whatever it is you want at that moment

[toastnpretzels]

Ptolemaea

relationships: albert wesker x reader

masterlist

word count: 3,963

warnings: 18+ minors dni, oral sex, smut, female reader, no happy ending (sorry), angst (im a slut for angst)

author's note: i posted this on ao3 last night while running on pure exhaustion so i didnt proofread this. i also wrote most of this while sitting in my ethics class lol. i took a long break from the star wars fandom altogether, but im not attempting to bring myself back by rewatching the bad batch (im in agony). expect some clone writing to be back very soon.

also sorry if you feel like this may be ooc for wesker, it definitely is but its how i wanted to write it. timeline is probably off as well.

thank you for any likes, comments, or reblogs. i love seeing them <3

"Albert... please."

"No. You had your chance to run. This is it for you."

He grabs you by the throat, lifting you into the air. Your last breath is going to be stolen from a man you once called a friend. A man that was once your lover.

Grasping at his wrists, tears streaming down your face, you can feel your head getting fuzzy.

For a brief moment, there's a look in his eyes that says that he might let go, a smaller glimmer of the love he has for you. You pass out believing that you are dead, believing that he did not love you anymore.

A long time had passed since the days of S.T.A.R.S. The BSAA had been set on finding Wesker and anything left of Umbrella. After all of the pain he had caused, he needed to be stopped. Chris, Jill, and yourself had been looking for him for quite some time. You tried not to get too involved, knowing it would only cause you pain.

When you had met Wesker, you thought he didn't like you. Wesker was someone that always came off as cold and uncaring, but somewhere deep down he did have a heart. He rarely showed it, knowing that people would only see it as a way to exploit him. It didn't take very long after your first day at S.T.A.R.S. for Wesker to make a move on you. Looking back on it now, you are surprised he even did. He couldn't help himself. There was something about you that made him bend his own rules. He chose not to see anyone, knowing he wouldn't have time anyway with half of his time being dedicated by Umbrella and the other half dedicated to S.T.A.R.S. Caring for someone other than himself also gave himself another weakness, which he couldn't afford. Which is exactly why he suggested to keep it casual between you both. Something mutually beneficial. You knew it was a bad idea, that things like this only go wrong, but you agreed anyway. Wesker was attractive and you were lonely. What you didn't expect is just how much you would end up feeling for him, and just how much he would end up hurting you.

Everyone had suspected something was going on between you and the captain, but no one had any proof. Wesker didn't want anyone to know. Neither did you, honestly. It was bad enough that you were fucking your boss, it would have been much worse if everyone knew as well. They caught glimpses of conversations that seemed too personal for work, or small arguments that should have never even happened in the workplace. They never saw you two touch. That was kept only for in private. Whatever the team saw had only scratched the surface.

You couldn't call whatever was going on between you and Wesker a relationship. It had never progressed passed casual sex. There was no commitment between you two, at least not vocally. Wesker knew you were fully committed to him, but he was committed to Umbrella. He couldn't let go of that. He knew that if you were in a relationship, you would inevitably find out about his involvement with Umbrella. You were smart enough to figure it out, but he didn't want to risk that. Not that soon at least. It eventually came out anyway. You were there when the Arklay Mansion incident happened. Wesker had tried to make you stay at the station, but he knew it would draw even more red flags if he had forced you to. You wished you had stayed.

For months after, you had felt like Wesker had played you. It felt like you were just some part of his bigger plan. That's why he would never commit, he didn't truly care about you. You were just a means to an end. You still felt like somewhere down the line, you and him were friends. Nonetheless, the betrayal of the entirety of S.T.A.R.S. weighed heavily on you. He had betrayed everyone, people that thought they were his friends. You went to his memorial. Even though he had betrayed everyone, you still cared about him. He was dead. Or so you thought.

After Chris went to Europe, you quit police work altogether. It felt hard to trust anyone in Racoon City anymore. You didn't trust most of the people at the police station anymore, so the only option was to leave. It was then that you decided that moving out of the country might be a good idea. Amsterdam had always been a dream of yours, so why not make it a reality now. It was good you had left when you did, you just wish some of the others had left at the same time as you. Seeing what they had done to Racoon City a month after you had left had left an even bigger hole in your heart.

It took a little while to get fully acclimated in Amsterdam. It took a lot of time to attempt to heal the mental wounds Racoon City had left on you. You had cut contact with everyone from there. You had wanted to get your life back on track instead of dwelling on the past. The destruction of Racoon City was what made Amsterdam permanent. Chris and Jill were the only ones that knew you were there. Although you had cut contact with them for the sake of your mental health, you still sent them updates once in a while and vice versa. That's how you found out that Wesker was alive. It had hit you head on when you read the email from Chris. You didn't leave your house for almost a week. The same man whose memorial you had went to was alive this entire time. You had mourned someone who wasn't even really dead.

It had been almost 10 years since you had stepped foot in Racoon City when he showed up.

It was no shock how he found you. Wesker might have been one of the most intelligent people you knew. He knew this was your dream. He knew you all too well.

It was almost 3 am when he showed up. You had just fallen asleep. It was never easy to sleep after everything that had happened. Your house alarm was what woke you up. Just as soon as it had started, it had stopped. Still groggy from sleep, you weren't even fully sure if you had actually heard it or if was just a hallucination. Nonetheless, you reached for the gun tucked under your bed frame, just in case someone did decide to break in. Even though you had quit police work, you still tried to keep up with the training you were doing before your departure, just in case. Still in sleep shorts and a shirt, you stood behind the door and listened to see if you could hear anyone rummaging around your stuff. When no noises came, you slowly opened the door, trying to make the least amount of sound possible. You slowly walked out of the bedroom, making your way to the living room, gun still at the ready. Coming around the corner, your heart sank.

There was no way he was here.

Standing at the fireplace, Wesker observed the framed pictures on the mantle. Some were of family or friends. There was one of the entirety of S.T.A.R.S. The one that caught his eye was one of you and him, one you had taken a few days prior to the mansion incident. You both looked happy. Wesker didn't want to take a photo, telling you that it was stupid and we were sure to get caught if you carried it around, but after badgering him for so long about it, he gave in. What you didn't know was that Wesker took that photo with him everywhere, even to this day. He picked up the frame and continued to look at it.

"Albert," you whispered. He didn't turn around, but you knew he heard you.

He looked different, but also the same. He looked slightly taller and more muscular, but he also still looked like the same person he was 10 years ago. The differences were so small that you're not sure Chris or Jill would even recognize them.

"You need to leave," you said when he still hadn't turned to face you.

After almost another minute of silence, he turned around. You didn't expect the pit in your stomach to grow bigger. He had to have known how much this was hurting you.

"You look good," he said with a slight smirk on his face. "You have really built a life for yourself here."

There was a pain in your heart that only he could cause. He was tearing open a wound that you had long worked to heal. All it took was a few words for it all to come crashing down again like it had so many years ago. Sadness and fear plagued your heart, but so did the love you once felt for him.

"Are you going to kill me?" you whispered.

His lip quirked up. He thought this was funny. Of course he did.

He turned back around to put the photo back on the mantle. "No."

You felt some weight lifted off of you. You walked towards him slowly, afraid that at any moment he would change his mind. You had seen what he had done to others, you weren't so sure you could even trust his word anymore. You stopped about a foot away from him.

"Albert, why are you here?"

This was all starting to feel like a dream. A nightmare really. He kept looking at the photo of you and him.

"I am not sure," he whispered. It wasn't like him to do something on a whim. You knew he had a reason to be here. But you also know he isn't good at talking about his feelings.

He touched the photo frame one last time before turning. "Why did you keep this?"

He could read you like a book. You didn't need to answer, he already knew the real reason. It was like he still knew everything about you, like it had only been a few days since you had last seen him instead of a few years. He reached towards your wrist. You knew that you shouldn't let him touch you, but your heart craved his touch. The same hands that had caused so much destruction. You couldn't find it within yourself to make him stop.

"I have found myself wanting to see you every day since our last," he said. This was new for him to be so vulnerable. "I have missed you," he whispered. You could see the fear of rejection present in his eyes. Something was wrong. This wasn't the same person you had known all those years ago. This was someone who was pleading with you to see him. He had never once admitted to missing you before, so why now?

He rubbed his thumb over your wrist. You're sure he can feel how fast your heart is beating.

"Come with me."

Those three words had shattered you. If he would have asked years ago, before his betrayal, you would've gone anywhere with him. But now, you aren't sure you know who he is. Albert was never emotionally vulnerable; he kept his deepest feelings close to him. You weren't even in an official relationship with him. Your feelings were real the whole time, he knew this. But never once did he admit to his own. Not until now. But is it too late?

You turn around, making him drop your wrist. It's getting hard to hold in your tears.

"You can't do this." Your voice is soft. You know tears are about to fall. It feels like the same heart break he had caused with his betrayal.

He puts his hand on your shoulder. He turns you around so he can see you. He brings his hands up to wipe the tears from your eyes, tugging at the strings that you thought had long ago been severed. You lean into him. Your heart is begging for him, but your brain is telling you to run. Your brain is losing this battle. Your lips touch his in what your brain deems a moment of weakness. His lips are surprisingly soft. He brings his hand to cup your head, your hands reaching towards his perfect hair. It feels like all of your pent-up emotions are being released into this singular kiss. The kiss gets more heated, both of you having waited so long to feel each other again, even when your brain is telling you it is wrong.

His hands move down to your hips, grasping hard as if to make sure you were actually there. He reaches down further past your ass to lift you. Your brain is screaming for him to put you down, that he is only going to leave you a heartbroken mess, but you don't care anymore. He lifts you with ease, carrying you towards your bedroom, his lips not leaving you once.

He sets you down softly on the bed, reaching to take off his jacket and shirt. He removes his sunglasses, knowing you can’t see his eyes in this lighting. He’s sure all of this would stop if you got one real good look at him.

He definitely was more muscular than before. He looked so different, yet still the same. He throws his clothes on the floor, then reaches for your own shirt. His fingers trail your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your body feels like it is on fire. He pulls your shirt over your head, throwing it towards his own clothes. He leans down to kiss you again, letting his hands map out your body once again. It's as if he is relearning all the curves to your body.

You wrap your legs around his waist, hands tangling in his hair once again. He breaks away to kiss at your neck, gently sucking and biting. You reach down towards his belt, attempting to loosen it, but ultimately failing when he bites down harder than you expect. You let out a soft moan at this, causing him to sit up.

"I didn't think I would ever hear that again," he says with a smirk on his face, "don't hold back on me."

He takes off his belt for you, adjusting to pull his pants off. He is immediately back on you, kissing down your stomach. His hands grasp at your exposed thighs, kneading the skin. He leaves a kiss on each thigh before hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and panties. He pulls them down slowly, watching your every reaction. You whine at how slowly he's moving. He throws them with the rest of the clothes in the room without looking away once.

He leaves a kiss on your inner thighs, spreading them slowly and lightly blowing air on your folds.

"Albert, please," you whine. Your body is begging for him to do anything. You'll take anything he is willing to give you at this point.

He chuckles slightly. "Only because you asked so nicely."

He kisses your clit before bringing his tongue out to lick slowly through your folds. It seems to possess him because after one taste he can't hold back anymore. His tongue swirls through your aching folds, getting wetter at every movement from him. You reach down to tangle your hands in his hair, messing up his pristine hair style. You grind yourself into his face, feeling yourself get closer. He grabs at your thighs hard likely leaving bruises for you to discover in the morning. He can tell you are getting close by how hard you are pulling his hair. He groans into you, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge. One of his fingers prods at your weeping hole, pushing in half way only for him to pull it back out. By now you’re a whining mess, begging him for more, but he wants to savor this for as long as possible.

He pulls away from your pussy, replacing his tongue with his fingers rubbing over your clit. He looks up at you, seeing your head snap up at the loss of his tongue. He rubs slower, making you whine a plead more, before stopping all together.

"Your first orgasm of the night is going to be on my cock," he says as he leans back down to kiss you.

You grab at his back, his neck, anywhere you can get your hands on. You are desperate to feel him after all these years. You reach for his boxers, pulling them down as far as you can in this position. You reach for his cock, rubbing your thumb over his leaking tip. He groans into the kiss, biting down onto your lip. He releases your mouth to help you get his boxers all the way off. He leans back down to suck at your neck, seeing the marks he had already left. You twist his cock slowly, trying to tease him the same way he had to you, but you aren't sure you will be able to wait.

He reaches down to your hand to stop you, grabbing his cock and sliding it against your clit. You're so wet that it glides across with ease. He repeats this a few times before letting it slip down to your aching hole. He slides the tip inside and leaves it, sitting up on his knees. It takes everything in him not to slam into you and fuck you into oblivion, but he wants to savor this. He needs to feel everything. It had been too long.

"You feel so good," he says with a strained voice. He continues to push inside, feeling you squeeze him like a vice with each inch. Once he is fully seated inside you, he leans back down to suck on one of your nipples. You let out soft moans while you adjust to his length. He switches to your other breast, letting his hand knead the other, pinching at your nipple. He feels you clamp down hard.

Deciding he had waited long enough, he moves up to kiss you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming back in. You moan into his mouth. He sets a fast pace, trying to make up for lost time. Your nails grip into his back, causing him to let out a moan, only adding to the wetness that he had already created. It gets hard to kiss him, your mouths not being able to keep up with each other with the pleasure you're both feeling. He leans up slightly to look in your eyes, finding the love he had once felt from you. Your hands grab at his shoulders, holding on tight as if to not lose him. His hand comes down to rub at your clit. He knows he is close; he can feel you are too from how tight your walls are gripping him.

"Please cum for me," he begs. You've never heard him beg for anything in his life.

Your body shakes at his words, just hearing him bringing you over the edge. You squeeze him in ripples, nails digging into his shoulders. Feeling your walls squeeze him cause him to let go, pouring himself into you. You are both spent, left panting with him on top of you. He leans down to kiss you again, silencing the fight between your brain and heart. You had decided to let your heart win for the night.

He pulls himself out slowly, his cum dribbling out of you. He gets up and runs to the bathroom quickly to get something to clean you up. He comes back with water and a warm wash cloth, helping you sit up. He wipes you down softly, making sure not to cause you anymore overstimulation. He makes sure you drink enough water before taking a sip himself and setting it down on the nightstand next to your bed.

He gets into bed next to you, pulling the blankets over you both. He wraps himself around you, the feeling of his bare skin on yours bringing warmth to your heart.

"Albert," you whisper, not sure what you want to say, but knowing that a discussion needed to be had.

He pushes your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your neck.

"Shh. Just sleep. We can talk in the morning."

He wraps his arms around you tighter. Your brain is quiet, shutting down all the questions and anxiety about what is next. It is quiet for a while before you fall asleep.

"I still love you. I never stopped."

There was no discussion in the morning. He was gone. No note, no message. You waited days to see if he would come back. He never did. A month later, you got a call from Chris explaining what had happened to Jill. You didn't believe she was dead. You wanted to find her, but more importantly you wanted to find Wesker. He had done all of that before showing up at your home. You didn't tell Chris that you had seen him, but you did tell him that you would help him in any way possible. For the next three years you looked for any kind of lead on him, most of them coming up short. It wasn't until Africa that you had found something that had actually led to him.

Chris, Sheva, and yourself had found Jill and Wesker. Wesker tried to avoid attacking you personally, but that didn't stop Jill. You were already weak from her hits when you had attacked him. He knocks you to the ground, causing the air to rush from your lungs. He drags you toward him, lifting you by the throat, crushing your windpipe.

"Albert... please."

"No. You had your chance to run. This is it for you."

Your last breath is going to be stolen from a man you once called a friend. A man that was once your lover.

Grasping at his wrists, tears streaming down your face, you can feel your head getting fuzzy.

For a brief moment, there's a look in his eyes that says that he might let go, a smaller glimmer of the love he has for you.

You pass out believing that you are dead, believing that he did not love you anymore.

You wake up on the helicopter with Jill next to you. Everyone is silent. Your head is pounding. Jill hands you water, allowing you to sit up from where you were laying on her lap. You can feel how bruised your neck is and how hard it is to breathe.

The memories of what had happened prior to you passing out come rushing back. It hurts your heart to even think of him, to think of that night. How you believed that all of those whispered promises of love might have been a lie.

He could have killed you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not when he still loved you. He never lied, but he couldn’t stay either. It takes a while for you to realize this.

"Where is he?" You attempt to force the words out, but it hurts so badly.

Chris and Jill look at each other for a moment. Neither of them spoke, but you could tell what had happened. You could see it in Chris' eyes. Wesker was gone.