#( my writing feels so off here so I hope this is readable )

[shxrp-teeth-after-dark]

retrograderesemblance asked : [subtle] or [still] for patience + hewlett if he's one of your muses who's into this meme right now.

SOME MORE SMUTTY MEMES. / @retrograderesemblance -- accepting

[ SUBTLE ]  our muses are cuddling,  sender begins to feel up receiver and tease them. 

        𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. In his years stationed in Setauket, he had never thought he would promise his heart to another. Marriage was never something he dreaded or thought of as something that he wasn’t capable of, but with his family’s mounting debt, it was the last thing on his mind. Until Anna Strong came along. Then when that fell through and he looked upon the married couples walking the city street, he wouldn’t have thought that he would get another chance here in the colonies. Scotland, perhaps. But that changed when Patience walked back into his life, a woman he grew to have a friendship with and now a woman he grew to love.

        Edmund figured she was asleep still until he felt a light touch drift over his arm. He looked down, clearing his throat as he readied himself to speak. The touch persisted again, it seemed to grow in more intensity that he couldn’t swat away as his own desires clouded his judgment.

        ❝ Patience, ❞ he spoke her name in a low, hoarse voice, clearing his throat again as he began to slowly move towards her, his mouth right by her ear. ❝ Are you feeling alright? ❞ It seemed stupid to ask as desire thrums within him, but Edmund can’t figure out what else to say. He seemed to forget what to say when he was around Patience sometimes. At least, he managed to say something. She always seemed to understand what he was feeling without him needing to say it.

[elementroar]

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

Sorry for the people who waited. Technical and real life delays and all that. On the positive, I happened to run into new resources in the past two days that have helped lining up the facts easier.

Anyway, I originally wanted to compress all the lore into a single post, but I find it’s so much more massive once you really dig into the analysis between the story across multiple mediums, the in-game animations and interactions etc. To make this more readable for you all and to make creating these posts faster, I’m going to separate them up into parts that focus on different facets of their relationship and lore as I progress through them.

This first part goes into their origins, and I hope this big post helps to thoroughly explain who/what A.B.A. and Paracelsus are, their backstories prior to STRIVE, and my own analysis sprinkled on top. I want to try to keep the info/lore dump minimal and focused, so if I mention a character without elaborating, I’ll leave a link but if I’m not elaborating more, it’s because they’re not relevant to A.B.A/Paracelsus' stories that much.

Related links:

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

This is the "Why ABA and Paracelsus can feel horny" lore/theory post

Flament Nagel - Paracelsus’ true form theory

The Red King and White Queen alchemical concept in A.B.A and Paracelsus’ relationship

The beginning with A.B.A.

First off, to introduce their individual origins, it’s easiest to start with A.B.A. She’s a homunculus, an artificial lifeform created by a scientist in his mansion, which was located in the mountains of a region called Frasco or Flask. But before she was ‘born’, her creator had been taken away by the military for his skills in creating artificial life, and so A.B.A. woke up alone.

Despite this, within the 10 years she spent alone in the mansion she was able to learn to read, write, and even create some alchemical magic (seen in some of her attacks in games before -STRIVE-). It’s assumed either she was created with a set of memories and skills, or she naturally learns very quickly. It’s probably due to reading leftover journals and research materials that she even learnt her creator’s name was Paracelsus.

Technically, A.B.A. could’ve left the manor quite easily, there was even a village not far from them. However, she understood that she knew nothing about the world outside and was scared to leave the safety of the manor by venturing outside to explore the unknown world. But she did yearn for freedom and to leave Frasco, so she took to fixating on keys, which she found fascinating in being able to unlock doors to different places.

In the last bit of her 10 years in Frasco, A.B.A would accidentally cross paths with the hidden the demon axe Flament Nagel (which she would later rename to ‘Paracelsus’ in honour of her creator, or just cos that’s the only other name she actually knew).

What’s a demon axe doing here anyway?

So what is Paracelsus? He is what’s known as a magical foci, which are objects or even people that get a soul or a collection of memories/emotions/desires attached to them, which eventually leads to them gaining sentience and often supernatural abilities. They draw from the Backyard, which is basically where the information that makes up all reality is stored in the Guilty Gear world, and also the source of magic. This is the origin of ‘demons’ within the GG world, like Paracelsus.

The story of how Paracelsus/Flament Nagel ended up in Frasco actually involves the ancient Nightwalker (technically not a vampire but he's basically a vampire without the bad stuff) known as Slayer.

Now Slayer is this incredibly old, incredibly strong vampire Nightwalker, who nonetheless is a very nice guy who doesn’t need to feed on regular people because his wife, Sharon, is a deathless woman that he can feed on indefinitely without worrying about her dying.

Because of his immense age (AFAIK he’s the oldest of the main GG cast) and overwhelming power (he always holds back in-game), he has very insightful observations of Paracelsus and A.B.A.

The following screenshots are excerpts taken from the English transcript (available here) translated from the Night of Knives Vol.2 audio drama CD (you can listen to it here), and are from the perspective of Slayer recounting his encounters with Paracelsus and A.B.A.

Sometime near the end of the 100 year long war between Gears and humans known as the Crusades, Slayer was roaming a battlefield and came across a mountain of corpses of both Gears and humans. In the middle of it was a wandering blood covered warrior that was swinging an axe wildly. After confronting the man, Slayer realized that it was the axe that was the true master, the man had already lost his mind and was under its full control.

That axe called itself Flament Nagel aka the Flaming Nail, or the Sanguine Gale. I'll still be referring to him as Paracelsus at this point in time though.

Now magical foci start off simple-minded, only repeating small word fragments, and evolve over time to become more intelligent and sapient. At this point, young Paracelsus was a demon axe who had just gained sentience on that battlefield. Hot-headed and hungry for blood, and wanting to prove his combat superiority, he challenged Slayer and got curb stomped. Slayer was disappointed in how primitive Paracelsus still was in mind and soul, so he left him there to rust.

However eventually, Paracelsus was picked up from that battlefield and was sent to the alchemist Paracelsus, creator of A.B.A. We don’t know if the alchemist knew what the demon axe was, or whether he even requested him specifically for research. But the alchemist ultimately didn’t let Paracelsus out, not letting him take control over him and hiding him somewhere in the depths of his mansion.

(Inaccurate information removed, updating with A.B.A.'s JP GG World entry from XRD)

It would be after A.B.A.’s 10 year long isolation that she decided for reasons unknown, to leave the mansion and explore the outside world. By pure chance, she comes across Paracelsus, who because kinda resembled a key, she immediately picked up and she fell in love with him and decided they were married from then on.

Becoming her key

It's always been known that Paracelsus has some form of empathic abilities, and that he could tell that A.B.A. was fixated on keys and assumed the shape of a giant key to entice her to wield him. This was also the first ‘manipulation’ that Paracelsus admitted he had done to A.B.A. during their heart-to-heart talk.

It’s been further clarified in this recent interview, that it wasn’t so much Paracelsus deliberately taking the form of a key to attract ABA, but because ABA had been so heavily fixated on keys that she saw Paracelsus as a key straight away. That image she had of him as a key seemed to immediately imprint itself on him the moment she touched him, because of his true nature as “an axe (that) transforms into the owner’s image” of what his wielder wants him to be.

Slayer actually did mention this was likely the case over 20 IRL years ago in the audio drama CD, when he observed Paracelsus behaviour with A.B.A. in their second encounter.

Because A.B.A. never sees Paracelsus as a weapon, Paracelsus began to change to fit her ideal of what she saw him as, to become something more than just a weapon, and allowing Paracelsus to truly change and evolve physically and emotionally.

It’s important to note, Paracelsus isn’t bound to his wielder, and he doesn’t HAVE to allow this to happen either. Despite being dragged around by A.B.A. and acting like he has no autonomy; he actually has all the power to stop her from the start.

As Slayer notes, Para still has the power to completely take over A.B.A. 's mind and force her to do what he wants if he is truly unhappy. However he has never even threatened A.B.A. with this ability, and if not for Slayer knowing his past, no one would know Paracelsus actually can do this.

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Para was becoming more than just a demon axe from the moment he met A.B.A., and in his heart of hearts, he was begrudgingly accepting of his then situation-ship with her.

Fast forward to STRIVE and it's shown that he still continues to evolve to fulfill her 'vision' of what he is. When described as becoming more key-like, it's more obvious when you place both his old and new design side-by-side.

Notably, the blade part of his axe form has gotten smaller by STRIVE, just as he has sworn off violence and bloodshed by STRIVE.

It's even shown in how A.B.A. wields him., especially when Para partially possess or influences A.B.A. in his Muroha mode in the old games (mechanically this is the Jealous Mode in STRIVE). A.B.A. would wield him like a proper 'axe' blade-first in XX/ACCENT CORE. In STRIVE, since A.B.A. is now the dominant one in Jealous Rage mode, she doesn't wield him like an axe and now wields him by...bashing his head into people.

(Also I'll be going over the in-game animations and what they convey in a future post, don't you worry! You can view the comparison compilation here first.)

This even is shown in how A.B.A. uses Paracelsus as an actual key in her Overdrive "Keeper of the Key", which is a new move for her.

If we go further, I have speculated in this semi-crack theory that due to A.B.A. also interjecting her ideal of Paracelsus being her spouse over the years, that him actually 'reacting' to her advances now could also be an example of his evolution.

Even if he's trying REAL hard not to.

Hope this was an enjoyable read, let me know if you have any suggestions for improving readability or other stuff. Feel free to ask me questions through the inbox in the mean time that I'm working on the next part.

The next part is going to be analyzing and comparing Paracelsus' XX/ACCENT CORE Muroha mode to STRIVE's Jealous Rage mode, which has quite a bit of detail from comparing their effects on A.B.A. in in-game sprites/animations, plus how it reflects on the change in their power dynamics between games.

Edit: Part 2 available here

[worksby-d]

Tangled up with you all night

Pairing: Ari Levinson x escort!Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: Your favorite client has a surprise for you on Valentine's Day.

Warnings: AU, voyeurism, threesome, oral (f + m receiving), m masturbation, unprotected sex, fingering, anal, 18+

Word count: ~3,500

A/n: This is my first time writing more than one character in the same fic, so I hope it's readable!!! I enjoyed writing this a lot and I'm excited about it and I hate saying that cause I fear I'll jinx it and it'll flop, but I really hope you enjoy it if you give it a chance 🥹💝 Happy Valentine's Day!

You’re no stranger to the dimly lit, quiet hallway. The walls have echoed the sound of your heels against the tile floor back to you countless times. Instructions are always the same – Let yourself in, the door is unlocked. 

Your first time here was terrifying. It was one of your first jobs and you were naive back then. Who knew there were guys so desperate for your company that they would trust you enough to just walk into their penthouses. 

You remember your hand shaking as you took a deep breath and reached for the door. It’s funny now because it couldn’t be any more different than how you confidently stride in tonight. 

Since then, this guy – Ari – has become one of your regulars. Despite what you were there for that first night, he had a way of making you feel comfortable instantly, which certainly isn’t always the case. 

“You couldn’t get anyone else to keep you company on Valentine’s Day?” Your quip carries as you walk in. The sound of ice falling into a few glasses tells you he’s behind his bar, so you follow it. “Had to settle for me?” 

“It was you or no one.” He winks as he tops off your drink, always sure to have your favorite ready for you. “You know that by now, sweetheart.”

He’s told you time and time again that you’re the only reason he keeps the agency’s business card on hand. But you’ve convinced yourself that he tells all the girls that… In an attempt to not get attached. He makes it damn hard not to though.

Taking the drink from his reached out hand, you roll your eyes. That’s when they land on another man walking into the room. 

“Oh–” You’re mid sip when you pull your glass away from your mouth, licking the small amount of alcohol off your lips. A switch flips and your professional persona is back on – Standing up straight with an innocent smile on your face. “I wasn’t expecting…”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Ari’s mouth. “Surprise.” 

It’s clear to you where this is going, but you know men are simple creatures – They like when you play dumb. So you cock your head slightly, feigning confusion. 

“This is Steve.” 

You take in the sight of him – Tall, built, sleeves rolled up showing his to-die-for forearms. It’s your lucky day, you think to yourself. What are the chances of two attractive guys spending their Valentine’s Day with you? 

You snap yourself out of ogling him, finally speaking to him. “Just ‘Steve’?” 

You’re used to no last names, but it’s fun to tease them about it. 

“For now,” he nods, mirroring your smile. 

“Then hi, Steve,” you nod, holding out your hand to shake his. 

It's his turn to let his eyes wander, but he's respectful about it, not letting his gaze linger for an uncomfortable amount of time. His eyes reach yours again and he lets go of your hand. 

He shakes his head as if he's speechless for a moment. “Even more beautiful in person.”

“A smooth talker like Ari, huh?” You giggle. 

Ari hands your drink back to you. 

You flash him a smile, not dropping the innocent act yet. “Is your friend, Steve, staying?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Ari sees right through it. “Why don't you go get ready for us? He brought a gift for you, you gotta try it on.” 

Who are you to deny a gift? You let Ari walk you toward his bedroom door so he can have just a second alone with you. 

“As long as it's okay with you…” His voice is low and genuine. He may pay to have sex with you, but he's still a gentleman. “I thought it would be fun to try something new, but you know I never want you to do anything you don't want to–”

“It's fine,” you chuckle, bringing a hand up to pat his cheek. “I promise it's fine. He better be as good as you though.” 

With a teasing look, you open the door to step into his room and shut it again behind you before he can say fuck it and follow you in.

His bedroom is cozy. You've always thought that. He keeps it dark, allowing the glow from the city lights outside to illuminate it just enough – Just enough for the unspeakable things you ever do in here anyway. 

Your eyes drift from the windows to the bed where there's a small box with a bow tied around it. There's a tag and it's addressed to you from Steve. 

You would never ask any of these guys to their faces, but you always wonder if they know that gifts that aren't lingerie exist. Or even just different looking gift boxes to throw you off every once in a while. 

Carefully removing the bow, you open the box. You can tell by the neatly folded lace and mesh that it’s a babydoll set. Matching red panties fall from underneath the top as you hold it up to take a look.

The lace detailing across your chest leaves little to the imagination as you look at yourself in the mirror once you have it on. 

As if the two men in the other room can sense that you're ready, they walk in right as you're sitting on the edge of the bed to wait for them. 

“Hot damn,” Ari whistles when his eyes fall on you. 

So far, you can tell Steve is more reserved. He settles for a—not quite silent—but a whispered wow as he pulls the door closed behind him.

“Thanks for the gift, Steve.” 

You flash him a soft smile and bat your eyelashes, leaning back to subtly push your chest forward. It works every time. His eyes noticeably linger there before making their way back up to yours. 

Ari senses the tension between the two of you. You catch the smirk on his face—as if he’s a proud matchmaker—as he takes a few more steps to get close to you. 

The brush of his fingers against your cheek gets you to look up at him. 

“Why don’t we let you and Steve get acquainted first, hm?”

Nodding, you glance at Steve and he’s looking back at you for your approval. 

The wave of your hand tells him to come closer and Ari steps back to take a seat on the sofa that faces the bed so he can watch the two of you. 

“Sit,” you tell Steve, letting him switch places with you. 

You do a slow twirl in front of him, showing off the set he got you, sure to move just enough so the hem of the top flows up, revealing the pretty bottoms underneath.

“Does it look as good on me as you hoped it would?” He bites his lip, admiring the way it hugs your body. You can tell it’s taking everything in him not to touch you, so you lean forward to whisper in his ear, “You can touch me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. His hands go for your hips, finger tips pressing into your skin as he pulls you to straddle his lap. 

“It looks beautiful.” His fingers trace some of the lace. “Pretty sure you would make anything look good though.”

“There you go with the smooth talking again,” you laugh. “What do you want me to call you?” Your hands come up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Just your name? Sir… Maybe daddy?”

You suppress your smile when you swear you feel his cock twitch beneath you. 

“What do you call Ari?” He asks, glancing over at his friend. 

Before he can answer, you put your hand on Steve’s cheek to get his eyes back on you. 

“He just has me call him Ari because he’s boring,” you joke. “I make fun of him all the time for it.”

“Got it,” he chuckles. “My name is fine too.” 

“Yawn,” you sigh, pulling his shirt off of him and tossing it to the floor. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “What do I call you?”

“Whatever you want,” you smirk. 

Steve’s quick to once again switch places with you, laying you at the edge of the bed so he can kneel between your legs. 

Holding yourself up on your elbows, your head rolls back when he begins placing soft kisses along your inner thighs. He grins to himself, noticing the chill bumps that follow his touch as he caresses your legs. 

He pulls away slightly to get your attention and looks up at you. “May I?”

His fingers hook on the waistband of your panties and you think he’s asking if he can take them off of you. So you nod, but he’s impatient, settling on just pulling them to the side instead.

He shakes his head seeing how wet you are for him already. “Gorgeous.”

A guttural groan falls from his lips before his mouth is on your pussy. 

“Oh–” You gasp, letting your head fall back again. “God, Steve.” 

You usually have to put on a show during sessions, but never with Ari, and not with this Steve guy either. Your moans and the arch of your back is genuine as he skillfully devours your pussy. 

His tongue on your clit has your breaths becoming more shallow already. Lifting your head back up, you reach a hand down to run your fingers through his hair and give yourself leverage as you roll your hips against his face. 

He chuckles and the vibrations from his voice have your eyes falling shut. With a few more strokes of his tongue along your slit, he slowly eases off, back to pressing a few last kisses to your thighs. 

You let out a frustrated sigh. It felt too good for him to stop. He must have gotten a run down of the rules from Ari, you think to yourself. He knew not to let you come yet. 

He untangles your fingers from his hair and holds your hand to pull you back up so you’re sitting in front of him. You let your lips meet his in a slow kiss, tasting yourself on him. 

Ari clears his throat, reminding you both that he’s there. He’s rid himself of his clothes as he watched Steve warm you up. 

“Send her over here,” he says from his spot on the sofa. 

Steve breaks the kiss and gets out of the way so you can stand up. Your few steps toward Ari are done on shaky legs, practically falling into his lap once you get to him. But he stops you, holding his hands on your hips. 

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Face Steve.” 

He helps you turn to face away from him, quickly helps you remove your panties, and guides you to sit back with your knees on either side of his thighs. 

You reach down to stroke his cock a few times. He’s hard already from watching you and Steve. 

Both of you moan out in unison as you sink down onto him. You have enough sex where you’d think it would be easy by now, but something about Ari is different. The way his cock stretches you open proves to be painful every time, but it’s a welcome pain, a pain that you crave when you’re not with him. 

“Missed this, didn’t you?” He teases. All you can do is nod pathetically. “I know you always do.” 

He helps you roll your hips, taking his cock as deep as you can. His hand slipping down, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, makes you cry out. 

He knows what he’s doing. You won’t be able to hold back much longer. And he doesn't want you to. 

“You getting shy on me?” He whispers, kissing your shoulder when you become quiet, focused on not coming yet. 

You groan, legs beginning to quiver. “You know I’m not supposed to come until you have.” 

He doesn’t let up. “Who’s gonna know?”

Your gaze shoots toward his friend on the bed who’s stroking his cock as he watches Ari fuck you. 

“Him? You can trust him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.”

Your eyes clench shut as you continue to ward off your orgasm. 

“You don’t mind if she comes before us, do you?” He asks Steve. 

“God no,” he moans, keeping his eyes on the way your cunt swallows Ari’s cock. “She can come as much as she wants for all I care.”

“You heard him,” Ari whispers in your ear. His fingers press harder against your swollen clit. “Come for us, princess.”

“Ah–” Your body betrays you, easily giving in to them. 

The eruption of pleasure renders you numb, Ari having to take over to prolong your high. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

Maybe he is just that strong, but it must be part adrenaline too, the way he manhandles you, keeping you bouncing on his cock when you don’t feel like you have control over your body to keep moving yourself. 

“Ari!” You cry out, unable to take anymore. You can lift up just enough to let him slip out of you. “Fuck.”

Your chest heaves as you take a few shuddering breaths. He laughs a little, but you’re too in a daze to even notice. He keeps his hands on you as support while you turn to sit beside him with your legs over his and your head against his shoulder. 

“I’ll have to start paying you at this point,” you joke. 

“Nonsense…” His hand caressing your thigh moves slowly, nestling between your legs to part them, and you don’t know if his careful movement is out of consideration of the fact he just gave you a numbing orgasm that your body is still recovering from, or if he’s doing it to tease you and keep you a mess for him. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, remember?”

Your head falls back, lips parting in a silent moan when his fingers brush against your used cunt. 

“Oh, sorry.” He frowns at you, voice laced with fake sympathy. “Are you sensitive?”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, hiding your face against his neck when it turns into a whimper. 

When he lets up, you can’t help the quiet sigh of relief that escapes you. 

“Why don’t you get on your knees for me now?”

“What about Steve?” You ask, giving him a wink before looking back to Ari with a pout.

“Greedy girl,” he chuckles. “Gonna let him have his turn fucking you?”

His hand slapping your cunt elicits a gasp from you.

All you can do is shake your head. You’re not used to being with two guys. Usually a blow job would mean a break for your poor pussy, but not tonight. 

He leans to whisper closer to your ear, “What if we let him have your ass instead then, hm?”

“What?” You’re a little taken aback. “You’re the only one I let do that.”

“Only me?” An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t know that. “You fuck all these men and only I’ve had this pretty ass?”

You just shrug. A wave of heat washes over your skin. 

“I knew I was your favorite,” he teases. “You can trust him though. I’ll make sure he’s gentle.”

“Here,” Ari says, handing Steve a bottle of lube. 

You impatiently reach for Ari’s hand to pull him onto the bed with you. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He chuckles at the desperation, giving in to you easily. “Trust me.”

Your eyes are fixated on his hard cock as he sits in front of you, legs spread to accommodate the position you’re in on your hands and knees. Lowering your head to take him in your mouth, he stops you with a hand resting on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” 

He waits for your eyes to meet his so he knows you’re listening, and you give him a nod. 

Steve’s behind you proving your earlier assumption about him being more reserved. His hands roam your hips and your ass, reacquainting you with his touch while you grow desperate for more. You swear any other guy would damn near be coming by now instead of making you wait for it. 

A frustrated groan is at the tip of your tongue and Ari can sense it. 

“Slap her,” he tells Steve. “She likes that.”

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel the strike of his palm against your ass. And another slap elicits a soft moan from you. 

Ari doesn’t let you look away from him as Steve gets more comfortable with you, finally dripping some lube to rub against your tight hole. 

“That feel alright?” He asks, teasing you with his thumb. 

You sigh. “Yes.”

Since you can't look back, you cast your pleading eyes at Ari. 

“Oh–” You whimper, feeling him press his finger deeper. “Please.”

“Please what?” Ari can't suppress his smile. He loves fucking with you. “Tell us.”

“I…” I don’t know, you want to choke out. “Need both of you!”

“There you go,” he coos, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as he looks at Steve behind you. “Give it to her.”

Steve strokes his cock a few times before pressing the head of it against your tense hole. You suck in a breath at the feeling and he gently pats your lower back. 

“Breathe, darling.”

Ari drops his hand from your face as you let out the breath and you take that as your cue to finally touch him. 

You move your hand, resting it on his thigh. Your fingertips press against his skin as Steve pushes his cock deeper into you. 

“Oh, wow.” Your jaw trembles, dropping open in a broken moan. “That feels good. Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he groans. 

You pull it together to run your hand up Ari’s thigh, reaching to wrap your fingers around his cock, but he puts a hand on your wrist, halting you. 

“No hands,” he tells you. “Just that pretty mouth.”

“Why?” You have enough sense yet to poke fun at him. “You’ll come too fast?”

He scoffs, shaking his head at you, but he can’t help but smile. 

“Harder, Steve.” He presses his hand against the back of your head to bring you down to his cock and you more-than-willingly open your mouth for him. “She can clearly take it if she’s still talking to us like that.”

“Shit, I know she can,” he pants. You moan around Ari’s dick as you push your hips back against Steve. “She’s fucking back against me she’s so desperate for it.”

“Christ.” 

Ari’s head falls back. The room echoes with pleasure-filled sounds from all three of you. He keeps his hand on you as your head moves up and down, stilling you even when he feels you gag on him. 

“Rub your clit, baby. Come for us again.”

You’re determined for them to let go before you this time. You listen to Ari, slipping your hand beneath you to play with your clit as Steve fucks you harder.

Not that you need to fake your pleasure with them, but you do play it up a little bit with some louder moans, letting the hum of your voice bring Ari over the edge. 

“Fuck yes,” he groans, cock twitching as his release spills against your tongue. You gently ease off of him as you swallow what you can. He swears he could lose it again when you drop your face to lick up the rest of the mess that drips down his length and onto his skin. “There you go.”

You don’t miss a beat of continuing to tease your sensitive clit. The trembling of your legs has you clenching around Steve’s cock to keep yourself from coming yet. But as soon as you feel his hips stutter and his grip on your waist tighten to keep you in place, you let go. Your pleasure draws his out and your movements are sloppy, but you push your hips back against him again until he can’t take it anymore, reluctantly pulling out of you. 

You can’t hold in the whine you let out when you lose the feeling of being full of him. It felt too good, but they don’t keep their hands off of you long enough for you to beg for more. 

Ari knows you won’t be able to move on your own, so he helps you turn over to sit with your back against him as he holds your legs back for Steve to get between them and clean up the mess he and you made. 

“You’re a fucking dream,” he laughs, pressing kisses against your neck. 

Between the feeling of his lips and the occasional nips against your sensitive skin and the feeling of Steve taking his time, lapping at your pussy, residual jolts of pleasure course through your body. 

“You can–” You’re cut off by your own quiet moan. “Damn– Bring the rest of your friends if they’re all this good.”

You feel his smirk and you know his words are a promise. “I’ll remember that.”

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby @cutedisneygrl

[alottanothing]

This is for @twola, who, about a week ago was having a bad day and wanted someone to write a snip of Arthur beating the shit out of someone who made the reader cry; with the addition of some smutty goodness, of course.

Well, this is the first time I've written publically for our dear cowboy Arthur Morgan. And I simply cannot write anything considered a 'snip'. So here's what my brain calls a snip; over 5k words just for you, twola. I hope this makes up for the bad say you had last week. :)

And shout out to my partner in writing crime, @itswormtrain, for making this readable!

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!reader receiving)

The sun was beginning to set over the peaceful hills and sprawling trees of Cumberland Forest. Those lingering traces of daylight caress the rugged terrain with whimsy, casting shadows that dance over the dirt path under the hooves of your young stallion. Nature seemed to pause in reverence as the sun gracefully lowered itself behind the distant mountains; the only sound was that of your horse's steady walk and the murmuring babble of the Dakota River in the distance.

It had been too long since you’d enveloped yourself in such tranquility, seemingly always at the receiving end of Miss Grimshaw’s scalding. Any anticipation of exploring the wilderness or going on jobs with the guys was always overshadowed by the necessity of chores.

When you’d joined the ranks of the Van der Linde Gang, you had hoped you’d garner a little more excitement than a seemingly endless cycle of laundry, cooking, and mending. Sure, the mess in Black Water and the threat of the law constantly at everyone’s heels was a form of excitement, concerning, but still excitement. Though, things had died down since all that, and Horseshoe Overlook was truly an awe-inspiring place to call home for the time being. Even so, camp chores remained deeply understimulating.

In truth, you were just antsy; you always were when Arthur was away for more than a couple of days. Your mind always thought the worst, despite knowing your handsome outlaw was more than capable of handling himself on jobs and in the wilds. But that nagging concern never ceases to occupy your mind. His absence at camp was never more cumbersome than when Grimshaw was barking out instructions, or when Uncle’s drunken singing was so off-key, it scraped against your brain like a rusty old knife. You simply couldn’t stand it anymore; you needed peace and quiet—something to scratch that itching thought in the back of your head.

Admittedly, you hadn’t planned to venture so far from camp, or any sort of civilization for that matter. The towering ramparts of Fort Wallace were in your sights before you decided to turn back. Were it not for the shotgun secured in its holster on your saddle, the late hour would have left you feeling considerably more anxious. Arthur had taught you well, and instilled in you enough confidence not to worry as you trot down the dirt path toward Valentine.

There wasn’t a single soul to be seen for the majority of your journey; your only company that of your horse and Mother Nature’s comforting embrace. You almost hated the far-off glow of a town in the distance, over the crest of a hill. Soon you’d be back at camp with nothing to do but laundry and fret over your lover's absence.

“Pardon me, miss.” You nearly jump from your saddle hearing the strange man’s voice. “Thank god for you, would you mind – too terribly – giving me a ride back to town?”

Your heart skips a warning in your chest as you look around, where did he come from? The question dances in your head as you fight to form the words you want. This was O’Driscoll country—a notion you were suddenly very aware of, and your eyes glance at the rifle still tucked securely in the holster on your saddle.

“I was thrown from my horse, ya see—wild beast took off without me. ‘Fraid I hurt my ankle when I fell.” He explained, garnering a wave of sympathy that clouded the caution in your gut.

The stranger wasn’t dressed in the usual black and green of Colm’s gang: just simple trousers and a dirty work shirt and boots. What could it hurt?

“Yeah, alright,” you said, giving the man a faint smile.

“Oh, bless you, miss. Bless you,” the look of relief on his features did well to settle the remainder of the apprehension swirling in your stomach.

With a firm grip, you steadied your horse so the man could climb on, offering your hand to help him up.

And that act of kindness was your mistake.

His grip on your wrist was like a vice, painful, as he yanks you from your horse's saddle, your boots nearly getting hung on the stirrups. A sinister laugh echoes through the tall trees, splitting the serenity with the jagged sound of malice. Your stallion rears and cries, spooked by the abrupt movement, but the stranger is quick to steady him, forcing your horse into a full gallop toward the glow of Valentine leaving you where you fell.

When the shock wears off, you aren’t sure which was stronger, the wave of anger that envelopes you, or the sudden fear of solitude that brings forth the steady stream of tears down your cheeks. Both feelings were justified, you figure. That, and how utterly foolish you feel for trusting a stranger.

You knew better. Your time with the Van der Lindes taught you not to trust anyone, at least not someone on the side of the road pretending to be hurt. That was the oldest trick in the book. One you’d used several times to con someone out of something. Now, you were out a horse and a shotgun.

When the landscape grew darker as night fell, those shadows that you once looked on with awe and majesty, now loom sinisterly.

Stupid! You scolded yourself, more tears searing down your face. It would be dawn before you made it back to camp on foot; if you made it back to camp at all.

Without the security of your shotgun at hand, your confidence in making it home unscathed was growing short. Animals lurked in the trees around you; monsters both beast and man would undoubtedly set their teeth on you if they found you alone and without the means to protect yourself.

A shiver surges through you, a combination of the onslaught of fear and the chill from the mud you’d landed in. If you’d been riding with Arthur, no one would have the gall to steal from him. And if they did, they surely wouldn’t live long enough to get far out of reach.

You wipe the mud from your hands to your skirts before swiping at the tears staining your face. Maybe someone from camp would notice you hadn’t returned yet and send someone looking for you. Why hadn’t you asked someone to ride along with you, Mary-Beth would have, and she would have appreciated the quiet you wanted. But no, all you needed was the shotgun… How foolish you were.

With a sigh, you work yourself to your feet, boots, and skirts caked with mud and dirt. Even with the weight of self-pity beckoning you to stay planted on the side of the road, the rage put fire in your steps. You would make it back to camp, feet surely blistered, if only to lessen the embarrassment of being robbed.

Anger proves to be a useful motivator as you trek down the road before you, lit only by the white light of the moon. The tears had stopped, but they threaten to spill again simply from how much your feet hurt. That glow seemed to have tricked you; Valentine wasn’t close at all. All there was was trees and rocks and dirt in every direction. You were utterly alone; lost in the wilderness with only thoughts of your naivety to keep you company.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth resonates through the stillness of the wood, sending shivers down your spine and provoking a new wave of tears. With every nearer beat of the rider’s approach, anxiety constricts your heart, sending a whirlwind of possibilities into your mind. Images of dark strangers conjure in your thoughts, each with a fiendish smile and a revolver on their hip, a green bandana tied around their neck. All your anger drains, as you feel fear creep deeper into your being. You wish you still had your shotgun.

“You need a ride, miss?”

Relief crashes into you like a wave against stone; you know that voice, deep and comforting—kind (to you, at least). This time, it was joy bringing tears to your eyes.

“Y/N?” The look of surprise was to be expected on Arthur’s face as he beholds the sight of you, muddy, with tears staining your face. “Darlin’, whattaya doin’ out here?”

Immediately he jumps from his horse, warm hands gently holding the tops of your arms as he gets a better look at the state you’re in. All traces of his hard exterior are swept away, leaving the softer, more compassionate man you fell in love with.

“Camp was driving me crazy without you. I just wanted to take a ride, but some asshole stole my horse—yanked me off my saddle an’ everything. S’why my skirts are all muddy.” You explain, fighting more tears.

Some of the softness fades, still, his voice is gentle when he speaks again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

You shake your head, “no.”

The pad of his thumb dances over your cheek tenderly as he tilts your chin to look at him.

“Darlin’, ya been cryin’.”

“’M just cryin’ at my own stupidity, is all.” You tell him. “Should’a known better than to trust a man alone in the woods.” 

Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose, nodding.

“D’ja at least get a good look at ‘im?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you nod. “He took off towards Valentine.”

Arthur glanced south and nodded too, “Then I reckon that’s where we’ll find him.”

He places you on the saddle and mounts just behind you, drawing you close to his chest as he gives his loyal mare a gentle kick to urge her back onto the road.

With Arthur's arms around you, the darkness of the forest shifts back into the realm of tranquility. The menacing silhouettes of the towering trees became that of gentle giants, swaying gracefully in the night breeze. No longer did the whisper of rustling leaves hold a feeling of foreboding. The forest, in the ethereal silver glow of the moon, was a picture of peace and beauty once more.

Despite what had happened, even Arthur was a beacon of serenity. He hums as you both ride. It’s the same tune Uncle was singing when you left, only Arthur’s melody instills you with a sense of calm while Uncle’s attempt had you on the verge of threatening to remove his tongue. Every so often you feel his lips press to your scalp, leaving soft kisses in your hair and each one helps to remedy every sour thought plaguing you. It never ceases to amaze you just how tender your outlaw could be. To the civilized world, he was quite literally the poster of cruelty and evil, but for you, he was your knight in shining armor.

Valentine was quiet when the hooves of Arthur's horse turn down the main thoroughfare. The muddy roads, churned up by hooves and wagons, were dimly lit by the flicker of oil lamps. In the distance the stirring of livestock in their pens echoes through the stillness of the air, the only other sound coming from the saloon in the middle of town.

Smithfield’s always seemed to clamor no matter what time of night it was. Debauchery never slept, you guessed. The clinking of glasses and the lofty tune of the piano can be heard as you pass the sheriff’s office, a symphony of merriment in the still night air that lent such disregard to the tired citizens of Valentine.

A few men stand outside, bottles in hand as they lament lost love and glory, belching and hiccupping into the cool air. Horses tied to the hitching post whinny and jerk at reins keeping them in place, and there among them was your stolen stallion.

Arthur steers his mare to the front of the saloon, his heavy boots landing with a squelch in the mud as he dismounted. He helps you down, strong hands circling your waist and steadying you in the soft earth.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’,” he says and tips his head toward your horse. “Get yer boy, Imma go take care of some business inside.”

Before you can utter a word he stomps up the stairs of the saloon, his frame taking on the posture of The Enforcer as he pushes through the swinging doors.

His face wasn’t unknown here, it was only a couple of weeks ago he and a few of the other men from camp had gotten into some trouble. You weren’t there to see the fight, but you’d heard all about Arthur’s trip through the window—now boarded up and waiting to be repaired. This time, you hoped it wasn’t your handsome outlaw cast through the pane of glass.

While Arthur is inside, you deftly untangle your horse's reins from the post, gently stroking his mane to soothe his soft whinnying. You smile when he nuzzles you back, happy, it seems, to be back in your care.

“Was that awful man mean to you?” you ask softly, rubbing the coarse fur of his strong neck. “Arthur will handle it, don’t you worry.”

As if on cue, the jovial commotion in the saloon ends; the happy voices now holding anger or shock. The piano playing is lost to the disgruntled sounds inside and a moment later, the man who nearly ruined your night is thrown through the doors.

His bruised form topples down each step before landing in the mud. You watch, unable to quell the sense of pride that surges through you as you watch Arthur swagger through the saloon doors and down the steps, spurs jingling. The confidence he holds as he looms over the thief settles over you warmly. This act of violence was in the name of chivalry; the man deserved whatever justice Arthur planned to dish out.

“Didn’t need ya to point him out after all, darlin’.” Arthur's words fell from his lips with the ghost of a grin, pleased with the opportunity to put your attacker in his place. “This feller was inside boastin’ to the whoooole saloon ‘bout the horse he stole from a helpless young woman just outside of town.”

Arthur kicks the man as he tries to stand, the thief falling back into the mud with a groan. Folks begin to gather on the wooden porch of Smithfield’s, their faces twisting in looks of both concern and excitement as they watch your handsome outlaw and the man who’d stolen your horse.

“See, normally I don’t waste my time dealin’ with dim-witted horse thieves. Hell, on occasion, I am one. But you see, that weren’t just any helpless young woman ya stole a horse from… that was my woman.” Arthur deals him another kick to his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs a second time as he tries to stand.

“An’ if it ain’t clear already,” Arthur says reaching to pull the man from the ground and holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “I don’t take kindly to anyone hurtin’ my woman in any way. Ya understand?”

The deep timbre of Arthur’s voice works over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He looks so fierce in the flickering light of the oil lamps, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from you, though you know they were cold, focused on the man in his grasp.

No coherent words fall from the thief's mouth as Arthur holds him nearly off the ground, only a moan of anguish, surely from the two kicks he’d suffered.

“Nod if ya understand,” Arthur demands with a shake.

Anger churns on the thief’s face, but he nods, slow, jaw clenching as he musters the gall to fight back.

“Fortunately for you, all I’m lookin’ for is an apology…” Arthur tips his hat in your direction. “…to the lady.”

The man’s dark eyes glance your way and he sneers, shaking his head with a mirthless chorttle.

“I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin’, especially when your woman is stupid enough ta get her horse stole in the first place.” 

If you cared even slightly about the fate of the man who’d stolen your horse, hearing those words escape his mouth would have caused your stomach to drop knowing the sort of fire he just ignited. But, you want nothing more than for Arthur to beat him into a bloody pulp.

To your surprise, however, Arthur remains steadfast, but his voice is increasingly more sinister when he speaks.

“Maybe ya didn’t hear me. An apology. Now.”

“No.” The thief spat, a fiendish smile turning his lips.

With lightning speed and unyielding force, Arthur’s fist collides with the man’s jaw, unleashing a thunderous crack that has the onlookers gasping. The sudden impact propels the thief backward, his body crashing into the cold mud for a third time.

You expect him to stay there, really if the man had any wits about him, he would have. However, despite the two kicks and the blow to his face, the thief rose from the mud, foolish determination etched onto his bloodied features. Arthur almost scoffs and wastes no time proving the extent of his strength. He strikes him again, obliterating the remnants of the man's fractured jaw, the sound resonating with a deafening crack.

No one rushes to the man's aid when he falls to the muddy earth for a fourth time, wailing in anguish at his shattered jaw. Arthur stands over him, tall and formidable, his presence almost challenging the man to get back up, your outlaw more than prepared to deal out more justice.

“Should’a apologized…” Arthur chides. “If ya had, maybe ya’d have use of that jaw’a yours right now.” 

The man groans in agony, writing on the ground as he holds his broken jaw. 

“But I had ta keep ya from speakin’ ill’a my woman like that. I certainly don’t appreciate when slimy fellers like you use her kindness against her.” Arthur slowly circles the man like a fierce wolf circles their prey. “Then ya had ta go leavin’ her out in them woods, faaar from any sort of civilization, all alone. An’ well. I ain’t takin’ no apologies for that.” 

He stops, one leg on each side of the thief before dropping to his knees, fist poised high over the old leather hat on his head. Arthur didn’t leave your attacker with only one more punch; the man under his weight had committed the ultimate sin in your lovers eyes. He’d hurt you, a crime that warranted the ultimate punishment.

The sound of each punch reverberates through the air as Arthur’s fury drives him to deliver decisive blows. As you watch, pride swelling in your breast, you swear each hit lands with such intensity the ground beneath you trembles. All the folks gathered to watch pass whispers while looks of shock mold their features. Come the morning, the town would be talking again about the stranger who liked to stir up trouble in the sleepy city of Valentine. 

When Arthur finally stands, flexing his surely aching knuckles, the man beneath him is unrecognizable. Blood and bruises distort his face, teeth missing from his gaping mouth. His limp body is unmoving in the mud and you haven’t a care whether he was dead or alive. 

There is a hint of shame on his expression when he drew himself back into your orbit, the coldness in his eyes warming in your presence.

“’M sorry, darlin’.” He says refusing to look you in the eye. In an instant, the Enforcer was gone, leaving only your kind knight in shining armor standing before you, his knuckles red and bloodied from dealing out justice.

“For what?” you say taking his injured hand in yours, wiping the blood from the cuts with a clean section of your skirt.

“For what I done.”

You shake your head and tilt the brim of his hat, looking to meet his lowered gaze. “All you done, Mister Morgan, is protect your woman. Ain’t a lick of shame in that.”

He grins softly, gently caressing your chin and cheek with his clean hand. His expression meets yours completely.

“’M just glad I happened upon ya when I did.” He murmurs and you step closer to him.

His gentle eyes, painted in a delicate watercolor palette of blue and green, softly convey the deep love he possessed for you, along with the ever-lingering fear of losing you. The exquisite blend of tenderness and vulnerability was something seldom seen by anyone other than you. And each time those meticulously built walls of his came down,  you were honored to behold the part of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

“Me too,” you whisper, hoping the look you give him in return conveys the same sentiment.

The lives you lived held no real guarantees apart from a bullet or a hanging rope. You learned quickly to never take for granted a single moment, and this one you certainly weren’t.

“You ready to get back to camp now, darlin’?” he asks, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Camp… you almost grimace at the thought of returning to the mediocrity of it all.

“Actually.” Your eyes glance over to the hotel across the way, mischief coating your smile. “Was thinkin’ I should reward my rescuer.”

His brows furrow following your glance, oblivious to your meaning.

Before he can open his mouth to form a question, you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching on your tiptoes to gain the fullness of his kiss. As if on instinct his arms weave around your waist, your feet coming off the ground as he pulls you in closer to deepen the draw of your joined lips. It’s slow and lazy and perfect, his mouth undemanding but firm against yours, making you melt into his very being.

Your head is spinning when he pulls away, placing your feet gently back into the mud, and you can’t fight the smile unfurling over your wet lips.

“I’ll buy us a room at the inn,” you say, batting your eyes coyly. “S’ the least I can do for my knight in shining armor.”

Arthur laughed, heartily. There is an undeniable charm to the sound of his chuckle, as it cascades through the air, enveloping you with an infectious happiness each and every time you hear it. As his eyes hold yours, a playful glimmer twinkles behind them as he swiftly deciphers your not-so-cleverly veiled plan.

“A knight, hmm?” his brow lifts onto his forehead in a deep arch, his smirk firm on his lips.

You nod, “In shining armor.”

He chuckles again shaking his head before scooping you into his arms with ease. You gasp at the swiftness, and laugh too, draping your arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his bearded cheek.

“Well, then, I reckon I should play the part, shouldn’t I, sweetheart?” he says as he steps around your fallen, broken-jawed adversary on his way to the Saint’s Hotel. “Ain’t never been a knight before, just a dirty ol’ outlaw.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. 

He whistles as he trudges through the soft earth for his horse to follow and his loyal mare falls in close on his heel. Your horse follows too, nearly as inseparable from his horse as you were with Arthur.

“Ya ain't old, and ya ain’t dirty…need I remind you who's got mud all over their clothes?” you say kicking up your soiled skirts to get his attention. He just laughs.

“Maybe ya forgot already, but I was on my knees in the mud beating the life outta that fool who robbed you. That makes me just as dirty as you. ‘Sides, I reckon neither of us will be wearin’ them for much longer anyhow.”

His comment, and accompanying bravado surges through you like more wildfire, adding to the flames he’d already been fanning since throwing your attacker through the saloon doors. Arthur’s confidence in his ability to have you swooning with only the low smokey sound of voice and the words he spoke had grown exponentially. Which was both something of a blessing and a curse. You enjoyed the days of flirting and seeing him grow red in the face from your flattery. Now he made you putty in his hands with a few words and a coupling smile.

For that moment, however, you decide it’s a blessing; he’s your Savior in Spurs—a cowboy casanova.

You toss a coin to the innkeeper from the pocket of your skirts and he casts you a key that you manage to catch as Arthur wastes no time making his way upstairs.

In truth, the Saint’s Hotel was no paradise; with its meager accommodations and thin walls, it was hardly a place to find rest. However, that night, that illusion of privacy might as well have been nirvana. You could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a chance to make use of actual walls instead of the canvas flaps of Arthur’s tent. Here, the neighbors were strangers who wouldn’t be casting you looks over the fire the next morning, knowing far too much about what you and Arthur had gotten up to in his tent. You were going to savor every tiny detail unabashedly while you could.

The fire was already burning brightly in the fireplace, warming the room from the cool mountain air outside the windows, adorned with sun-rotted lace curtains. The wooden floor creaked under each step as if to voice its displeasure at the neglect it had suffered over the years. The faded wallpaper, once bursting with colorful patterns, now barely clung to the walls, faded and dusty. The bed, while made with threadbare quilts and pillows, appeared sturdy enough not to break under both your weights, and that was all you truly cared about.

Your boots are the first to come off once Arthur places you back on your feet, discarded with a couple of eager kicks before his hands reach for the fastenings of your skirts. Yours wind around his neck, burying your fingers in his honey-brown hair as you kiss his soft lips.

For all the violence they inflicted mere moments ago, Arthur's hands were so very gentle, plucking at the ties holding your skirts in place, and again as his deft fingers loosened every button of your blouse with practiced ease, leaving you in just your chemise. Despite the warmth of the fire burning in the room, a chill works through you and you sigh, more gooseflesh prickling your skin as Arthur moves his hand to the globe of your breast, thumb sweeping over the covered peak of your nipple.

His featherlight touches make your mind a dizzying vortex of desire. This man, who uses his hands to deal out death sentences, only ever uses them to worship you. His mouth, which often spits out sarcasm and cruelty, paints your skin with tender presses and undeniable words of adoration.

Your hands snake from their place in his hair to the buttons of his blue work shirt, loosening only a few before he swats your hands away gently causing a whine to sound in the back of your throat. He meets your furrowed brow with smirk and a quick peck on your lips before moving your hands back where they were. 

“Feels good, you doin’ that,” he tells you. 

You gently scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. “This?”

“Mhm…” he leans to kiss you again, a slow, worshipful act as though he is trying to memorize every detail of your mouth against his. 

Desire thrums through you ever hotter. You need him. 

“Arthur…” you breathe in weak protest as his lips scour down the column of your neck, his hands pulling your chemise from you. “…I’m s’posed to be rewardin’ you.”

You feel him smile and shake his head as his kisses venture further across your collarbone. When he relieves you of your bloomers, you shiver and moan at the feeling.

“Don’t need no reward, darlin’.” He whispers against your skin between kisses. “Think its you that needs taken care of after whatcha been through.”

Calloused fingers spray over the small of your back as he brings you against him, the hardness in his trousers pressing against your bare form. You feel your own arousal coating your thighs, warm and wet, and begging for the feel of him inside of you.

“Will ya let me do that darlin’? Take care of ya?” his hands explore as he speaks, trailing down your spine before cupping your back side with a little squeeze. 

Your head falls back with a ragged sigh, fingers tugging at this hair. As much as you want to tease and dote on him and show him how grateful you were for his timing, you can’t think when he has you like this: naked and vulnerable to his touch, mind cloudy with desire. 

“Yes, Arthur. Always.” You murmur, lost in the blissfulness of his touches. 

As if you weigh nothing, he takes you in his arms again, hoisting you aloft, and carrying you to the bed where he lays you so tenderly over the threadbare coverings.

You watch, heart pounding against the cage of your ribs as he quickly sheds each of his layers. It is a show you have seen a dozen times and helped with a dozen more, still, your lust-blown eyes gauge him with reverence and awe.

He is truly magnificent, your handsome outlaw; strong shoulders and wide chest dusted with coarse hair your fingers yearned to comb through. Warmth drifts through your body as you drink in every inch of him, eyes landing where his cock juts from dark curls proudly and your cunt clenches in anticipation.

“C’mere, sir knight…” you say stretching across the mattress, smiling, and batting your lashes. “…come an’ claim yer prize.”

Arthur chuckles heartily as he climbs into bed, and you welcome the press of his weight with a happy sigh. He teases your lips with his own, soft kisses that leave you wanting before the press of his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You reciprocate, drinking from his mouth with hungry groans.

Heat pools lower and lower where you want him most; feeling the long pulsing line of him against your thigh was like torture, causing another whine to escape your busy lips.

“Please…” you sigh, a slow undulation taking your hips in search of some form of stimulation.

Once more he obeys, his mouth laying a hot trail down your sternum, stopping to draw your nipple between his lips before traveling further down. The sensation of familiar, calloused palms gliding down the stack of your ribs as his kisses continue their way down, squeezing the swell of your hips and kneading the softness of your thighs have your quiet moans echoing through the room.

Arthur dips his mouth to your center abruptly and draws his tongue up through your slick folds, tasting just how much you need him, and he groans.

“Mmmm, darlin’,” he murmurs before swirling his tongue over the bud nestled at the apex of your cunt. “I don’t do this enough…”

You gasp, a flash of heat pulsing through your center, head rolling against the pillow. He didn’t do this enough, then again, the two of you rarely found yourselves so alone together. And there was barely enough room for the two of you on Arthur’s cot anyway, let alone room to explore other methods of pleasure.

He intensifies his exploration, drawing his tongue over you in wide flat strokes, while your thighs come to moor on his shoulders, heels digging into his back. You feel his shoulders roll as he dedicates himself fully to his task, thrusting his tongue into you, filling you with warm velvet before abandoning your core for the silky nub crowning it. Arthur's tongue curls against it until you shiver and gasp.

“A-Arthur…” your breath hitches, hooking your fingers into his hair.

A low purr rumbles through him as you press against his face, hips rolling in rhythm with his ministrations. Your lover sweeps his tongue over and around your clit repeatedly. Sensation swells low in your belly, feeling yourself nearing the ultimate peak and you tug his hair ruthlessly wanting more. Needing more than just his mouth. His truly wonderful mouth... 

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mutters against your dripping cunt, the gust of his breath billowing over your heated center causing you to shutter.

Without fanfare a wide finger dips into your core, then another, making your back arch and a loud moan spill from your lips at the delightful stretch. For only a moment, your cry reminds you of the paper mache walls surrounding you; no doubt everyone in the Saint's Hotel knows what the two of you are up to, but you cared little with Arthur between your legs eating you out like he was made to do so.

Stars dance in your eyes as you skirt the edge of your undoing. He growls encouragingly when you flutter in warning against his lips and around his fingers.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, voice low and utterly sinful. You can even feel his proud, smirking lips against your center, the image alone snapping the spring coiled low in your belly.

Ecstasy hits you like white-hot heat, tunneling your vision as you jerk against his face, heels digging into his back. His name falls sloppily from your mouth in a flurry of mixed vowels and sounds that hold no cohesive meaning, each one melding into throaty moans.

“That’s my girl…” He grins, removing his fingers to lap up all the juices of your arousal as you ride out your orgasm against his face.

Slowly you come back to yourself, the tremors of aftershock fading as your breath and vision catch up to you. Arthur remains content between your legs, gently kissing the soft skin of your thighs, once more humming the tune he’d serenaded you with on your way into town.

When he smiles at you, lips and chin shining with your nectar, love burning behind his blue-green eyes, you pet his hair, holding that gaze with the same reverence. Slowly a smirk unfurls on your lips.

“Like I said, knight in shining armor.”

[skyloftian-nutcase]

for writing requests, the chain givin wars a big ol group hug and letting him cry cus let’s be honest bro is not holding up well

Sunsets were always Sky’s favorite.

It was strange, how much a moment in time could change something like that, though. A few evenings ago, the sunset was stained blood read, dripping with anguish and fear, held together by a firm hand and guidance. It hadn’t come from their leader, however - the Hero of Time had been completely consumed by worry over Twilight’s condition, and Sky hadn’t blamed him for it, particularly after finding out they had a blood connection.

But after that initial horrifying sunset, Sky found that the dusk brought only exhaustion and melancholy, a worry that there would be another sunset that would stain the sky with blood.

Sighing, the young knight glanced out his window and saw the person he’d been looking for. While Time had been by Twilight’s side that entire evening, there had been another Hero who everyone had heavily relied on. Sky had tried to mediate and help as best he could as well, but he paled in comparison, certainly in terms of leadership capabilities.

But everything had a toll. Sky could see it well enough.

Exiting the inn, Sky heard the gentle serenade of crickets filling the air as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The town was not as peaceful and quiet as camping out in the woods, but it held a warm sense of safety that they usually didn’t have the luxury to enjoy. Any town gave Sky a small degree of anxiety, as they were all foreign to him, but settlements like this put the captain at ease far more than anyone else.

At least Sky knew Warriors could get some peace somewhere. It was obvious the man was trying to seek it.

Warriors heard Sky’s approach, turning his head slightly. His sharp eyes were analyzing him in an instant.

“Hey,” Sky greeted softly, trying to settle the man’s worries; he’d been on high alert ever since Twilight’s injury, and he’d yet to calm down. It had been three days since then. “I just wanted to check on you.”

Warriors blinked, baffled a moment, not expecting such a remark, and then he huffed out a small laugh. “Me? I’m alright. Are you?”

Him? Sky was fine. Sky was always fine. He honestly didn’t feel much of anything anymore, except that sunsets made him anxious. He hoped that would settle eventually, as he did love them. “I’m okay. But I just… you’ve been on edge, you know. Since everything. Do you… our Ordonian is going to be okay now. They said so. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Warriors replied, his smile fading, voice growing slightly snappish.

“It’s just… you’re not acting like you know that,” Sky continued carefully. “You’re… anything sets you off. Everything has to be in perfect order, everyone has to be on their best behavior. You know? I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Warriors watched him for a long time, face blank. His eyes steadily moved downward until they were staring at nothing, boring a hole in the cobblestone beneath Sky’s feet. The Skyloftian waited patiently, knowing when to be silent and let someone else process. Eventually, the captain sighed heavily.

“You were a great help that night,” Warriors said softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Sky brushed off. “That’s not answering my question.”

Warriors huffed ruefully in response. “You’re not usually this persistent.”

“No,” Sky admitted. “But I’m not usually this worried, either.”

The captain’s eyes finally snapped back up to meet Sky’s. His stony expression softened, and he smiled gently. “I said I’m alright.”

“You can be, yeah,” Sky commented. “Like… you don’t have to wrangle everyone in now, you know. I’m here. Our leader’s getting back into, well… leading. It’s okay to step back.”

Something in the captain’s expression wasn’t quite readable, a kind of strange gentle amusement and haunting sadness. Sky wasn’t sure what to do about it. So he just walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Warriors seemed both inquisitive and slightly apprehensive at the touch, so Sky asked to be sure, “Can I hug you?”

The captain looked as if he didn’t even know what to say with such a request. He blinked once, twice, before a breathy laugh escaped his lips, eyes holding a tenderness to them that Sky wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in them. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Sky smiled in return, leaning in and letting the captain wrap his arms around him. Sky gave what he received, not squeezing too tightly when Warriors’ embrace was hesitantly gentle. As they stood there, though, it seemed like the older knight settled into his predicament a bit more, letting himself relax as Sky held him tighter. Being a little shorter, Sky settled his ear against Warriors’ shoulder, and the gesture made the captain shift a little, resting his own head against Sky’s. His breath was shaky a moment, and Sky heard him swallow thickly.

It only lasted a few moments, but it was enough. Sky ached for the contact, honestly, and wished he could hug him more, but he knew better than to push the matter. Slowly, the two pulled apart. If Warriors’ face was a little more flushed than before, neither of them commented on it.

“Thanks, Sky,” the captain said quietly.

Sky’s smile was brighter than the sunset. “Anytime.”

[thatdeadaquarius]

-vine boom

I probably sent a lot of these now im so sorry lmfao 😅

You mentioned in one of the asks that some countries are like a prototype/based of our existing countries, like Germany=Mondstadt, Liyue=China, Inzauma=Japan....

So even though the language is more or less identical for you to make heads and tails in a conversation or writing in a book, the reverse side does not.

Creator!Reader who knows a couple of languages (plus points if they're atleast fluent or have a understanding of it despite not being able to speak said language) and being born from a country that doesnt have the same language as the countries Teyvat based off. Basically Spanish, Italian, Filipino, Scandinavian languages that also have their own way of writing.

Imagine feeling homesick and the only thing that keeps you occupied is the notebook and pen you have while the others converse in a meeting or in a hangout. You started writing in your tongue and re-reading it to relive memories.

Zhongli, AlHaitham, Albedo, Jean, maybe the Berry bros too (Diluc & Kaeya) get curious only to have a double-take and immediately thinks that maybe there is a forgotten land in Teyvat that has this language, I mean Morax stayed faithful to Liyue and Barbatos blessed his country with abundance of supplies and freedom. Teyvat gods and archons played favourites, so why wouldn't you as well? (Bonus: Khaenriah flashbacks) (also I know these arent enough characters but how should I know? I only have a handful of them and I ran out of Primos😭

The people from Akademiya though? I mean they went hard on theorizing and picking apart the language of their creator. Have you seen Matpat's descent to insanity the more FNAF continues to push out LoRe? Thats basically them because Teyvat doesn't have a country based on Creator's birth country. They're grasping nothing but air and dead ends and the only lead they have is you, but couldnt ask because you look so down and they cant bear to see Creator sad....

(NEW BANNER TOMORROW AND I DONT HAVE ENOGH PRIMOGEMS HALP---)

Rip Vine boom no primos 🙏 hope u got some more by this time bc i was so late to reply lol - DUDE IM SO READY FOR THE GORG KAVEH <333

BERRY BROS!! Thats it, thats the only way im gonna refer to them now.

Not super long to add onto ur bc UR SO SMART AND SUCH A GOOD WRITER VINEBOOM U SHOULD ALSO WRITE STUFF SO I CAN GO OBSESS OVER UR WRITING WITH A MILLION FERAL COMMENTS-!!!

(Cute owl house gif is like, metaphorially u and zhongli in this lol)

EDIT 8/23/23: So this may be inaccurate/not that good to my Hispanic Readers out there! Sorry about that, I'l make sure to do better in the future.

EDIT 1/1/24: Unfortunately there are even more issues here, and I'm really sorry about that. I expanded on it more in my Eldritch fanfic post in Part 2, but it was exoticism of me to use the word "Huangdi". I have since replaced it with "Emperor", and don't intend to just erase the mistake like it never happened. But I did change it in the headcanons for better readability. Again, I'm genuninely sorry about this, and will absolutely be watching out/doing better in the future. I hope you understand.

THIS SOUNDS SO SAD, LIKE THIS COULD DEF BE ANGST, ESP SINCE U HAVE NO FAMILIAR-ISH CULTURE TO TURN TO-

tbh im american and i def dont think theres a u.s. country- oh god at least I hope not, damn but im also familiar with mexican culture so i wouldnt miss the united states, but id miss mexican culture…

BUT!!

You have a lot of amazing people who care about you in Teyvat, so they won’t let you stew in ur homesickness for long

like random said, i could see it being small stuff

ok so imma just-

LATINO! READER TIME BABBYYYYY

(i do this bc its just the culture/language im more familiar with, but dont let that discourage anyone from requesting other cultures! I will def do my research, or ur welcome to tell me all about it so i can write it better! <3)

THAT BEING SAID IM MOSTLY WHITE PLS LMK IF SHIT IS WRONG/SPANISH IS WRONG BC IM STILL A BEGINNER MY BELOVED LATINES!

<3 YOU GUYS

♡

you’ve been in the game-turned-life world of Genshin Impact for nearly 6 months now, turns out time isnt wonky as hell like it is if you were playing the game, half bc u bribed Albedo with answers to his many questions about you if he figured out the time difference, and half bc of ur internal clock

people would notice the cuss words first lmao

like Xiao hearing u stubbing ur toe on the million and one steps up to Wangshu Inn, hijueputa!

or Keqing pointing out the words you coo at the dogs hanging out by the bridge outside the harbor,

un perrito tan buenoooo!! :’)

while most would just, " hmm, maybe a dialect of one of the other countries we havent heard…"

but Zhongli? he’s been ready for centuries in case the prophecy came true within his lifetime, afterall, many things changed while he’s been alive, not crazy to him that you might descend randomly

While everyone else was unprepared, bc u were like… the oldest deity, more legend than history, so ppl just thought Morax was a little overly faithful …so when it actually happened,, Morax was just smirking as he watched ur golden shooting star streak the night sky… while absolute pandemonium consumed the mortals and adepti in liyue lmao

(like that scene of Regina George in Mean Girls watching the student body break out into an all out brawl just smirking 😭 pls god look it up if u dont know what i mean- )

So Morax- Zhongli, has been ready for you, just in case, to pay attention to what kind of person you’d be, learn your favorite clothes/colors/offerings, see what things you’d like to talk about with him (hopefully for hours) etc.

He was observant, and with his memory, he practically gave himself headaches sometimes with how aware he was,

on one of those days he was overwhelmed by the mortal crowds, the smells, the market yelling, and all the change from what he thought he knew-

Zhongli noticed you in your own melancholy, and curious, he began to stroll just behind

You sit at Wanmin restaurant, still somber, and ask Xiangling to

“please try out these recipes? they’re from my world, and id really love to have something like them again..”

a true experimental chef as always, Xiangling quickly takes up your offer, and u follow her into the kitchens in the back (the restaurant is much more real than in game, they have gorgeous inside seating, all shades of red coloring the walls and lots of pretty latticework-)

Zhongli takes a seat finally, he has a usual table at this point he comes in so much coughtorunintoyoucough the staff know it's his and give him tea pretty quickly

the food, and the looks, makes it your favorite restaurant in Liyue, the Liuli Pavilion a little too fancy for casual dining, afterall, Zhongli would know

He’s tried to keep track of your favorite places to be in Liyue too, and kept his near full attention on what you say when he asks after your stays in Liyue (he hasn’t felt the need to pay that much attention or felt that much interest in conversation partners in… decades?)

So when you come out of the kitchen, throwing your head back and laughing, "Sí, sí! It all tastes so close Xiangling! Gracias, thank you!"

He wants… to know.

to know what those strange, but delicious looking, foods are all balanced on two big dinner plates

Xiangling carrying whatever you couldn’t just behind, a pitcher of white liquid, it smells, like cinnamon?

He raises a hand, and offers the extra seats at his table, (when did his tea go cold? he only just sat down, he couldn’t have spent that long thinking about you…)

You notice and look over, a giddy grin lighting up your face (…hmm, perhaps he needs to transform into his Exuvia form and let off some steam, his chest has warmed too much right now for him to just be sitting here…)

You plop into the seat beside him, but not before carefully placing the plates in front of both you and Zhongli

You scootch around until you’re turned towards him, as always, Zhongli looks… actually kind of, happy?

a small soft smile pulls at his lips, his eyes half-lidded as they meet yours, his usual red eyeliner framing his monolids perfectly, he looks like he’s been,, well, sculpted from stone, an artwork come to life

“…My Emperor? Could I trouble you to tell me about the dishes before us?”

the geo god’s pleasantly smooth and deep voice felt so soft asking you that, like he didn’t want to push you one direction or the other

“Oh! Right! Sorry, these are from my home country, back in my world, or at least, as close as Xiangling and I can get to them!”

Your smile brightens your face once more, clearing away any leftover stormclouds from your mood earlier, and as you launch into explaining (Xiangling had to get back to orders, so it’s just you two now)

You list it all, the quintessential: quesadillas, empanadas, tamales, chorizo (you had to combine at least 5 different spices to Mondstadt sausages to get anywhere close to the real thing) the dips obviously, salsa, queso, guacamole, and the easy street tacos, and finally the horchata, but also all the weird fruits Teyvat has with chile, like Sunsettias mixed with Harra from Sumeru or Lavender melons with Wolfhook berries… all surpringly pretty good

(the Sun-Harra combo tastes like mango, a sort of deeper taste of pineapple/kiwi and a sort of light orange taste? all with the nice addition of chile flavors, the Lavender melons and Wolfhooks helped imitate chamoy enough that your heart was satisfied)

…you realize you’ve just been talking about the last meal you had with your family/friends instead of the food after a bit, and Zhongli hasn’t said anything…

you trail off and look back over your shoulder (u were practically about to get your shirt in the imitation guac u were leaning so far over the table to point and talk)

you’re about to sheepishly apologize for taking over the conversation, and ask if he wants to try anything (Zhongli can handle spice so u dont have to worry abt that at least)

but as u finally see his face, u just stop, and dont end up saying anything

He’s just, looking at you.

his smile's not huge, but big enough to make his eyes look happy, and Zhongli’s just… looking at you.

You can’t describe the look he’s giving you, but you suddenly feel… a wave of shyness wash over your heart in your chest, because he’s looking almost like, maybe like, he’s sort of, waiting for you to keep talking, his tan skin warm in the golden rays of the sun beginning to set, you don’t know why you’re noticing any of these things, and he gently, slowly, makes a move to lean into your space a little

almost above your armrest, head inches from your shoulder, he finally moves to stop looking at you-

He looks like a painting as he looks down, his eyelashes almost sitting on his high cheekbones,

you have to move your head to looking at the table too as he moved so close,

you feel your shoulders reflexitively hitch upwards as you brushed the hair on the side of his head as you turned away

He looks around, and then moves his head, not his body, he’s still leaning toward you, to look you right in the eyes again

“Why did you stop? I haven’t said much, I apologize, but it’s only because I wanted to hear you without anything interrupting you.”

You cough a little strained, “Oh! Oh I get it now yeah, thanks-”

“I want to hear you more,” his black eyes begin to warm with gold, you can vaguely see the shape of his diamond pupil revealing itself, “I want to hear about… everything, if you’ll tell me? The language, the food, the drinks, your family, your dances, your country, I want to hear it all. Won’t you please let me hear your voice some more?”

♡

GOOOD LOOORDDDD, ITS SO LONGGGGG IM SO SORRRYYY 😭😭

OKAY IM MOSTLY SORRY THAT THIS SCENARIO HAPPENED??? IDK WHERE ZHONGLI CAME FROM- GOD IM SUBCONCIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN I GUESS, SORRY RANDOMANTICS-

uh, hope somebody got anything out of this, sorry abt the length, again,

also pls somebody tell me if what i said about culture/food was alright! If not I’ll def change it, pls dont let me keep it up if its inaccurate/wrong!!

Safe Travels you guys,

💀♒️

.°•.☆.•°.

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

[mists-reading-nook]

A new world

A new world,familiar in its own right. That’s where you are. You know this place,don’t you? You know this deep forest,don’t you? You know these sounds and sights.

You do. But why can’t you remember? And why does it all feel so…different?

Exploring your surroundings is your only real option. So you do. You walk and walk and walk until your feet ache and you’re sweating a bit from all the movement. But you don’t stop. Slowly,this place comes back to you. Slowly,you remember.

Until you come across an odd scene,one that doesn’t feel familiar at all,even in the deep recesses of your memory.

On the forest floor,laid falling off the top of a large protruding root, there’s a book,laid upside-down. Picking it up shows you a page with roughly scribbled text in smudged black ink. It’s barely readable,but you can make out what it says at least,so you begin to read.

“xx-xx-???

We’re going to have to leave Sumeru soon. The forests can only keep me and her safe for so long,and I think she’s starting to catch on to my worry. She knows a little,but not a lot,and I'd like to keep it that way.

Even if just for her sake.

Regardless,the virus is spreading fast,and leaving sumeru might be our only option for safety. The forest is starting to become affected by the virus,and It’s starting to become infectious. I’m going to take her to leave tonight. Maybe we head to Liyue,or maybe we head to Mondstadt. Whatever we do,we cannot stay here.

I miss (there’s a smudge here,blocking out a large piece of text. It seems like water dropped on the paper) …but I can handle this alone,I hope. It’s just me and (another smudge. The name is illegible.) against the world now. “

There’s no name at the bottom,but there is a small,hastily scribbled note,as if left as an afterthought.

“I’m not sure who I’m writing this for,but if you read this,you must leave Sumeru. It’s not safe. Run. As fast as you can.”

The panic is evident in the writer's handwriting. But the question lies for you, what happened here? Where do you go?

And why…why is everything so quiet?

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

I'm using my old tag list from 2 years ago. If you don't want to be tagged, I'm real sorry and let me know if I should remove you

@kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones-blog @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @winterbaby89 ​@ultraluckycatnd @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @pirateprincessofpizza @killianslefthook

[neetily]

Need a hand? — (SDV) Sam

— ✧ warnings: Hand & Finger Kink, Oral Fixation, Choking, Vaginal Fingering, Scent Kink, drool, saliva, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation — ✧ word count: 3,335 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It’s a late cool Thursday night in the middle of Fall. Your animals have already been seen to and sent to bed, your crops picked and watered for the next harvest, and so what else is there to do on a middle of the week day when all chores are finished? Why, help Sam with music writing of course.

He had asked you at the beginning of the week for help regarding his bands newest song lyrics using the excuse that both Sebastian and Abigail have been too busy to lend a hand and he’d appreciate an outsiders opinion on what they had so far. Of course you said yes, glad to be of any help to any of your neighbours but especially for a close friend like Sam.

When you had accepted he silently swallowed the fact that he doesn’t actually need help with the lyrics, and is instead using this as a ploy to spend some time with you, but you didn’t need to know that. Both Seb and Abigail were more than available to help, but he had ‘forgot’ to ask them. Similarly, they 'forgot’ to help, both friends aware of his infatuated plans.

Being a farmer is busy work, he understand this, and so the guilt that creeps up his spine as you welcome him into your log cabin for the night, tail between his legs as you lead him to your bedroom is something he chooses to ignore. You seem to genuinely want to help, and here he is taking time out of your precious schedule for his own selfish gains.

What he can’t ignore, however, is how heavy your scent fills his senses once seated at the head of your bed. He should have accounted for it, really, but it takes him by surprise the minute he enters your bedroom. It’s instantly his new favourite scent, and when you briefly leave to grab some drinks he takes the opportunity and runs with it, shoving his face against your sheets and sharply inhaling.

Bad move, he’s quick to think. He’s had a crush on you for a while now and he knows it’s painfully obvious to everyone in town. He can only hope that it isn’t as clear to you, but you’ve probably already caught on to his true intentions. Ever insightful, he’s trying his best not to come on too strongly. It’s just- you smell so good, has him salivating, drool pooling in his mouth at the thought of being wrapped up in your scent. Arousal drips from his tip but your footsteps pull him back to reality prompting him to sit up perhaps a bit too straight too quickly for it to look natural. Thankfully you don’t mention it. Whether it’s out of pity or genuine obliviousness does not matter to him.

“So, could you play the melody for me?” You ask when returning with the drinks. “Might help with the lyric writing, you know.” You’re blushing after those words, as if there are hidden meanings between the lines but Sam is too fried by his previous actions to analyse. Instead, he nods, dragging his guitar up to his crossed legs on the bed. At least this way his growing erection could be hidden until he gets his shit under control.

You’d asked him to bring his guitar along for the purpose of helping, and though he’s confident in his skill to, you know, play the guitar seeing as it’s literally his job, his fingers twitch against the strings as you sit opposite of him. You pass him his drink and he gulps it down, the ice cold water shocking his body enough to steel his nerves a little.

“Right. Ya ready?” His voice is shaky and it’s embarrassing enough to cause a faint blush upon his cheeks. You smile in return and nod.

“Let’s hear it.”

A second or two passes as he prepares himself, strumming randomly in an effort to stall what he thinks he might fail. But, when he looks back at you and soaks in your encouraging eyes he feels more determined than ever. Time to show off- help, he means.

With a few fumbles at the start Sam easily slips into his groove, the new song being a bit slower paced compared to his bands previous tracks, but intricate nonetheless. His head is down, focused intently on completing his song for you seeing as this is the reason why he’s here, however midway through he tilts his head up out of curiosity, seeking your reaction to his new sound. And oh what a sight he sees.

You’re sat there staring intently at his fingers, switching between his two hands as he plucks and pulls on the strings, pride swelling in his chest at the though that just maybe, perhaps, you like his hands. He watches are you lashes flutter when the song picks up pace, how you toy with your lips and bring a finger up to you mouth in what he thinks, hopes, is amazement when he pulls off the hardest section effortlessly. And by extension, when his fingers play the strings faster. A devious smirk finds its way to his lips, ego boosted under your stare, tongue poking at the side of his cheek at the way your lips remained ever so slightly open in your gawking.

He’s resolved in his ability now, comfortably finishing up the last few notes of the song and awaiting your reaction. It’s lagged, and he struggles to contain his giddy heart at your flustered state.

“W-wow…” You stutter, and he thinks that you sound better than any song he’s ever played. “That was, um, really good, Sam.” You cough, looking away from his hooded gaze.

“Yeah?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and he hopes to God you pick up on it, wants to make you blush as hard as you make him, wants to provoke you further into submission. “Ya really think so?”

You hum at him, head hung low and bottom lip dragged between your teeth. You’re so cute when your shy, and it does something terrible to him, cock springing more to life at this new power imbalance. He’d hoped it’d have died down by focusing on his guitar, but thanks to your reaction he hadn’t a hope in Hell of calming down now.

He sets his guitar aside, fiddling with his fingers indecisively before murmuring fuck it under his breath. If you don’t like what he’s planning, he knows you’ll say so. Knows at least you aren’t afraid to tell him exactly what you think when it counts, this past year and a half he’s spent with you confirming that. So, without warning he shifts in front of you, moving closer so that he’s sat directly at your own crossed legs. His hands pick up your own, and he’s so gentle in his grasp. Despite being a hard working farmer, your hands are surprisingly soft compared to his calloused guitar tips and he can’t stop his wandering mind. Thinks about how good they’d feel wrapped around his cock, how small they are and how his own completely encase them. Bony, just like his own, and he doesn’t want to let go.

“Thanks ’s much.” He beams, big bright grin tugging on his cheeks at your shy praise. He hopes he’s affecting you as much as you are him and when he takes a peek he’s pleased to know it’s true.

You’re staring at his hands again, brows furrowed and all, and he has to turn it up a notch. Lust straining in his pants at the fact that just his hands have this much of an effect on you.

He removes one hand from your own and places it upon your cheeks, pushing stray strands of hair behind your ear. And though it may be cliché and a little awkward, he’s beyond caring after hearing your very audible gasp. It sets off something deep in his abdomen, cock twitching at the sinful sound and he yearns for many many more of those gasps.

His thumb rests against your cheek and he watches as your chest huffs with each struggled inhale. To your credit, he’s not doing much better either. Butterflies fill the space in his lungs and the room suddenly feels much too small. He knows he’s not hiding his attraction very well, especially considering how hard his cock is from just a few brief touches and how on display he’s made himself, but you seem to actually be enjoying the show too.

He gulps, fighting between his rational brain and his aching cock. Sure, he loves seeing you in this teased state. Goes straight to his cock when you’re physically unable to look at anything but his long fingers and large hands. But, he doesn’t want to scare you off. Doesn’t want to be that creepy guy.

But when you place your free hand on top of his holding your other, he thinks you’ve made the decision for him. Is ecstatic to know you’re at least attracted to him enough to accept his advances. He might have a chance, right?

His thumb moves to rest against your bottom lip, heart racing as you finally peer up at him and he almost cums on the spot. Big dewy doe eyes that beg for more, and who is he if not a giver? He tugs at your lip gently, dragging it down and watches in awe as your tongue slightly pokes out over it, a string of saliva connecting his thumb to your mouth. No words are said, but he supposed they don’t have to be, not when your body is doing all the talking he needs.

He’s on autopilot at this point, and guesses you must be too. Without too much thinking he dips his thumb into your inviting mouth, stares at your lips as they immediately wrap around his digit only to draw out a low groan from him at the feeling of your tongue against it. Briefly imagines it as his cock, said cock throbbing in response.

“Careful.” He cautions, and you smile at his words. It’s not like you can reply verbally, so instead you swallow up more of his thumb, suckling gently on it and it’s a shame that he already feels like he’s reached his limit because you look so fucking pretty like this. All soft and compliant, yet still knowingly mocking his weaknesses. It’s hot. It’s almost too much, and he knows only you can make him this weak with such few touches.

He visibly shudders at your ministrations on him and pokes another finger into your mouth. And then another, and withdraws his thumb. Lets you lick and suck at them while he tends to his hard on that’s just begging for attention. Digs the heel of his palm against his tip and folds in on himself at how good it feels. He’s much too sensitive thanks to your tongue and it definitely shows in the way he’s panting for more.

You pop off his fingers and drop his hand, a thin few stretches of saliva leaving you connected to him. “You good?” You inquire, matching your question with a cocky eyebrow and a slanted grin. He’s in love with the change in your demeanour, finds it exciting that you’re just as turned on as he is.

“No, I- actually, ’m not doing ’s good.” Sam laughs, head over heels for you, completely captivated with the full body blush you’re wearing. It’s not a particularly warm night, but he’s certainly overheating. “What 'bout you?”

Through a sigh you grab at his wet hand and drag it towards your cunt, the saliva that’s left on his fingers pressing directly against your own soaked through shorts. It causes him to grip at his cock with his other hand in an effort to last longer, but his fists squeezes a bit too tight and has the opposite effect. Best to leave it untouched for now.

“What is it?” He inquires through gritted teeth, even though he knows exactly what you want. It’s a game, and he’s happy to hear you play along.

“Your fingers, please.” You ask simply, and he admires how honest you’re being. Can taste the want in your voice, and he’s more than eager to give. He only wishes he was able to look at your face, but his eyes remain glued to your cunt. Specifically stuck on the growing wet patch, of which he’s unsure is your own slick versus your saliva, but it drives him crazy regardless, lust fuelling his next actions.

With nervous hands he prompts you to lay back at the foot of your head, carful to reposition both you and himself so that you’re comfortable. The way you look up at him fills him with anxious desire, all blushed and delicate, and he wants to look after you so well.

Once you’re down and seemingly ready he whispers a faint “Well, since ya asked ’s nicely…” before carefully dragging down both your shorts and underwear together. He helps you raise to lift them off your legs only to carelessly throw them to the side, leaving them a mess on the floor. He thinks he should have been more gentleman like, but you have him hooked on a string, hungry for more, and so when you hesitantly close your legs upon being laid bare he can’t help but let out a frustrated sob.

“Please, baby. Need ’t see ’t help.”

You look to the side, away from his frowning features before slowly opening up for him, and he wonders why you’re so self conscious the moment he sees your cunt.

“Wow.” He sounds breathless, and truth be told he is. “Look at ya, ’s pretty- an all for me?”

He lowers his frame to be eye level with your pussy, salivates at how wet you are. He hears a small squeak at his breath fanning over your lips unintentionally, and so decides to do it on purpose. Oh how he loves the sounds you make.

Once again he inhales your scent, and though this is a much stronger - and different - smell, he loves it all the same. Wants to eat you up, lick you dry, but he did promise you his fingers. Saves the thought for a later date.

He repositions so that he’s hovering above you, one hand to the side of your head while his prominent hand lowers to your cunt. There’s a restless tension in the space left between you both, and he makes you squirm as he leaves you hanging.

“Sam-” You choke on your words, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit as soon as you started to speak.

“Oh, ’m sorry.” He taunts, boyish grin dripping through his words. You know he’s not, and he’s not hiding it well with the way his tongue wets his lips the moment your hands grip at his shoulders for stability. He’s well aware it’s not quite what you had in mind when you asked for his fingers, but he’ll get there. Wants to make you beg for it, get as needy as you’ve made him when he’s had to spend all those nights alone fucking his fist to the thought of you. A little payback, if you will.

Plus, he wants to drag this out for as long as possible. He’s thought about this moment far too many times to count, and he can’t quite believe it’s happening on this chilly Fall night. It’s not a special day by any means, but it is now, forever etched into his spank bank for months to come. Each pant, each moan you let slip he eats up, matching yours with his own in sheer desperation for you.

He’s rubbing much too slow circles on your clit, can see it’s frustratingly close to what you need and yet still not enough by the way your eyebrows knit together, how every time he picks up speed only to slow down again he can feel your fists ball up a little tighter on his shirt.

“Sam, please-” You look back to him, mouth agape and eyes pleading to finally give you what you’re seeking. If he hadn’t fallen for you already, this surely would have made him.

“Shh.” He coos, sweat collecting in his hair as he concentrates on giving you just enough to leave you hanging. “I know, got'cha, don’ have ta worry.”

And yet he’s not cruel, and he’s certainly not strong enough to not listen when it comes to you.

Slowly, slowly, he stops rubbing your clit in favour of dipping his fingers lower, collecting slick on his way down to your opening. He watches your face contort in pleasure as he pushes a digit in, his pace gradual as he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way.

You immediately keen, lips forming a tight line as you whine for him and his hips buck at the sound alone. Once, twice, thrusting in urgency and yet he offers himself no relief. No, he wants to focus completely on you despite his stuttering hands and stammering hips.

He works his finger in and out of you gently, curls it right at the end to offer some respite in his teasing. His fingers are long, far longer than your own and he’s quick to pick up on your moaning and writhing that you want- no, need more.

Another finger is added, the two of them still curling in on you but mixed with a faster pace and he has your back arched ever so slightly into him. He feels dizzy, longs to see you like this every day. Face scrunched up, mouth gasping, trembling legs as he kneels over you. You’re dripping, slick gushing out at his every entry, and he struggles to decide on where to look. Your blissed out face or your sopping cunt. He flashes between them both, intent on increasing the speed at which he fucks his fingers into you. Even if only to selfishly hear and watch you cum on his fingers.

You let our a particularly loud moan as he brings back his thumb into play, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as well as fingering you, and it proves to be too much to handle for you.

He think you’re trying to call his name, but your sorry attempts at doing so only egg him on to fuck you harder, faster, convinces him to wrap his free hand round your neck. He’s mindful enough to not squeeze too hard, but the surprised look you wear at the additional stimulus causes him to curse.

“Close?” He questions, though it’s barely audible over the uneven breaths he’s letting out. Your eyes roll back and he feels your walls tighten around him, his cock begging for release that he has to will off until you cum first.

It doesn’t take long, not when he decides to choke you just a little harder at the first sign of your end approaching. He urges you on with a chaste kiss to your cheek, and soon enough you’re clamping around his fingers. It’s tight, and so so hot that Sam also cums with you, his own pants stained and soiled without even getting touched. He makes sure to let go of your throat as you cum, wanting to actually hear you come undone because of him and you do not disappoint. You’re loud, gasping, head thrown back and gushing all over him when your orgasm hits. And even when you come down, you’re still heaving, body tired.

Sam stays quiet as he cums, keeps an eye open in favour of watching you. Besides, it’s a little embarrassing to cum prematurely like this but you’re quick to catch on, a breathless laugh filling the room when Sam removes his fingers from your cunt.

“Maybe next time we can focus on you, yeah?”

And Sam likes the sound of that.

[gvfmarge]

My first fic????!!! Who am I??

Jakey blurb:

I’m so so nervous to post this. I don’t have many followers and I haven’t really interacted with many of you. But I just had this idea in my head and I had to write it down, it’s super duper short. I’m not a writer by any means and I didn’t really edit this, so please be kind. 🥺

This is loosely based off of my experience with my 2 babies and our first days at home. (It’s really not as beautiful as this makes it out to be and the exhaustion is REAL- in case you don’t have kiddos)

This is probably a flop and I doubt anyone will actually read but here it is. Also, I’m on mobile so I hope this posts okay and is readable. Again, please be kind and I would always love some type of feedback or critiques!!

Trigger warnings: Newborns and exhaustion. Really nothing but pure sickening fluff.

Jake (husband/dad) x Reader

~~~

“Are you just soooo hungry, is my sweet girl just starving to death?” He hums to her as he zips up the lilac colored floral footie pajamas. As he scoops her up from the changing table, he turns to you with his toothy grin. “Momma’s right here baby.” He hushes her cries with his whispered promises. Jake slips Nora into your arms and gently sinks down into the bed beside you.

You’ve always loved Jake. You’ve loved him since the first time you met eyes. He takes up every ounce of your heart. But there is just something in the way he rocks your daughter, something in the way he sings to her, the way he looks at you while you’re holding her that makes you realize you never knew how much you actually loved him. You never believed your heart could hold any more love for this man, but watching him love the child you created with him has made you feel like the world has stopped for only you and your new family.

Today is your second full day of being home from the hospital after giving birth. It’s nothing like you imagined, it’s harder than you ever imagined but Jake has been nothing short of amazing. You have never felt more taken care of and cherished before.

“I can’t believe she’s actually real.” He says looking down at her in awe while she nurses. You can see the love in his eyes, you can feel it radiating off of him. It has enveloped your entire life now. Every inch of your house is full of love because of this new life you have brought into it.

“I know, I still feel like it’s all a dream actually.” You whisper back, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It felt like she would never be here and here she is.” He hums in response and turns his head to kiss your forehead. You both sit tangled together while you feed Nora until she finally falls asleep in your arms.

Jake eventually slides off the bed when he notices your eyes getting heavy. “Let me take her for a while baby, you need to nap.” He says stretching out his arms to lift her off of your chest. “Are you sure? I’m okay, I really don’t feel tired.” As you’re yawning, you realize just how exhausted you are. Jake has barely let you lift a finger since you’ve been home from the hospital. He’s changed almost every diaper, cooked every meal, woken up with Nora almost every hour at night to help you feed her. “Aren’t you tired too? You’ve done so much, lay down with me and we can cuddle while she naps.” You’re hoping he agrees, you really don’t want him to take her and you really don’t want him to leave either.

He places Nora in her bassinet beside the bed and places his hand on her chest and she settles back down into sleep. He slowly walks to turn off the lamps around the room and closes the curtains, stretching his arms above his head as he walks back to his side of the bed and almost crashes his body into the mattress. “I’m so glad you said that because I think I might die if I don’t sleep.” He says muffled into his pillow.

You giggle at his dramatics and curl into his side, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. “I love you so much, Jake. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you just how much.”

“You already have baby, you’ve given me everything I could ever want and more. You’ve given me the perfect little family, that is all mine. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

As you both drift off into your nap, you both can’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Understanding now just how much this is all you’ve ever wanted.

[bun-lapin]

The Gingerbread Gauntlet (part 1)

Summary: The housewardens have a gingerbread house competition

A/N: I meant to have this ready for before Christmas but of course, life had other plans lol The good news though is that I have a whole bunch of new writing ideas and I'm hoping to bust out of my little creative slump once the holiday chaos dies down a bit <3 The overall fic is a bit long so I decided to break it into smaller parts for readability. I'll be posting one part per day and will add links for the other parts after they post <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4/END - AO3 (whole fic)

Word Count: 1.6k CW: crack, silly, shouting, insults, mild swearing, candy/gingerbread

Winter at Night Raven College was a time even more magical than usual. Although the cafeteria was mostly empty, the sight of festive winter garlands draped elegantly along the walls, combined with the soft sounds of crackling flames in the grand fireplace, brought a cozy sense of winter cheer to the room. The alluring scents of sugary treats and winter spices wafted through the warm air from the kitchen nearby and from a long, solitary table set up by the doors to the kitchen. Already covered with an assortment of candies and plates of oddly shaped gingerbread cookies, the table was the very picture of a sweet and festive feast. Around the table, seven striking figures were seated an equal distance from each other and, as the snow softly began to fall from the sky outside, they quietly worked with the bounty of sugary confections before them.

~

“I swear on the Noble Rulebook of the Queen of Hearts, if I find out someone has been hoarding all of the rose-shaped peppermints, it’s off with everyone’s heads!”

Leona drowsily raises an eyebrow at Riddle and smirks, “What’s the matter, housewarden? We just started. You losing your temper already?”

Riddle scoffs and wrinkles his nose at Leona’s slouching posture, “I’m not losing my temper! I’m trying to make sure there is an equitable distribution of candy decorations for everyone present to construct their gingerbread houses!” He picks up a paper that looks like an architectural blueprint and angrily jabs a finger at a particular section of the diagram. “I am building a gingerbread model of the Heartslabyul rose maze–to scale, I might add–and I require exactly 68 rose-shaped peppermints to construct it.”

Leona slowly blinks at the intricately detailed design in Riddle’s hands and then shakes his head with a soft chuckle. Reaching under his seat, he pulls out a large, glass bowl of rose-shaped candies and passes it to the Heartslabyul housewarden. Ignoring the death glare from Riddle, he turns to the other housewardens seated around the table and asks, ”Can someone remind me again why we’re doing this stupid gingerbread house competition? This seriously feels like a waste of my precious free time.”

Vil looks up from his gingerbread construction with an expression of withering scorn on his face, “We just went over everything not even a moment ago. Did you actually forget or were you just not paying attention in the first place?”

Kalim lets out a bright and hearty laugh from his seat at the table, “I think this is going to be a really fun activity!” He holds up a small gingerbread cookie decorated with dark colored icing and licorice in the image of Dire Crowley, “Plus, we have to do this because the headmaster asked us to!”  Waving the Crowley cookie in the air, he speaks in a surprisingly accurate impression of the headmaster, “I’ll be damned if I let those fools at RSA take home the trophy for the Isle of Sage’s gingerbread house competition another year in a row!”

Leona shakes his head with a slightly aggravated sigh, “I’m still failing to see why I, or any of us for that matter, should care about this useless endeavor.”

With a piping bag of white icing in one hand, Azul laughs softly and adjusts his glasses with the other hand, “There’s also the fact that whoever makes the best gingerbread house here today will receive a free PE class credit.”

Leona’s eyebrows rise in mild surprise and then he smirks. “Is that so? Well I suppose that explains why that guy over there is actually here in person for once,” he says as he points down towards the other end of the table.

Idia peers up from his work, the expression on his face equal parts gloomy and irritated, “Listen, I will do anything if it means I can miss any amount of PE.” Turning back to his geometric gingerbread design with a pout, he mutters under his breath, “Although, the main reason I’m actually here is because Ortho literally shot down my gingerbread construction drone.”

With a softly amused smile on his face, Malleus turns in his seat next to the Ignihyde housewarden and says, “Do try to cheer up, Idia. I’ve always felt that festive occasions such as these should be attended in person. A contraption built for the sole purpose of constructing with gingerbread could never replace someone special like you.”

“Oh-! Uh-! Th-thanks Malleus-shi! Th-that’s really nice of you to say,” Idia replies with a nervous grin. While keeping his gaze pinned to his work on the table, he then smoothly reaches into his pocket and rapid-fire taps out a message into his smartphone: AAGGGHH!!! WHYYY IS THE HEIR APPARENT OF BRIAR VALLEY SITTING NEXT TO ME?? SO DISTRACTING  (╥﹏╥)

A message notification chimes out from the phone in Azul’s front jacket pocket. After checking to make sure his hands are clean of icing, he takes out his phone and reads the message. With a playful smirk on his face, he taps out his reply: Honestly, I’m more surprised by the fact that Crowley actually remembered to invite Malleus this time. What a rare event!

Idia’s phone buzzes quietly in his pocket and he looks down to swiftly check the message. He glares over at Azul with a small frown and quickly types: yo speaking of rare events! are you wearing the glasses i made for you?? the ones with the built-in camera and mic?? because i deffo remember you saying that they were useless and not your style (¬､¬)

The sound of the cafeteria door loudly creaking open suddenly cuts off Idia and Azul’s silent conversation. All of the assembled housewardens turn to see two fluffy ears atop a head of messy, sandy-brown hair enter the room. With a mischievous grin and a hissing-kind of chuckle, Ruggie waves to the group, “Heya, everyone! I’m here for the gingerbread house competition.”

Riddle frowns at Ruggie while balancing two pieces of messily frosted gingerbread in his hands, “No, you certainly are not! This competition is for housewardens only!”

Leona lets out a loud yawn as he waves Ruggie over to the table. Turning to the rest of the group he explains, “It’s alright, I’m the one who called him here.” Handing Ruggie a piping bag of icing, Leona adds, “He’s gonna build my gingerbread house for me while I take a nap under the table.” Cries of outrage erupt from around the table and Leona’s ears twitch angrily as he raises his eyebrows at the grumbling housewardens.

While carefully setting down a slanted piece of gingerbread atop his elegantly constructed house, Vil states bluntly, “Ruggie is not allowed to build your house for you, Leona. Crowley explicitly instructed us to build these gingerbread houses without any magic or outside assistance.” Raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, he smirks and adds, “If you want this free class credit, you’re going to have to put in some amount of work for once in your life.”

Leona directs a questioning look towards Ruggie who, in turn, raises his shoulders and shakes his head in resignation. Leona waves a hand dismissively at Ruggie, effectively shooing him out of the room, and clicks his tongue with annoyance, “Fine, fine. I got it. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, though.” Grabbing a handful of candies and pieces of gingerbread, he then quickly and expertly begins assembling them together.

Without looking up from his work, Vil smoothly pipes extra icing on the corners of his house and replies in an even tone, “Call me by that word again and I’ll shave off all of your hair to weave into a throw rug for the Pomefiore common room.”

“Hey Vil,” Leona chirps out a soft whistle to catch the Pomefiore housewarden’s attention.

Letting out a short, aggravated sigh, Vil rolls his eyes and then looks over at Leona. “What,” he flatly asks.

With a heavy thud, Leona sets the end result of his hard work for the last few minutes on the table in front of him. Made from rounded pieces of gingerbread and decorated with brightly colored candies, is a large replica of a hand with a raised middle finger. Standing up from his seat, Leona flashes everyone a triumphant little smirk and then saunters out of the room without another word. 

The remaining housewardens silently watch him leave and, as the cafeteria door creaks shut, they return to their work with a softly murmured chorus of disapproval. An uncharacteristic silence settles over the group as everyone focuses on their individual gingerbread designs for the next few minutes.

Kalim finally breaks into the quiet with a bright laugh, “It's too bad Leona decided to leave early! I just finished making his cookie counterpart!” He holds up a Leona-shaped gingerbread cookie decorated with chocolate candies and a tiny feline scowl drawn in icing.

Looking up from his work, Vil studies the little cookie with an irritated glare. Wordlessly, he reaches across the table to pluck the Leona cookie from Kalim’s hand and then snaps the head off of the gingerbread figure. Handing the beheaded cookie back to Kalim, Vil flatly states, “My apologies.”

After carefully laying the broken pieces of Leona on a plate, Kalim holds up two additional gingerbread figures. One is decorated with marshmallow pieces and little wolf ears. The other is decorated with fluffy peanut butter frosting and hyena ears. Waving the wolf-eared cookie through the air, Kalim yells in a low, gruff voice, “Oh no! Housewarden Leona! I'll find out who did this to you and avenge the honor of our dorm!” Wiggling the hyena-eared cookie, Kalim says in a smoother, teasing voice, “Shyeheehee! Does this mean I get the rest of the day off?”

-continued in part 2-

[cleverinsidejoke]

Part One

Part 2

Based off of my little idea of an Sagau where the Creator is a friend of the reader's from their own world. You can read it here. This is a little long, but I feel that it's necessary to set the scene before going into the plot. I haven't done creative writing in a while, so I hope it's at a good readable state. I don't think there's anything to warn you about, but if there is, let me know and I'll update it.

1.7k words, excluding this introduction.

The hum of fluorescent lights fills the quiet office space, interrupted by your thoughts and the sounds of typing and paper shuffling. It had been a truly awful day.

The HR and customer service departments' phone lines and power had gone out in the early afternoon, and prior experience in both had lumped the workload onto the shoulders of you and your coworkers. All you wanted to do was go home. Even the warm sunny day and Cecil’s quiet humming were serving to worsen your already sour mood.

“Well everyone, it’s going to take longer than we thought to fix the issue, so we’ve got two options for you. You can work late tonight, get paid overtime, and get tomorrow off, or you can call it quits for today and head home.” The IT man nodded in agreement as your boss explained away the situation. “Just let me know by closing time.” Quiet groans permeated the room at the thought of staying late, but not coming in tomorrow was certainly a tempting offer.

“I’ll stay.” You pipe up quickly as your boss begins to leave. She pauses and turns around, appraising you with her unwavering gaze, as though observing your credibility.

“Anyone else?” Empty stares meet hers, the humming ceases, and an air of hesitance is her only response for a long moment. Raising an eyebrow, she turns to the door to leave.

    “I’ll keep Y/N company.” Gene pipes up from beside you. “It’s no good being alone in a big office anyway.” You give them a nod of acknowledgement, also serving to convince the boss that you’re enthused about staying late. It’s a long moment before she breaks her gaze from yours.

    “Is that everyone?” A few more of the older coworkers join in as the clock strikes five, and soon the life in the office blinks out. The boss returns to her office a few floors up. Far enough to not supervise effectively.

    Gene had immediately put on elevator music after the boss’s exit, and began a push to finish the customer service work, which you were thankful for. It was always good to have some motivation. All that was left at this point was to make a list of the companies you couldn’t call this late and to finish checking the HR reports. 

    “Almost done?” Gene leans across their desk, reaching out to spin the papers on yours around to look at. “Nice.” Sliding the papers back, they look around the empty office. “When we get this done, would you like to play some Genshin?”

    “Sure.” Your reply is loud in the quiet room. The devices and sound of people working renders an indoor voice small. “Your world or mine?” The fluorescent lights hum quietly overhead.

    “Dunno. We’ll figure it out when we get home and log on.” The work goes by slowly, the tapping of the keys and rifling of paper sounding as the clock ticks on. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine… “Done!”

    Glancing up briefly as you finish organizing the reports, you see them exit the office, entering the break room. “Where are you going?” You call out quietly. Fluorescent lights hum a dull tune as you wait, clicking your mouse as you shut down the office system and open up the game. Using their back to push open the door, Gene reenters, holding two paper coffee cups.

    “I figured I’d get us something to keep us up. If we’re free tomorrow, what’s to stop us from staying up playing Genshin?” Kicking the door shut, they flounce over, setting your cup in front of you. The pleasant aroma of hot chocolate escapes as you remove the lid.

   “Are we gonna use the work computers or go home?” The pair of you had been friends for years, and recently roommates, as house prices were only increasing. You both pitched in on rent for the apartment, saving the money that didn’t go to rent or necessities to find a nice home so that you could potentially get another roommate. Gene had even pulled a few strings to get you this job, so it was safe to say that the pair of you were close. 

    “The boss is probably waiting for us to leave first, so…” Gene shrugs, taking a sip of their drink, spinning slowly in their chair, soon turning once again to face you. “Let’s get home and see if the update finished.”

    “Got it. Let me grab my lunchbox and we can head out.” Pulling on your jacket, you go to the break room, grabbing your lunchbox from the fridge. Shutting off the lights in there, the dull hum lessens. Picking up your hot chocolate, you push open the office door, using your foot to hold it open for Gene.

    “Thanks.” You exit the building, shutting off lights as you go, the hum lessening with each flick of a switch. The streets are loud despite the time, as all city streets are. Cars passed, each one with its own destinations, men and women called for taxis, others opting for the metro system instead, swiping their cards once and being on their way. 

    Taking public transportation wasn’t so bad, provided that it wasn’t too crowded. Unlike the senseless chatter of vehicles on the topside, the metro acted as the quieter underbelly of the city. Finishing your drink, you threw the leftover cup away as the pair of you waited for your train to arrive. 

    “Oh, I can’t wait to get home.” You groan, rolling your neck in an attempt to release the tension that rests there. “Get into pajamas, get some water, and just brainlessly explore Fontaine.”

    “Want me to make something when we get home?” You don't respond as the train pulls in, doors opening and a straggler or two filing out as you entered, instantly finding a seat to sit on, relinquishing all strength to the anxiety and annoyance of the previous few hours.

    The ride is silent. The stop soon arrives and you both get off, Gene wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you exit the subway into the poorly lit neighborhood. The apartment isn’t all that far or difficult to get to, and you’re soon at home, changing into your pajamas. 

    Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you exit into the small living room, where Gene is setting up your desktops and getting the game going. Curling up on the couch, you scan the screen. You had been doing commissions in Mondstadt last time you’d played, having left Lumine and Paimon to wait by the Adventurer’s Guild. Glancing at Gene’s screen, you make a request to join their world. 

    “It’s Diona’s birthday.” Your remark snaps Gene out of a previously unnoticed thought.

    “Huh? Oh, yeah, I forgot. Wanna do something for it?” They accept your request, and Lumine pops up in their world. Adding Diona to your party, you run circles around Gene’s traveler, Aether. Although Diona could get annoying, this was a tradition for you, and you weren’t about to break something that got your mind out of the ‘surviving life’ mindset.

    “We could go to the Cat’s Tail, make a few wishes, then make a few drinks.”

    “Sounds good.” Adding Diona to their team, you both make your way to the quiet restaurant while pausing briefly to check if you have the ingredients to make a drink. The game never specified if the drinks you could make were alcoholic, but it didn’t really matter with some imagination, did it?

    After an hour or two of doing commissions and cooking, you had reached enough primogems to reach that final intertwined fate for a ten pull. Upon opening the gacha system, you were met with a strange sight. There was a search bar along the top, leaving only the standard banner on the main page.

    “Did they say anything about a gacha change on the Special Program?” Looking over at Gene, you realize that they’ve already seen it. 

    “Give me a name.” They look over at you, hands positioned to type. "A five star.”

    “I dunno.. Wanderer.” It soon pulls up the banner, which had passed a month or so ago. The gacha system is up and running for it. “Try an upcoming character.” You continue on this experimental run. Past and upcoming banners all show up, names of characters that haven’t released or been leaked yet.

Gene take out their phone to take a photo, and… nothing shows up. As far as their phone is concerned, the computer is dead. But it can’t be a hallucination, right? After all, you’re both seeing this.

    “Well, let’s do a couple of pulls before lights out, hm?” Searching up Yoimiya, they do a quick ten pull. The blue stars streak across the screen, a purple one appearing along with it, melding into gold. The built up anticipation of the upcoming five star washes away as a familiar silhouette fills the screen. “Oh, Qiqi! I don’t have her yet!”

    “Try again. You’ve been saving for Yoimiya for a while.” You set off on some of your own pulls, albeit with less success. Despite the guaranteed pity, you land in a web of Mona, Jean, and Tighnari constellations. And soon enough, you’ve stayed up much later than you intended.

    Gene’s soft breathing cues you in that it’s gotten far later. Glancing into the kitchen, you see that the stove reads 11:10. Looking down at your friend, you grab the throw blanket and lay it over them, then beginning to shut down the game. Yawning, you close out of the gacha system and open up the menu, Paimon doing her usual tricks on the side. The exit game icon is gone.

Probably another new update that you missed. Too tired to figure it out, you opt to just shut down the desktops instead. The screens go white, the line up of elements blinking a pale grey before becoming a bright gold light.

    You close your eyes tightly at the invasion of harsh light, flinching back from the desktops instinctively. Your ears ring, and you hear Gene stirring due to the light. Reaching out blindly, your hand comes into contact with something… warm. It grabs your hand harshly, jerking you forwards as you reach back, grabbing Gene for support. Then the tight grip on your arm releases.

    You open your eyes. Your apartment is gone, replaced by a soft golden light around you. Below you is a vast world, extensive landscapes and cities sprawled beneath you, with the subtle shapes of people in the lights between buildings. The night of this world is beautiful. Gene grasps for your hand and you look over at them. Face filling with concern, they can only mouth their words. Where are we?

[starqueensthings]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

First of all, when the heck did my anon function turn on 😆 I genuinely thought I’d had that shit turned off! Apparently not!

Second, I heckin love when these self rec chains go around. There is little more beautiful in this world than watching a creator gush about their work when given the platform to do so… something they’re so proud of… something that brought them so much joy, all they want to do is share it with the people they love.

In true Holly fashion, I am going to be long winded about this, so please accept a read more as to not clutter up your feed.

1. Colder Weather - A 3-part post-stasis/Pirate Kix x fem!reader ficlet that promises to punch you right in the heart. This is probably the most emotional thing I’ve ever written, and while I know it’s not for everyone… boy am I ever proud of it.

2. Dork Love - A 4-part Tech x GN!reader ficlet that was supposed to only be one, but pulled a Miley Cyrus and couldn’t be tamed. It’s a mostly lighthearted little story about hard work, altruism, navigating a sudden and unexpected crush, and how one’s perception is not always reality. Because the fandom is extremely protective about Tech and his characterization in fanon extensions of canon, I’m sure this won’t be for everyone either… but writing something that read ND!Tech x ND!Reader was important to me.

3. The Only Exception - A fem!OC x Captain Howzer Longfic. I started writing it what feels like a lifetime ago, and I swore to my distant ancestors that it would never see anyone’s eyes but my own… That plan changed when I met some very supportive, OC-loving friends that encouraged me to share it with the world, and I’ve since been slowly tweaking it chapter by chapter to ensure my passive verbs and run-on sentences are brought to a level that’s readable for others hahaha it’s a very slow work in progress, but it’s the most throughout, detailed work I’ve ever funnelled energy into, and I’ll forever cherish June and her experiences learning and growing. (Not a self insert, though I wish it was. June is more bad ass than I could ever hope to be, though she has no clue.)

**snippets below the cut**

1. Colder Weather - Part One

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered his way through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

2. Dork Love - Part Four.

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached to pull the coils from his shoulder. “Why?”

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.”

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees. “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.”

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement.

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.

“Catch what, exactly?”

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.”

3. The Only Exception - Chapter Two.

‘He’s just a soldier,’ she reminded herself with a snort of self-directed derision, desperately trying to extract her password from the depths of her distracted brain.

And he was. There was nothing overtly different or unusual about CT–5863 in relation to the hundred-or-so other clones that had passed in and out of her care since the war began. Quite frankly, there couldn’t be anything different about him, it was genetically impossible. So why had one look from this set of honeyed eyes seen her stomach careening into the next dimension and her nerves prickling as if every shift of his gaze left a trail atop her skin?

Thrice she tried and failed to enter her secure information into that software, yet its repeated beeps toward the inevitable system lock-out fell on entirely deaf ears, and it wasn’t until the screen strobed that she’d near-reached the maximum login attempts did some glimmer of awareness surge back to her.

“I’m Dr. Kiore,” June told him, attempting to banish that myriad of improper thoughts by corralling every cooperating neuron into entering her password, and the breath she’d unintentionally held in her lungs was granted their escape atop a sigh of relief as that familiar landing screen emerged in front of her. “What’s your name?”

“CT–58—”

“No, Captain, your name.”

“My name?” A puzzled pause preceded his answer, that brief second of hesitation having failed to lessen any of the obvious confusion behind those two words, and the notion that she may have to formally explain such a simple concept was the first to pull a smile to June’s lips.

But, “Howzer.” He recovered quickly, offering his name in the same tone he’d used upon hearing her tap on the door, and the small creases now wreathing those twinkling eyes as they narrowed in something close to suspicion entirely laid bare his continued bewilderment at her behaviour.

“Howzer,” she repeated, offering him a casual smile as she swiped her finger across the monitor and entered the information next to his designation number. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A moment’s innocent silence fell between them as she typed, masterfully toggling between different pages of his medical chart and familiarizing herself with the details of his treatment history. For an active soldier, particularly one that appeared as if he’d spent several respite-free rotations laying in the foreign dirt of a distant planet, his chart was remarkably vacant, the only few noted injuries being quickly treated in the field and recorded somewhat haphazardly by the trio of different medics who had seen him.

“I– I think that might be the first time a civilian’s asked me that,” he contemplated under his breath, eyes unfocussing as he rubbed that dirty palm across the stubble on his chin

“Yeah, well… they were supposed to ask downstairs,” June scoffed, the grumble swaddling her tone readily exposing the disdain for the repeated shortcomings of her colleagues. “I’ve asked them four billion times to try and remember, but of course no one listens to the youngest.”

While his lungs expanded to utter what was undoubtedly going to be another humorous quip, the sentiment was stolen off his tongue by a sudden and salient cringe of discomfort. In that otherwise banal motion of sitting up straight, hand reaching upward to thoughtlessly push those dark waves further back from his forehead, a spasm of pain quickly froze his actions, that sharp jaw quickly clenching behind olive cheeks as a muted grunt rumbled in his chest.

[duckiemimi]

https://www.tumblr.com/jgnico/729415078056755200/stop-taking-nanamis-words-for-why-gojo-did-what

Hey mimi!! Hope ur having a nice day!! I really love your thoughts and metas its a very insightful!!! And ur fanfics god i hold them so tenderly in my hands each time i read them!! thank you for making them!! And i wanted to ask: whats your thoughts on this ?

i’m so sorry this reply is so late, i’ve been a little busy these days 😭 but i love this post so much! it’s so well-written and well-articulated!

most people in the story don’t understand gojo; the whole point of 236 was to hammer that home. gojo died misunderstood. (well—if you don’t count geto understanding him, i guess. and some of his students try to, his friends, too, but that’s besides the point. most people didn’t. doesn’t mean they were incapable of loving him, though.)

i understand nanami’s sentiments here. to nanami, gojo was the guy who could’ve solved everything, who could’ve prevented deaths, who could’ve prevented haibara’s death. to nanami, gojo was the embodiment of the system. of idle power. it’s a little similar to geto’s point of view in shinjuku: why the hell should he try and sympathize with someone who can do it all? gojo is different. he’s not like us.

really, i believe most of the characters in the story feel this way about him, this attitude of begrudging hope because though he is an enigma in their eyes, he is also a beacon of hope because if gojo exists, then a better world is possible. they see the idea of him before they see him for who he actually is. they see his dictated role before they see him.

but here’s the thing: gojo is readable to us. as readers of the story, we should be able to understand him and what motivates him, we should be able to understand his alienation and loneliness more than anyone in the story. because he is wholly readable and thus knowable, because we see the things the other characters don’t. we should know him by how he was written, not by other characters’ perception of him. that’s subsidiary.

(if anything, other than supplementary information on gojo, the characters’ opinions on him tell us more about them and the world they live in, not about gojo.)

i think this juxtaposition between the perception of gojo and just gojo himself is best shown in his conversation with geto. there, he talks about being familiar with isolation (his metaphorical infinity) and his longing to be understood. right after, nanami chimes in and offers his opinion about gojo. i do think the writing could’ve been done more effectively (after all, the chronology makes the scene a little confusing), but it’s still plainly written for us to read.

gojo’s efforts to better the system shouldn’t be wiped off the board just because nanami said he fought for fun. we know him, we’ve read him, we’ve witnessed him give second chances to kids who’ve lost hope. we’ve seen gojo’s care. i don’t think this is a case of just selfishness or just selflessness. don’t fall into the trap of black and white thinking.

gojo was jujutsu’s pillar. i imagine if you grow up with enough people telling you who you are—what you are, really—you’d start to internalize it and learn your role. to his core, gojo was a guy who never acknowledged his subconscious and what lay beneath it because of this. a mental infinity, a metaphorical infinity. almost there but not quite; he never got to the root of things, whether it be changing the system or figuring out why he was the way he was. he was never thorough. (isn’t that why “geto” came back anyway? because he didn’t “finish the job”?)

but, hey—his given name is satoru (enlightenment). perhaps there’s more to his story.

(or maybe he died in irony.)

[gyunmiraculous]

If You Would Stay

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing(s): Luka Couffaine/Reader, Minor Background Juleka/Rose

WC: 1.2k

Genre: FLUFF. pure fluff, that's it~

A/n: Okay, I haven't written in 1st pov in YEARS now but I really really love Luka and I wanted to write something for him! This is not as good as usual for me but I still hope you enjoy it :) I can't believe this is the first thing I wrote for this fandom ㅠㅠ

Also readable on ao3 here!

✿

Clear strums of the guitar echoed around the deck of Liberty the moment I stepped on it. My eyes immediately flitted to where a familiar tall figure was sitting, his instrument gently held like one would do a lover. Luka's eyes were on the fretboard but his smile spoke that he knew I was there.

The thought of him smiling because of me made me flush, even if it was merely wishful thinking. Before I could make my way over to him, I felt a hand slip around mine. Rose looked at me with a bright smile as she dragged me to where she had kept her lyric notebook open.

"You have to read it and tell me what you think!" She said, buzzing with excitement. I looked around but couldn't see Juleka, which Rose noticed and leaned in to say in a whisper, "I made her go away so I could show this to you in secret. It's a song I wrote for her…"

"Oh!" I gasped, my face lighting up. There was really nothing more romantic than having someone write a song for you, in my opinion. To see Rose do something like this for Juleka was very heartwarming. "That's such a lovely idea, Rose! I'm sure she would absolutely love it."

"I hope so too," Rose giggled through her nervousness and pressed her notebook in my hand so I could give her my feedback. I read through the words on the paper slowly, building their story in my head based on them.

"This is so good, Rose," I said in awe once I was done, looking around to check that Juleka still hadn't come back. "She will cry. I know I would if someone wrote me a song like this. I shouldn't have expected any less of our resident hopeless romantic."

I nudged her playfully but Rose, in her excitement, swatted at me harder than I expected, making me lose balance and falling down on my butt. I mumbled a small "ow!" of pain at that. Rose gasped and leaned down, apologising over and over as she helped me stand up.

"It's okay, Rose," I reassured her as I dusted off the back of my jeans. A warm hand suddenly rested on my shoulder, making me flinch in surprise. I turned around to find Luka staring down at me in concern from a very close distance. Too close.

My face flushed at the proximity and panicking, I flung my arm outward but instead of getting pushed back, Luka caught my arm in time, as gentle as ever.

"Easy there," he said softly, lowering our hands but not letting my wrist go. My brain malfunctioned at the prolonged contact and I just let out an incoherent, "huh?" before realising that I was being weird.

"Uh, I mean, I'm sorry Luka!" I blushed, embarrassed at myself. He just laughed, waving it off.

"Are you okay though?" He asked, features contorting into an expression of concern again. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Why would I get hurt, silly, I almost hit you!" I laughed nervously.

"I meant your fall, (y/n)."

Oh.

"Oh that," I said sheepishly, feeling foolish again. Ugh. Why does this always happen around Luka?! "I'm fine. It… doesn't hurt."

Luka studied me carefully for a few seconds then nodded, a smile taking over his face again. Someone cleared their throat in the background causing the two of us to startle. He dropped my hand in the process but I was too swamped looking at the now present Kitty Section to fully let the disappointment sink in. Juleka looked amused while Rose looked positively aglow, like she had discovered a mine of treasure. Oh no.

"Oh, hey guys," I said in panic, not wanting her to even blurt out about my crush on Luka. No, nope. We are not going to touch uncharted territories. "Juleka, did you hear the song?"

"What song?" She asked, confused. Rose's smile dropped in alarm and she grabbed her notebook real quick.

"Why don't you ask Rose?" I said with a teasing smile, relaxing now that the attention was off me. Juleka looked inquiringly at her girlfriend who blushed. The blond held her hand for a second before tugging her inside to where her room was. Ivan just shot me and Luka a small smile before settling down where Rose was sitting and getting his phone out. Probably to talk with Mylene.

"Hey, (y/n)?" Luka's voice sounded hesitant and I looked up at him curiously through the corner of my eyes. Upon closer inspection, I realised his cheeks seemed to be dusted with pink. But, it couldn't possibly be because of me… right? "There's… something I want to show you. I mean, something I want you to hear."

"Yeah?" I smiled encouragingly. He rubbed the back of his neck and I realised that for the first time, I was seeing Luka Couffaine being nervous. It evoked a bit of hesitancy in me too; because what could make Luka nervous? Calm, kind and mature Luka? Was it something bad?

Before my thoughts could spiral into more worrisome concerns, he picked up my hand that he had dropped and gently tugged it to beckon me over to where he was sitting before. We crossed over there and he immediately picked up the guitar he had been playing when I had appeared. My mind cleared the doubts; Luka wanted me to listen to a song.

"W- well," he lightly scratched the tip of his nose, cheeks flushing more. His eyes flitted around everywhere except my face. "I guess Rose and I had the same idea…"

Huh?

I stood there dumbfounded as Luka started playing the guitar. The music was soft but clear, and the words spilling out of his mouth tugged at my heartstrings.

"...You are the song stuck inside my head,

You are the one, that's what my heart said,

The tune I hear at any time of the day,

You are my song, so if you would stay…"

If he had the same idea as Rose… then did that mean Luka wrote a song for me? Were these words for me? My brain went into overdrive just as Luka finished the song with one last strum. He looked up at me hopefully, lips pressed into a nervous smile.

"...you wrote this for me?" I asked quietly after a few seconds of silence. He nodded shyqly, cheeks heating up even more than before. I could feel my own cheeks mirroring the action. "Luka, that was such a sweet song! To say that I'm the song stuck inside your head… Oh, I am not as good at making music like you to tell you this, but Luka. You are the music that my heart beats to."

"(Y/n)," he placed the guitar aside and stood up, arms coming around to wrap my waist in his hold. He brushed away the hair that was whipping onto my face from the wind and placed a gentle kiss on top of my forehead. "Will you do me the honour of having you not just in my heart and head… but also in my arms to hold?"

I smiled and got onto my tiptoes, sneaking in to press a butterfly kiss on Luka's lips. The action made him close his eyes and the blush on his cheeks rose again. I giggled.

"Only if you do the same to me."

[unique-high]

NCT 127 X S/O With locs

REQUESTED: NCT127 x S/O with locs

a/n: God, I'm sorry I'm just now getting to this. It's been on my to do list. But I'm finally here with it. But side note, each members s/o comes with a different shade of blue. I don't know the members well this is my first time writing a NCT 127 ot9 request so my reaction may not be as accurate to them.

side note: wasn't really sure how to write this without it being repetitive and boring but I still hope it's somewhat good.

another side note: I don't have locs so what I'm writing is based on YouTube videos I've watched and drawn inspiration from and also Pinterest.

ANOTHER SIDE NOTE, DAMN: I finished this around 6:35 am. The imagine went different ways, nevertheless, I hope the requester enjoys the brief moments between reader and ot9.

NOT PROOF READ MAY BE SOME GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES BUT STILL READABLE.

JOHNNY: you have been doing your retwist for a couple of hours in between sessions you'd watch Netflix, FaceTime johnny when he was on break from dance practice, ordered something to eat because you were too tired to even try to fix something to eat. And by the time Johnny came home you were just about done with your retwist.

“Oh wow.” Johnny said when he see's the color of your locs. “That color looks good on you.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. It compliments you.”

The color you dyed your locs was a pretty Cerulean blue. After your locs were done, you added some cute hair jewelry some locs.

Johnny was checking out his hair in the mirror. “Do you want to dye mine so we can match?”

“Your stylist won't chew you out, will they?”

“If they I don't care. I want to match with my baby.”

MARK: he's seen you do your retwist before and knows how time consuming it can be. Mark would feed you and make sure you have plenty of water and when your arms get tired, he gives little massages. Your locs were bleached and ready for color.

“I have two different blues,” you tell your boyfriend. “Which one is your favorite, Indigo blue or baby blue?”

“Baby blue.”

“I'm feeling baby blue too.”

“Do you need any help?” Mark just wants to make things a little easier for you.

You happily nodded with a smile. Mark knew a little something about locs since you taught him. Plus, he saw this as quality time and another way of bonding with you.

DOYOUNG: “You don't gotta stay with me baby, it's gonna take some hours for her to get me colored, retwisted, and styled.” You tell Doyoung.

This was his first time going with you to a hair appointment. It was his day off and he didn't have anything better to do than drive you to your loctician and wait for you.

“But I want to stay,” he said, slightly pouting.

The salon was filled with other women getting their hair done too. One woman who was getting a wig installed gushed over you and Doyoung.

Your loctician gets you right and now it was deciding on the color. You decided to do the back of your locs sapphire blue and the front locs ocean blue.

Doyoung was on his phone most of the time, but he would check on you making sure you were good. He ran out to get you your favorite food since you would be sitting under the hair dryer for some hours.

“Do you think the colors look good on me?”

“They do. The colors just add to your beauty.”

“Boy, stop.” you laughed.

Doyoung playfully rolled his eyes saying, “I can't help it that my girlfriend's beauty is something magnificent.”

JAEHYUN: When he hears the 90s R&B music playing from the living room, he knows what today is. Retwist day. You spent a good three days preparing for this day. Giving yourself a prep talk because doing your own retwist wasn't for the weak.

“Tell me I got this, baby,” you whined to Jaehyun.

He kissed your forehead. “You got this. Just think about the end results. You know you're going to feeling yourself.”

You laughed saying, “You right. You right.”

Jaehyun kisses your lips this time and tells you bye since he is going to play basketball with the guys at the gym.

From morning until noon, you were still at your hair. You hadn't planned on styling it. Just a color and retwist. But you saw this cute style on Pinterest and decided why the hell not.

“Y/n I'm home.” Jaehyun yelled when he seen you weren't in the living room.

“Bathroom!”

He goes to the bathroom,leaning on the door door frame.

“What do you think?” You asked eagerly.

You had your locs in two space buns. With two locs in the front out with gold hair jewelry. Your locs were powder blue.

“I love it. You look so freaking cute.” Jaehyun reaches out and gently tugged you to him. “But it's a shame it'll only get messed up.”

You give your boyfriend a look. “And what does that mean, jae?”

He smirks pulling you to the bedroom.

“Oh no.” you protest. “Not when I spent hours on this!”

TAEYONG: he helps you on the days you did your retwist. He took a class on locs so he could be able to help you. That's how dedicated he was to helping you. After you bleached your locs. You sat in the chair while Taeyong prepared you for the color. You were dying your locs luxe blue.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Taeyong jokes with you.

“Um, actually I do.”

“Can he fight?”

“You tryna fight my man, sir?”

“If it means taking you out on a date. Then yeah beautiful.”

He always joked with you like this while doing your hair. After the color and the wash. You talked about what kind of style you wanted to do. It was just something simple. A half up/half down. It was giving “New Me”

And your boyfriend had to take pictures to post on his IG. He made sure you looked good in the pictures because he knew you hated it when he took the most outlandish pictures of you and posted them. But to him, he thought you looked good in all the photos.

He takes a picture of you with the caption: GUESS WHO ATE?🤪

TAEIL: Like Mark, Taeil likes the quality time he gets to spend with you while you're doing your hair. He's curious though. He asks a lot of questions like “Why do you have crotch hooks sometimes?” or “How come you don't do a retwist all the time?” and you're always more than glad to answer your boyfriend's questions and explain things to him.

“Have you thought about what color you're going to dye your hair?” Taeil asks you.

“I was thinking Sky blue or Cool blue.”

“Sky blue would look lovely.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! But anything on you looks lovely.”

Your face grew warm at his words. Dang, this man really knew how to make you feel good about yourself.

“Want to help with the color?”

“Sure. Just show me what I need to do.”

These were the little moments that Taeil enjoyed with you. Just standing in the bathroom applying color to your hair while you asked him about how he was feeling. You always made it a point to ask him about his mental because you know how draining his job can be.

YUTA: he was gone most of the day while you were busy with your hair. You would send him pictures letting him know how the progress was going and taking slight breaks when needed. You decided to surprise your boyfriend when he got home. Yuta once had a style where he had white hair with blue streaks and you wanted to recreate that.

You styled your locs in this cute little style with two ponytails and a side bang.

When you hear Yuta come into the apartment, you call for him to come to the bathroom. You were in the middle of doing your baby hairs.

“Oh wow.” he said. “Blue and white? Reminds of a color I had.”

“You were my inspo boy.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” you turned fully to look at Yuta.

He was busy checking out your new style. “This style is cute,” he said. “My hair is sort of long enough. Let's match styles.”

“You for real?”

“I want to look cute too, girl.” Yuta winks at you.

HAECHAN: “Just say you want to be my twin, y/n.” he teases you, poking you in your side while you're trying to apply dye to your locs.

“I really don't haechan.”

“Then why are you dying your hair blue like mine.”

“first off, my blue is a different shade than yours.”

“Still blue, y/n.”

“Electric blue.”

“Okay?” he poked you again. “Like I said, still blue.”

“Why are you annoying me while I'm trying to do my hair?”

“Cause I'm bored and If I don't annoy you I'll die.”

“Go die in the corner.”

“Y/n if I did die you'll be sobbing your pretty little eyes out.”

“Nah. Now go die.”

“No.” he poked you repeatedly until you burst out laughing getting hair dye on you and him. “Are you going to style the locs?”

“I was thinking of doing a simple, classic back ponytail.”

“Mmm.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” he smirks.

“Nah, I hear it in your voice there is something.”

“You're gonna have your locs pulled back. Maybe we can do something.”

“Something like what, Haechan?”

“It has job in it.”

“Oh, boy hell nah.”

JUNGWOO: You were sitting between Jungwoo legs as he helped you style your locs. You wanted a side ponytail and jungwoo was oddly good at doing them, he even could lay your baby hairs too. Your locs were midnight blue. Your boyfriend helped with picking the color since you really couldn't decide between sea foam green or midnight blue. Midnight blue was the winner.

“Okay, all done!” Jungwoo gives you the hand mirror.

“The retwist and style got me feeling fresh.” you turned your side to side in the mirror. “You did your thang. The color is so pretty on me too!”

Jungwoo smiles feeling proud of himself. “Yeah, I did that!” he pulls out his phone. “Here, let me take pictures. I have to show you off to the guys.”

“Don't. They may fall in love with my beauty.” you say all dramatically making your boyfriend laugh.

“How many times can a person fall in love with the same person? Cause honestly I've fallen in love you with you so many times.”

“Oh, really?” you tilt your head back to look at Jungwoo.

He smiles at you, bringing his face down closer to yours. “Really.” jungwoo softly whispered. “I never want to stop falling in love with you, y/n.”