#their new house is next to his grave guys

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— IN THEATRES

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

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taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

11/1/25 update: i apologize for how slow this is taking😭 yes, i still am 100% fully committed to finishing this series! I ask for your patience and understanding🫶🏼

[softspiderling]

if you can't take it (then get back) | j.v

summary:

“You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

OR; Your first meeting with the Crown Princes leaves much to be desired.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: jace is a classist guys, idk what to tell you, minimal violence, reader is a dragonseed but no descriptors were used <3 also OBVIOUSLY jace and baela are not betrothed in this fic

word count: 3,9k

author's note: yo to the anon who requested this like a bajillion years ago… i’m sorry it took me so long😔 thanks to my lil goblin master @eldrith for beta reading and being the best sister wife ever🫵🏼🧌

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Silverwing. What a beautiful name,” you whispered as you gently stroked your dragon’s snout, Silverwing pressing into your hand as you stood in the middle of the meadow in your new dress.

When you had gone into the forest to pick flowers for your mother’s grave, the last thing you had expected was to leave said forest on dragonback, soaring through the skies, a dream come true. It hadn’t taken long before another dragon quickly joined your sides, its rider introducing himself as Addam of Hull, telling you to follow him to Dragonstone.

Before long, you had pledged your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra and were offered a place to sleep, a position by her side. Only two nights prior, you had been slaving away at a small tavern on Driftmark, not knowing if you’d something to eat, now you’d never go to bed hungry again.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon.”

“She doesn’t understand you.”

You whirled around, only to see Prince Jacaerys stalk his way up to you, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“My Prince,” you uttered, curtsying. You had heard great things about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and you felt giddy to be fighting alongside him for his mother.

Jacaerys came to a stop next to you, giving you a glare before he turned to Silverwing. You took a pause, not having expected to be rejected so brazenly, but you swallowed your pride, turning to Silverwing.

“She’s a beauty, is she not?”

You looked at Jacaerys only to see him roll his eyes and you felt a flash of irritation.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he repeated, as if you were hard of hearing. “We speak to dragons in High Valyrian.”

“Oh, Her Grace had mentioned that, but unfortunately I have not gotten around to-“

“Soves, Silverwing.”

Jacaerys seemed unperturbed as he interrupted you rudely, leaving you at a loss for words. Silverwing let out a growl, pushing her snout against your hand one last time before flapping her wings and taking to the skies. You watched as she danced through the sky, a look of awe on your face before you turned back to the Prince, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. Surely you were reading this whole conversation wrong. From what you have heard, the crown prince was an exceptional man and no one had ever uttered a bad word about him, or held any grievances.

“I apologize my Prince, if I somehow offended you.”

Jacaerys let out a laugh, but it held no warmth.

“You can refer to pure theft as an offense, yes.”

“Theft?” You echoed, confused. “You must have mistaken me, I am not a thief, I’m-“

“I know exactly who you are,” Jacaerys sniped. “You stole a dragon of House Targaryen.”

Aye, it seemed like you read the conversation exactly right.

“I did not steal Silverwing. I claimed her- she claimed me.”

“She claimed you,” Jacaerys repeated with a scoff. “You are a common born girl, not fit to be a dragon rider.”

Every ounce of grace and manner left your body at the tone of his voice, your eyes sparkling with fury.

“Pardon?”

“It is not your place to claim a dragon,” he hissed out and you sneered at him.

“Oh, my apologies, my Prince,” you exclaimed, voice so biting it was dripping with vitriol as you bowed your head “I did not mean to step on your toes. Let me just unclaim the dragon!”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at you, his annoyance clear as day.

“That shows how much understanding you truly lack,” he said and you groaned, throwing your hands in the air.

“I know dragons cannot be unclaimed, I was trying to make a point!”

Jacaerys scoffed, turning his head away. He looked at Silverwing flying in the skies before he turned back to you.

“You kid yourself thinking this gives you any meaning to your life.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, your lips parted in shock. You had heard a lot of insulting words in the years of your life, but never have they been so belittling.

“You do not understand the meaning of claiming a dragon, nor do you deserve it,” Jacaerys bit out, continuing. “You will never live up to the worth of a dragonrider. You are merely a tool in a war you have no control over. You’re a commoner, a lowborn,” he said, his face contorted in anger, stepping closer to you. “A mongrel.”

SMACK!!

Your hand slapped across his face, a reaction to his words that was mostly reflex than anything else, and your eyes widened in shock as as you had realized what just happened, a gasp escaping your lips as you reeled back.

Fuck, did you really just slap the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms across the face like a common beggar?

Jacaerys’ hand flew to his reddened cheek, his lips parted as you stared at each other in shock. You were frozen, not daring to move, fearing the Kingsguard would step out of the shadows any moment to strike you down in retaliation.

When you realized that no knight would come, you spared one glance at Jacaerys before turning to leave, quickly fleeing the scene of the crime.

You had retreated into your chambers after the absolute horror of a first impression. Not even Addam’s invitation for supper had beckoned you out of the room; you were sick to the stomach imagining what kind of punishment Jacaerys was planning.

The glass on the window was cool against your forehead. You had sought refuge at the small nook, your eyes in the sky, watching Silverwing fly through the skies, longing in your chest. Feeling the wind in your hair would make you feel better, you had no doubt, but you didn’t want to anger the Prince even further. A knock on the door made you startle, and with a small sigh, you went to open it. Ser Erryk was stood in front of your chambers, inclining his head.

“My lady,” he said. “The Queen has asked to see you.”

Fear ran down your back at his words. It happened. Prince Jacaerys told her that you had laid your hands on him and she was about to cast you out.

This was too good to be true anyway, it was bound to end. You had always known your temper would be your ruin. You’d just assumed it would be a patron in the tavern striking you down for cursing him out, not the Queen taking your head because you put your hands on her heir.

As you followed the Ser Erryk to the Queen’s study, you wondered how she would end your life. Make Silverwing eat you alive? Burn you? Take your head with a sword? All the options made your insides crawl, and you tried to form some sort of coherent apology in your head, but not a single one seemed sufficient.

As you paused in the door way of the study, Ser Erryk announced you, before leaving. You curtsied, your head low. Queen Rhaenyra gave you a smile, extending her hand to the empty chair in front of her.

“Please, sit.”

Her behavior confused you, you had imagined her angry, furious even. Maybe she was trying to lull you into a false sense of security before putting you in chains. Nervously, you took a seat, dropping your hands in your lap.

“How have you been faring?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft. “I couldn’t help but notice you have withdrawn yourself to the chambers.”

You bit down on your lips, unsure on what to say; you knew it was rude not to speak when asked a question, especially by the queen, and you were desperately trying to come up with words, any at this point, but your mind was blank.

“I thought you would be dragonback. Jace has told me you have a formidable connection to Silverwing.”

Your eyes snapped up at her words, your blood chilling.

“He has?”

Was that before or after you slapped him?

Rhanyra smiled at you, her eyes crinkling. “You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

You lifted your eyes to meet her gaze, your silence answer enough and Rhaenyra sighed softly, laying her hand on yours.

“I hope you can excuse the Prince’s unwelcoming behavior. The war is a heavy toll and he has taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the responsibilities.”

Your lips parted in surprise and you leaned back in your chair, giving a demure nod.

“Of course your Grace,” you said softly. “I cannot imagine what the Prince has been going through”

“I hope his words will not hold you back from further strengthening the bond with your mount,” Rhaenyra continued. “It is of utmost importance that you study as much of what the grandmaester can teach you.”

Ducking your head, you nodded and Rhaenyra pulled her hand back, effectively dismissing you. The chair scraped against the stone floor as you stood and Rhaenyra turned from you to look outside, the skies blue.

“I have been told this time of day is perfect for riding.”

You curtsied, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of your dress as you exited the study, suddenly energized after having talked to the Queen. Your feet automatically carried you back into your chambers, but instead of returning to wallowing, you pulled your riding gear out of the closet, unlacing your dress. With quick strides, you walked down to the dragonmount and within moments, you were on Silverwing’s back, soaring through the air.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, just as you had imagined, and it seemed like all the burden was lifting off your shoulders the longer you were in the skies. You leaned down, brushing your gloved hands against Silverwing’s neck when she let out a snarl, suddenly changing her directions. Puzzled, you peered forward, trying to see what caught her attentions when you saw a smaller dragon at the edge of the island of Driftmark. Its scales were green, a burnt orange and your chest tightened a little when you recognized it as Vermax, Jacaerys’ mount. Letting out a small sigh, you tightened Silverwing’s reigns, pushing your legs into her side, urging her downwards. Before long, Silverwing landed on the soft grass, spreading her wings so you could climb down. Your landing on the ground was anything but graceful, still not quite used to getting off tall heights but if Jacaerys had noticed, he had the courtesy not to comment on it.

Tugging your gloves off, you slowly approached Jacaerys. He was overlooking the harbor of Driftmark. You had never seen it so crowded, with ships and people alike. Nervously, you glanced over to him. Apologies had never come easy to you.

“Good day to ride.”

You regretted your words as soon as they passed your lips, wincing. Out of every words you knew, you chose to say that? Jacaerys shifted on his feet next to you, turning his head slightly.

“Aye.”

He did not speak more, but you found yourself unable to blame him. You just struck him across the face a day ago and now you were talking about the weather? Behind you, Silverwing was growing restless, stretching her wings with a whine as Vermax eyed her, letting out a rumbling growl. An uncomfortable silence settled over you and Jacaerys, and you wrung your hands.

“I was out of line-“ “I apologize for-“

The both of you started at the same time, before stopping again. Your eyes met his briefly, your cheeks flushing.

“Please, you go ahead,” you said quickly him but Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, I fell into your word.”

“I insist, my Prince.”

Jacaerys paused at the honorific, before he nodded, his gaze trained at the ground. He let out a deep breath, raising his head again. “I am sorry for lashing out at you. I regret my words deeply. They came from a place of anger, not honesty.”

You blinked at him, stunned. An apology was the last thing you had expected to come out of the Prince’s mouth. He had no reason to apologize to you, you were of lower rank. Something you had thought he would hold over you.

“Anger… Towards me?”

Jacaerys laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Not truly, no… You had no hand in your parentage, I cannot fault you for that,” he paused, turning his head away, blinking quickly. “And I cannot fault myself for that, either.”

He seemed lost in thought, and you weren’t quite sure what he was insinuating, but you decided against pressing the matter. The atmosphere was still fragile, you didn’t want to risk overstepping.

“I am sorry I struck you,” you said, glancing at him. The cheek you had struck still bore a faint red, which was not surprising, as Jacaerys had fairly pale skin, apart from the small freckles dusted across his nose. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t yelling at you.

“Oh,” Jacaerys chuckled, his finger brushing over his cheek, like he had forgotten about it. “I guess I deserved that. I called you some… Less than savory things.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You have the temper of a dragon.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth. Jacaerys gave you a boyish grin, so different to the Prince you had met the day before.

This.

This is who you had been expecting.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I guess fire and blood runs through both of our veins,” Jacaerys said and you glanced at him, a look of understanding passing through the both of you, your dragons behind you settling down.

“Lykirī, not lykiri.”

“That’s what I said.”

You were sitting on the floor of the library, your back leaning against the bookshelf. Several books on High Valyrian were scattered on the floor around you and if Grandmaester Gerardys were here, he’d keel over and die immediately.

But he wasn’t here. It was just Jace.

Jace.

It was maddening to think that only a moon turn ago you had struck him across the face and now you were sitting together like old friends.

“That is not what you said and you know it,” Jace mused, his hair falling into his eyes as he leaned over a book, before handing it over to you. “Here.”

Your finger tips brushed when you took the book from him and you try to not let it affect you as much as you poured over the book, even thought it felt like his touch left a scorching mark on your skin.

It would be most unwise to let affection distract you, least of all now and least of all for someone like him. Who knew what may come to pass by the next moon or even the morrow? Even if the war’s end should come, the Queen would never allow you near him. You may serve as one of her dragonriders, but you were far from worthy to even be considered as the lady wife of her heir.

“Lyckiri,” you tried again and Jace groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That was worse than before!”

“Ugh,” you whined, closing the massive book with a thud. “I have been studying since we broke fast this morning. I am unable to learn any more words.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Is that allowed?” you asked and Jace only quirked a grin at you, getting to his feet.

“I’m the crown prince,” he replied, offering you his hand. “Surely no one would take issue with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you took his hand, letting him help you up. The two of you languidly walked outside the library and you could feel the tension seeping from your limbs as soon as the first rays of sunshine hit your skin. You let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut and you stretched your arms out. Jace was chuckling next to you, and when you peered an eye open at him, he was watching you bemusedly.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you sighed softly, wiggling your fingers at him. “You cannot tell me you don’t enjoy the sun and the fresh air, my Prince.”

He quirked a grin at you, dipping his head. “You don’t have to be so formal when it is just the two of us,” he said gently. “You can call me by my given name, if you wish.”

“Me, a low born calling the crown Prince by his given name? What would the council think?” you jested and Jace snorted, very unprincely.

“But,” you started, your voice softer. “Thank you, Jace.”

Jace smiled at youtaking a breath, before exhaling.

“Listen-“

“… is that a dragon?”

Jace whirled around into the direction you were facing, peering into the sky. The sun was shining directly into your eyes, and you squinted them, surely it cannot be a dragon. It was too small. Beside you, Jace blanched, the color draining out of his face.

“That’s Stormcloud. Aegon’s dragon.”

The small dragon seemed exhausted, his wings flapping slowly in the air, almost as if it was dragging itself to the earth of the island, until it finally landed, the small boy ontop of him clambering down. His hair was a stark blonde, one of Jace’s younger brothers.

“Jace!”

“Aegon?”

Jace sprinted towards his younger brother, who met him halfway, taking the boy into his arms.

“What happened? Where’s Viserys?”

Aegon’s eyes filled with tears, and he was tripping over his words as he tried to explain. Your heart ached for him.

“There were ships. They attacked us. I only managed to flee because of Stormcloud. Viserys-“

The blonde boy hid his face in his chest, his small body racking with sobs and Jace wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, his wide eyes flickering to you.

“I-“

“Go,” you urged him. “You have to find your mother.”

With a curt nod, though hesitant, Jace walked back into the Keep with his brother in his arms, leaving you standing in the grass while the dragonkeepers took care of Stormcloud, who seemed content enough to curl up on the warm grass. You didn’t want to imagine what the young dragon and his rider had been through, Aegon seemed inconsolable.

It was much later when you found Jace again, his shoulders tense and his strides quick. His forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes unfocused, so much that he jumped when you touched his arm gently.

“Is everything alright?” you asked him, voice soft.

Jace shook his head, his face pained, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“The Triarchy. Their fleet attacked the ship Aegon and Viserys were on while they were traveling on the Gullet. They have Viserys.”

“What?”

Jace sniffed, turning away from you, his head held high. You wanted to offer him comfort, at the same time, you didn’t want to overstep, so you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting Jace compose himself. He exhaled deeply, before letting out an annoyed growl, shaking his head.

“I have to go.”

Go?

“You can’t possibly mean the Gullet.”

“What else would I mean?” Jace snapped at you; and for the first time since you have made up with him, he reminded you of the Prince that had made you feel so small in the beginning. You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you, but you took a step back, mostly out of impulse. Jace took notice, sighing softly and his shoulders deflated.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to raise my voice at you,” he said quietly. You nodded, swallowing thickly, freezing when Jace reached out to take your hands.

“There has to be something I can do. It’s my brother,” He said, his voice breaking and his grip tightened briefly. “I can’t lose another.”

“What if I go?” you blurted out; Jace looked appalled at your suggestion. You paused, before sighing. “Me and the other dragonseeds. We should go.”

Your own words terrified you, even though you knew it was the smartest decision. Neither Rhaenyra nor Jace could go, the future of the realm laid on their shoulders. You and the other dragonriders were expendable and you knew that, but Jace still seemed hesitant.

“Let me go. I’m sure her Grace will agree,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m merely a tool in a war I have no control over, remember?”

Jace couldn’t help but let out a laugh at you using his own words against him, shaking his head.

“This is why her Grace brought us in, let us do this.”

You knew you had persuaded him already, his eyes downcast, focused on your hands.

“You can’t even say lykirī.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, but there was a faint smile on his lips, so you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Lykirī,” you said, the word suddenly rolling off your tongue easily. “You happy now?”

Jace agreed reluctantly with a small nod, and you squeezed his hand one last time, before letting go, your skin missing the warmth his hands were providing.

“Be careful, don’t fly too low,” Rhaenyra said, her arms clasped. Her voice was even, but you could tell that she was tense, fearing for her son’s life. “I am grateful for your service.”

She looked at all the dragonseeds, before nodding her head, turning on her heel to leave the dragonmount, but Jace lingered behind. Addam was the first to mount Seasmoke, then Hugh. As the dragonkeepers beckoned you forward, you called out for Silverwing. You glanced back at Jace, who was already looking at you and you swallowed thickly, pressing your lips together. What if this was the last time you’d ever get to see him?

Silverwing let out a small grumble as she settled against the dock. You took a step towards her, hesitantly, before you turned on your heel, running towards Jace.

“What’s wro-?”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his words as you cut him off by pressing your lips against his and he stilled in shock before he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Silverwing let out a deafening growl and you pulled away, your cheeks red.

“I-”

“Don’t,” Jace said, inhaling sharply. “Tell me when you come back.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face made you swallowed your words. With a last squeeze of his hand you stepped away from him, mounting Silverwing.

“Lykirī, Silverwing,” you said gently, as she whined softly. “I’m sorry. Soves.”

Silverwing flew out of the dragonmount, and you barely managed to catch one last glimpse of Jace before you were in the skies, joining Hugh and Addam, the latter taking the lead. Despite riding the fiercest creatures on earth, you couldn’t help but feel dread all over. It didn’t ease the closer you got to Gullet, but you tried to stay strong as the cold winds whipped you in the face. Your stomach dropped when the clouds dissipated over the Gullet, revealing an entire fleet of hostile ships across the ocean.

Seven hells, you thought, your breath stocking in your throat, I should’ve told him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: sorry for the ambiguous ending😔pls leave some kindhearted feedback 🫵🏼🩵

[mydarlingclaudia]

cw : major character death, baby death, angst

Simon Riley who says he’s still married even after your death when people hit on him

Simon Riley who still wears his wedding ring and keeps yours on the same chain as his dog tags

Simon Riley who lost not only you, but the baby you were going to have the day you died

Simon Riley who keeps the nursery the same as it was when you painted it and set up the crib

Simon Riley who shows up to the pub on Fridays an hour or two later than the rest of his team because the show you used to watch all the time only airs at eight p.m. on Fridays, he hasn't missed an episode

Simon Riley who goes to you and your babies joint grave first thing each time he gets back from deployment, there's a third joint part on the tombstone for him one day

Simon Riley who keeps the house the exact same as you left it, he even unfolds and refolds your clothes and the babies when he can't sleep

Simon Riley who doesn't really talk about it, doesn't check in with your family, doesn't take Price's advice when he tells him he should take time off after your death

Simon Riley who wakes up some mornings thinking you're in the other room with your baby, only to remember you aren't

–

You met through a neighbor, your sink had broken and she had pointed you in the direction of the scary guy down the hallway who had fixed her shower last year. He was in your flat for three hours, came out a bit sweaty and with grease on his hands and shirt, but he made your sink better than it was before it started leaking and he walked back down the hall with cash in his pocket.

The next time you see him is when you ask him if he knew anything about cars and if he'd mind taking a look at yours. He gets the check engine light to turn off and makes that wrong-sounding whirring sound to go back to normal, instead of cash, you offer dinner.

He didn't even think to turn you down, he wasn't due back on base for another week, he could use some company. You learned Simon wasn't a handyman or plumber, it was just an odd job he got good at, the military is where his duties lay, no wonder you hadn't seen him around much before.

After deployments, he comes over for dinner each week, then you start going out for dinner and go out to see movies and he starts to show up at your doorstep with flowers. The kiss comes first, officially dating comes second.

The longer you were together, the harder it was to be away on deployments. And you're everything Simon could ever want. Too good for him, too understanding and patient. But Simon still comes home to you, he still kisses your shoulders and lets you wash his back, he still wants to marry you.

And he does, he puts a ring on your finger that looks like the one his mom used to wear before she just took it off one day and never put it back on. He buys you a nice house with a backyard and a fireplace, plans out the whole wedding with you, he does everything right.

Pregnancy comes next, he never saw himself as a dad, but he got more and more comfortable with the idea as your pregnancy progressed. The nursery was yellow, you put a little mobile with seals and starfish and otters over the crib, Simon put the rocking chair together and painted it blue.

He held your hair back when you puked in the mornings, cooked most of the meals you ate over the nine months, did all of the massages, went to all the check-ups, even took that paternity leave he was convinced he'd never use.

He held your hand all through the delivery, your baby girl came out completely silent, one of the nurses in the room with you was new and he didn't know why she started crying at first.

He had thought he'd seen enough blood in his life for it not to really startle him the same way it did when he was a kid, but you and bleeding out being used in the same sentence put a whole new sense of terror in him. The nurses actually had him leave the room, there was only one way it could go, he knew that, but he sat in the hallway bouncing his leg like he was waiting for good news.

He drove home alone that day.

Simon spends his days waiting around now. You were really the only one for him, he knew that far too soon, but by now, he would've been picking his daughter up from her first day of school, maybe you'd even have another baby on the way. When he's not deployed, going through the motions aimlessly, he's daydreaming.

He's sad, of course he is, what else are you supposed to feel? But he doesn't cry as much as he probably should. He imagines school pictures in his wallet and hanging on the walls of your house, birthday party invitations stuck onto the fridge and date night's marked on the calendar.

He goes into the nursery sometimes, like he's waiting up with the baby, trying to get it to fall back asleep. He'll spin the mobile and sit back in the chair that he was meant to hold his daughter in and just stare at it, even after it stops moving, he stays.

Your grave is so heartbreaking to see, but it's comforting, also. That you'll always be there, you and your daughter, and one day, he'll be right next to you again.

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[cherie-doll]

Could you do like a scenecore reader that also dyes their hair? and cod men? Like dunno giving them a handmade bracelet I dunno? *pokes my fingers together*

-🪒(Reserving a Anon cause i'll be back!)

hii 🪒 anon!! glad you're reserving! and if anyone else wants to do the same then feel free to do so :D

ミ☆ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Scenecore!Reader x COD Men

★ Price...

sometimes when he comes home he'll find you in the bathroom dying your hair, he loves seeing you do fun stuff with your hair and will even run to buy more box dye incase you run out or you got the wrong color (which happens often)

there's a hc that he was prob a punk or some sort of alternative when he was a teen so he's familiar with you customizing and diying your stuff

he also never thought to be into the scene subculture but he can't help but smile when you leave a handmade kandi bracelet for him, even if it looks a little out of place for him to wear, he doesn't care

he will put that on his wrist and wear it around like he wears his ring

★ Ghost...

it's funny when walking around together in public with the tall intimidating guy who's always wearing a face covering and dark clothing and then there's you, the bright clothes, the dyed and teased hair, arms covered in kandi bracelets looking like a rainbow vomited on you

they should really see your house... his side of the closet is almost the same outfits just different shades of dark colors and your side has possibly every color ever made

still, if people looked close enough they would be able to see the bracelet you made for him that just barely peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his jacket along with some jelly bracelets

people often assume Simon is some former goth dating the scene/scenecore

★ Soap...

you wonder why you ran out of dye so quickly when you need it, you had bought a couple new boxes of hair dye only to find them gone when you needed them, when you see Johnny it all makes sense; he had attempted dying his own hair

according to him he wanted to try wearing your hair extensions first but quickly realized they wouldn't stay in, you can't help but laugh at how his hair turned out, the front looks kinda good it actually surprises you, the back however...

when at a store he's actually the one hyping you up when you find something you could use to incorporate it into your look, he buys whatever for you and loves wearing matching kandi bracelets with you

his whole forearm will be covered in kandi and jelly bracelets he doesn't care he loves it!

★ Gaz...

he knows where you are in a store by the ton of jewelry you wear with charms and beads, or you might accidentally drop a bracelet or lose an earring leaving a trail he can follow to find you

ofc he knows to find you either in a thrift shop, in the jewelry section or where the box dye is at, he's quick to offer to buy anything you might want

he knows how much you love experimenting with your hair, maybe you like adding animal prints in your hair :D

in the car he likes to put your playlist on that will have you both vibing together throughout the entire car trip, poor soul to whoever is travelling with you tho

★ Roach...

loves wearing anything you gift him, especially if you customized it or made it yourself, he wants to feel included, often times when you're touching up on your hair or dying it again he'll sit in the bathroom with you

sometimes it takes a long time dying your hair, especially if you like to do prints on your hair because you're tired of your extensions falling out all the time :(

and the entire time he's sitting there keeping you company looking at you like this :D

he even helps you pick out which color you should do next when you can't decide!

he gets all giddy when you sit down and make kandi bracelets together <3 and then gift him the one you made and he gives you the one he made, so now you're wearing bracelets the other made!

★ Alejandro...

your style was definitely something new to him, due to the great war of emos vs punks in '08 in Mexico he assumed you were what he described a 'colorful emo', until you corrected him

he really likes it actually, he's seen how you manage to coordinate your outfits and even cut, dye and style your own hair, talk about being resourceful!

when your hair is freshly dyed, you'll wash it and go to sleep with it slightly damp, the next morning you wake up to find your pillow stained, it used to scare him real bad when you had it dyed red and he assumed the stain on the pillow was blood

★ Rudy...

he loves learning about what you're into, your interests are now his!!

he's also tried styling you before and he actually managed to do a pretty good job! you asked him how he did it and he mentioned he's seen you coordinate your outfits and so he was able to pick up off that

on his days off, he loves spending them with you and taking you to all the stores that have deals on their bundles so you can get a ton or new hair clips and silly accessories you end up trying on Rudy only to take a 0.5 pic of

and vice versa ^^ he loves taking pics of you in your outfits, in fact, on his phone lock screen he has you with your best outfit yet posing as his wallpaper, just to be smug he likes leaving his phone face up on the table just so that he can see that picture of you when a message lights up his screen

★ Phillip Graves...

won't ever ask you to "tone it down", it's your style and he thinks you should proudly wear it, you look unique and he personally loves it

he will definitely glare at anyone who scoffs or says a rude remark about you, especially if the area you live in is known to be more conservative, he loves seeing the look on people's faces when they see you walk past

sometimes his shadows like to tease him when they notice him wearing the bracelet you made for him, they keep saying it looks like some little kid made it but he quickly states that you made it for him

i can just imagine the whiplash when his playlist goes from his average dad rock/country music to your liked songs invading his phone when on shuffle, he might bop to it tho but won't ever admit it

★ Makarov...

he's told you multiple times he can just take you to get your hair professionally done, there is no need for you to buy cheap box dye for your hair but you like it better this way

this way you can add your own unique and personal touch to it that you love, and no professional hairstylist will be able to do it how you like it, he gives in and stops insisting after you remind him that every time

but he definitely loves your creative diy and style, he just wanted to make sure you weren't staining the bathroom towels with your box dye because you were too shy to ask him to take you to the hair salon but that's not the case :)

and he treasures the bracelets you gift him more than he does the expensive watches and jewelry he buys for himself

★ Keegan...

yk how kandi bracelets can say crazy stuff on them sometimes?

yeah so, the first time he noticed your bracelets and read some of the words you've arranged on there he was flabbergasted to say the least

you put diabolical phrases on his kandi bracelets when you make some for him, and when you put them on for him you make sure the words are upside down so HE doesn't notice it but the person who's in front of him will if they glance at it

it isn't until later when he takes them off that he notices they have sexual phrases, your favorite one for him to wear is one that says "suck me off"

★ König...

it took him a while to understand your texting whenever he peeked at your laptop when you left it open, he didn't really consider himself to be behind on trends until now even if it wasn't anything new but it was to him

he also doesn't know what half the references the words on your kandi bracelets mean either but he rolls with it anyways, you've probably told him before but you ramble on so much that he can only remember a handful of stuff you say

one of his favorite moments of the day are when he arrives home and you're just on your laptop scrolling and vibing to music, you even get up and dance to it inviting him to join you even if he's terrible at it but hey, at least you're having fun together :)

★ Horangi...

he knows how much you love thrifting for new clothes so he likes finding good thrift shops you can go crazy in and then show him the new outfits you put together with them, he also likes surprising you with brand/label clothes and items

you often feel guilty bc you know how expensive those brands can get but he insists on it, he loves you showing your colors and taking you out

he's even dyed his hair colors to match with you! you can't tell me he isn't a little into the alternative side as well, he's definitely expanded his style since he met you

you two even have your matching jewelry for almost every occasion that you've handmade when out on dates, like those places that are for couples to book so they can diy stuff together (if ykyk bc i forgot what they're called)

★ Nikto...

i can just imagine the first time you shuffled up to him and extended your hand to open it and he sees a colorful little bracelet there

he tilted his head, confused what you were offering to him, oh a bracelet? that little thing? it doesn't look like something he'd wear himself but... since you made it he slips it on, good thing the cord is elastic and stretchy therefore he can pull it through his burly, big hand

he shrugs but on the inside he feels his heart beat a little faster, later he forgets to take it off or you slip a bracelet in his duffel bag when he leaves another member will notice the colored kandi bracelet and ask about it

he's not in the slightest bit embarrassed to say it was you, no amount of teasing will make him take it off

[diodellet]

try wishing for it: magical girl au (scarabia x gn!reader)

inspired by @ceruleancattail's magical girl au and @yan-lorkai's yandere genie fic. note: i also imagine scarabia's mascot form to look like this. title is ripped from tohma's magical girl eudaemonics. content warnings: -yandere (if you squint, since scarabia's taking the role of kyubey in this fic. references of manipulation and general moral grayness.) -fic uses "magical girl" but means it in a gender-neutral sense (reader is referred to with they/them pronouns) word count: 2.7k words

Being a magical girl means gaining the power to do virtually anything you can dream of.

The first time you defeat a wraith, you stare in awe at your hands, breathing heavily from sheer excitement rather than exertion. With one final roar, the beast falls to the ground, before dissolving into black smoke.

“Woah, you did it! You really took it down!” Kalim barrels into you, gushing praise after praise. “See, Jamil? I told you they were going to be powerful!” 

Jamil is more mindful of you, instead floating over to land on your other shoulder. “Nice job.”

“You’re a natural!” Kalim’s bouncing with joy in your palm, waving his little stubby arms. “You probably won’t even need to use your three wishes!”

Right, there was that. In the case that you were against an overwhelmingly powerful foe, you could draw on your familiars’ magic—a ‘wish,’ they called it.

“Don’t jinx them, Kalim.”

“...What happens if I asked for more wishes?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” The stitches of Jamil’s plush smile don’t change, but there’s a note of something foreboding in his words. “Though, you don’t seem like the type to squander them. Don’t worry about it too much.” Despite their cartoonish appearance, your familiars’ words and warnings carried a grave weight

Your gaze drifts to the slain wraith. All that remains is the tarnished metal collar that hung around its neck, until it too crumbles into dust.

There’s something hauntingly beautiful in that faint shimmer of gold as it gets blown away by the wind.

Being a magical girl means toting around two innocuous round plushies of your familiars to class.

With your new double life, you get two new companions following you around. It means bearing Kalim’s excited chattering as you take notes, dealing with Jamil’s snide teasing as your classmates point out your new bag charms.

What you don’t expect is to see the two of them sitting in your living room the next morning, clad in your school’s uniform.

“Good mor—oof!” Your book bag collides with Kalim’s chest and you use the momentum to drag him and Jamil by the elbow out of your house, ignoring your dad’s concerned calls with a loud “I’m heading out!”

You didn’t get the memo that being able to transform was part of their repertoire as magical familiars, but you should’ve expected this. Between Kalim’s thousand-kilowatt smile and Jamil’s calculating gaze, you very much prefer them as small round plushies.

(It’s strange that your schoolmates and teachers don’t question the two new additions to the class, but you appreciate that your cover wasn’t blown with this curveball. You suspect it might have to do with the red glow in Jamil’s eyes. You decide to question them at the end of the class day.)

“It’d be better if one of you stayed as a plushie.”

“Then that means it would be Jamil since he’s better at keeping attention off of us.”

“By that logic, they’re talking about you, Kalim.” Is it you or is that a hint of a smile on Jamil’s lips?

“Oh.” Kalim’s expression falls into a pout. “But I like attending classes with you!”

He probably wouldn’t like it as much during exams week. “I wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile if people noticed you…guys following me around.”

“Aw, I guess so…Thanks for treating us to ice cream, though!”

You offer to buy them another one, just to make their one and only day at school special. You start heading towards another freezer, there’s a special lottery on these soda popsicles.

Jamil’s attention turns toward the counter. He’d been eyeing the person at the cashier. “Wait, something seems—” 

And that’s all the warning he can give before a group of wraiths crashes through the convenience store wall. Ending up in a sprawled mess of tangled limbs was not ideal. It’s settled, you definitely preferred them in their plushie forms.

Being a magical girl means getting woken up by Kalim in the middle of the night to patrol the city.

As a hand-sized plush ball, he’s already pretty strong. But under the cover of night, he can shed his disguise and drag accompany you around to see you deliver justice to evildoers. 

Your drowsiness fades away as you leap from rooftop to rooftop, dispatching fledgeling wraiths hiding in narrow alleyways, stopping drunken confrontations, watching over lone pedestrians traversing through seedier parts of the city.

“There’s another one, it’s a low-ranking wraith!”

“I’ve got it!” Magic gathers around your weapon, bathing it in golden light as you swing and cleave the monster into two.

It didn’t even get a fighting chance to writhe or fight back. All it can do is dissipate into nothing.

Which is for the best.

“That was so quick!” Kalim bounds over to you as your weapon fades out of view. “You’re getting better and better at fighting!”

“Well, you did say it was a weak one…” You tug at the collar of your outfit. His praise feels like staring into the glare of the sun, straight on. “I’m probably not that much better than those other magical girls before me.”

“Still! It doesn’t make you any less amazing—Are you hurt anywhere?” Kalim starts looking you over for any injuries that he might have missed.

Too close. “Not a scratch. Come on, let’s head home.”

Though you should’ve expected things would go sideways at some point, that the night would bring untold horrors instead of passing peacefully. In a mix of your carelessness and Kalim’s overexcitement, an avian-like wraith appears and catches you both offguard, talons closing around his midsection and carrying him into the sky, each powerful beat of its wings taking him farther and farther away from you.

Adrenaline surges through you and the asphalt of the sidewalk cracks underneath your soles as you leap to the sky in pursuit. “Kalim!” Just before you can close the distance, he screams at you to get back, making you falter. A long shadow whips through the air—a prehensile tail of sorts—preventing you from approaching. 

Switching tactics, you aim for its wings. Better to bring it to the ground.

(Miraculously, Kalim got the cue to turn into his plushie form to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. You manage to catch him before the both of you crash. Though, Kalim’s awed gushing was probably going to give you a sunburn.)

Being a magical girl means Jamil takes your healthcare into his own hands, sometimes.

“It’s the sleep deprivation.”

“No, it’s not.” A coughing fit strikes you at that moment, betraying the extent of your sickness.

“It’s because you’re overexerting yourself with your ‘nightly escapades.’”

“Fine—so what if I am? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? To protect helpless people day and night?”

“Obviously, not at the cost of your own wellbeing!”

You didn’t think you would ever end up in this kind of situation, being yelled at by a floating plush ball while confined to your bed of messy blankets and used tissues.

The angry heat in your face is making your headache worse, makes you see gray for a moment before you could fire back.

“...I’m sorry,” you spit without an ounce of penance.

Jamil sighs. “Well. There’s no use in pressing the matter any further.” Just before he disappears, he tells you to get some rest.

Easier said than done.

The minutes inch by agonizingly slow. Your room is so silent, magnifying the buzz of your own thoughts. Up until this point, your life became a whirlwind of academics, extracurriculars, and fighting evil monsters. But at this moment of standstill, you can’t help but come to the realization that he was right. With your rashness, you basically incapacitated yourself. Sure, your familiars were also capable magic users. Sure, they could hold off wraiths from doing any major damage, but the thought that this entire situation could have been avoided, that this was entirely your fault—

A tear slips down your cheek, then more and more, until you’re quietly sobbing, frustrated, into your palms.

The mattress of your bed dips with the added weight of another person. “Mom—”

Jamil shushes you. “Drink this first.” You hear the rustle of plastic—did he go to the pharmacy?—and feel him press two tablets into your hand. As you swallow them, he hands you a glass of water. His other hand rests against your sweat-covered back, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

(It is a stark contrast to his rough words from earlier.)

“I thought you…” They probably had other magical fighters to watch over, didn’t they?

It’s probably the fever messing with your senses, but there’s an uncharacteristic softness in Jamil’s voice. “Shh. No more of that, now.”

“...then why?” Were you really the only one?

“Just focus on getting better.” 

“But—”

“Your mom’s making soup for dinner, she will come to check on you in an hour. I’ll stay with you until then. Rest.” 

His words are not enough to placate your worries fully, but there’s a soft glow of red in his irises that makes you acquiesce and close your eyes, all while clutching onto Jamil’s wrist.

Being a magical girl means thinking up new ways to explain your many conversations “to yourself.”

Your parents are easy, it’s just the angst of youth. But your siblings are a little more difficult to convince. In addition to your moments of listlessness, they can hear your frantic back and forth pacing and the thump of you throwing your plushies against the paper-thin walls of your room. It can only mean one thing—

“Get out! I’m not having romance issues!” You slam the door behind your sibling’s cackles.

Your familiars remain still, seated on your bed until the sound of footsteps is sufficiently out of earshot.

“Are you really seeing someone?” Kalim pipes up.

“No!” You bury your face into your hands. “I—How would I have the time for that?”

“Besides,” Jamil chimes in, “we’re the only ones who’ve been accompanying them. Unless—”

Your body moves of its own accord, snatching Jamil with both hands and giving him a threatening squeeze, an unspoken ‘don’t you dare finish that sentence’ left hanging in mid-air.

When he stays quiet, your death grip lightens up. Just a little bit. A heavy exhale leaves your frame. “Look, for all that we’ve gone through—”

(A part of you is hesitant to admit it but, having gained them as new companions made your journey as a magical girl feel less daunting. You felt safe knowing that you could rely on them to watch your back, in spite of the close calls you’ve had. 

As for whether or not you’d started looking at them differently, well, you’d need more time to think on it. There. End of conversation.)

“I guess… I’m glad I met you. The both of you,” you finished lamely.

The silence that followed was deafening. For once, you’d wished their plushie forms could emote more instead of giving you that placid smile. 

With a pop! and shower of golden sparks, Kalim’s arms close around you in a tight hug. A bright grin splitting his cheeks. “I’m happy we’re friends too!”

“Stop squeezing me!” Jamil grits out.

Being a magical girl means double checking your word choice, especially for any quips and retorts.

The first time you transformed, you commented offhandedly about your footwear and Jamil made a little adjustment to your attire. 

With a snap of his fingers, a golden bangle clasps around your ankle. Lightweight, no doubt it would look beautiful when the light hits it at the right angle, but—

A frown pulls at your lips.

“Would you like another one? Just for some…symmetry,” Jamil suggests. 

You decide better against responding to that. 

“Think of it as a gift from me and Kalim.”

Was this something they bestowed to every magical fighter they took under their wing? “...Some gift this is.”

“Relax, you still have three wishes left. I won’t trick you into wasting them.”

Well, that diminished most of your initial doubt. “How can I be sure of that?” you question.

Jamil’s head tilts to the side, appraising you with an eerily-observant gaze. “All you have to do is ask. Anything that your heart desires, anything your mind can conceive.” 

You don’t like how his eyes are trained on you, making you feel small. You pick at an imaginary speck of dirt on your top, straighten out the already-impeccable fabric.

A thick silence falls over the both of you.

“...Will you—will you both ask me if I’m sure, before granting my wish?” It’s such a stupid thing to worry about, to fuss over the intricacies of your arrangement as Magical Girl and Familiar.

“Of course.” Jamil gives you a smile. “Shall we head to where Kalim is?”

“Yeah.” Your weapon appears in your hand with a flash of gold. “Let’s destroy that wraith’s nest.”

(More than desires you want fulfilled, there are anxieties you want quelled, fears you want silenced. Miracles to the myriad of unfortunate catastrophes that plagued your home—the flawed world that you lived in. So what if you contained untold power at your fingertips? You were only one person tasked with the protection of hundreds. At the peak of your distress—in the midst of sirens and flashing lights—you call for Jamil and utter your first wish through choked sobs.)

Being a magical girl means not relying on your powers, sometimes.

The trapped kitten gives another pitiful wail, thrashing against your grip as you clamber down the tree. In holding onto it tightly, you earn a set of angry-red scratch marks along the backs of your hands before reaching solid ground. The kitten bounds away with a final hiss.

“Why didn’t you transform?” Kalim asks.

You shrug, running a finger over one of the scratches. “I guess it’s ’cause I didn’t wanna mess up the outfit.”

“What do you mean?”

Bashful, your gaze ducks to your shoes, worn from years of use but sturdily hanging on. “It’s just, lately, the wraiths have been getting more and more powerful. And I…” Feel weak? Pressured? Alright, maybe you were still hung up over leaving a little crater at a major intersection, but it was either that or letting the ursine wraith lay waste to the nearby shopping center. There wasn’t any time to dwell on those shortcomings.

(But your mind liked to circle back to it. Was there any more you could do? Why couldn’t you do more?)

They warned you about this, that at some point, you would end up facing more destructive wraiths. That you would have to choose among innocents.

He takes your injured hands. “You can always make a wish.” Kalim’s healing magic washes over you, cool and gentle, like a stream of water. You watch the scratches slowly close up until they become nothing more than a set of faint white lines. “That’s what me and Jamil are for.”

“That’s true…”

“Anything you want.” Kalim repeats. “I’ll make it happen.”

It’s those simple words— and the sight of him cradling your hands in his palms—that grant you the courage to speak your next words, your second wish.

Being a magical girl means weighing your soul against the lives of people, friends and strangers alike.

“Come on, you have to get up.” Tears are streaming down Kalim’s cheeks, his hands hover by your prone and bloodied form, unsure of which wounds to heal.

Wearily, you gaze cranes upwards as if every bit of movement caused pain throughout your body.

Jamil has witnessed this scenario a thousand times. He keeps a stoic face. “Are you just going to let them destroy everything?”

“...I can’t let them…”

“You’re hurting yourself! Jamil, you have to do something!”

“It’s not my choice to make.”

When in the face of an unstoppable threat—a horde of chimeran wraiths that will lay waste to your home, will you make that final third wish and trust in them?

Jamil knows how you’ll answer. Rather than using them as quick and easy schemes, your first two wishes were—in some way—made for the good of others around you. For someone who won’t even know or care about that small bit of kindness. At the core of every human is a desperate self-preservation instinct that pushes them to make a final wish. And like clockwork, you will follow like the rest of the magical girls that they created. It’s a strategy that has benefited him and Kalim. And he has been fervently waiting for this moment, for a powerful one like you to—

“I’m...not giving up…!”

Or not? 

His lips curl into a smile. “Then give them hell.”

They can wait this out. Compared to their infinite lifespan, your emotional fortitude was only a drop in the ocean.

a/n: aaaa thanks @jessamine-rose for betaing this fic with ur fresh eyes. this au rlly gave me brainworms of the feral variety, i think i liked leaving most of the details ambiguous and free to interpretation, but i might come up with a separate author's note post about worldbuilding bits i couldnt fit in? eh we'll see! i hope yall enjoyed reading this! edit: author's note can be found here! tagging some jamilnatics: @viperwhispered @twstgo @just-a-little-silly @mama-m1na @crystallizsch @sillystr1ngs (lmk if you wanna join the taglist for jamil writing in the replies)

[curiousnightly]

carbon copy - pt.two

a caleb x reader fanfiction

summary: although caleb is the type to eventually come clean about some of the awful things he's done, there's one thing he had never intended on admitting to honestly. part of him keeping quiet was probably out of selfishness, but deep down it was the fact that what he had done was utterly sinful and admitting to it would fill his heart with immeasurable amounts of shame and guilt. he planned to carry this secret of his to his grave, or so that was his plan until his horrible deed would come back to haunt him years later, inside your bedside drawer. 1.1k words

warnings: nsfw; mentions of toys; mentions of male arousal; hints to possessiveness & jealousy; mentions of masturbation

reader characteristics: she/her; mc!reader; caleb referred nicknames (pip-squeak, etc.)

a/n: thank you all for the response on part 1 of this short project. i can’t wait for you guys to read the next couple of part and hopefully this will tide you over until the real nasty stuff finally plays out in the final part. enjoy ~

masterlist

<<<pt.1 | pt.3 (coming soon)

The simple fact that this mold was still being used by you till this day made Caleb hard in an instance. How many times has she used it now? Has she orgasmed from it on multiple occasions? How does it make her feel? Caleb’s thoughts were in a frenzy at this new revelation that you still owned the damn thing and was struggling to keep his composure. His thoughts were so occupied that he hadn’t noticed you walk back into the room or your attempts to call out to him a few times.

“Caleb?”

Why the hell does she still have it?

“Caleb.”

I can’t tell her about this, if she finds out-

“Caleb!”

Caleb’s head snaps in the direction of your voice and finds you staring at him in the doorway with your cheeks dusted red. Upon seeing you, Caleb immediately slams the drawer shut and turns his back to the nightstand as if trying to hide the obvious fact that he’s been caught. No one says a word for a moment, both of you staring at one another as if unsure what to say next. Before you can finally speak up to yell at him, Caleb puts a hand up to stop you.

“I can explain-”

“Caleb why do you always go through my stuff?”

“I just happened to take a peek and that’s when I-”

“You have no self-control! Can you for once not be nosy and dig through my personal things?”

“I didn’t mean to come across…”

“I cannot believe you saw that!”

“Well I cannot believe you still have it!”

Caleb jolted at his accidental confession and inwardly cursed at himself as he saw the immediate frustration and confusion written on your face. You take a few steps towards him.

“What do you mean by that?”

Caleb remains silent. You take a few more steps towards him, making Caleb swallow hard.

“Caleb, how did you know that I’ve had that?” You question him but he remains quiet, averting his gaze away from yours. You push the conversation further.

“When did you find out about this? I’ve had it for a few years now and for most of that time I’ve lived here?”

Still no response from him.

“Caleb, answer me now-”

“I-I might’ve seen it before you even got to use it…” He finally concedes. It takes a moment for you to register what he’s implying, but it eventually clicks.

“You went through my packages!” You snapped.

Caleb finally turns back to you, guilt apparent on his features, “I’m sorry, it’s just that you never had anything delivered to the house before and you know better than anyone that my curiosity gets the best of me and-”

“Caleb, you really need to learn how to mind your business.”

“Kind of hard to do that when the walls between our rooms were thin and would’ve given yourself away anyways,” he scoffed, but quickly regretted his words when he saw your face flush with embarrassment. “Pip-squeak I was just kidd-”

“Could you really hear me back then?” The sudden timid softness of your voice threw Caleb off guard as it contradicted your previous tone. He hesitated before answering.

“Yes, I could hear everything,” he admitted, his eyebrows knitting together with worry as he watched your gaze drop to your feet. He turned away and cursed under his breath, but readjusted his attention back to you when you whispered something he didn’t catch. “What was that pip-squeak?”

“Did you-could you even hear me say,” you trail off, embarrassment laced in your words. Caleb shifts to face you directly.

“Hey I can’t hear you when you’re as quiet as a mouse and tripping over your words pip-”

“Could you hear me saying your name?” your words finally register even, but your attention remains towards the floor. Caleb’s eyes, however, were boring into the top of your head.

“What? No I couldn’t hear-what?” Caleb stumbles on his own words, completely dumbfounded.

As he cleared his throat to try and gather himself, you were quick to turn on your heel towards the bedroom door. However, Caleb quickly reacted by grabbing your wrist and slamming the door closed on you. The sudden proximity of him being pressed against your back and accidentally caging you between himself and the door makes him painfully aware that his erection from earlier was still present. Caleb shuts his eyes hard and loosens the grip on your wrist.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to grab you like that-”

“Caleb, what am I feeling against my lower back?” Your faint voice cuts him off and the implication of your question causes him to stiffen. Despite the innocent phrasing of your words, the lack of genuine unawareness in your tone leaves Caleb to dismiss your naivety. The absence of you being oblivious, mixed in with his already faltering resolve due to his arousal being stirred by the scent of your freshly washed hair and your earlier confession, makes his reply more calculated.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he leans in closer, lips barely brushing your red-tipped ear, “and what you’re feeling is something you’re already familiar with.”

“I don’t understand…” This time your voice carried a sense of uncertainty, further proving Caleb’s assessment of your previous question feigning ignorance. He can’t help the smirk that forms on his face, but it only appears for a brief second when Caleb thinks about what he will admit to next.

“Well,” he lets go of your wrist to wrap his arm around your waist, bringing you two closer, “back then, when I went through your packages, I didn’t just discover that little purchase you made.” He watches you as you turn to look over your shoulder, your eyebrows raised with curiosity in wondering where he is going with this. Caleb continues, “I might’ve swapped the original item out with something a bit more…personal.” He pauses to see your reaction, but when it doesn't register, he clarifies, “Something I made…myself, with my,” he looks down in between both of you briefly to gesture at himself before lifting his line of sight back to yours.

Caleb can visibly see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours, as well as the moment they click into place when you realize what he’s implying because your face turns bright red.

“You mean-you don’t mean that,” your eyes shift between Caleb and the nightstand as you trip up your words.

“Yes, that is a mold of my cock.”

˗ˏˋ ✈︎ˎˊ˗

⊹ ࣪ ˖✧˖°⊹ Reblogs are appreciated ⊹°˖✧˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[eddiazx]

the journey back to us - eddie diaz x reader

Based on this request: Hey I hope all is well! Im not sure if your requests are open but I was wondering if you could do a Reader x Eddie blind date? His Tia Pepa sets him up with the daughter of her new neighbors but what she doesn't know is Eddie and reader have already met and had a one-night stand a few months after Shannon's death but instead of making it awkward reader introduces herself to him. He takes his tia in the next room and saying why did you set me up on a blind date. They both go out to dinner and a movie then a walk on the beach or something and it ends with them back in bed and in a relationship

Eddie loves his Tía Pepa.

She was always the parental figure that Eddie was able to be fully himself; flaws and all, without any judgement. She allowed him to be a kid growing up, and she was a big factor in why he had decided to relocate he and Chris to L.A. all those years ago.

Eddie doesn't love when she meddles though.

It was a Saturday morning, and he was asked to water and mow the lawn, since her usual guy was out of town. Or so she said - because when Eddie walks up to her front porch, he is met with the sight of her regular guy already doing the work, while Pepa sits on the front porch chatting with him. Not just with him though - Pepa is sitting next to a girl that Eddie didn't think he'd ever see again: you.

"Eddito! Come, come, sit." Pepa says, beckoning him towards an empty chair, a chair conveniently next to yours.

"Let me just... wash up, first okay?" Eddie tells Pepa, tilting his head towards the house to ask her to follow him, all the while giving you an apologetic smile. You, to your credit, don't react. In fact, you were looking at him with a distant politeness, as if the two of you hadn't spent an entire night in between sheets four years ago. You were looking at him like he was a stranger.

Why did that bother Eddie so much?

"Tía! What did you do?" Eddie hisses low, chancing a glance behind him to make sure you were out of earshot, while ushering his aunt further into the house by her elbow.

"Eddie, she's such a nice girl! She's the niece of the couple who moved in next door. Who better to set her up with than my own nephew, huh?"

"Tía..." Eddie starts. He isn't quite sure how he's supposed to explain that he already knows that nice girl. That they had met already in the months after Shannon's death, when Eddie was angry at the world. That the night they spent at the bar was the most he had laughed in weeks - not to mention the amazing sex that the two of you had afterward. Eddie had left your house in the middle of the night, when the guilt that he was having fun with someone while the mother of his child was not even cold in her grave started eating him up from the inside.

"Why don't you take her out for a coffee? See if the two of you have anything in common?"

Which brought Eddie and you to right now: the two sitting stiffly in the bustling coffee shop, unasked questions hovering around the two of you like a vice.

"I'm sorry." Eddie says, eventually.

You raise an eyebrow, guard all the way up. "You had four years to apologize for ghosting me, Eddie."

Eddie fights the urge to smile. He remembers that you took no shit even back then, and he had liked it. It seems like nothing had changed.

"I know." He exhales deeply. "It's not an excuse, but I had just lost my ... ex-wife, the mother of my kid, not too long before we had met. I was struggling in a lot of ways, so I did what I thought was the easiest way out - I ran."

Eddie sees how you soften immediately, eyes filling with understanding. You take a beat to think, before outstretching your hand towards him. "How about we put all that behind us, then. Hi, my name is Y/N."

Eddie chuckles, something warm and light filling his chest. He shakes your hand. "Eddie. It's nice to meet you."

Later that night, the two of you are trying to catch your breaths while in bed, clothes strewn about across your room.

You giggle euphorically. "It's nice to know we're still good at that."

Eddie laughs, pulling you close to rest your head against his bare chest. "This time, there won't be any running though."

"Good."

Meanwhile, Pepa sips her tea in the comfort of her home, content in the knowledge that all her children and nephews are happy.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

· · ────── ꒰ঌ· Drip ·໒꒱ ────── · ·

A slow drip is better than a flood.

+18+ Primordial Master List +18+

At first, John felt like he was sleeping for years upon years at a time. The first thing he remembered when he woke up was that disastrous mission that had gotten his team damn near killed. The next thing was black eyes and panicked screaming and the slow drip dripping of fire into his body. The sharp pinch of teeth against his skin and then there was nothingness. Then, after he was awake and thrust into a world that only ever existed in stories and movies. Despite his anxiety over this new unknown, he doesn't show that he is disturbed or worried about his new life. If he starts to show apprehension, then his team, his actual family, will worry and panic.

John is annoyed at the fact that he has to actually be at the bottom tier of this family...or coven? It had been explained to him that the Mistress and boy was that a word he had to get used to, just liked to call it her family. She was the oldest vampire in this family and the only one allowed to turn humans. It's a rule that was told to him and his boys when they woke up. It was the first rule, and if he or one of his boys broke it, they would be quartered alive.

He can't have that. Surviving literal Hell and then being quartered alive? No thanks.

"So like the first thing you have to know about drinking blood is that you don't wait till you're starving." The young man, who is definitely human, says. He was one of the soldiers from that disastrous mission that he saved, and in turn, the kid saved him. His name is Karma, but John has known him Sgt. Whitley. He always thought Karma was an odd name for a guy, but now that he knows him, he knows where he comes from, and it's the least odd thing about him. The first odd thing was that he willingly betrayed Sheppard and Graves and went out of his way to feed him information. The second odd thing is that when the mission went to shit he pulled him and his team to safety, seemingly ready to take their last rites. What ended up happening, however, was the shabby safe house door opening and a woman kneeling next to a half dead Soap and speaking to him.

"Captain, you paying attention?" Karma asked, he looks concerned. His dark brown eyes bore into his own, "I know it's not ideal, but my sister is worried that you guys won't adjust well if you go any longer without eating...and regular food just won't cut it by itself." Despite the Louisiana muggy heat, Karma keeps his neck covered in a scarf. It's a modesty thing in a house filled with vampires.

"And you're sure I won't hurt you?" John is staring at the expanse of smooth brown flesh and how the pulse point beats rhythmically. He can't tear his eyes off of it, and his mouth feels dry. For the past few weeks during the change, he spent most of it with his boys trying to soothe their own aches. Eating was the last thing on his mind, and the food he did eat was mostly liquids like soup with a slight taste of iron in it.

Karma nodded his head, "I would rather show you how to do it, so you can explain to the others on how. I don't think Sissy trusts them to feed from anyone here. Especially Simon, he's still so hostile, and Kyle seems like the type to not want to do it." He bares his neck and traces across the main artery, "Don't bite here too deep. It will kill me." He then tilts his head back just a bit to show his throat, "Don't ever bite here, you will turn me, and then you will get killed." He chuckles. "Get it, Captain?"

John is finding it hard to pay attention, but he nods his head. He can hear Karma's pulse and it thrums loudly like a drum. "I got it."

"Good, well go on then." He smiles, so trusting of letting this man that he's met on the opposing side of the battlefield sink his new fangs into his skin.

They are in Karma's room, as it's the closest to the Mistress' preferred room. John knows a precaution when he sees it. The Mistress adores Karma. He's seen her affectionately call him little brother, and from his knowledge, the only reason he is existing is because Karma simply asked for it. She didn't tell him no and took them all in.

He isn't sure where to put his hands, but he rests them on Karma's waist and leans into him. He positions his lips against his skin and tastes the salt, and he smells his blood just beneath the surface. The first bit of pressure from his teeth makes his teacher gasp, and when he sinks his fangs into him, Karma groans and scoots closer to him. It's an explosion of sweetness and warmth, and when he sucks the first pull of warm blood into his mouth, he feels fundamentally different. Part of him thinks he's going to get lost in the feeling, drown in the ocean of euphoria that sweeps him away. There's a dark urge in him that wants to keep going until there's a corpse in his arms, and that scares him.

He doesn't stop, though. The sounds that Karma let's out are soft and sweet, and push him through the initial shock. A low growl creeps up from his chest, and he pulls the warm body closer to him. He has to stop but he can't bring himself to do that. Not when it feels good and it feels warm. He can hear the faint struggle of Karma trying to get him to stop. It's distant against the roar of the call of his hunger.

"John, stop, you're taking too much!" Karma is beating his chest, trying to push him away. There's panic between them both, and John wants to stop. John wants to rip himself away because he doesn't want to kill the kid who took a chance on him and his boys. He doesn't want to hurt his first tether and connection and guide in this new life.

His body is yanked off of Karma, and he is face to face with angry black eyes. She's pretty in an unreal way. Her strength is unnatural. He's seen her eyes hold softness normally. Right now, they are angry, hostile with a threat, and he feels like he is going to be scolded. Her dainty hands scruff him by his shirt, and she manhandled him away from Karma. A delicate arch of her eyebrow, the slight raise of her lip showing a hint of her fangs, and they are double on each side compared to his one set. He was told that naturally born vampires, while rare, were the only ones to have eight sharp fangs.

"You fledglings always eat more than you can drink." She speaks low and soft, voice smooth like honey, and if John didn't have sharper hearing, he would need to lean into her. She looks at Karma and shakes her head, "You are sure about his control?"

Karma is taking deep breaths to regulate himself. "Yeah, Aayana, I'm sure." He is applying pressure to bite wound, and he keeps a sweet smile on his lips. "Just first feed jitters that got him-"

"First feed jitters almost got you killed...and then what am I supposed to do?" She shakes her head and turns her gaze back to John. Her eyes aren't the bottomless pitch black anymore. Instead, they are the same as smokey quartz that glow in the refractured light from the window. John thinks they are beautiful as they stare down at him. "And you John? Are you still with us?" She asks.

There's the dribble and smatter of blood on his lips and chin. While his hunger is quiet, the faint buzz that's always in the back of his head now begs him to submit to her. He closes his eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine. Karma, I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

He only laughs and shakes his head, "No, but you'll get the hang of it. The first few times are harder, but it gets easier."

Aayana let's go of his shirt, and she nudges him to the door, "Let Karma clean up. You and I need to talk." She steps around him, she doesn't look back because she has all the confidence that he will follow.

He does.

"I really didn't mean -" He thinks he needs to explain and apologize.

"Karmy already forgave you." She stops him dead in his tracks, "You need to understand, when I have the cook send you liquids with blood or iron supplements in them...it's not for any of you to decide if you eat it or not." That honey voice is crystallized with a sharp sterness that makes him snap to attention. She runs her home, and by extension, everyone's lives like a commanding officer, maybe even a strict general. It relaxes him to have a routine and to have someone to answer to.

She reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a handkerchief, offering it to him. He takes the soft embroidered square, and the white cloth has pretty roses sewn onto it. He looks back at her, and she's expectantly watching, waiting. John doesn't really want to wipe the blood on his face with the pretty fabric, but he does because it's expected of him, and he knows an order when he sees it. The order doesn't have to be verbal. Just one looks into her eyes, and he feels compelled to act.

It's not different than when he served under the crown.

"There now. That's better." She approves, "Keep it and wash it. Tonight, I need for you four to eat all of the soup that is served to you. I encourage you to go for seconds, maybe for Simon thirds to help with his blood lust. Kyle needs to eat, or he will have issues. He won't starve before he attacks someone." Everything she says is more like a fact of life. He suspects it is, she was born this way, she's been at this for hundreds of years.

"Yes, ma'am." He tries to smile, but the stretch of his lips over his fangs is still an odd sensation to him. The smile ends up being a grimace, and it makes her chuckle.

"You're dismissed, John. I'll see you at dinner, and yes, Simon has to leave his room. Everyone is excited to see you." She turns to leave but stops and looks at him with sweet concern. "My mother, rest her soul, always said that a slow drip is easier than a flood. Don't fight your new life, John. The change will win before you do."

She leaves him alone in the hallway as she disappears into her room.

a.n: How feeling y'all? Good I hope. Comments appreciated.

[mi-i-zori]

A Tiny World

CoD - 141 x Snail (OC/Fem!Reader)

SYNOPSIS : Snail really likes to play Animal Crossing to relax. Turns out, Ghost does too.

WARNINGS : None. But please read the Author’s Note below.

Author’s Note : Snail is an OC that can be read as a Fem!Reader - I do my best no to describe her too much, but may sometimes say that she’s small (height) and has long hair.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

OC Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A Little Snail Under the Rain - Masterlist

Playing Animal Crossing is Snail’s way to escape the world whenever she can’t do or focus on anything else.

At the beginning, her first goal is to fill the museum to the brim - which she does pretty quickly, allowing her character to sit on a bench in front of the exhibits and enjoy the music playing in her ears. The aquarium is her go-to place to fully relax. Sometimes, she even falls asleep, leaving her little persona to bob her head left and right while watching the fishes.

When she really wants to empty her mind, she focuses on building her own little world. She’s quite indecisive about the theme she wants to follow to decorate her island, which leads her to divide it in multiple « regions ». Each one has an aesthetic that progressively gives way to another one, like a natural border that allows her to create a smaller theme in-between.

To go with these regions, she’s made different characters. They, too, live in a house and are dressed to fit a specific theme, and she enjoys crafting stories for each one of them. Her favourite house is like her own little museum, filled to the brim with curiosities of all kinds. Insects, fishes, plants, skeletons… The main room looks like an old apothecary shop, and a part of her longs to be able to make her own apartment a real version of this virtual house.

Ever since he stumbled upon her playing quietly in the common room, Ghost has been sharing this moment of peace with her, watching her play, learning about the game and the little world and characters she’s bringing to life. He rejected her offer to create his own character in there, but it doesn’t stop him from sitting next to her and throwing a few glances at the screen while reading or watching TV, or fully focusing on it while sipping on a cuppa.

« You sure you don’t even want to try playing a little bit, LT ? » Is what Snail keeps asking every single time - and, at some point, Simon gives in.

He finds that he really enjoys fishing the most, hunting bugs being a close second. Snail excitedly explains every single mechanic of the game to him, and the roles end up being reversed. She’s now the one watching him play as he keeps catching the most expensive things for her to sell as if he’s been doing this for his entire life, and he quietly listens as she blurts out random trivia about whatever fish or bug the little character is showing off.

There’s a moment when a neighbour actually manages to steal the expert’s target, immediately digging their own grave. Simon now sees a mortal enemy in them, and is ready to unleash hell on their life whenever he can. Snail taught him how to use the net as a weapon, causing him to whack the poor fellow on sight, despite her asking him to not be too mean. She likes this neighbour - it’s a frog, after all, and they’re nice to her. She does her best to keep them on her island, making it up to them after Simon’s spent at least an hour bullying them.

To try and salvage what’s left of her friendship with that neighbour, Snail introduces him to the islanders she actually wants to move away.

« LT, this one said the custom mushroom dress I made for myself wasn’t fashionable. Can you please help me unleash Hell on them until they leave ? »

« This guy put his house on the beautiful patch of rare flowers I’d made for my new zone. It took me weeks to get them all and now I have to remake everything ! »

« I don’t vibe with this islander. They’re mean to everyone, and made my best friend sad. »

« Equip your net, » is what he always says in return, settling comfortably on the couch before grabbing the controller.

Simon never realised how satisfying it could be to whack the characters of a cute video game on the head in-between a few sessions of fishing. So much that it’s become a little ritual now.

Though he still adamantly refuses to create his own character.

[astars-things]

You give me gray hairs

where Jack Hughes teaches his daughter Y/n how to drive

Jack Hughes had faced some terrifying moments in his life—getting crushed into the boards by a defenseman twice his size, playing in a high-pressure overtime game, and even dealing with the chaos of his teammates’ pranks. But none of those compared to what he was experiencing now.

Sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, white-knuckling the handle above the door, Jack squeezed his eyes shut as his sixteen-year-old daughter, Y/N, slammed on the brakes for the third time in five minutes.

"Y/N!" he yelped, his body jerking forward against the seatbelt. "You don’t have to stop like that! You’re gonna give me whiplash."

Y/N, her hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two, gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Dad! I panicked. The squirrel looked like it was gonna run into the street."

Jack exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. "The squirrel was on the sidewalk, Y/N. Now it’s laughing at me. Probably texting its little squirrel friends about how my own kid is trying to send me to an early grave."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Okay, okay. I’ll be smoother."

Jack cautiously lowered his hands from his face. "Alright, take your foot off the brake—gently—and ease onto the gas. We don’t need to go from zero to sixty in my own neighborhood, okay?"

Y/N nodded, concentrating as she slowly pressed the gas. The car inched forward, and for a moment, Jack relaxed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Then she took a turn.

Too fast.

Jack’s hand shot out to the dashboard as they swerved. "Y/N! We’re not in a Fast and Furious movie! Slow down before we end up in someone’s front yard!"

Y/N laughed nervously but obeyed, slowing to a more reasonable speed. "That wasn’t that bad."

Jack stared at her like she had lost her mind. "Not that bad?! I saw my life flash before my eyes. It was mostly hockey, but still!"

"Dad, you’re being dramatic."

"I am not being dramatic!" Jack pointed at the curb. "Pull over. I need a break."

Y/N huffed but did as she was told, parking (albeit slightly crooked) on the side of the road. Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and nearly tumbled out of the car, sucking in fresh air as if he had just survived some traumatic event.

Y/N leaned over the center console, grinning. "You okay there, old man?"

Jack turned to face her, his hands on his hips. "No, I am not okay. I am officially retiring from teaching you how to drive. I’ve got enough stress in my life without my sixteen-year-old trying to give me gray hairs."

Y/N giggled, hopping out of the car and standing beside him. "You’re so dramatic."

Jack ignored her, already pulling out his phone. "I’m texting Nico. Or Quinn. One of them can deal with this. I’m done."

"Quinn’s in Vancouver."

"Then Nico it is." Jack typed furiously before turning back to his daughter. "I play professional hockey against some of the toughest guys in the league, and somehow, driving with you is the scariest thing I’ve ever done."

Y/N gasped in mock offense. "Wow. I see how it is."

Jack shook his head, muttering to himself. "My own daughter trying to kill me… unbelievable."

Y/N giggled, looping her arm through his. "I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was just giving you a little adrenaline rush."

"That was not an adrenaline rush, that was pure fear." Jack sighed before giving her a side glance. "You do need to learn, though. And I guess I can give you one more lesson… later."

Y/N beamed. "So, next time?"

Jack groaned. "Yeah, yeah. But next time, I’m bringing a helmet and a stress ball."

As they walked toward the house, Y/N smirked. "And maybe some hair dye for those new gray hairs?"

Jack pointed at her. "You’re grounded."

Y/N just laughed, knowing full well he didn’t mean it.

[artemisia-musings]

Lessons in Self-Destruction

Minors DNI! 18+ only

This is a dark fic! Please read the tags and if any bother you please do not read! I am not responsible for your media consumption. 

Summary: Leon was content destroying himself. Drinking his troubles away, eager to put himself in an early grave. One night, a girl approaches him at the bar and the rest of the night is a blur. He awakens to the consequences of his drunken antics. 

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, dark themes, suicidal thoughts, drinking, reference to non-con. Overall depressing!

Note: This is my first fic, sorry for any errors/incorrect grammar. Got this idea after watching Vendetta and I needed to get it out. I literally have not been able to think of anything but Leon in like two months <3 more fics in the works!

Destroying himself came easily to Leon. It was easy to implode, to feel the life fade out of him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to die or feel nothing, he supposed there wasn’t much difference. All his life he had felt too much. Too much pain and heartbreak, his soul beaten and battered, every time he tried to stand back up and be the good guy he was always swiftly reminded that he didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. He was a pawn, a puppet controlled and jerked around by his cruel masters. He hadn’t been in control of his own life in damn near twenty years. Forced from his dream of being a cop over an event he couldn’t control, whisked away and trained to be a good little boy for the government. Kill this, save them, destroy that, sit boy, stay boy, roll over and fetch. Good boy. How many people did he have to kill for this to be over? How many people did he have to watch die? How many friends must he lose? It was the same damn plot over and over again, his life one broken record he was forced to replay. 

The man groaned and grasped the cheap glass he had set on the table, swinging back a hefty gulp of whiskey that burned just right on the way down. He was currently on his fifth drink of the night, hitting that sweet spot between tipsy and piss drunk. His head was spinning ever so slightly as he noticed his cup was getting awfully low. He gestured for the bartender to pour him another, feeling especially sorry for himself tonight. It was becoming his new favorite hobby. There was something so delightfully pathetic about heading down to the sleazy bar by his house and drinking himself stupid, to the point where he could almost forget about how much he fucking hated his life. The bartender, whom for the life of him, Leon could not remember the name of despite coming here almost every night, poured him another glass of Jack Daniels, a bemused expression on his face as he slid it over. 

“There you go, bud,” the bartender chuckled, turning away to help another customer who had sauntered over to the bar. 

The sound of the chuckle made Leon tense. His grip tightened around the glass as he huffed in annoyance. Bud. What did it take to earn a little damn respect? He was a hero, after all. An American hero, a patriot to his core. At least, that’s what he told himself on his more sober days. He was just a sacrificial lamb, a tool used to stop the evils threatening this nation—a weapon pulled out when ordinary soldiers and guns wouldn’t suffice. His jaw clenched as he wallowed in misery, raising the glass to his lips and knocking back its contents in one go.

“Bad day?” a feminine voice called out, breaking through his angst-fueled state. Leon flickered his gaze over next to him, eyeing up the young girl who had sat next to him at the bar. He hadn’t even noticed her presence, too self-absorbed in his own brooding. She looked out of place in the rundown dive bar, sticking out like a sore thumb among the fellow drunk middle-aged men who frequented these establishments. She looked young and fresh, a daisy among a garden of rot.

“You could say that,” Leon said with a dry chuckle, letting his gaze rake up and down her form. A tight shirt and a cute skirt. A tantalizing treat, designed to tease. She really ought to know better walking into a place like this dressed like that. Someone could get the wrong idea. He raised an eyebrow, feeling a warmth spread in his gut that hadn’t stirred in ages. “Now what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” 

The girl smiled, her glossy lips curling upwards as she brought her glass to her lips. She sipped its pink contents, the fruity concoction’s appearance alone was enough to make Leon feel queasy. “New to the neighborhood, I thought I’d check out the local watering hole,” she said with a shrug. 

Leon felt himself smile, probably his first genuine smile in ages. “Well if you're looking for overpriced drinks you’ve hit the jackpot” he huffed, waving the bartender over for another round. The girl giggled, the sound ringing in his ears. It was cute, an almost peaceful sound akin to a babbling brook or waves crashing on a beach. He felt himself relax slightly, his heart even skipping a beat. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way, he had well over a decade on this girl. She looked college-aged or at the very least freshly graduated. She had the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed naivety to her, the world not having beaten it out of her yet. 

“So what happened?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, his inebriated mind struggling to catch up. “You said you had a bad day,” she explained further.

“That I did, although you could say the past few years have been rough,” he admitted. 

“Well, I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” she pressed, resting her forearms on the bar counter as she leaned in closer, enough for him to smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume and to see the way her breasts squished together showing off her cleavage. Good Lord, she had to be aware of what she was doing. 

“Oh honey, that story would take a while to tell, you don’t wanna listen to some random drunk prattle on about his problems,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“Try me” she retaliated. Leon took a sip of the drink, feeling his cock stir in his pants as he turned to face her, trying his hardest not to let his gaze travel downwards. He could feel himself growing more intoxicated with each second, his inebriated mind growing desperate. Desperate for what though, that was the question. Someone to lend an ear while he bitched and moaned about how much he wanted to kill himself? The tender loving embrace of someone who cared about him? Did he crave the sinful indulgence of a lover? All of them combined? He didn’t know this girl, but looking at her calm collected self, feeling the warmth of her skin, and smelling the sweetness of her breath, he thinks he’d like to know her.

"When I was a kid, I used to think about the kind of man I'd grow up to be... I never thought my life would turn out this way." Leon shook his head, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Vulnerability was not his forte. “Have you ever thought about what happened in your life to make it all go wrong? About what you could have possibly done in your past life to make you deserve this? Do you know what it's like to not be the one in control?” Leon shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat, emotion building up within him. He hated acknowledging his feelings, made him feel weak, which he was, he just hated admitting it. 

The girl gave him a soft sympathetic look, her small manicured hand reaching out and touching him gently. Leon hated pity, but he did appreciate the attempt at comfort. It wasn’t something he got a lot of. “I’m sure you did nothing to deserve this, you seem like a good man…” she trailed off, unsure of his name. “The world can be a fucked up place,” she murmured.

“Darlin’ you don’t even know the half of it” Leon scoffed, his larger calloused hand engulfing hers. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling, it was like some primal arousal in his gut, a heady warmth that caused him to shift restlessly in his seat. “And the name is Leon,” he added.

The girl seemed oblivious to his growing arousal, her hand squeezing his own gently as she gave him her name. “You don’t have to carry it alone, Leon. Everyone needs someone to talk to.”

“Dangerous words,” he chuckled dryly, pulling his hand away, his fingers reaching around the edge of the glass. "You're real eager, huh?" He leaned in, his breath heavy with whiskey. "You think you can fix me with your pretty smile and sweet talk?"

She didn’t pull back, her curled lips forming a knowing smile. There was something in the way she looked at him—like she wasn't afraid of the darkness in him. 

She should be.

“I ain’t trying to fix you, just understand you,” her voice took on a more flirtatious edge, 

Leon reached for his glass, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. His throat burned, but it wasn’t just the whiskey. The girl’s presence was like fire—too close, too hot, and it was starting to scorch him. The fire licked at his subconscious, urging him for more, craving the burn. 

"Don’t do this," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "You don’t know what you’re messing with."

She leaned in even closer, her lips brushing his ear. The heat of her breath was enough to make him dizzy, the combination of the alcohol and his pent-up desire made his head spin.

"Maybe I like danger," she whispered.

Leon could have snapped right then, grabbed her by the waist, and smashed his lips to hers in the middle of the bar for all to see. Instead, he took another gulp of his drink to calm his raging nerves. “You shouldn’t have said that sweetheart.”

The thing about drinking is that it’s a dangerous game. It starts slowly, a warm, fuzzy feeling, a dull hum that spreads through his limbs and brain after that first drink. At first, it’s like floating in a cloud, where the world feels distant and a little dreamy. His thoughts would become sluggish, and the edges of reality blur, but he didn’t mind because the numbness felt like a sweet relief. He could finally forget about his problems and the trauma that plagued him. The more he drank, the more the voices in his head became muffled, as if he was submerged underwater. For a brief while, everything was easy.

Then, the descent begins.

It's a shift he can never feel coming. The transition from a dream-like state to a nightmare. He became less aware and less in control of his own body. It was like he was no longer in the driver's seat, being shoved into the passenger side, forced to watch. Then the world would start to spin, and he was no longer in the front of the car at all, he was trapped in the dark of the trunk, blissfully unaware as his subconscious took over.

When Leon finally awakens from his drunken stupor he feels a warmth he isn’t used to feeling in his bed. The pounding in his head was throbbing, enough to make his teeth ache. He groaned, pinching his nose as he forced himself to sit up. That’s when he heard it.

That shrill feminine whine.

His heart rate speeds up, his breath hitching in his throat as he finally opens his eyes, turning to see a girl in his bed. Leon isn’t exactly a stranger to one-night stands, he doesn’t make a habit out of it, but sometimes if he feels desperate enough he’ll allow himself to indulge. 

If a one-night stand is an indulgence, he must have been overcome with gluttony last night.

The girl from the bar last time is next to him. Naked and handcuffed to his headboard, her lacy panties shoved in her mouth. She looks at him with wide fearful eyes, glassy and red-rimmed as if she had been crying. Purple hickies and bite marks are littering her skin and Leon notices what appears to be dried cum stains on her stomach and thighs. He lets out a low guttural groan, hands covering his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart. He hears muffled cries, her body jerking next to his. Slowly, he removes the used panties from her mouth, the girl gagging slightly. 

“Please,” she whimpers softly. “Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone I promise.” Her lower lip is trembling and her eyes are getting watery as if she is about to start crying again. Leon feels a pang in his chest, like a knife to the heart. She’s looking at him like he’s a monster, and he supposes now he is. 

Leon had always thought that despite the woes of his life, despite the fact he would never get any recognition for his work, at least he was a good guy. But as the naked and chained girl in his bed starts to cry, Leon doesn’t feel like a good guy anymore.

“Doll,” he starts, his hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears, feeling all the more like scum when she flinches away from him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I never met for this to happen.” Leon shakes his head, feeling his own eyes start to get watery. Fuck was he about to cry? “This isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this.” But he did, the evidence of his assault is chained up right next to him. The pair sit next to each other and cry. The girl’s cries are fearful little sobs, the kind that leaves your whole body trembling. Leon’s cries are more subdued, his shoulders twitching as small huffs leave his lips, tears escaping from his shut eyes. 

He tries to remember what happened between leaving the bar last night and waking up to this. He can see bits and pieces, stills of his dark drunken escapade, but can’t see the full picture. A flash of ripping her clothes, scattering the ratty remnants on the floor. He remembers her pained face as he thrust into her, blood coating his cock. The image of his hand gripping her throat with wanton abandon was burned into his mind. Leon felt disgust brew inside him, disgust at himself. He had gotten blackout drunk more times than he could count, however, it normally ended in him passing out in the bathroom of the bar or getting into a fistfight in the alley. Never before had he thought he was capable of such atrocities. He was a monster through and through. 

Like a child seeking comfort, Leon leans closer to the girl, resting his head on her chest as he cries. His arms wrap around her torso as he clings to her like a koala bear clinging to its mother. It’s pathetic really, but the sound of her heartbeat soothes him, and despite the hell he must have put her through last night she still smells good. A hint of her perfume lingered on her skin along with her sweet musky scent. Eventually, his cries subdued as Leon lay curled into the girl. He hadn’t even noticed she had stopped crying as well, a sad almost remorseful look on her face. 

Leon knows the right thing to do would be to let her go, either hope she stays true to her word or face the consequences of his actions. Maybe deep down he’s scared of facing those consequences, he wouldn’t receive a trial, jail time and community service weren’t an option for him. No, he’d be put down like old yeller. It’s been an invisible threat hanging over his head since 1998. Obey or die. He knew too much and had seen too much, to ever be considered a normal citizen again. If he let this girl go, he might as well put a bullet in his brain now.

He had fantasized about killing himself for quite some time now. The ultimate choice of free will, the only way he could think of to rebel against his masters. He could pull the trigger and be free of it all. The only reason he hadn’t after Racoon City was because of Sherry. She had been a child, alone and a prisoner like him. It would have been cruel to leave her by herself. But Sherry was all grown up now, an agent like himself. She was a good kid who didn’t need him anymore. 

It would be so easy to be free of this all. He’s got a loaded Ruger in his nightstand, and he hears it's a fast escape. A bang, a second of pain and he’d be a free man. Uncuff the girl, and let her run home to lick her wounds while he atones for his crime.

The selfless thing to do would be to let this girl go and accept his fate. However, as he snuggled up into her bare chest, Leon had a dark thought flicker through his mind. He was tired of being selfless, always putting others before himself. No, he deserved this. It was a disgusting thought he knew, but part of him felt as though he was owed a sliver of comfort. She could be that warmth he so desperately craved. A new reason to keep on going.  

“I can’t let you go” he whispers against her skin, his arms tightening around her. “Won’t hurt you though, don’t worry” he assured her. The girl tensed underneath him, eyeing him warily as though she didn’t believe him. Why should she? After all, he was the one who had gotten blackout drunk and assaulted her. 

He hesitates before pressing a kiss to her collarbone, a quick gentle peck, a crumb of condolence and affection. She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at him with sorrowful eyes. 

“I’m not a bad guy” he whispers, mostly to himself as he settles back down in the valley of her breasts. 

“I know” she whispers back, letting her head rest against the headboard. Leon feels a tear roll down his cheek. He had been content with destroying himself, never had he thought his dream of self-destruction would involve dragging someone else into his nightmare.

Note: Holy shit dude I finally posted it! Shout out to my friends for bullying me into finally posting, literally so nervous imma puke <<33

[stuckinheavenwithyou]

Hi so sorry to bother you may I request a hetalia x fem reader where they celebrate Easter together it could be any of the states or countries like America or Germany or Japan it's up to you also happy Easter or happy Resurrection Day is what me and my family call it because it's when Jesus resurrected from the grave but yeah you know.

Thank you💕 Its a bit rushed tho lol😭😭

Hetalia x fem!reader || EASTER TIME!!!!!

Feliciano Vargas / Italy

• LOOK AT HIMMM :(( anyways, hes very familiar with Easter and takes the chance to decorate the whole house/apartment,etc. He also takes his chance to put on some cute bunny ears on you and himself

• As I said, he isnt a expert at cooking so you would have to do it, but he does help you with preparing and cleaning afterwards. He even shares some homemade wine he had laying around, if you like wine ofcourse!

• he even painted the easter eggs, named them but was pretty bummed out when he had to throw them away, but he kept some as a memory. Some of them were cracked because you two played around with them by knocking them to see which one gets broken the most

Ludwig Beilschmidt / Germany !!

• he’s a very gentle and careful man when it comes to holidays, specifically Easter. He makes sure that the food is ready at the exact time as he planned, the room temperature fits the atmosphere, the house is spotless and sparkly clean, etc.

• he does decorate the house, but doesn’t go over the top unlike a certain American… Nothing to colorful either, he knows you very well and tried to get the decorations of your favorite colors which ofcourse turned out very well and neat! He was very nervous and awkward about it because he’s not really a decorations guy, which was absolutely adorable!

• he doesnt gaf about them eggs, he does everything that you like so that he can grow closer to you, that includes crafts and such! He did grow fond of the little silly crafts that you both made in the end and decided to keep them and learn to make them for the next Easter that you two would spend together!

Kiku Honda / Japan!!

• While there aren’t many Christians nor does it have anything to do with Easter; Japan tried his best to understand Easter and its tradition by the few books he read and logic. He placed some colorful pastel-like eggs and hid them around the backyard for you to find, while he sat and watched, giving a few subtle hints here and there.

• Easter isn’t as common in Japan, but that doesn’t mean he can’t celebrate it with his darling. He’s not much of a cook, but he can bake if that helps. Regarding decorations, he wasn’t sure about it because it barely talks about decorations in the books he read so he placed some small bunny figurenes and leftover eggs around the house.

• This guy is a sucker for games and crafts. He adores every bit of them, even with you. He lets you win every game you two play just to see your sweet smile. Although he does find the thought of Christianity slightly intimidating and mystical, that doesn’t stop him from leaving you or anything! He respects your religion and you completely, so don’t be suprised if he looks behind him every now and then.

This one is an extra but..

ALFRED F. JONES / AMERICA!!

• let me tell you, this man is all about holidays and traditions! He celebrates them like his life depends on it, calm down its not running away from him. He would throw a mini-party, nothing too loud or disrespectful ofcourse! He would even go as far as inviting your family over if you ask him too. He loves meeting new people anyways!

• decorates the house like crazy, ribbons are all over the place! The smell of the food fills the house, he’s a suprisingly very good cook! Wears an Easter themed apron aswell! He went a bit overboard and brought a 8ft tall shaped egg that he made, he brings it every Easter to show it to the world AKA you <3

• he wore a bunny outfit for the whole day. Not the sexy one, the one where you can barely breathe in. Which scared some of the guests away, a walking dehydrated 5’7 rabbit would scare anybody away! He’s very slow when it comes to crafts, it takes a while to understand them but he managed to understand them in the end which was a relief!

Authors note: HAPPY EASTER!!! (if u celebrate it) im done with the request. IM VERY VERY SORRY IF ITS SHORT, I RUSHED SO HARD TO FINISH THIS IN A SINGLE SITTING OR ELSE ILL BE LATE!! anyways requests are still open!! Okayyy bye bye! =>

[bullet-prooflove]

Breaking Point: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @noxytopy @baconeggndcheez @ladygrey03 @smiley-asylum

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like the other guys.

The Good Book - Tim makes you a promise you don't think he can keep.

Bad Timing - You and Tim have always had a case of bad timing.

Straight From The Heart - Tim speaks from the heart during a late night phone call.

Missed Call - Tim's world crumbles when he listens to your voicemail.

Stars Align - Things start to go wrong just as Tim and yours stars align.

A Ramblin’ Man - Tim makes you a promise about the future.

A Patient Man - Tim awaits news on your condition.

Wait And See - Tim gets creative about your recovery.

You’re on your way out of town when Tim pulls up in one of the quieter neighbourhoods in Lexington. It’s close enough to downtown that there’s a bustling coffee shop on the corner and far away enough that you don’t get the traffic or the noise from the more urban areas of the city.

The house you’re parked outside of is a pretty little thing. White panelling with a grey slates on the roof, a front door in a colour that matches. There’s a couple of rose bushes in the front against the porch, the red offsetting the hues in the cloudy grey.

“Who lives here?” You ask, studying the place.

“Hopefully you and me in the future.” Tim says. You can tell he’s excited by the look in his eyes, the way he smiles as he gestures towards the house. “It goes on the market next month and I was thinking of putting an offer in, it’s got a few things that need fixing up but I could do the work, while you get yourself squared away-”

“Tim.” You say softly and his eyebrows furrow into a frown because he knows that tone, he knows it always comes with heartache and disappointment. “They pulled the deal, I won’t be transferring to Kentucky, at least not anytime soon.”

“Right.” He says, his hands coming to rest on the steering wheel, grasping it tightly between his hands. “Because they can just do that can’t they? They can just…” His palm slams against the wheel. “Fuck…”

He throws the driver’s side door open, stepping out into the road. It takes you a moment to follow, hissing through your teeth as you shove open the passenger side door, the wound in your chest searing as you clamber out. He places his hands on the roof of the car, dipping his head as he sucks in a deep breath before he meets your eyes.

“It’s not gonna happen is it? You and me?” He says, his eyes a storm of despair. “We come so close and then it’s just snatched away every single time. It is killing me not being with you, I feel it in my chest every time one of us walks away…”

He trails off then his lips pursing together into a grim line. He's dying inside, you can see it. With every hurdle, every failure, something in him cracks and he's running out of ways to repair the damage.

“Do you think that I’m not tired?” You ask him, your voice raw with emotion. “That I don’t wish we could spend the rest of our days living this life.” You say pointing at the house. “I want that more than anything, Christ I almost died for that-”

“And I would have followed you right into that grave Lucky.” Tim tells you with a surety you feel in the depths of your soul. “They would have ended up scattering our ashes together off Algier’s point as the sun sets over the river. There is no me without you, there never has been.”

You’re at a breaking point you and him, the shooting has only brought to ahead what you both knew was coming. If you want to be together someone has to compromise, to sacrifice, otherwise the last decade, it’s all been for nothing.

It’s time to make a choice and the truth is you’re exhausted, you know that Tim sees that in you. You’ve been playing in shadows the entirety of your career, both in the military and in the FBI, it’s time to step into the light, to do something different because this job it’ll take everything from you if you let it, it almost had this time.

“We should buy the house.” You say softly and the hope in Tim’s eyes in that moment and there is no doubt that you’ve made the right decision. “I’ll hand in my resignation as soon as we get back.”

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[dulcecherub]

Love Espresso

Chapter eight: Wildflower

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: after her breakup with Rafe and him kicking her out. Her best friend offers her a new job and a place to stay. But when Rafe comes back from Morocco. He realizes he’d made a grave mistake. Will Sofia go back to him? Or will she decide that her new life means more to her than him?

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Sofia blinked away her surprise; he was right in front of her. She couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at the sight of him. Her Rafe.

He looked just as stunned to see her. His footsteps faltering as he got closer to the front door. In his hands, were his grocery bags.

“S-Sofia?” He repeated, almost as if he’d hope he wasn’t imagining her.

“Rafe.”

Sarah came out the car soon after. Her hand on her belly. Her eyes darting from Sofia, to John B and then to Rafe. The tension in the air is palpable.

“You guys came back early…” John B says, breaking the tension like a knife. Sarah smiles, grabbing a bag from Rafes hands.

“We just needed some milk. But you know how I need my pregnancy snacks.” Sarah says. She made her way towards John B, handing him the bag. He took it from her.

“Uh… we’re going to leave, you two alone to talk.” Sarah says, grabbing John B’s hand. They leave towards a different part of the house. Sofia crosses her arms; unsure on what to do with herself.

She hadn’t realized how awkward this would be. Her momentum completely disappeared. Rafe scratched the back of his head. His other hand still holding the groceries, Sarah hadn’t taken.

Sofia couldn’t help but stare at his arms. Her mind wandering; his cheeks turned pink. She was the only one who ever managed to make him blush. He’d missed the way she would look at him. He’d missed her, so much.

“Sofia.” He said again, this time a little more hoarsely. “Why’re are you here?” It came out harsher than he intended.

Sofia eyes darted to the ground. Her cheeks heating up. “I thought it was time you and I finally talked.”

Sofia’s hand caressed Rafe’s cheek. Her eyes boring into his. Her eyes shone like stars as she stared at him. Rafe felt his own cheeks flush.

“Stop staring at me like that. It’s going to make me kiss you.”

Sofia can’t help but giggle as he says this. Her body moving closer to his so she can steal a kiss. Her hands now on his chest, her body molting against his. His hands move to her waist, holding her close to him.

She slowly pulled away, “Que Lindo tu ves.” Her hand continuing to caress his cheek. He blushes further. His hand reaching up to play with her hair.

“Is that right?” Rafe smiles up at her, his eyes staring into hers. Today it’s decided to lean towards looking more green.

“Oh? You know what that means?” She teased, giggling as he grinned at her.

“Had to learn my girls language.” He pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Though, don’t ask me to speak it yet. I sound terrible.” He laughs. She laughs along with him.

“Hey at least, you’re trying.” She kisses his nose. “Let me hear it.” Rafe crosses his arms and lets out another chuckle.

“You’re going to cringe at how terrible my Spanish sounds.” He says, his eyes roaming her face.

“Practice, makes perfect. No?”

Sofia played with the hem of her skirt; as she sat next to Rafe on his couch. The cup of water he’d gotten her, sat abandoned on the coffee table.

“This doesn’t have to be awkward.” Rafe says. His head ducked low as he doesn’t stare at her. “We’re here to talk.”

Sofia nodded, “Then can you please look at me?” Her voice comes out a bit hoarse. Like she’d hadn’t spoken in ages. But really, her throat was dry. She reaches for the cup of water. But then lets her arm fall.

Rafe slowly looks up; he looks like a little kid almost. Reduced to a vulnerable state. He’d always been like that with her. Always stripped of any facade he tried to create.

“Why did you do it? Was that your scheme all along? Pretending to be in love with me or some shit?” He ripped the bandit right off. He didn’t want to keep tiptoeing around the issue anymore. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity. He finally got her here to talk. And he was just going to get he answer he wanted; straight. The anger he thought he was done with; resurfacing.

She’d appreciated him for it. She knew she would haven’t been able to be so straight forward. She’d been too afraid to be.

Sofia breath in a breath and let it out. “My dad had told me about this deal. Hollis had tried to ask him to involve me in getting you to agree on investing in Goat Island. It sounded scammy to me. And at the time, I couldn’t imagine doing something like that to you. And then when—”

Her eyes finally turned away from him. Remembering that awful day.

“I had went looking for you. To tell you what my dad had said. I found you at the club. I overheard you talking to Ruthie and Topper. She’d said that, since you live with a pogue. You might not be up for whatever it was Topper was planning to do. I’m assuming it’s the rezoning. And then… I heard you.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. His heart sinking. She wasn’t meant to hear that.

“You said that just because we hooked up. Didn’t make me your girlfriend.” Her hands were tightly intertwined together. Her eyes no longer even looking at him. Now it was her turn to duck her head. “How you weren’t living with a Pogue. That you had standards.”

Rafe in took a sharp breath of air. Letting it puff out. “Shit.” He said. He rubs at his head; now staring at her.

Sofia only ducks her head down. Tears began to brim her eyes. It was laid out bare in front of them. The start of the doom of their relationship.

“Sofia, please look at me.” He says hoarsely. “I didn’t mean those things. I promise, I just didn’t like how— you know how Ruthie is like.”

Sofia scoffed, looking away from him. “But you still said those things, Rafe. What was I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me! Not fucking betray me!” He finally snapped. Sofia flinches as he yelled at her. He’d never done that before. Never once raised his voice at her. She wasn’t used to it.

She’d seen him, yell at others. But never her. Being on that side of it. It feels wrong, like as if she woken up at the wrong side of the bed.

He instantly deflates the moment; he notices her flinch. “I’m-I’m not trying to argue with you.”

Rafe remembered, how he felt the moment he found out. He felt his whole body go numb. There was no way. Not Sofia. Anyone but Sofia. She would never do that to him. His angel of a girlfriend. Fiancée. No, no, no.

He loves her, he would never do anything to hurt her. So why did she hurt him? After the phone call, he felt his tears brimming his eyes. He felt his heart feel like it was on fire. He couldn’t believe it. His Sofia had betrayed him.

Rafe wiped away at his eyes. No longer able to contain his tears. His hands shook.

“I love you Sofia. I love you, okay. I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I shouldn’t have said those things. But you could have talked to me. We could have… we wouldn’t be here. And I’m not trying to completely fault you in that.” His voice came out broken. Like he couldn’t speak properly.

He looked at her, his Sofia. Her beautiful eyes brimmed with tears. He wanted to reach over and wipe them away from her eyes. Wanted to fix everything that hurt her.

“I’m sorry, I know it won’t fix anything. But I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean for you to lose—” Her eyes casted down away from him.

The silence engulfed them. Now it felt like it would be like pulling teeth. He didn’t want this to be the end of them. He waited for her to continue with batted breath.

“I didn’t mean for you to lose everything.” She whispered. Rafe felt his heart clenched.

For a long time, he thought he cared about the money. But now… all he cared about was having her back. He remembered the conversations he’d have with Kiara. He never thought he’d ever become close to her. And he still wouldn’t consider her to be. But he’d told her about Sofia.

He realized even when he wasn’t around Sofia. He managed to make room for her in the conversation. He wished he could take back the things he said about her. He didn’t mean them. Now here was the consequence to those words being uttered.

“I love you Rafe. I was upset and I did the first thing I could to hurt you. And I regretted it the moment I did. I regretted the moment I realized you were serious about us. I wish I could have just spoken to you. I tried to make you back out. But it’s been too late. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me. You don’t have to forgive me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. The distance between them, he couldn’t recall being close to her. He sank onto his knees and practically crawled to her. He gripped her hands in his. He was a starved man. The time away from her was unbearable. Felt like a shot in the heart.

“I remember I told you that I didn’t care what you did. The day I proposed to you. And now… now that you’re here in front of me—”

He placed his head into her hands. His tears slipping down his face. “I don’t want to lose you Sofia.” He sobbed.

Sofia felt her tears fall down her own face. Before she knew it, they were embracing each other. She didn’t know if this meant they’ll be together. But in this moment, they were two souls who had found what they were searching for.

Sofia is listening to:

Rafe is listening to:

[themedassistant]

The sun was barely over the horizon, yet I had yet to get any sleep. If it wasn't said already, I'll say it, INSOMNIA is a BITCH. I turned over onto my side a saw at least the big man was getting sleep at least. He was on his stomach, both arms wrapped around my waist snugly, and face buried in the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. His dirty hair was tickling my face. I know I barely sleep as is, but if it wasn't for moments like this, I'd say he wasn't a man but a robot who doesn't sleep. Who am I kidding, I already joke with his teammates that he is a robot, but a robot with the ability to feel. And it's one of the many reasons I love him.

I press a kiss to the top of his head, before gently pulling myself out of his grip. He let out a small groan as I replaced my body with my pillow. With a practiced skill, I quickly and quietly changed into a pair of running shorts, a good sports bra and my hoodie before grabbing my sneakers and making my way down the stairs. Once downstairs, I finished getting ready. I take pride in myself for being smart enough to have my stuff ready for a jog already down by the door. I threw my hair into a quick ponytail, threw my keys into the pockets of my shorts and put in my headphones before heading out the door.

A random metal song blasted through the headphones as decided to make my jog into a gym session. I spent 30 mins on the treadmill on a 40° incline, before attempting core work. I wish I had the upper body strength the boys have, feeling my arms tremble on the Roman chair as I attempt crunches that won't hurt my back. I can just hear the robot chuckle watching my struggle. However as the song ended, I could still hear the grave chuckle. As I turn my head a little, low and behold the robot is there. He was leaning on the leg press, his arms crossed across his strong chest, his face covered by his signature skull balaclava, wearing his own hoodie and black sweatpants. I drop down from the machine and walk over to him, popping my earbuds back into the case. "Stalker much?"

He chuckled some more before standing at his full height. The behemoth was a solid 6'3, shrinking my 5'6 self into a child size as he looked down at me. "Wouldn't think caring about your wellbeing made me a stalker." His low voice still riddled with sleep, which means it was the first time he spoke today. Which even after all these years was a nice treat for me. His eyes scan over me, quickly assessing for any kind of injury. Tapping his chin to get his eyes to look back at mine, I crossed my arms, mirroring him. "Hey big guy, I'm okay..." His shoulders relaxing but unmoved. "I just couldn't sleep and needed to do something." He nodded and jerked his head towards the door. In our comfortable silence, we left the gym and headed back towards the barrack housing. As we got back to our unit, I could see some of the new recruits starting their morning PT.

He led me inside, to our little sanctuary from the chaos that is base life. Once the door was closed and locked, I followed him as he walked into the kitchen. He started pulling things from the fridge and cabinets to make breakfast. As he's moving around the small space I can see his hands tremble a little. "Hey.." he put everything down and turned towards me. I hop up onto the unoccupied counter space on the island, making us almost eye-level to each other. "Talk to me?" His arms anchored themselves on either side of my legs and pressed himself into the space in between. I pull his mask off, revealing that beautiful face. His scars are nearly invisible in the weird lighting of the room. "I woke up, you weren't there." I give him a small nod, waiting for him to continue. But instead of more words, he connected our foreheads and moved his hands to my hips. His skin was always warmer than mine, but felt almost burning at that moment. I moved my head back enough to press a kiss to his forehead, holding his face in my hands. "Next time, I'll wake you up and drag you to the gym with me, yeah?" His stoic self grunted at the idea before going back to making breakfast. "Go shower, I'll be finished soon." Hopping down, I quickly tap his backside before going to the bathroom and showering for the day.

Once I finished a quick shower, I dressed in my fatigues, and headed back to the kitchen to check on him. A basic meal of eggs, bacon and toast sat on the plate on the island. Just one plate though. There were two cups of tea, but only one plate of food. Before I got to say anything, he cut me off with a raised hand. "Don't.." He dropped his hand back down to rest on the counter he was leaning on. "Not hungry. But you need to eat something more filling than those stupid 'health' bars." That statement and his actions this morning, tell me that I wasn't the reason he woke up. He had a nightmare. I don't bother asking him if he wants to talk about it, he wouldn't. Not about his nightmares anyway.

They weren't a new thing. He's been plagued by them for decades. They just changed from being about his family to more recent events. He sat with me at the counter, watching me eat, with one of my legs resting on his. "Si..." I take his hand in mine, feeling the calluses and roughness of his skin, as I trace invisible lines up and down his fingers and palm. "You know, whenever you're ready, I'll listen." He brought my hand up to press a few kisses to the back and inside of my palm. "I know." His voice was low. As I finished my breakfast and tea, there was a knock at the door. Si, put his mask back on as I answered the door. It was Kyle. "Morning Gaz." He nods "Phoenix." "Laswell sending you out?" "Not sure, but most likely. Price asked for us in his office." I nod, moving to the side as Simon walks up to the door. "Sgt." Simon looked back at me, knocking his forehead against mine. "I'll call you when I get details." As the guys walked towards the office building, I shouted. "You boys be safe." "Always!" Simon shouted, quickly spinning to look back at me. I head back inside, put the dishes in the dishwasher, grab my bags, and head toward the health center. The sun was now almost midway in the sky, and warming the base with its bright glow.