#my insides have been scooped out and put on display

[artdcnaldson]

i want stepdad!art to lose his mind over the fact that i always call him daddy. need him to pour me heavy glasses of wine at family functions so he can sneak me away to the bathroom to "check on me". need him to invite patrick over to watch matches on the tv when my mom is out of town and ask me to cook them dinner. need patrick to lose his mind when he sees me and the way i throw myself at art. need patrick to persuade art into fucking me, because if you won't then i will. need them to tag team me and bully my pussy until i have to beg them for a break. need patrick to say fine we'll give your little pussy a break, and then lay me down on my tummy and have art fuck my ass instead.

-🐞

GODDDD!!!!

Patrick is so floored when he sees the way you worship the ground Art walks on. When you're sitting at the table asking, "How was practice today, daddy?" with a straight face like it doesn't make your pussy gush to say it.

How you change into your cute little skimpy jammies after dinner— panties on display beneath one of Art's big shirts, and he can see them when you curl on your side and lay across Art's lap to watch whatever movie you put on TV.

Patrick's staying in the guest room beside yours, stays up all night listening to you whine daddy daddy daddy while you fuck yourself with a myriad of toys you keep stashed in your bedside table. This isn't just about Art, it's about him getting a goddamn break from the teasing too.

By the next night, he's gotten into Art's head enough to have you pinned beneath both of them on the bed. Patrick's thick cock stretching your lips wide, jaw aching as he bounces your skull off of his dick. And Art buried in the sweet, tight, wet pussy he's been dreaming about since he said his marriage vows.

“You’re a fucking mess— it’s what you deserve for being such a goddamn tease, isn’t it?” Patrick pulls you off of his cock to slap you across the face, and you moan. “Isn’t it?”

You’re so fucked out you can’t manage more than a weak, “uh-huh—“ before your mouth is back on Patrick’s cock and he’s using your throat as a fleshlight.

And Art— god— is so lost in it. In watching the way your tight cunt swallows up his thick cock, watches the muscles around your entrance flutter and stretch to accommodate his size. He tries to go slow, to be good, but you don’t want that. You want him to dominate you, to bully your pussy and punish you for months of being such a fucking whore for him. Until he’s pumped two loads inside and your cunt is all creamy and messy for him.

Until he can scoop his release on two fingers and use it as lube to ease into your tight, virgin ass while you gasp for daddy daddy daddy—

[obsolescent]

I definitely imagine ghost like this when he comes back from a few months away and he’s just absolutely pissed that reader hasn’t being taking care of herself to take good care of the little ones😭https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJsu6BM3/

Woven Together

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x AFAB!GN!Reader

Author’s notes: Ough I am a sucker for domestic Simon. Honestly, after all he’s been through I feel like he would be a wonderful father and would want to be one, too. To set an example and show that he can and will be different from what his father was. Oops I’m getting carried away, I just love letting characters heal lol. Thank you for your request! Also…Gender neutral names for a parent are kinda hard to find, lol.

Content Warnings: Marriage, mentions of pregnancy, reader has given birth, reader has been neglecting themselves a bit, just in a forgetful way. Reader is called Mapa, a mixture of mama and papa.

CRASH

The sound echoes throughout the house. Your feet are moving before your brain realizes. You clutch the sling that your infant is nestled into close to your chest, trying to keep them asleep while rushing to your other child. You begin to hear them starting to cry and quicken your pace.

You round the corner into the living room, spotting your child. Your oldest, your son, is in the stage known as the “Terrible Twos,” which is an understatement. He’s so curious, getting into any and everything and it’s hard to keep up with him now that you’ve had your other child, your daughter. She’s just turned four months old, still quite small and sleeping throughout most of the day with feedings every couple hours. You have her in a sling secured around your chest while you made lunch for your son, before the sudden loud noise occurred. 

You see now what’s caused the loud racket and his sobbing. The lamp that was on the end table is now broken on the floor, likely due to him running and bumping into it. “Uh oh!” You exclaim, coming towards him with outstretched hands. He runs into your embrace, while hiccupping an “Uh oh” back to you. It’s something you’ve been able to teach him to say when something like this occurs, whenever he makes a mistake or gets hurt, you’ve realized it helps him calm down and to let him know that accidents happen and he isn’t in trouble.

While cooing in his ear and rubbing his back, you hear keys slide into the lock at the front door. Your head snaps to the sound and you watch your husband, Simon, walk inside. He had been able to be at home for the birth of your daughter through paternity leave, but had to leave again after those six weeks ended. He had been gone for a month now and you were so glad to have him home again. Your son also looks toward the sound, now excited at seeing his father home. “Dada!” He yells, rushing towards him. 

He sets his duffle bag aside and crouches down with his arms wide. “Hello, my boy!” He says, scooping him up and hugging him. You beam at the display, before making your way to them both. “Hello to you, too, my loves, " He says, bending down and giving you a quick kiss to the lips, before crouching further to plant one on his daughter’s head. He holds your cheek in his hand, studying your face. He must notice the bags under your eyes, unruliness of your hair, the rumpled clothing. You wince. “Darling…” He trails off, narrowing his eyes at you. 

 “It’s been a rough month without you, honey,” You answer honestly. No use in hiding it, you reckoned, for it was bare to his eyes. “Sit.” Simon instructs you, putting an arm around you, directing you towards the couch. You take a seat, while he sets your son down. “Hold Esther while I put the sling on,” He says, waiting for you to hand it to him. You look up at him, confused. “You need rest, love. Let me watch the children while you relax.” “But you just got back from a mission–” He stops you by cupping your face in his hands. “No arguing. Now, the sling, please.” You grumbled under your breath while slipping your daughter out from the cloth.

After unwrapping yourself from the sling, you hand it to Simon, who begins to place it around himself. Once finished, he scoops up Esther and places her against his chest, safely securing her inside its hold. She begins to fuss, but soon settles after Simon begins rubbing her back and cooing to her. You can’t help but smile at the display, your heart full of love and warmth for your little family. 

Simon grabs your son’s hand. “Timothy, we’re going to let Mapa take a break, alright? Let’s go have ourselves a snack, yeah?” Your son eagerly nods his head, tugging him towards the kitchen. Simon looks back at you with a smile, “Enjoy your break, darling.” “Thank you, Simon. I love you.” “Love you more.” You stand up from the couch and head towards yours and Simon’s room. Slipping into your pajamas, you crawl into bed, sleep gently taking you. 

Waking with a start after feeling the bed shift, you feel arms wrap around you. “Simon?” You asked groggily, looking over your shoulder. “It’s me, love. How was your nap?” “It was wonderful, thank you, honey.” You sit up and wipe the sleep from your eyes, blinking a few times as your eyes adjust to the dark, slivers of moonlight poking through the curtains. “How long did I sleep for?” You asked, remembering it was around one o’clock in the afternoon when Simon arrived home. “It’s nine now,” He replies, running his fingers through your hair. Nine?! 

“Oh my Lord, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep that long, I must’ve been worn slap out.” You feel guilt gnawing at you for leaving Simon alone with the children for so long, before he says, “It’s fine, didn’t want to disturb your rest, you needed it.” He kisses the back of your hand. “The children are asleep, just me and you now.” Oh. You return to his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

“What would I do without you, Simon? Thank you for today,” You say, now running your hands through his short blond locks. He hums with a grin, “Bare minimum I could do, was glad to have the time with the little ones anyways.” He was never one to accept praise. “Now, I want to spend my time with my spouse. Are you hungry?” The mention of food causes your stomach to growl, loudly. You both laugh, before Simon pulls you from bed. “Let’s order some takeout and watch a movie, yeah?” You grin and nod, excited at the prospect of an at-home date with your husband. 

After ordering food, you settle down to wait for the delivery, nestled against each other on the couch. You lay down while Simon’s situated against you, his head on your chest while holding you close. You don’t take for granted the time you have with Simon. Always glad to be in his company. It’s times like these you cherish the most, able to make the most of the time allotted to you two. “I love you,” You whisper to him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He turns his head up to stare into your eyes, his honeyed gaze filled with adoration. “Love you most.”

[silver-itallics]

My Favorite Inside Source

Leon Kennedy x reader

Part 2!

Warnings: Non-con, drugging, kidnapping, kind of cnc, Leon being a weird old man and feeling bad about it

Title is from Rape Me by Nirvana

This is inspired by Waste Me from @gilfhub !! super cool awesome person I love their brain

This was a stupid idea.

Most of your ideas have been stupid recently.

But you feel stupid, so your antics fit.

You don't have enough self respect to care anyway.

There's a red solo cup in your hand, inside it a mix of alcohols that will probably give you liver damage in your thirties. Raising it to your lips, the drink isn't half bad.

Or maybe you're just too drunk to tell.

The alcohol burns your throat, making you feel a strange mix of nauseous and euphoric. Around you, everyone else seems to be in the same condition.

People grind against their partners in a sorry excuse for dancing, stumbling as much as you are.

It's perfect.

For the past few weeks, you've been doing this. Getting drunk or high out of your mind, sometimes both, in hopes of someone looking your way. You've exhausted your skimpiest of outfits, and worn enough makeup to provide for a beauty pageant.

You leave your cups unattended, and drink any suspicious substance you can get your hands on. You flirt without paying attention to any red flags, letting your neckline hang low enough to practically show nipples.

It's like you're begging to get scooped up and thrown in the back of a trunk.

Actually, what you want is worse than that.

All of your antics are an attempt to get bent over in a stranger's bedroom or a dirty bedroom while you scream "please, no!"

In your mind, no one will lay their hands on you unless you're one step away from unconsciousness.

Pretty girls get taken home. Pretty girls get paid attention to.

You, however, are begging to get raped.

Quite literally.

The last guy that came close enough to shoving his hands down your pants got scared away. You begged him to rape you; you were drunk enough for it to be considered the sort.

He pushed you off, calling you a freak and all sorts of names without even touching you.

Ever since then, your efforts have doubled.

You put your body on display, despite how unattractive you find it. Even in a skirt so short you can see your panties and a shirt so low cut your bra is showing, you barely get any attention.

Maybe it's your soft jawline, or hip dips. The lack of attention could be chalked up to your round tummy or the pimple below your lip. Or it could be your frizzy hair, or the fact that you only talk about three things.

You could make a list out of things you hate about yourself.

Instead, you're fishing for attention, using your tits and ass as bait on a hook.

Still, you keep coming up empty handed.

As you lean over the bar, purposely looking away from your drink, you can feel eyes on you. You push the thought away, your insecurities not believing that anyone would look at you that way. But actually, quite a lot of people look. Only because your pussy is practically hanging out of your skirt, but you catch their eyes anyway.

This time, though, you don't feel just a fleeting glance. You can feel staring.

Turning, you find the culprit. A man twice your age with shaggy dark blond hair watches you like a hawk. You're surprised, considering he's quite attractive. The guy is well built, with muscles and a sharp jawline with a bit of stubble. Pretty. You'll bite.

You give him a smile, playing up how drunk you are. However, it's not hard, considering you'd probably break a breathalyzer with how much alcohol is in your system. The fact that you haven't thrown up yet is a miracle.

Instead of walking over to him, you shift your focus to the bar once more, playing hard to get. Guys like that. At least you think they do. You've never really caught enough guys' attention to say for sure.

Shifting your hips, you arch your back to give him a good view of your panties. The skirt you're wearing is already quite short, but the angle makes the fabric slip up your behind even more. At least there's enough fat in your body to give you some semblance of an ass.

That seems to do the trick, as in a few minutes, you feel a warm hand on your lower back. Now that you've got his attention, time to reel him in.

"Hey handsome," you slur, stumbling a little. That gives you the opportunity to press your cup against his chest in hopes he takes the chance to roofie your drink.

The guy catches you, his hand slipping to your waist. You have to stop yourself from melting into his embrace and begging for it already. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, and you can feel his strength in just the simple touch.

"Hey yourself."

You talk with him for a few minutes, making sure to compliment him as much as possible and insult yourself at every given chance. Playing the pathetic role isn't difficult, as you aren't really pretending.

Eventually, you learn the man's name is Leon, and as you guessed, he's quite a bit older than you. Almost twice your age. Which is even better in your twisted mind.

"Gonna go pee." You shove your cup into his hand, walking to the bathroom at the back of the bar. There's a long line, which gives Leon enough time to decide what to do with your drink.

At first, he protects it. His hand is wrapped around the opening, and he keeps an eye out for anyone that might have looked your way earlier.

But really, he should be protecting you from himself.

Leon didn't come here with the intention of taking anyone home. Especially unconscious.

But you played into his hands so perfectly, practically putting yourself on a silver platter for him. You probably wouldn't even notice if he slipped something in your drink.

Guilt twists in his stomach.

Girls were always hard for Leon. They liked his looks, but never stuck around long enough to appreciate his personality. At least that's what he told himself.

Except for you.

You liked both his looks and personality, easily charming jokes out of him. And you even laughed.

Some of them you genuinely found funny.

Plus, your self esteem was so low, you'd probably give him what he wanted if he asked politely. Still, there was the chance you'd fight, and he couldn't have that.

The thought made Leon feel sick.

What the hell was he doing?

As quickly as the nausea came, it subsided. The feeling was replaced with the memory that Leon hadn't had pussy in years. He knew you had a nice warm cunt that you'd turn over in minutes.

But you'd be tighter if he took it from you.

That was what helped him decide.

He was only a man, one with needs. You were a fragile, insecure girl.

This would be a cakewalk.

Leon slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a few melatonin tablets. He kept them on him because he couldn't sleep most nights.

He probably wouldn't be sleeping after the guilt of what he was about to do, but the need to feel your plush walls was stronger than any morals Leon had.

Normally, he'd be better than this. But after his entire team got killed in front of him because of a stupid mistake he made, Leon hadn't been the same.

He dumped the pills into your drink.

They drop down to the bottom, fizzing as they start to dissolve. Hopefully the little tablets disappear fast enough for you not to notice. That way, the only evidence would be the effects you'd feel later. Hopefully he'd be able to keep you entertained long enough to scoop you up.

Just in time, you appear behind Leon, dragging your fingers up his arm.

"Sorry, line was long. Miss me?" You tease.

"Lots," Leon chuckles. He gives your drink a subtle shake before handing it back to you. Without even checking the contents, you take it.

"Protected it with my life."

You smile at Leon's stupid joke, taking a big swim of your drink. You really hope he put something in it.

"Well, thank you for your service."

Swishing your drink, you make sure not to look down at the liquid. Leon is glad you don't, as the pills at the bottom are still dissolving. God, he's even bad at drugging stupid sluts at bars.

The only thing he feels he's good at is guns.

They're easy, people aren't. When his gun jams, he knows exactly what to do. But Leon's mouth goes dry when you look at him with those doe eyes of yours.

The two of you talk a little longer, and you make sure to down your drink quickly. Once you get down to the bottom, your face twists a little at the unfamiliar taste. Leon notices, and panics a little. But he needs to be calm. Pretend like nothing's wrong.

So he claps a harsh hand on your shoulder, shaking your body with the motion. He almost forgets what he's doing as he watches your skin jiggle a little.

"It's okay, kid. I didn't like alcohol at first, either."

He manages a smile, but Leon knows he's an idiot. Calling the girl he's about to take home and fuck senseless a "kid" is not the right move. Even if fucking isn't the right word for what he's about to do to you.

Thirty minutes. Leon needs to occupy for thirty minutes, so that the melatonin kicks in. Surprisingly, the task isn't as hard as he thought. Even if you're a little annoying, you entertain yourself well, talking as if he cares. You're like a puppy chasing its own tail. He almost feels bad for what he's about to do.

Almost.

Leon pulls you closer as you yawn, supporting your weight on his biceps. Jeez, you're heavier than he thought you'd be. That might be a problem.

"'m sleepy," you mutter, completely forgetting what you came here for. Well, either way you wanted someone to take you home, and that's exactly what you're gonna get.

You lurch forward, feeling dizzy and sick. Even in this dazed state, you realize: you've actually been drugged. Fear creeps up your belly, latching itself on each of your ribs. For so long, you've fantasized about this, and now that it's happening, you're getting cold feet.

There's a look of inebriated panic on your face, clear as day. Feeling sluggish like jelly, you reach up, pointing a wobbly finger at Leon's chest.

"Leon… you…" slurring, you can't even get the words out. The bartender looks curiously at the two of you, to which Leon puts on one of those charming smiles of his. The one that's gotten him so far, the one he's mastered from years of kissing up to the president.

His hand slides into place around your waist, pushing down your accusatory finger.

"Think she's had too much to drink," he chuckles, looking down at you. "Haven't you, baby?"

Baby.

The word is enough to make you compliant. Leon's voice repeats in your head, putting you to sleep like one of those audiobooks you listened to as a kid.

Sleepily, you nod, relenting your body to him. You're like a bunny chasing a carrot on a string. Except you'd follow that carrot even if it led you into an active volcano. Leon almost pities you. But he pities himself more.

He's rough when he shoves you into the car, and you drift off in seconds. You're out like a light, so he's gotta work fast to get you to his apartment. Leon could always rape you in his car, but he's classier than that. He's a private man, even if he's a dick.

When you're finally on his bed is when he realizes what he's doing. Sprawled out on his pillows, your hair drifts out like a halo. With your eyes closed and lips parted, you look sweet. Even if you're not a blonde bombshell on the cover of playboy magazine.

You're just some girl, an average one.

Some might even call you a victim.

Leon feels nauseous again. Normally he can hold his whiskey, but this is a different type of sick feeling. He's sick in the head, and he knows it. Like a parasite in his head, one he can see, but can't remove.

That same parasite is what makes him crawl between your legs as you're sleeping, pressing his face to your panties. Nice ones, too. He lifts up your skirt to get better access and a better look at the lacy fabric covering your slit. He takes a deep whiff before pushing himself back up.

Leon's gotta work fast, as you're just asleep, not paralyzed. Another amateur mistake. He might have to concuss you if you make too much noise. Surprisingly, he's okay with that. He's broken plenty of skulls, and yours would be just one more. Except you're not infected with any disease, except for a similar one that he has, and you're not a war criminal.

Looking you over, Leon notices what little clothing you're wearing. Claire would tell him it's not good to say that girls are "asking for it", but it kinda seems like you are. He's not sure whether that makes this whole situation better or worse.

Whatever.

The top of your obnoxiously colorful bra peeks out from your shirt, and Leon tugs it down. Your boobs are average, but the first real ones he's seen without paying for them. Even if he'll probably pay for this later. Just not in money.

He's old now, and can't get hard as easily as before. But that doesn't stop his dick from trying to. Man, he's stooped low.

In his twenties, he had girls throwing themselves at him, but never the ones he wanted. Before, his expectations were high. But now he's getting chubbed from the sight of some average tits.

You're an average joe in almost every way. Boobs aren't too big, and your ass isn't huge either. You're mostly fat, which is probably to blame for most of your ass anyways.

But if Leon is good at anything, it's dealing with what he's given.

So he lowers his mouth down to one of your tits, taking your nipple in his lips. He's not as good at it as he used to be, but the skin hardens anyways. Maybe you're good at settling, too. Just like he is.

You squirm a little each time he sucks on your nipples, eyebrows creasing. Leon takes them both in his hands, and each of your boobs fit nicely in his palms. Maybe this isn't so bad.

He jerks his hips forward, trying to get his dick hard. You make it a little easier for him to get it up, compared to the night he spends alone. At least he has some material tonight that's not on paper or a screen.

Your panties are starting to get wet, which is fine, even if he'd prefer you a bit drier. You'd be tighter that way.

He leaves most of your clothes on, figuring you'd be less violated than way. Leon's line of thinking doesn't always make the most sense, but he does it anyways. When he pulls away your underwear, he chuckles a little. You've got a pretty pussy for an average joe, but with a hack job of pubes.

At least you smell nice.

He slides your underwear off your legs, tossing them into a drawer in his nightstand. A keepsake. Trophy. Or maybe material if you ever get away. Probably evidence if you ever go to the police.

Maybe Leon's life will turn around if he gets arrested. Or the president will just break him out and he'll be back to fighting nightmares day and night.

He's trapped in this stupid job. But he's not trapped with you. With you, Leon finally has control. He can make you jerk by playing with your nipples and whine when he kisses your clit. But being nice is boring.

Normally he'd eat a girl out, for the sake of chivalry or whatever. But this is about him, not you. You don't have control here.

He pushes his jeans to his knees, just enough to get his dick out. At least it's hard now, from the sight and smell of your pussy. Probably your best feature.

When he presses the tip against your pretty folds, you gasp. The first sound you've made tonight. Leon doesn't find the noise to be unbearable, so he keeps going.

When he pushes in, he's the one that makes a noise. You're tight as hell, and just wet enough to slip in, but not too much to be sloppy. Christ, you squeeze him like you're trying to kill him.

This is when you wake up. If the state you're in can even be considered consciousness. You feel like you're dreaming, but you fight Leon off anyways. Or try to. The way you push at him is pretty cute honestly. Similarly to how a kitten plays with a piece of string.

"Leon! Stop… it hurts…"

Your smaller hands push at his clothed chest, and he easily catches both of them in one of his larger hands. Sure, you wanted to be raped, but now that you are, you're scared. The fear in your eyes is laughable.

"Thought you wanted this," he mumbles out, struggling to push into your tight walls. You bleed a little, which helps him slide in. Leon's used to blood on his hands, or really everywhere. But never his dick.

Now you're crying. You feel stupid, incredibly so. But Leon's only focusing on the bounce of your tits and stomach, the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"I did!" You hiccup. Your hands still push at his own, despite the fact he's got you pinned and straddled. "I- I don't know!"

Your sobs subside as you focus more on the feeling. The pain is still there, of course, you haven't had dick in years. But it feels good in the same way that popping pimples does or sticking safety pins in your fingers.

Even in sex, you're self destructive. You stop fighting, even starting to enjoy it a little. With the melatonin still in your system, you drift in and out of sleep, which probably helps your case. Leon's thrusts are a little too rough to take fully conscious.

"There we go," he says, speeding up. He's taken to a rhythm that feels good for him, and if you like it too, that's fine. He'll hate himself afterwards either way.

Leon grabs your chin, squishing your chubby cheeks between his fingers. He lets go of your hands, which fumble for his shirt, but not to push him off this time. You're pulling him in even closer. Wiping the tears off your cheeks, the older man smiles down at you. It's sadistic, but a smile nonetheless.

"Good sluts take what they're given, yeah?"

You whine, nodding dumbly. Your tongue feels numb in your mouth and your pussy feels sore. In a way that you probably shouldn't like. Leon's fucking you in a way that will probably cause you to book an appointment with a pelvic floor therapist.

He grunts, and your eyes go all starry. Leon ignores the stupid look you're giving him, splaying his hands on your fat thighs, spreading them further. He's close.

Maybe fifteen years ago, he'd be able to last longer or be kinder to you. But the squeeze of your cunt and soft, slick noises are driving him crazy. Crazier than he has to be to do something like this.

He's about to tell you of the predicament, figuring you'd be relieved. But you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush with yours. The pain of his dick hitting your cervix makes you a little nauseous, but you're sick enough to like the sting. Your head is thrown back in a moan as he cums inside of you.

For a moment, Leon feels like he's actually fucking someone he cares about, not just some slut he drugged at a bar. There's a sense of normalcy as his brain goes fuzzy with the orgasm. Your tight pussy makes him cum so hard he sees stars. Something that hasn't happened in years.

But when he comes down, slumping on top of you and breathing heavily, he realizes what he's done. Leon rolls over to the other side of the bed, giving you more than enough space. You're falling back asleep already when the post nut clarity hits him like a truck.

He almost cries, even if he's not the one that is currently bleeding onto his sheets from being treated so roughly. There's even slight bruises on your jaw and hips from where he'd been grabbing you all night. Feels like the night he planned to kill himself all over again. That time he had Sherry to keep him alive, but now she's all grown up and better off without him.

You mumble something in your sleep, causing Leon to turn his head to look at you. He didn't even have the patience to undress you fully; your tits are haphazardly pulled out of your shirt, and your skirt is bunched up around your hips. He didn't even look close enough at your body, the way you deserve. The way he can't give you.

God, he's an asshole.

Or probably even worse than that.

Leon watches you sleep. You're not the prettiest, or the most confident, but now he's stuck with you. Trapped the way he is with his job. In a strange way, he feels connected to you. Not in a love way, but in the way that the bruises on your jaw are in the shape of his fingers. Not anyone else's.

Maybe he won't end it tonight. Maybe he'll stay alive another day. Since he roughed you up so badly, and you're still living. Even if you're leaking a mixture of cum and blood on his sheets. Stupid thing, did nobody teach you to pee after sex? But Leon's not going to wake you. He's probably not even going to get up, either. You'll have matching UTI's and be stuck even closer in this fucked up spiderweb he's created between the two of you.

Sometime past five in the morning is when Leon falls asleep. Surprisingly, he's been given a decent vacation after his last screw up. God knows how long that'll last.

When he wakes up, blinding light filtering in through his dusty apartment, the first thing he sees is you. You're laying on his chest, still barely dressed. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you're drooling a little on his shirt.

He's not even considerate enough to try not to wake you, shoving you to the side so he can go pee. You fall to the side, blinking slowly as you wake up.

"Where are you going?" You ask, voice scratchy from sleep and all the crying you did last night. Screaming, too.

Leon can't even look at you. He's still stuck in that state of realization. Because now he knows what he is. Before, he was the golden boy, the president's favorite. But now he's a rapist and overall a big splotch of a mistake.

"Gotta piss," he grumbles, already halfway in the bathroom. You watch him curiously, as if you want to come in. Leon immediately shuts the door, a bit too harshly.

He stays in the bathroom too long. Your blood and other fluids dried on his dick and pelvis, which he only cleans off because it's itchy. But also because he doesn't really want to be reminded of what he did. Leon wishes he could clean off last night like the dried blood on his skin.

But he knows he can't.

Once he's done, he stumbles into the kitchen, planning on downing a bottle of whiskey for breakfast. Or lunch. It's already past noon.

Leon's plan comes to a screeching halt as he smells food cooking. You're fully dressed again, albeit, without underwear.

All of the guilt he's been feeling all night can't compare to the absolute misery he feels watching you.

The girl he raped last night.

You're cooking breakfast for him, like a little housewife.

The fact that you're not crying even hurts more. You're humming softly, poking around some bacon in a pan with a spatula. Somehow, you found something to cook for him, though he's been living off of takeout and microwave meals for about a week now.

After a few minutes of staring is when you notice that Leon is there. You turn, confirming the fact that you're cooking for him.

"Hey," you're smiling at him, bright doe eyes and rosy cheeks. "I just wanted to say thanks for last night."

God. What the hell has he done?

[stevesbestgirl]

Phases of the Moon - Part 1

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

2796 words

Warnings: poor imitations of British speaking habits, not much else in part one, maybe a few curses but I’m not sure

A/N: This was my attempt to write a slow-burn. It’s long, self-indulgent, and obscenely fluffy. Reader is specified as American, but mostly so I can avoid pretending I know anything about living in the UK. Steven and Marc are aware of each other and trying to find balance in their relationship in this fic, but keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point. 

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Go talk to her.”

“Well I can’t, can I?” Steven sent a furtive glance at you, toying absently with your phone while you examined the glyphs inside a display.

“Why can’t you?”

“She’s got earphones in.”

Marc scoffed in the glass of one of the display cases, “Always an excuse.”

“I can’t just interrupt her, that’d be rude!”

“Not if she’s interested.”

Steven’s reply was cut short as a pair of boys came rushing around the corner, laughing and shoving each other- Steven wouldn’t have placed them at older than twelve. He watched helplessly as one firm push sent the smaller of the two reeling into your backside. Completely oblivious to their noise, you went sprawling, headphones disconnecting as your phone hit the ground and was sent skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest at Steven’s feet.

Inhibitions gone, Steven scooped your phone up and rushed over, offering a hand to help you up, “Are you okay?” You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “You lot,” he called out, locating the pair sidling off behind a diorama, “C’mere.” 

They looked like they were considering bolting, but the smaller of them located Steven’s badge and took a reluctant step forward. By the time they stood in front of you, they were looking rather cowed, like puppies who’d been caught gnawing a slipper. 

“Shape up, you hear? You could’ve really hurt someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Now listen, down that corridor there, there’s a bunch of old weapons; spears, cudgels, daggers, the like. How about you go give it a look?” You watched him speak to the two boys; his enthusiasm seemed very genuine, not the fake kind adults often used with children.

The taller boy hesitated before leaving, “What’s a cudgel?”

Steven smiled a little, “Why don’t you go on and find out?” Then the two rushed in the direction he’d indicated and he called after them, “Slowly, hm?”

Once they were out of sight, you finally spoke, “Are you sure that was a good idea? Sending them in there with a bunch of weapons?” You couldn’t help but smile as he unconsciously smoothed his dark, nearly sleep-tousled curls back from his face.

His intent had been to chuckle, but it came out as more of an empty puff of air, “They’re all under glass- should be alright.” He added, “Maybe I’ll pop in to check on them, just in case.” Nervous now, he looked down at his hands, still holding your phone, “Oh, there you are.” Your expression fell and only then did he notice the spiderweb of cracks in the bottom corner where it had hit the floor, “Oh no.”

You shook your head, accepting the phone and dropping it to your side, like putting it out of sight would make him forget, “It’s alright. Just a screen protector. I’ll get a new one eventually.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he insisted, his earnest gaze finally meeting yours just in time for your face to go warm. You’d thought you’d been ready to hear the term of endearment used so casually when you came to England, but apparently not.

“It’s alright,” you rushed to speak. “Definitely not your fault. Thanks for helping me-” you glanced at his name tag, “-Steven.”

“No problem- it is my job after all,” he cracked a halfhearted smile.

“You were great with those kids too.”

Rosy warmth tinged his cheeks and his gaze shifted away, “Thanks.” A small pause, “Your accent- you’re American?”

You nodded, “Needed a change of scenery, so I’m staying with some family for a while. Just got in yesterday, actually.”

His gaze eagerly lifted to yours again, but flicked away over your shoulder and he went slightly pale. Glancing back, you saw a stocky woman with dirty blonde hair gesturing impatiently at him.

Returning his gaze to you, he looked a bit panicked, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I- ah-” He tripped over his words and almost tripped almost his feet as well, veering around you and backing away toward the woman beckoning him over. 

You raised your hand in an uncertain farewell as he stammered his way backwards, gesturing faintly over his shoulder with his thumb in a faint attempt at an explanation. Once he was within range, the woman seemed to be lighting into him a bit, though his gaze hadn’t yet left you. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers that he looked at her. 

Not wanting to spy, you turned away, checking your phone for the time. When Steven glanced your way again, he only caught your retreating form disappearing out the entrance. For once, Donna’s criticisms didn’t affect him since he was already kicking himself for not asking you out. Or getting your phone number. Or even your name. He’d blown it. 

*

The following day, you had a bit more time to explore the museum, so you returned. And you noted with dismay, when the cabbie called you “love”, you didn’t so much as blink, let alone blush. Maybe it had been a one-off thing. Now you would be immune. 

Walking in and spotting the woman from before at the front desk, you plucked up a bit of courage and approached. Her name tag read “Donna” and she prompted with visible disinterest, as though she were reading off a script, “Welcome. Is there something I can direct you to?”

Deciding to push forward, you said, “Actually, I was just in here yesterday. I ran into a bit of trouble with a couple of young boys and one of your tour guides helped me. I wanted to let you know that Steven was very polite and just lovely with those kids-”

“Stevie? He isn’t a tour guide,” Donna interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “In his dreams, maybe.”

“But he does work here?”

“Yeah, he’s the gift shoppist.” She was still being very flippant; it was clear that she’d barely had interest in this conversation to begin with and now that it was about Steven, it had dwindled to none. 

“Right. Thank you.” You forced a smile and nodded before heading off in the direction of the gift shop.

The counter was empty when you first walked into the room, sending a tiny shoot of disappointment into your chest. You wanted to thank him, since it didn’t appear that you could score him any points with his boss.

You wondered for a moment if you should come back later, but then a shaggy, brown mop of hair sprung up from behind the counter, triumphantly brandishing what appeared to be a large, amber-colored marble with a bone inside it, “Got ya, you little bugger.”

His gaze fell on you and he tucked the marble behind his back, like it was something to hide, “You- you came back.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday, “I was only passing through yesterday.” You unfolded the brochure and showed him the notes you’d taken on the map, detailing where you wanted to go first and which exhibits had caught your eye, “I like to plan a little bit.”

He followed the line you traced with your finger intently, raising his gaze to your face when you pulled away, “That’s a good way to go about it. The tour is pretty good too.” Steven’s heart skipped as your lips pulled into a slight frown; had he said something wrong? 

“Speaking of the tour, I tried to put in a good word for you with your boss- as thanks, for yesterday- she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Oh, yes. Donna and I have got a bit of a rocky history.” He added quickly, “Not a history, mind you. More like a boss/employee history. I’ve got a bit of a bad track record with my punctuality, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you’d make a lovely tour guide, for what it’s worth.”  

There was another one of those long pauses; you were about to offer a meek “Thanks again,” and cut your losses when he spoke up, “If you like, I’m on a break in ten minutes. I could show you around.”

You’d insisted to yourself that this wasn’t why you came back here, but you found yourself nodding, a faint smile on your lips, “I’d like that.”

Steven seemed even more surprised than you were, nodding quickly, “Great- that’s- great.” He nodded again, “I can meet you in the ‘King’s Tomb’ exhibit.” He pointed, “Right over there-” He checked his watch, “-in nine minutes.”

Your smile widened, “See you in nine minutes then.” You moved off in the direction he’d indicated, the temptation to look back gnawing at you. 

“Wait!” he called after you. You turned back, “I haven’t got your name.”

“You haven’t needed it, have you?” 

Now you were teasing and you knew it. But you could feel his eyes on you as you disappeared around the corner and you smiled to yourself. So much for doing your own thing. The whole reason for coming to London was to get away from men- although you supposed it was more one man than men in general. But something about Steven just caught your eye.

So you waited out the impossibly long eight minutes remaining until Steven walked in, looking in a bit of a rush. You watched him scan the exhibit, almost like he’d expected you to have left by now.

You raised a hand, “Steven.” He positively lit up at the sight of you, relief visible in the heavy exhale he released- like he'd been holding his breath. 

You met him in the center of the room, clasping your hands behind your back in anticipation. Steven still had the remnants of a grin on his face, though he mirrored your posture, a bit of enthusiasm escaping as he bounced on the balls of his feet, just once, “What do you want to see?”

“You’re my tour guide, you tell me,” you teased. 

Almost instantly, his face flushed, “Well, I wasn’t sure if there were specific displays you wanted to look at or certain subjects you were interested in, you know? Since I've only got fifteen minutes on my break.” 

“Well, I’m interested in everything, but since we only have fifteen minutes; how about you show me the way you’d start your tour if you were a guide?” His cheeks darkened further and you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to smile again. But he surprised you, recovering quickly and placing his hand on your arm. He steered you over to one of the displays and you glanced at him, “The Ennead?”

The Ennead,” he corrected your pronunciation. “The Egyptian Gods.” He wheeled around so his back was to the exhibit, his gaze meeting yours with ease. “Everything about Egypt comes back to the gods one way or another, so to understand Egypt, you have to understand them.”

He walked you through the exhibit, one god or goddess at a time, his hands moving animatedly as he talked. And he was good at it, in a different way than you’d expect. He had such a wealth of knowledge- you felt comfortable asking questions because you expected him to have the answers. And he answered many of your questions before you could even ask them; his explanations were pretty comprehensive. 

It was all strangely charming, actually. His enthusiasm was so genuine, it was as though he invited you inside it with him. It was a nice place to be- like sharing a secret. It was also putting you in dangerous territory; a magnetic field that would be hard to pull yourself from.

Once you were about halfway through the eleven, you tentatively raised your hand. Steven faltered slightly, giving you the chance to speak up, “Two things- I just want to check the time, I’d hate for you to be-”

“Late-” he checked his watch faster than you could pull out your phone.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the gift shop, “Well, come on then, I don’t want you getting into trouble!”

Steven’s long strides quickly outpaced you; you had to hurry to keep up, a laugh at the ridiculousness of it slipping out. Steven glanced back- nearly shouldering a display case. Right before impact, his back straightened a bit, like he sensed it coming, and he just twisted out of the way. It was so smooth you wouldn’t have noticed the deft movement if you hadn’t been anticipating the collision.

By the time you skidded to a halt in front of the gift shop counter, you were full-on giggling; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard over almost nothing. “Sorry about that,” Steven offered meekly.

You took a breath and collected yourself a bit, though you still felt the warmth of the laughter in your cheeks, “Don’t be- it was fun.”

“What was the other thing?” he asked, shuffling back behind the counter.

“Hm?”

“You said there were two things, the time and what else?”

“Oh! Well that exhibit was called the ‘King’s Tomb,’ right? Why are the gods in that one?”

He leaned on the counter, some of his timid demeanor vanishing, “Well, the pharaohs were considered to be gods by their people. So they put them in a room together. And since the mummies are what brings in the crowds, they get the-” he clicked his tongue, framing a little marquee with his fingers, “-title spot.”

“I suppose you know quite a lot about those too?”

He gave a chagrined smile, “Did I go on a bit much then?”

You shook your head, “Not at all- I wasn’t teasing. I wish we’d had time to do the whole exhibit.”

“I’d wager with me giving it, that tour would take all week,” he joked, feeling like he’d done too much talking during your time together.

You shrugged, “I’m on vacation.” Smiling, you added, “Or holiday, you’d probably call it.”

He smiled weakly at the joke, seeming to be working out what you’d meant. He scanned your face, as though nervous he was misreading you, but you just smiled at him. “I’m scheduled again on Thursday, I could- if you like, I mean- I could show you some more. Of the exhibit. Obviously. If you want.” 

You were here for freedom. You’d come all the way to another country so you could do what you wanted, when you wanted, no strings attached. But, you reasoned, this wasn’t dating. This was an exclusive tour, on Steven’s break. It wasn’t like he was taking you out to dinner.

You were bargaining; whittling away your rules to nothing because they no longer suited your purposes. You knew that. And you also knew that you only did so because Steven was, very clearly, a large string. A large string with lovely, brown, puppy eyes and enough passion for Egypt to make a pharaoh blush. But you nodded anyway, “I’d love to come back. Same time?”

He seemed stunned by your acceptance, but he nodded rapidly to overcompensate for the moment of hesitation, “Yeah. My break is at three.”

You smirked, “How many minutes from now?”

He stared at you for a moment- you almost wondered if he was trying to do the math, but then he flushed and gave a weak chuckle, “Right, I’ll work on that one.”

You pulled out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday and a pen from your bag, “Since I won’t be needing this anymore-” You scribbled down your name and number and slid the brochure across the table, “Text me when you figure it out.” No strings, you reminded yourself.

He gave another hurried nod, “Okay, I will, I-” 

You got a sense of deja vu as Steven glanced over your shoulder and paled in nearly the exact same way he had yesterday. “Is it Donna?” You quickly scanned the counter, grabbing a stuffed hippopotamus, “Because I’d like to purchase this.” You deliberately moved it across the counter where Donna would be able to see and pulled out your wallet.

Now Steven looked back to you, “You don’t have to do that. Most of this stuff if junk-”

“I want to. This one is kind of cute.” You held out the money, “And you’ll tell me all about it next time?”

He nodded, a small smile returning to his face, “Yeah, I will.” He handed back your change and the plush, speaking up so Donna could hear, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

You smiled, “Same to you.”

You left the other way so Donna wouldn’t see your face, hoping she wasn’t descending on Steven for being late from his break. You held the little hippo plushie to your chest and thought ahead to Thursday.

[mustainegf]

you're a literal poet in your mustaine smuts omg. so i thought i'd request a rough dave smut with angst tone, perhaps in the middle of a fight he or reader just grabs the other and kiss em ✨️angrily✨️ or push them onto the bed and just like "yolo im fucking the shit outta you". then at the end of the angry sex they just cuddle and whisper "sorry"'s in eachother's ears with some tears and maybe aftercare. IDK WHY THIS REQ IS REALLY LONG IM SORRY

I love how you guys can tell Dave is my favourite to write for LMAO I love you nonnie and this request is so scrumptious!?! Omg?!

As Dave and I found ourselves trapped in yet another heated debate about his relentless work schedule, frustration bubbled within me like a relentless tide.

“You're always working, Dave. We never have time for each other anymore," I lamented, my voice tinged with sadness and resentment.

He retaliated with excuses, his words landing like blows, each one stinging more than the last. "I have to work, you know that. It's not like I want to spend all my time in the studio," he argued, his tone defensive.

Back and forth we went, our voices rising and falling like waves crashing against the shore.

But then, in the midst of our tumultuous exchange, Dave suddenly fell silent. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, holding me captive in its intensity.

And before I could comprehend what was happening, he reached out, his hands cupping my face with a tenderness that caught me off guard.

In that moment, the weight of our argument faded as his lips found mine in a desperate kiss.

It was as if he had been starving for my touch, and I was his sole source of sustenance.

He devoured me, kissing me with a passion that left me breathless. And then, just when I thought he would never stop, he pulled away, his eyes burning with need.

Fuck, Whyd he have to be so hot when he was angry?

Dave scooped me up quickly, tossing me onto the bed, his eyes still locked onto me.

He pounced, climbing over me as he lips found mine again. I couldn't help but cup his cheeks, fighting my lips with his.

"Let me show you how much I care, if you don't believe me." he growled angrily, nipping at my neck.

"Dave, I-'" I started, but he cut me off, tearing my shirt off. "Hush, just relax."

And then it hit me-this was the way Dave was expressing his love for me. He didn't say the words, but his actions spoke volumes.

As he stripped me down, I realized he was doing this to prove that I mattered to him. To make me understand that despite his busy schedule, I was his top priority.

That he was willing to put everything else aside for me. The realization filled me with warmth, and I let go of all the anger and hurt that had been building inside me.

His thick brows furrowed with determination as he stripped me bare, leaving me on display for him.

He tugged off his shirt, god Iloved his body. He wasn't skinny, nor was he heavy. He was strong, with somewhat of a dadbod. So sexy.

He crawled up my body and took my mouth roughly, swallowing my moan. Fuck, this man was gonna give me the best orgasm ever. "So beautiful," he muttered, trailing his fingers over my chest.

"Let me show you just how much." His kisses were like fire. Hard, intense, and with such passion. I knew it was because of how frustrated he was, but I didn't care. "Just how much I love you." he murmured.

Dave wasted no time in peeling off his sweats and boxers, and I could see just how desperate he was.

His erection stood proudly from his hips, reaching for me. My heart raced as I spread my legs wide, welcoming him inside. I whimpered, my own arousal pulsing between my legs.

He teased me, sliding just the head into me, pausing there until I was begging for more. His hands stroked my breasts, squeezing them softly.

He slowly entered me, filling me inch by glorious inch. "Yes, oh yes," I cried, loving every single inch of him. He pushed deeper, burying himself inside me. Our eyes met, and he smiled. God, Iloved that smile.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked huskily. "Ye-yes," I gasped, unsure if I even heard right. But who cared now, I was getting exactly what I needed.

"Fuck, yeah," he growled, pulling out and slamming back in. I screamed as he fucked me hard, hitting me deep.

His hand gripped my leg tightly, lifting it around his shoulder, giving him access. I felt like I was being branded with his mark, claiming me as his.

Fuck, yes, that's exactly what it felt like. "Dave," I whimpered. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispered.

He drove into me harder, faster.

Every thrust sent sparks shooting through my veins. "Look at me," he demanded, his eyes meeting mine. His pupils dilated, his desire pouring from him.

"See how much I care? How much I love you?

Wanna be with you?" He hissed, ramming his hips against mine.

I was lost in his heat, wrapped in his love. Nothing else mattered except us and the connection we shared. I saw the wildness in his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

His gaze was pure and focused, and in that moment, I knew he was giving me his whole heart.

He pulled out and slammed back in, driving me to the edge.

As I watched him, I realized just how much I loved him, no matter how angry either of us got.

"Fuck, Baby, I'm gonna cum!" I wailed, gripping the messy sheets.

Dave fucked into me as hard as he possibly could, letting out groans of his own. "Cum, cum for me..." he growled.

I whined into the bedroom, tipping my head back as helpless words fell from my mouth. "Right there! Oh, I love you..." I whimpered, feeling myself let go and cum over his pistoning cock.

"I'm almost there, sweetheart," Dave whined under his breath.

He pulled out and shot his load across my stomach and breasts. I could feel it warming my skin, and it felt amazing. I opened my eyes, looking into his dazed expression.

"You okay?" He asked softly, grabbing a few tissues from the bedside table to clean his cum from me.

"Mhmm.." I closed my eyes as Dave finished wiping me off.

Once he was done, he came back down on the bed, holding me close, trying to comfort me. "Hey, shhh... I'm here, I promise," he whispered softly. I sighed, resting my head on his chest.

"I'm sorry.." he whispered. "You're right, I should be making more time for you," he agreed softly. I buried my face in his long soft hair, holding him tight.

"I'm sorry for getting so upset," I mumbled, melting into him.

I couldn't help but sniffle, I missed him so much.

He ran his fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head. "It's okay. It's all okay. Just relax, don't worry about anything right now."

"Mmm..." I hummed, closing my eyes and listening to his heartbeat. After a few moments, Dave shifted, placing a warm hand on my cheek. "And I'll make it up to you," he promised.

I grinned, snuggling closer, content with where we were. I could hear his heartbeat slowing, and I knew we both needed sleep. I lifted my head off his chest, smiling at him.

"Okay," I whispered, and he nodded. With that, I relaxed into him once again, enjoying the peace he brought me. It felt good knowing he loved me so fiercely. And for me, that was enough.

[losfacedevil]

Flowers// JTK

a/n~ Just a little thought that made me happy

Jake wasn’t one for gifts or materialistic tokens of appreciation; something you were fully aware of from the first time you had hung out as a group. He thrived off of interactions and the reactions people would have to things that would slip past his lips - his mind never on that of what a simple flower could mean to someone.

He watched your eyes wander to the flower section of the super market you were in. A soft smile spread across your face as you made your way over to the single wrapped carnations they had on display, plucking one up out of the water bucket you brought it to your nose and smelled it before placing it back where you had gotten it from. His bottom lip found a home tucked safely in between his teeth as he flicked his gaze between you and the flower display.

“Hey, you’re almost done right? I’m gonna hit the bathroom really quick and meet you in the car. My stomachs starting to hurt.” He called, watching as you waved him off and turned the corner. He made quick work of plucking the flower you had been admiring out of the water and made a bee line for the registers, not wanting you to see what he was up to. After paying for the single carnation he tucked it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, unzipping it so the flower would be safe where it was hidden away.

It hadn’t taken long for you to finish your shopping and pay for the groceries, quickly making your way to the car and tossed the bags into the trunk. Jake watched you in the rear view mirror and a soft smile played across his lips as you glanced up and blew him a kiss, something you knew always caused his cheeks to redden.

The ride home was short and quiet, top forty music playing on the radio as background noise because neither of you could be bothered to connect to the Bluetooth. But Jakes nerves felt shot, gripping the steering wheel tightly to keep his hands from visibly shaking. You leaned over the center console as he threw the car into park in your driveway and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Did you put my deodorant on by mistake again? You smell like flowers.” You giggled, opening the car door and slid out before slamming it shut and made your way to the back of the car. Jake watched once again as you scooped the two bags out of the trunk and waited for you to close the trunk before he slid out of the car.

Jake quickly made his way up to the front door and opened it for you, stepping inside in front of you and waiting patiently to close the door behind you. He watched as you slowly made your way into the kitchen and placed the bags into the counter. Jake pulled a deep breath in through his nose and plucked the flower out of the inside pocket of his jacket. A smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he glanced down at it and fixed the way the plastic it was wrapped in sat.

He closed the distance between the two of you and reached out, gently tapping your shoulder with the tip of his finger. You raised the shoulder he had tapped in a silent answer, trying to keep your attention on the task at hand. Jake chuckled lightly and reached out, tapping your shoulder a second time. Turning your head slightly, you glanced over your shoulder at him and crinkled your nose.

“Yes, my darlin’?” You cooed, reaching up to place the bag of sugar in the cupboard above your head. Jake wrapped his arm around your midsection and pulled your back flush against his front, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Shy moments like this were often few and far between when it came to Jake and the things on his mind. Turning your head slightly you pressed a soft and reassuring kiss to his forehead.

Jake wrapped his other arm around your midsection and held the flower out in front of you. Turning your attention to his outstretched hand, a smile tugged at your lips and you plucked the carnation out of his grasp. Bringing it to your nose you pulled in a deep breath, the scent of it infiltrating your senses. You could feel his lips curling into a smile against your neck and you turned your head, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“You got me a little surprise.” You cooed, holding back the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes. Jakes arms tightened around your waist and you let your free hand fall to rest gently against his arms.

“Thank you, baby. How’d you know I needed a pick me up?” You mumbled, letting a wave of tears fall and reached up to wipe them away quickly before he knew what was happening.

“It… it was the first time I’ve seen you not have to force a smile all week. I don’t know. It’s just a flower.” A sigh slipped past your lips and you wiggled, a silent request for him to loosen his grip. Turning on your heel you reached out and wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to press your lips to his.

“It’s not just a flower. It’s a little token of love and appreciation and I know you’re not big on materialistic things. To you it’s just a flower, but to me, it reminds me that even when I’m down and out those that love me will always find a way to remind me even in the form of just a flower from the grocery store.”

Jakes eyes lit up as he pulled your body closer to his and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned up on your toes to hides your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in a scent that was undeniably him. His arms tightened around you and he took a step back from the counter, giving you both more room to sway as he began to hum your song.

He knew all you needed was a little quiet time away from the hustle and bustle of work and the real world. Knowing that slowly dancing around the quiet kitchen to whatever song he hummed being one of your favorite things to wind down with. He would give you the world if he could, but for now sloppily hummed songs, slow dances and store bought carnations would have to do.

Jake babe roll call!: @vanfleeter @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @stardustvanfleet @silks-up-my-sleeve @klarxtr @the-wicked-gnome @runwayblues @takenbythemadness

[radiant-reid]

Can we get a blurb of Spencer's reaction to these cakes please and thank you?

https://at.tumblr.com/radiant-reid/me-giving-spencer-a-new-mug/yopr6mdsl000

Okay, i just have to add a couple first so these are the ones he'd get you:

a progression

this is what you have to get Rossi and this is what the team gets you:

this is one you can only get him once it's been long enough that you can laugh about it:

these are just other ones that you get him

blurb based on the middle one ;)

You know Spencer will need some cheering up when he comes home from his case. The ones involving kids have affected him much more with the birth of your daughter, even after two years.

"What this?" Mila asks, pointing at the acronym on the cake she helped you bake. By helped, you mean put every ingredient in her mouth to try it.

"It means daddy I'll love forever." You explain -lie- but she won't remember it to realize the proper meaning. "So we can give it to him when he gets home and he'll be happy."

She frowns a little. "Sad?"

"He won't be when he sees you." You assure her, picking her up from her stool to hug her.

The front door opens a moment later, followed by Spencer's voice as he announces he's home, and you release Mila so she can run over to him, throwing herself around his legs.

"Hey, there's my sweet girl." He coos, scooping her up and holding her tightly.

You can see him relaxing as he holds her, the feeling of home washing over him. "Missed you." She tells him, sloppily kissing his cheek.

You walk over, delivering him your own kiss that he smiles into. "I missed you both, so much." He tells you, leaning into your touch as you run your hand over his back.

"Can we say?" Mila attempts to whisper, looking at you excitedly. You nod, giving her the go-ahead. "We have cake."

"We have what?" He asks animatedly. He doesn't baby-talk her, but he always exaggerates his expression and tone. Before she could speak, he talked as much as he could to her, narrating everything he was doing.

"Cake!" She cheers, squirming in his arms to be put down.

Spencer obliges, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder as you follow her to the kitchen. "How are you?" You ask hushedly.

He's got that teary look in his eyes that breaks your heart, but he nods. "Better now, but probably need to talk later."

"Look!" Mila squeals, displaying the cake.

It's then that he reads the frosting, and his face lights up at what it reads, a giggle slipping from his lips. "Did momma put you up to this?" Spencer asks her.

Mila looks confused by your inside joke, her little brain trying to work it out. "Yes." She says, although she'll agree to anything her dad says.

He grins at you, widely and beautifully, and his hand sneaks down to your ass, squeezing your ass. "Cheeky." He comments.

"It's not my fault." You shake your head. "You're the one who came home in your tight shirt looking like a DILF."

He blushes, looking back to Mila, who's more interested in the cake than she is in your flirting. "Alright, should we have some cake?" He asks, briefly turning back to you to whisper to you. "We'll continue this later."

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Title: Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part II

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader (Sunshine)

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: You lived your life on a schedule. Everything is planned out from sunrise to sunset. But what happens when you go out on a limb and out of your comfort zone? Will it have dire consequences?

Chapter Summary: Lloyd draws you a bath and prepares brunch.

Warnings: dacryphilia, fingering (f receiving), gun, implied/referenced stalking, oral sex (m receiving)

A/N: I barely edited this one. If you catch anything, tell me, please! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Lowering your restrained form, Lloyd’s upper body strength is on full display. As your back is finally flush with the ground, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You close your eyes and relax your breathing as you feel Lloyd’s hands roaming over your body before beginning the meticulous work of untying knots and working rope around your sensitive flesh.

As each limb is freed from confinement, you can feel the blood rushing back through your veins. You stretch out each muscle from your thighs to your toes, then again from your biceps to your fingers. Lloyd stands up to tie up the long lengths of rope while you sit up and finally get a good look at the state you are in.

You trace along the rope burns on your body. Trailing down to a purpling bite mark and a swelling “LH” on your inner thigh. You keep your face neutral as you examine your war wounds, careful that Lloyd may be watching. 

Speak of the Devil as he shall appear.

Lloyd crouches next to you, running a hand over yours before looking down at his work. “I bet that hurts like a bitch. But, it is hot to see my initials taking up space on this beautiful skin of yours. Come on, Sunshine,” His arms scoop under your knees and behind your back, standing up to his full height, “What say we get you fed and watered, huh?”

You didn’t like how small you felt in his arms. Too small, too close for comfort. “Sir, I…I can walk. You don’t have to carry me–” 

“I know, Sunshine. But if you think I’m gonna trust you to walk on your own, you’re dreaming,” He walks toward the steps and begins the climb, “First off, I don’t trust you not to run off just yet, forgive me. And secondly, I don’t want your blood getting everywhere.” As he gets to the top of the steps, you can see brightness coming from under the door. He turns the knob and the bright mid-morning sun makes you cover your eyes.

How long had you been here? Where is…here?

You are being put down on your feet, the plush rug is soft underneath your toes as you look around the lush bathroom. You weren’t expecting such a pretty display after being in that basement, but here you are as Lloyd turns on the water on the vintage claw-foot tub. He tests the water temperature and adds a generous amount of bubble bath from a bottle you recognize.

“Is that African black soap? I use that…at home…” Your words die as you realize the shelf is full of the same brands of toiletries you use at home. Shea Moisture shampoo and conditioner, Native Coconut and Vanilla body wash, Venus razors. The only way he could know what you use is–

–if he’d been inside your apartment.

If you freak out, he will freak out. Stay calm, and he’ll stay calm.

“Yeah, I know everything about you, Sunshine. Come on, get in the tub,” He holds out a hand and you take it and step slowly into the relaxing bubble-filled bath water, “How is it? Too hot? Not hot enough?”

“Sir…,” You trail off, sinking back into the soothing bath, “It’s so perfect. My entire body needed this.” Closing your eyes, you don’t notice the moan that escapes you as your muscles loosen across your body.

“Watch it, Sunshine, or I might get in with you making sounds like that,” He stood above you, reaching for the body wash and a fluffy bath sponge, before grabbing a stool and sitting on the side of the big tub. He shoves the scrubber under the water to soften it, then pours a generous amount of body wash onto its surface. 

Massaging in the gel, he pulls your left leg out of the water and begins to bathe you. Taking care to get every inch of skin he can reach, he moves to your left arm and then the right side of your body. He’s most attentive with your right thigh with the bite mark and initials. For a second, it looks like he wanted to spend more time fingering where the warm water opened your cut but he decides against it.

He slowly washes your back and neck, reaching around the front to cup your breasts. Dipping his hand under the water, his nimble fingers find your clit. Your swollen ignored button finally getting attention perks you up. Your hands go to the sides of the tub and water splashes onto the floor. 

Lloyd moves to kneel at the edge of the tub, the hem of his sleeve getting wet as his arm sinks further into the water. For someone so immaculate, he didn’t seem to mind his shirt getting soapy. He seems to only give a shit about getting you off at this particular moment.

“Relax, Sunshine. Just focus on coming for me,” Quickening his pace on your puffy nub, he groans as unshed tears appear at the corner of your eyes, “You gonna cry for me, Sunshine? Be a good girl and let those tears fall.” 

His other hand, suddenly at your neck, pulls you forward into his personal space. Looking into his bright blue eyes, the sliver of control over your body that you once had is now floating off into space. 

Your breathing picks up and fat tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm takes you over. You want to lay back but the hand around your throat pulls you even closer. Your moans of ecstasy are swallowed as Lloyd’s lips slot with yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, unsure if you wanted to press into him or push him back.

As your hands move from his shoulders to his neck, you realize that you want him so much closer. Your orgasm settles as he breaks the kiss, your foreheads touching as you both catch your breath. Your brain is still foggy when you speak.

“Sir? What was…that for?”

He just pulls back and smiles at you, but it wasn’t his normal asshole smile. It was almost…sincere?

“Come on, you must be starving. Think you can stand?” You nod and he helps you up, rinsing off what soap clings to your skin. As you step out of the tub, Lloyd grabs a fluffy white towel and dries you off. As he gets to your right thigh, he takes great care in dabbing the towel on the “LH”.

You watch as he lifts your leg and puts your foot on the stool he was sitting on. He moves to the medicine cabinet and comes back with a first-aid kit. He grabs a tube of what you assume is antiseptic cream and spreads it over the lines of his initials. When you wince at the stinging, Lloyd smiles and bends down to blow on the skin. And that feels so good.

This means he knew it would sting and he could have let you be in pain, but he didn’t. Which is…nice of him?

He applies a couple of gauze pads across the lettering and uses the bandage tape to hold it in place. He packs away the first-aid kit and comes back to stand in front of your nude body. He puts a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to look into your eyes.

“Sunshine, as much as I love looking at your tits and pussy, I don’t want my men to see it and get…distracted,” He grabs your hand, leading you into the attached master bedroom’s massive walk-in closet, and motions for you to sit on the bench in the center of the room. He walks over to a portion of the closet with obviously feminine clothing and you watch as he pulls out a long simple yellow silk dress with a slit up the right side, “I’d like you to put this on. Should fit perfectly.” He hands you the dress and he walks around you back to the bedroom.

Just like that, he left you alone to dress, as if he hadn’t seen every part of you already. You stand and pull the hanger off the dress and put it back on the clothes rail. Touching the dress, you realize it’s real silk, and you don’t recognize the name of the designer. Putting it over your head, you pull the material down your body and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Fit perfectly? No. This dress fit like a glove. As if it was tailored specifically for you. You push down the thoughts of how and when your measurements were taken and brush it off as just a lucky coincidence. You take one last look and then walk into the bedroom.

Lloyd sits at the foot of the bed and looks over when you clear your throat. By the facial expression, he thinks you look pretty good. By the sound that escapes the back of his throat, he thinks you look phenomenal. But it’s the words that come out of his mouth that cement what he really thinks of you.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” He gets up from the bed and meets you, “You are perfection.”

You can’t stop the genuine smile that appears on your face. It’d been so long since someone complimented you. “Th-thank you, Sir. I love my gift.”

“Oh, Sunshine, this isn’t your gift. You’ll get that later. As long as you’re a good girl, that is. Can you be a good girl for me?”

If this designer dress wasn’t the gift then what was it? You shook the thought out of your head to answer Lloyd.

“Yes, Sir. I can be a good girl.” 

Taking your hand, Lloyd leads you out of the bedroom and through a long hallway to the kitchen. Your feet are cold on the tile floor and you are ushered into a seat at the island counter. Just after you notice the time blinking on the oven, 10:19, you feel a presence behind you. Turning around, you see a tall, stocky man holding a very big gun. You can tell he can handle himself and you can see his finger is near the trigger. You slowly turn back around when you hear Lloyd speaking.

“Don’t worry about Tiny, Sunshine. He’s just here to make sure you don’t go running off while I have my back turned. You understand. Anyway, what do you want on your omelet?” There it was, the asshole smile. It was back.

For a moment, you were upset. But then, you thought about it. You’d been alone with him most of the morning and he had been in a calmer mood. Around his men, he had to appear to be the Boss. The asshole smile was just a front, hiding the genuine smile you caused.

“Peppers and onions, please Sir.” You answered carefully, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. You decide to keep them on the counter, lacing your fingers together.

“Coming right up.” Lloyd turns around and gets to work on cutting the vegetables, cracking and whipping the eggs, then combining the ingredients to pour into the pan. The smell of the omelet cooking causes your mouth to water, even though you weren’t all that hungry. 

Once the food is plated, Lloyd sits it in front of you. Your eyes light up and you go to take a bite but you don’t have cutlery. Looking up to get Lloyd’s attention, you notice that he is holding a fork and knife in his hands. But he’s not giving them to you. He’s bringing them around the counter and sitting next to you on a stool and pulling the plate closer to himself.

“You didn’t think I was going to give you a knife, did you?” He begins to cut off a bite of omelet and blows on it before holding it out to you, “Come on, eat up Sunshine.”

You debate putting up a fight, but instead, open your mouth and accept the bite of food. Once it hits your palate, you’re surprised that it’s so tasty. A funny thought hits you and you snicker to yourself.

“What’s so funny, Sunshine?” His face is calm, but you know it’s only a matter of what words you use that will make him sway into smiling or scowling.

“I was just thinking if you didn’t want to be…whatever it is that you are, you could always go to culinary school and be a world-class chef.” You smile at him and you see a glimmer of the man from this morning in his eyes.

He only squints before cutting another piece and feeding you. Once you take the offered bite, he studies as you close your eyes and savor the flavors within. Opening your eyes, you notice him watching you. You slowly dart out your tongue to lick your lips and witness as his jaw does ‘the thing’. Biting your bottom lip, you look up into his eyes.

Nothing but fire and desire in those bright blue peepers. He pushes away the plate and grabs your hand, walking before you even climbed down from the stool. He pulls you through the doors of the kitchen that open into a courtyard area with a big fountain. You don’t even get time to look around as you are coming back inside the house on the other side.

You enter what looks to be Lloyd’s office. He lets go of your hand and walks behind the big wooden desk in the center of the room. While he goes about his business, you look around the room at various knickknacks scattered on bookshelves and end tables.

You pick up a ceramic kitten with its tail in the air. It was a dead ringer for the one you had lost weeks ago. Putting it down, you notice a rhinestone hair clip on the corner of the desk. You would know this hair clip anywhere because it’s one-of-a-kind. You got it at the flea market from an old woman who handmade them. But you remembered picking out the iridescent rhinestones because you like the extra shimmer they gave.

You held the hair clip in your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see any more of your lost items in this room. And you knew that you would see more if your eyes were open. A hand at the small of your back has you going rigid in an instant.

“Sunshine, I have your gift,” He smoothes his hand over the curve of your backside and you yelp at the smack he delivers when you don’t turn around, “You really gonna make me ask you twice?”

You turn around, eyes downcast. Lloyd puts a hand under your chin, gripping you tight with his thumb and forefinger, and jerks your head up.

“Are you seriously this upset that I took a fucking hair clip?”

“It’s not the hair clip, Sir. I just, I thought we had a…moment. But since then, you’ve been nothing but mean to me. And I know you have to be a certain way around your men but I–”

You’re cut off when Lloyd’s mouth attacks yours. He sucks on your bottom lip, nibbling ever so slightly, eliciting whimpers from you. Lloyd licks into your mouth, tickling your nose with his mustache. When your moan turns into a giggle, you pull away to try and stifle it. But Lloyd feels you pull away and growls before conquering your mouth again and biting at your bottom lip just to the point of pain then stops and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Nothing but mean to you, huh?” His thumb glides over your bottom lip, your tongue snaking out to taste it, “Look at you, you can’t get enough of me even after I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Sir…you’re all I have.” You try and blink away the unshed tears in your eyes but they have a mind of their own and trickly slowly down your cheeks.

“I know,” Lloyd uses the back of his knuckles to wipe away your tears and puts on a small smile, “Let me give you your gift.” He pulls away and picks up a wide flat jewelry box, opening it to reveal a gold choker that read ‘Sunshine’ in pretty writing.

“It’s…beautiful, Sir. Can I put it on?”

Instead of answering, Lloyd takes the choker out of the box, putting it around your neck when you turn around, and securing it with a hex key. He puts his hand on your hip, turning you back around so he can look at you wearing his collar, so to speak.

“As long as you wear this, you’re mine. You won’t be able to take it off without the key. And I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes, past the hunger and the urge to rip your dress off and take you over whatever surface he sees fit.

“What would make you take it off?” Your tone held fear, even if you did get all the words out.

“Well, if you disobey me, I’ll just punish you. But if I get the feeling that you’re against me in any way, I’ll not only take the choker off, but I’ll kill you too. That answer your question?” A different kind of fire brewed in his eyes then, and you didn’t want to push him further.

“I understand, Sir. I’m yours. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” Instantly, you feel like you’re lying to his face. But when he smiles down at you, you smile back. You have no intention of non-compliance.

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you show me how grateful you are for my gift, Sunshine?” You don’t have to be told twice. You’re kneeling before he even finishes the sentence. 

His hands on your face as he cums down your throat scream romanticism and ownership all in one. When he pulls you up, he slides a hand into the slit in your dress and fingers his initials on your thigh.

“Mine.” He says as his other hand slides around your throat.

“Yours, Sir.” 

Maybe one day, you’ll reconcile the double-edged sword of being his. But for now, you can just relax and breathe in his Earthy scent while he claims you.

Part III

A/N: Good grief, this chapter took me so long to finish. Hope you enjoyed it!!! I think I still have more in me to give to this fic.

**Tag List**

@motivation-idontknowher @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @gyusbrownie @milknhonies @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[ddejavvu]

hi lovely, i’ve been throwing up all morning and i was wondering if you could do something about aaron hotchner comforting the reader while sick w the stomach bug?

sending lots of love ❤️❤️

cw // being sick/throwing up/mentions of vomit

Throwing up in Aaron's car has to be the worst thing you've ever done. And it's worsened by the fact that, with nowhere to puke, he'd shoved his work bag into your lap. Your vomit is currently soaking into his paperwork, the fine leather of the bag surely ruined for good.

"Aaron," You choke, mouth rancid and throat burning, "I'm- I'm sorry!"

"it's alright," He soothes, glancing over at you as he stops at a red light, "Are you okay, honey? I'm not mad."

He knows exactly what you need to hear, of course.

"You should be," You groan, taking the pocket square that he hands you and wiping at your mouth, "I threw up in your- bag!"

At the sound of your gagging he pulls over, blinker clicking as his tires screech slightly against the tarmac of a parking lot. It's taco bell, and your stomach churns at the thought of a bean burrito.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and ignoring the residue on it, "We're five minutes from home. Can you make it, or should we wait?"

"I don't know!" You wail, and you feel like a petulant toddler, tears streaming down your cheeks from the pain and discomfort swirling inside of you, "I- I feel sick but-" Another gag, and he scoops your hair off of your neck, "But I just wanna be in bed, so- so we should just go.. But-!"

"I think," Aaron croons, scraping his nails up your neck, "We should wait. Just five minutes, and you can lay the seat back so that you're laying down. You can have my jacket for a blanket," He twists himself uncomfortably in his seat to shed it, taking his sick-soaked work bag and tucking it beneath the center console, "And we'll just rest, okay?"

"Okay," You nod, sobs thickening your words and making them fragile like a bubble about to burst, "I'm really- really sorry I threw up in your bag."

"I put my bag in your lap so that you could throw up in it," He lets out a fond chuckle, leaning over to kiss your forehead before taking the bag outside to empty into a trash can, "It's okay, sweetheart. I can get a new bag."

You think he's the bravest man in the world for kissing you right after you'd thrown up. It's not like he jammed his tongue into your mouth, but you know you smell like a toxic waste container, so when he ducks back into the car with a stinky, now empty bag and leans over to do it again, you sniffle.

"Thanks, Aaron." You tuck your face into his jacket, leaving your cheek on display in case he feels like smushing another kiss into the chub there, "'Love you."

"Love you too," He rubs a hand up your thigh, squeezing it soothingly and smoothing out a wrinkle in his coat as it's draped over your shoulders, "I'll tell everyone we're taking the week off. Garcia will probably try to bring soup over, you know."

"Let her," You plead, "Your soup is pathetic."

"Hey!" He chuckles incredulously, "I'm sorry that we can't all be, I dunno, soup wizards."

"You're the worst soup wizard in the world," Your groggy, post-adrenaline rush brain conjures of images of Aaron in long robes in front of a cauldron, the terrible meal boiling over and splashing the hem of his outfit, "You'd get kicked out of soup wizard school."

Aaron doesn't respond, and you don't blame him. You're too dazed to hold a meaningful conversation, so you let yourself drift off to sleep after you're sure he won't protest your proclamations of his culinary deficiencies.

He refrains from laughing at you, sorry to do so while you're sick. The message that he types out to the team's group chat is short and to-the-point like his always are, Y/N's got a stomach bug. We won't be in for a few days. Penelope, get your magic wand out, she wants a soup wizard.

[izvmimi]

cw: a repost. dilf!bokuto.

Bokuto, well in his 40s, is a busy, busy man, and so is his wife. Your task is to ease their suffering, and you do so exceptionally well, as the always polite, always cheerful au-pair that manages their household tasks, whether it be cleaning, cooking or babysitting. 

It’s an incredible gig. The couple has just one darling child that’s no more than two years old and does little more than run around and jump into your arms or say short phrases, many of which warm your heart. The large house is relatively clean, so tidying is easy, and Bokuto was kind enough to give you a credit card and a vehicle to make grocery and snack shopping easy, as well as help your commute to night classes. You live in the two bedroom guest house on the property, and you couldn’t ask for more.

Well, you could, even if you shouldn’t.

As you sit together night after night at dinner, strapping the youngest Bokuto into a high chair before sitting down with her father, who digs into your meals heartily, you wonder what it would be like to fill the space Mrs. Bokuto occupies. After all, she’s been more and more absent recently, traveling for long periods of time to promote her business, and often dinner is just the three of you rather than four. Her husband is handsome, and has always been (you’ve seen the photo albums, the large family portrait at the entrance to the living room, what be it), and it’s hard to not get lost in his golden eyes, especially when they look directly at you as he makes joke after joke. He’s energetic, he’s charismatic, and he’s available. After all, all you do is prove your ability to be a good wife day after day, while his actual wife does God knows what.

Plus, you could be doing him a service. He must miss having a woman’s full attention, and you had plenty of time to provide that for him. 

Easing the burden of existing. That’s what you were for. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you, you consider, as you hand Mrs. Bokuto her travel bag and smile widely.

“God, I can’t believe they want me across the country so soon!”

She looks frantic, checking her watch, then making a full 360 as she waddles in her high heels, making sure she hasn’t lost anything. The taxi that will take her to the airport is waiting patiently but she still looks distressed.

“I can’t find my fucking-”

Bokuto comes in behind her as she traipses at the doorway, pushing a bouquet of flowers in front of her that startles her and kissing her forehead once she turns around to look at him.

“Here’s your goodbye kiss,” he teases.

She frowns. “That’s not what I mean!” 

You giggle, and Bokuto laughs too, louder, and hands her the wallet she was missing. 

“This? You dropped it in the driveway,” he says, kissing her again. As you watch him, you wonder what it would be like for him to look at you that way. You will have a month together. It’s enough time. 

There’s always enough time. Time is on your side after all. You don’t have the laugh lines, or the dull skin or the outdated fashion the woman practically jumping inside the taxi cab does. You watch her go, and as though on cue you can hear Bokuto’s little girl wake up from her nap and start making her way down the stairs. If she saw her mother go, she’d start crying and you’d been a hero and put her to a nap before then. When she sees you, golden eyes still sleepy and half-closed, she reaches her arms out to you.

“Carry,” she asks. You scoop her up and hold her on your hip. Bokuto comes in closer, still waving his wife off then turns to you, then the little girl in your arms.

When he moves in close to her to play with her, you catch the scent of his cologne. You’ll never stop thinking about that scent.

“Awww, did you sleep well? Where’s your blanky?”

His hands brush against yours as you pass him to her. They’re warm and gentle and you wonder what they’d feel like on you. 

—

Over the next week, you put yourself on display. Men are simple, visual creatures. If he likes what he sees, he’ll chase it. 

Shorts and shirts get shorter, arms and legs get barer. You spend more time in the main room, falling asleep on the couch, the tightness of your tank tops and your yoga pants not leaving much to the imagination. Of course he finds you often in these compromising positions, shaking your ass to music as you mop the floors, reaching every high shelf, and interrupting his workout sessions in the personal gym to ask questions you could easily google. 

He looks good dripping in sweat, and you always have a towel and a bottle of water ready.

Like today. 

“Thanks!”

Bokuto is as handsome as he is earnest and possibly a little simple, you think. But he is cute, and he is loaded, and you think he’s terribly adorable. 

Plus his daughter loves you too. It won’t be a stretch for her to start calling you mama. 

Bokuto watches as you feed her tots, chicken nuggets and fresh veggies. As though coincidentally, he also seems to be home more often. Maybe he was avoiding his harpy of a wife after all. 

Two weeks pass like this and you brush closer and closer with him. 

He’s chattier than usual and he tells you all about his childhood and early days. You wonder if he’s told these stories before, as intimate as a few of them sound, listening carefully as you sit in a comfortable armchair in his office while, having crept up on him as he caught up on some bills and other paperwork.

Perhaps you lean over his shoulder while he shows you some old headlines from back in the day. You’re a good listener - a great one even. You wonder if he feels your breasts ghost over his shoulder. You are so close you can tell he chose another perfume today. 

And as he turns to look up at you, you wonder if today’s the day to broach it. 

“You’re such a good help,” he says finally, and you wonder if it’s the time he’ll finally break. After all, the door is closed and it’s just the two of you, and you’re close enough that he could very easily turn his head and kiss you. 

“Thanks for all you do,” he says finally. He glances over his shoulder at you, then turns back to the work at hand, mentioning something about a raise.

And that’s when you shoot your shot. 

“I could do more,” you insist. 

He doesn’t pause or turn. “You’re doing a great job already. You know, when ___ first suggested you, I thought it’d be a little strange to have another person in our little space, because you’re basically part of the family, but now-”

Your hand rests on his shoulder gingerly, then firmly, and you move in closer to whisper into his ear.

“I mean in other ways.”

Bokuto pauses. 

Perhaps it’s excitement, or maybe it’s concern - after all your honeyed voice is new to him, and possibly the feel of your breath so close to his ear.  

Your heart pounds as he pushes back in his chair. He gets up, and there’s a devilish expression on his face when he turns you towards you.

“Why, aren’t you the sneakiest little thing?” He croons. 

Your eyes widen as he towers over you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen next, but you swallow hard and let the moment overtake you. He’s got you by the wrists and he pulls you towards him.

“No one here to see us…”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and he turns you until you’re bent over his desk. 

Your hands are behind your back. Is he typically this rough when he-

“Naughty, aren’t we?”

You nod, stupidly. Is this really happening? You brace yourself and suddenly, he lets go.

“Get the fuck out.”

Your eyes widen and you turn onto your back.

“What?” you say in a small voice. Bokuto looks furious now, if you could even imagine someone like him getting this upset. But of course he’s upset. You’ve disrespected him, his marriage, his wife? You’re lucky he’s man enough not to lay a finger on you. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he replies.

You swallow hard.

“N-no…”

“Get the fuck out of my office, and I’m calling your parents to expect you at the airport, first thing in the morning.”

You start to stammer and cry but he points to the door.

“Grow up.”

[purple-thrill]

Can you do a Malleus ans S/O gn!reader where they go on a ice cream date and watch some movies please? I would like it super fluffy and sweet please.

Heyyyy

Sorry it's been almost a year but yes. Yes I can

Tw:none

Word count: 1048

Note: I did rush it at the end so sorry if that's not what you wanted!

The Sweet and Sour Impact of the Ice Cream Date

A Malleus x gender neutral! Reader

It was the middle of the night when you decided you needed to crack down on studying and the fact you couldn't sleep. Making sure Grim was sleeping from his day of shenanigans, and grabbing some school books, you go outside the fresh air hitting your nose.

You decide sitting down at the roots of a barren tree was a good decision to start studying there. So you cracked open the hand me down book and started to read it, making sure to make notes for tomorrow.

At some point firefly's started to appear near you, you looked up at the flying insects in time to hear a voice "up late again child of man?" Turning your head towards the voice you see Malleus, l.

His lips upturned at the sight of your figure as he approached you. Setting the now forgotten book down, you got up to greet your boyfriend. "Hello, Hornton, walking again?" You question giving Malleus a wave.

"Hm? Yes, it's a wonderful night for a walk." He said, smiling still. "I have something I wish to ask you." Malleus said, having a new glint in his vivid green eyes. "What is it?" You asked tilting your head a bit at the Fae in front of you.

"I was wondering if you'll accompany me tomorrow to town." Malleus said his smile weavering the slightest but as he asked. Your cheeks flushed heating up, "you're asking me on a date?" You asked, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"Yes, there is a new establishment I wish to visit with you, my child of man." Malleus voiced, having the same reaction as you. You put your hands into his and smiled like a lovesick fool you both were, "Yes, I'd love to go with you tomorrow Malleus." You say as Malleus nodded his head. You let go of his hands and backed up, "I shall see you tomorrow morning then." He affirmed as he waved at you walking away still having a flushed face.

You smiled softly at his retreating form, as you looked at the phone Crowley gave you, you decided to go inside your dorm at this ungodly hour.

You were the first to wake up other than the ghosts that inhabit your dorm. Carefully untangling yourself from Grim as he snored away, you got out of your bed. As you start your usual morning routine and getting ready for your date with Malleus. You'd also managed to get the ghosts to look after Grim for the day. 

There was a knock at the door, you open it and see Malleus. 

"Hello, I see you are getting ready, do you need me to wait a moment?" He spoke seeing your attire. You waved him off, "No, I am ready" you say and hook your arm around his, leaning a bit on him.

In the background you can hear Grim's sound of betrayal.

"Ah good, I got permission from Crowley to go with you today so there shouldn't be any trouble today." He says as he starts walking with you.

It isn't long of a walk before the two of you get to the establishment, you realize you hadn't asked him what kind of establishment it was but as Malleus came to a stop you saw an ice cream shop.

The ice cream shop exudes a cozy and inviting atmosphere. The exterior of the shop is painted in pastel colors, with hanging baskets of flowers, and a sign that reads "Scoops Ahoy!" in playful, cursive lettering. 

"Ice cream?" You say looking at the shop and at Malleus. "Yes, was this a bad place to take you?" Malleus asked, you shook your head at the Fae, "no! I just didn't expect this, not that it's a bad thing. Just sweet." You say as you look back at the ice cream shop. It had been a while since you had a treat like this.

"Then let's go." He said with a smile as he took your hand in his walking up to the ice cream shop.

As soon as you two enter, they are greeted by the sight of a glass display case filled with a colorful array of ice cream flavors, from classic vanilla and chocolate to more adventurous options like lavender honey and matcha green tea. The air is filled with the sweet smell of freshly-made waffle cones, and the sound of old-timey music playing softly in the background.

The walls of the shop are adorned with cheerful artwork and vintage ice cream advertisements, adding to the whimsical ambiance. Customers can choose to sit at one of the small tables and chairs, or relax in the cozy seating nook with plush pillows and blankets.

You two ordered your treats and sat down once you had them. The staff is friendly and enthusiastic, always willing to offer samples and assist customers in creating the perfect ice cream sundae although they are wary of Malleus. And with a variety of toppings, from sprinkles and hot fudge to fresh fruit and whipped cream, the possibilities are endless.

You two decide to share an ice cream sundae the way you like it. 

You laugh with Malleus as you two finish up at the table. You pick up your and his trash and throw it away in a nearby trash can. 

"I had a really nice time with you, Malleus." You chirped happily as you two left the ice cream shop. "I did as well." Malleus said before grabbing your waist and teleporting to your dorm's front door. "Oh!" You exclaim looking around. "I am sorry, you looked tired." He said looking at you.

"No, I am. I stayed up too late last night.. Anyways, thank you for taking me out on a date." You said as you opened the door. "Oh wait child of man" Malleus said, getting closer to you. You turn around to be met with your boyfriend's face. "I love you." He said before he kissed you.

[treason-and-plot]

Harrison sits with his head bowed, twisting his fingers together. He and Roy are alone in the room; Joe and Ivan have been dispatched to stand guard outside. Roy’s anger towards Harrison feels paternal, personal; Harrison has disappointed him. Harrison has betrayed him. Roy spent two days fighting for Harrison, negotiating the deal of a lifetime caged in a stuffy boardroom high above the city with hard-nosed Herbalife execs, and this is how Harrison repays him! It’s a slap in the face. A display of nearly unforgiveable effrontery, only assuaged by the fact that Harrison has made such a huge contribution to Roy’s bank balance.  

“Do you have any idea how close you came tonight to destroying everything we’ve worked for?” Roy says. “Do you?”

“I’m sorry, Roy,” says Harrison in a barely audible voice. “I just wanted to celebrate. With my mates.”

“All it would have taken was one picture on social media of you snorting white powder and Herbalife would have dropped you like a hot potato,” says Roy. ”And chances are your club would've torn up your contract as well. How the fuck could you not have realised that? Jesus Christ, dude. You have a carefully curated public image as a clean-living health nut. You told me yourself you don’t even drink. What the hell were you thinking? Did you suffer some severe frontal lobe trauma this afternoon that you forgot to tell me about?"

“I wasn’t thinking,” says Harrison. “I only wanted to have some fun. I’m sorry, alright?”

“You’re a professional athlete and a public figure, Harrison. In case you missed the memo, you’re no longer allowed to have fun. In fact, from now on you’re not even allowed to swallow a fucking aspirin unless you ask me first,” says Roy. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“Yes, Roy,” says Harrison. He looks on the verge of tears.

Roy shakes his head and walks over to the desk. He scoops the cocaine from the table into a small plastic bag and puts the bag inside his jacket pocket. He turns back to Harrison.

“Where are the while llamas?” he says.

“What?” says Harrison

“Don’t fuck with me, Harrison. I know someone dropped off a bag of pills here tonight,” says Roy. “Where are they?”

Harrison chews on his bottom lip.

“In the top drawer of the dresser over there,” he says.

Roy walks over to the dresser and finds a small bag containing four grainy white pills with llamas stamped on them. He puts it in his pocket with the bag of cocaine.

“I’m going to leave you now,” he says to Harrison. ”Joe and Ivan will be stationed outside your door all night, so don’t even think about leaving this room or inviting anyone around."

Harrison raises haunted eyes to Roy's and gives a short nod. Roy softens his voice.

"Let this night serve as a valuable lesson, Harry. You almost lost everything, but thanks to the fact that your agent is a fucking boss you still have a career, and a future. And never forget I have ears and eyes everywhere, dude. If you fuck up, I will find out. Disregard that fact at your fucking peril."

[noodyl-blasstal]

Bench Stress - Best Served Cold Part 2

It's day two of @tazsapphicweek! So here's chapter 2 of Best Served Cold.

You can read below or on Ao3. Missed part 1? Catch up here.

-

The advertising starts appearing three days before the grand opening of The Good Lick Store is scheduled. It would have been nice if they asked before they put the posters on her shop windows, but Istus can appreciate an industrious attitude. Raven, however, does not.

“They got your windows too?” Raven is framed beautifully in the door, long leather coat streaming behind her like the wings of an avenging angel. She holds a small stack of crumpled posters in her hand.

“It’s nice that they’re enthusiastic!” Istus tries her best to smile soothingly. The stress won’t do Raven any good.

“They didn’t ask you either then?” Raven’s undeterred.

“Well, no. But…”

Raven strides forward and rips the three posters down, Istus can’t stop the fond smile, Raven’s always looking out for her. Before they met she couldn’t remember ever having someone who cared so much, so fiercely, it means she appreciates everything after so much more.

Raven feeds the posters through Istus’ shredder with a look of grim satisfaction. “There’s no need for this many, especially not on your shop. They’re being unfair. I’m going to go and talk to them.”

It takes Istus a solid 15 minutes to calm her down enough not to storm over there and ‘tell them exactly how unjust this is’.

“We don’t need another situation, my love.” Istus says, soothing a hand over her shoulder.

“They were wrong!” Raven’s indignant, and, of course, entirely correct.

“Of course they were, they shouldn’t have put up signage that covered part of your shop, but taking the saw to it wasn’t the best response, was it?”

“I was just cutting off the bit on my property.” Raven crosses her arms defensively and Istus tries not to laugh.

“And then you…?” Istus asks.

There’s a long silence.

“Go on.” Istus prompts.

“Fell off the ladder and broke my leg.”

“And that was when you promised me that you’d be slightly less impulsive in your quests for justice.”

“I did do that.”

“So therefore…” Istus leaves the sentence dangling.

“I shouldn’t go and tell them off and make them better people by force of will alone.”

Istus pats her shoulder, it’s a brave sacrifice.

“I’m not sorry about the shredder.” Raven adds, defiant until the last.

“Do you want me to let you in on a secret, my love?” Istus leans in close to whisper in her ear. “I’m not sorry either.”

–

The opening is a huge event, there’s a runway into the shop which must have been erected overnight. The blasting music means poor Raven has to use her earplugs all day, not even the music in her shop covers it. The light show seems somewhat unnecessary in the daytime but it’s always nice to see effort and care, Istus supposes. At least it’s only one day.. No one will go over there with her, even when she gives her very best wide eyed sad face, so she goes alone. It’s important to support local businesses afterall, she wants them to do well even if they don’t seem to want to engage with the other shop owners - mind you, it’s hard to come into an established group. Maybe they’re shy and that’s why they’ve ignored all the invites to community meetings.

Strutting her way up the runway to the door is inescapable, grumbling knee be damned. She swishes her skirts as she goes and can’t help but smile as she joins the queue. This is the energy it’s nice to have an injection of! New doesn’t always mean bad! Now that all of the decorating is finished it’s light inside the shop, big windows ensuring that customers can see every detail, and there’s so many details. A world different from Boyland’s cosy shop and it’s a work of art, truly. For all Happy Scoops is a mix of bright colours and fun touches, The Good Lick Store is the manicured antithesis. The retro styling combined with the sharp uniforms is delightful, and the selection of toppings look beautiful laid out in the glass fronted display, golden swans curling from the frame at each side.

Istus smiles as she reaches the front of the queue. “Oh you both look wonderful! How is the Grand Opening going?” Neither Lydia nor Edward has a hair out of place.

“Wonderfully, darling!” Lydia smiles at her, hat sat at the perfectly jaunty angle, apron sticking out over a skirt with reams of petticoats holding it in the perfect flounce.

“You probably won’t be used to queues like these.” Edward says conversationally, adding a small sprinkle of toppings to the last customer’s cup of frozen yoghurt and looking for all the world like he has no idea how insulting he’s being.

She supposes they haven’t seen the inside of her shop, or the outside on the days the queues wind out the door. They’ll learn eventually. Istus smiles politely.

“One of whatever you’d recommend, please.” She says instead of answering. She can’t foresee there being a ‘right’ answer to his question.

“What a charming idea.” Edward looks positively delighted then turns to Lydia. “Make sure it’s nothing too…” He looks Istus up and down. “…sophisticated.”

Istus just smiles pleasantly, she can never ever tell Raven about this, she’d never forgive them. It’s fine though, Istus doesn’t mind, they’re probably just used to being in a place where businesses were in opposition. They’ll adjust, it’s just going to take time for them to realise things aren’t like that here.

Lydia creates a beautiful swirl in a paper cup, and hands it to Edward. “Prepare for a taste sensation.” She says with more smugness than Istus would like. She’s not entirely sure where the concept of her store being bland has come from, but the whole point is that they cater to a range of tastes. There’s nothing wrong with basic flavours, people know what they like, and Istus has a knack for using that knowledge to find something they’ll love.

Edward studs it with six tiny slivers of strawberry and places a small handful of sprinkles on top. “I think you’ll be able to handle this.” He says and hands it over with a smile. A genuine one that the cynical side of her says is from the joy of insulting her, but she hopes is actually just the cracking of the ice she didn’t know had built between them.

She takes it with a passive smile, manages not to flinch at the price, and thinks it tastes just fine.

“This is shit.” Carrie says, throwing the tiny spoon in the recycling in protest.

Killian just nods and throws her spoon away too.

“It’s just not what you’re used to. I thought it was really lovely.” Istus thinks a lie in kindness is probably fine.

She mentions the opening event to customers she thinks will enjoy it, or those too afraid to investigate the source of the music and lights themselves. It’s the right thing to do. But she can’t say she’s not relieved when they keep coming back to Happy Scoops, or slightly (shamefully) smug when they mention the service being better as well as the ice cream. But why shouldn’t she be proud? She’s worked hard to build this place.

–

RE: Happy Scoops Obstruction

Dear Istus Queen,

We are writing to inform you that due to the volume of complaints about the obstruction of the walkway outside Happy Scoops the furniture there must be removed.

This is a formal notice and must be acted upon within 14 days or the management company will be forced to facilitate their removal and you will be charged for this process.

Please do hesitate to contact us if you require any further information.

Kind regards,

International Products and Rockin’ Experiences outdoor mall management.

Raven puts the letter Istus had handed her down on the counter. She doesn’t know what to say, so she settles for opening her arms to Istus instead.

“It’s okay, it’s important that we don’t block the walkways.” Istus says, face tucked against Raven’s collarbone.

Her voice is thick enough that Raven’s ready to go to war with whoever sent the letter.

“It’s not blocking the walkway, no one has complained in the last twelve years.” Raven tries not to let her tone show how angry she is. Istus doesn’t need to worry about her blood pressure too.

“They have now.” Istus says too quietly.

Raven pulls her closer and they sit in the endless peace of the morning.

Istus pulls away and smiles brightly. “It’ll look nice in the garden, don’t you think?”

“What?”

“The furniture. We can take it home. It’ll brighten things up, the colours are so fun.”

“They are, love. They are.” Raven pats her hand soothingly and tries not to worry too much.

“Did you see that I need to hesitate to contact them?” Istus gives Raven her biggest shiniest smile, Raven wants so badly to believe it’s genuine.

“I wasn’t sure if it was a typo or not.”

“Honestly darling, I don’t think it is.” This time Istus’ smile looks more genuine. “Remember the flood?”

Raven snorts derisively. “Don’t remind me.” She takes Istus’ hand in both of hers. “Are you absolutely sure about this? I can go and speak to them?”

Istus’s reply doesn’t come as quickly as it usually would, it’s worrying that she’s tempted to let Raven go to bat for her. Not that Raven won’t in a heartbeat, but she’s the impulsive one when it comes to right and wrong. Istus so often holds her back when she’s full of idealism.

Istus slowly forces another smile onto her face. “Yes. I’m sure, my love. It’ll be nice to have them at home. Maybe the boys will use them for a photo shoot or something when they come to visit. Taako’s magazine is doing awfully well.”

Raven is convinced that Taako will be just as willing to go and fight whoever put the complaint in, Kravitz too, she raised him right. Maybe if she sends a picture of the benches outside they’ll ask why and then they can come and help. Istus doesn’t need to know… “That’s a wonderful suggestion.”

“Can we move them today? It’s best to be proactive.” Istus’ voice doesn’t wobble.

“Of course. Whatever you need. I’ll send a message and see who can help.”

It turns out that having a wife who is generosity personified is helpful when it comes to recruiting assistance. Within the hour they have offers of two different vans, plenty of strong arms, and many, many questions about who on earth complained considering it had been years and there was lots of space to move past the furniture.

Istus bakes when she’s happy, she bakes when there’s something to celebrate or something to mourn, she bakes when she’s stressed. So she bakes, of course she bakes. The helpers arrive to lemon loaf, glistening fruit tarts, and agua fresca. Offers of all the ice cream they can eat. It turns into stories, a backwards and forwards of “remember when…” and “we sat here after…”, Raven helps as much as she can, but she lets Sloane, Hurley, and Noelle take the last bench.

It’s only on the off chance that she notices. A glance towards the shop that shows her Istus through the window. She’s crying. Full, open mouthed, silent sobs, one hand pressed to her mouth the other to the counter. Raven wants more than anything to go and smooth the tears from her cheeks, to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay, the business will be okay, people will sit inside and it’ll all still be lovely. But Istus needs, whatever her reasons, for them not to know she’s hurt. Istus needs Raven to pretend everything is okay, and Raven is going to do that. Well… Raven is going to do that to her face.

She might not be tech savvy, but she knows how to make a group chat.

Istus’ Army Raven: We need to find out who put the complaints in. Sloane: Fucking finally! Killian: YES! They’re going down. Carey: No one hurts Istus on our watch1!! Sloane: Hurley’s in too. What do you need us to do? I’ll get my kit. Hurley: Just a casual reminder for absolutely no reason that anyone, not us, because we’re not planning to, but anyone who might be planning to do any crimes might not want to do that in writing. Sloane: <3 Raven: Istus has knitting club tonight. Meet at ours at 6.

--

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is here.

[lndsarchive]

World Underneath - 04 From The Stars

01. Sweeties | 02. Home | 03. Waterfall Inside Forest | 04. Catastrophe | 05. Philo

01. Sweeties

2033. Summer.

"One salted egg yolk cheesecake and one chocolate chiffon cake."

Jeremiah, standing by the counter of Sweeties Cake Shop, leans slightly forward. His bright eyes follow the girl behind the counter.

--

"You've been coming here a lot recently, Jeremiah. Are you addicted to cakes now?"

Jeremiah's eyes dart around as he reveals a slightly goofy smile. "Maybe."

Two boxes of beautifully wrapped cakes are placed in front of him. Jeremiah pays, then pushes the cheesecake back. "This is for you."

The girl is taken aback, a hint of surprise flickering across her face before she quickly recovers. "If you keep doing this, my dad… Ahem, my boss will say you're playing favorites. He'll be upset you're only treating me and not him."

She turns to look at the middle-aged man behind her, who's busy decorating cakes with a piping bag. She turns back and shrugs at Jeremiah.

"It's a secret, then…" Jeremiah whispers, leaning closer. "Ahem, this is Jeremiah from the Planetary Shuttle Squad Two, requesting a secret cake exchange with Squad One member, Bella. Please respond, over!"

The girl chuckles, then quickly covers her mouth and whispers, "Squad One, Bella. Message received. Beginning cake transfer, over! Okay, Jeremiah, your friend is still outside. Don't keep him waiting."

"I'm going," Jeremiah says, his tone suddenly a little awkward. "By the way, you haven't forgotten about the dinner at my house on Sunday… right?"

…

--

Ding ding ding. The door of the cake shop closes. Xavier, who had been waiting for a long time, glances at Jeremiah. "I thought you said you couldn't get used to Earth food?"

"Oh," Jeremiah says, waving his hand. "I bought it for displaying purposes."

Xavier raises an eyebrow. Before he can say the words Jeremiah knows is coming, Jeremiah quickly pats his shoulder. "Come on, teach me how to make some Earth dishes. You've been researching recipes recently, right?"

_________________________________________________________

02 Home

"Bella loves marigolds. I want her to see them when she comes over for dinner," Jeremiah says, holding a vase as he passes by Xavier. He peeks out from behind the orange blossoms. "Where do you think I should put it? At the door, by the dinner table, or on the balcony?"

After being asked the same thing for the 23rd time, Xavier glances at the door adorned with plants, then at the dinner table surrounded by fresh flowers, and finally at the balcony that can only be described as a sea of flowers. "I think there's no space."

"Really?"

Baffled, Jeremiah looks around the house he rented a week ago. "I didn't think it was this small when I saw it."

"You could hold it," Xavier suddenly says.

"Huh?"

"Hold it and give it to her when you open the door."

Jeremiah scratches his head. "Oh… We're just friends. I don't want her to misunderstand." He turns to Xavier with a playful grin. "Have you used this trick before?"

Xavier glances at him. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? Don't play dumb." Jeremiah nudges him. Xavier walks to the sofa, picks up a magazine, and sits down. "Fine, don't tell me then."

--

The oven in the kitchen signals the food is ready. Jeremiah insisted Xavier stay for the dinner he set up to greet his "friend."

His reason? It adds a "human touch."

Wearing oven mitts, he takes out the baked cheesy rice and sets it down in front of Xavier. "Bella says that since we've met, we should make a mark in each other's lives. Otherwise, there's no point in meeting."

Suddenly, it starts pouring outside. Xavier stares at the drenched sky, and silence envelops the room.

"Come on, help me taste this. I've been taste- testing this for the past few days. I can't even tell if it's good or bad anymore."

Xavier looks away from the window and scoops up some rice covered in cheese and tomato sauce. The spoon is connected to the bowl via a string of cheese. "It's all right. Needs a bit more salt."

"Really?"

Jeremiah frowns, eating a spoonful himself. Even after coming with the Backtrackers to this place over two hundred years ago, he still can't fully understand the diverse tastes of Earthlings. But since Xavier suggested it, there must be a reason. He nods.

"I'm just treating her to a meal. When Isaiah was looking for us before, she helped cover for me. I know nothing can happen between us. We don't age the way people here do. It wouldn't be fair."

As Jeremiah eats, he rambles on, not even realizing the unease hidden in his voice.

"Don't worry, I don't have any ulterior motives. Besides, I haven't finished my main task yet. I'm the one who has to fix the spaceship's launcher, right?"

The rain outside is relentless. Through the window, the raindrops seem to be capable of piercing through anything. They crisply pitter- patter as they hit the glass. Xavier puts down his spoon, wipes his mouth, and stands up.

"Forget it. You haven't fixed it in two hundred years. You might as well focus on dating."

"What?!"

In a flash of light, Xavier disappears along with the newly modified accelerator Jeremiah had on the table.

He sighs and takes the dishes back to the now- empty kitchen. If someone told him hundreds of years ago, back when the Traceback II was riddled with holes from an asteroid as they were in cosmic turbulence, he would face the mundane problem of greasy dishes, he would've laughed.

He understands Xavier's indifferent reaction. As the leader of the Backtrackers, Xavier must have seen more of his former companions leave compared to Jeremiah. Asteroids, turbulence, and the collapse of wormholes couldn't tear Traceback II's team apart. With Xavier there, they managed to break through the universe's most impregnable spacetime barrier. Yet such an invincible team eventually dissolved in the mundane times of this era, from a loved one handing them flowers.

The radio behind Jeremiah switches from its regular program to a news broadcast.

"The year isn't over yet, but we've already predicted that this will be the heaviest, most widespread rain."

"It's expected to end on Saturday. Sunday will be sunny. It will be perfect for a trip. Let's look forward to a wonderful weekend."

He turns off the TV and walks onto the flower- filled balcony. There's a tranquil sunset, no monsters, no fluctuations, and no need to fight in the cosmos… Living like this is the reason why many people left the Backtrackers.

Maybe those who left just missed home too much.

_________________________________________________________

03 Waterfall Inside Forest

After leaving Jeremiah's fabricated "home," Xavier walks under the moonlight to a secluded forest on the city outskirts. Behind the dense forest and the signal-blocking zone is the largest cosmic signal transmission and reception station. It was secretly built by Linkon City.

He could technically teleport to any place he had been before using his Evol, but he always slows down when passing this signal station. The blue light on the top of the tower flickers, almost blending in with the starry sky. Apart from that, most of the buildings in the base aren't tall. They're sparsely scattered in the forest clearing. Occasionally, maintenance staff would walk around, their whispers echoing in the distance.

These faint sounds are as comforting as the cosmic white noise they heard when they traveled through unfamiliar galaxies. His mind wanders back to the seemingly endless journey back when he slept in the hibernation pod.

He heads deeper into the forest, through a pitch-black valley, walking until no buildings are visible. There, he reaches his destination-

The crash site of Traceback II.

--

Only part of the wreckage is above ground. He pushes away the vines and places Jeremiah's accelerator into the launcher. He lights it with his Evol. Little specks of light float from his hand into the leaves below. Soon, blue electricity starts flowing, and a cold mechanical noise echoes under the starry sky. He sits down in the pilot's seat, quietly waiting for the result. Fortunately, the forests in every spacetime sound and smell the same.

He closes his eyes, thinking about his home. Some say that from a higher dimensional perspective, time doesn't exist. The past, present, and future unfold in the same space. A person can only see the world before them because their eyes can only perceive the light projected from it.

If this is true, then somewhere in the vast cosmos, there might exist a point where light from countless timelines converges. From there, one could see every star that ever existed, from the explosion of the universe to its eventual collapse, and witness every possible ending the world could take under an infinite number of choices.

The mechanical roar subsides, leaving the forest in silence and darkness.

It's hopeless without Protocore Energy.

He collects his scattered thoughts and opens his eyes to a cascading waterfall of stars in the forest.

He raises his hand, as though he wants to catch them. If time really doesn't exist, then within this sea of stars before him… Could he see Philos? And his and her little planet?

_________________________________________________________

04 Catastrophe

A year passes. Jeremiah still hasn't found a suitable power source to start the spaceship. The rented "home" gradually became his real home.

After arriving in this era, several unwritten rules were formed among the Backtrackers, such as changing residences regularly and avoiding unnecessary contact. After obtaining the identity of a "normal person," Jeremiah loses all contact with Xavier. He did look for him many times privately, but in a way, he feels as though this fruitless search might be better. Whether it's because of guilt or not wanting another traitor like Isaiah to trouble Xavier, he doesn't know.

Besides, with his current appearance-gloves and an apron-he really wouldn't know what to say if he were to meet his former captain.

--

His days drifting in Traceback II feel like a dream from a previous life. Jeremiah's biggest worry now is how to give Bella a ring and invite her to live in this "home" he built for her.

But before he can come up with a satisfactory plan, a three-day polar night begins. He had a bad feeling about it, all of which comes to fruition when, at three in the morning on the last day, he sees a Wanderer. It pierces through the skyscrapers of Linkon City like a meteor, shooting right through the psychological defenses of its citizens.

People who have never seen such a monster are captured by Death as they're enveloped in fear. They cry as they say their final goodbyes to family, friends, and lovers. Then, they're mercilessly crushed by a Wanderer that somehow appeared behind them, becoming a handful of dust.

When Jeremiah reaches Sweeties Cake Shop, he only sees collapsed buildings and destroyed shop signs. In the ruins, a small marigold is buried under the rubble.

He doesn't dwell on it for long, quickly realizing he's perhaps one of the few people who knows how to defeat these monsters. But when he tries to shatter the Wanderer's Protocore as he had done when part of the Order of Lightseekers, he finds no weapons at hand or within sight.

This era is far behind the level of technology they had on Philos.

His peaceful life has almost made him forget how to fight. As the monster's roar reaches his ears, he rolls over and watches helplessly as the marigold disintegrates in a dark blue energy wave.

--

In the early days of the catastrophe, he briefly worked with Xavier in the most devastated areas.

And standing in the middle of a severely damaged road, Xavier rescued a girl and disappeared soon after.

Jeremiah knows that he must have found "her."

The disaster lasted much longer than anyone imagined. On January 1, 2035, the Hunters Association was officially established. The President announces in the January 1 Agreement that they may have to coexist with Wanderers.

The newly rebuilt Azure Square broadcasts this historical moment on a giant holographic screen. Jeremiah is in the crowd when it plays. It feels as if an ancient spaceship has finally landed, and the real Traceback mission has just begun.

_________________________________________________________

05 Philo

In 2037, Linkon City mostly rebuilt itself at an almost incredible speed. After mastering the purification and use of Protocore Energy, it's even more prosperous than before the disaster.

Xavier walks around a corner and is hit by a floral scent. He looks up to see a flower shop called Philo. Its golden marigolds spill out onto the street.

It's all very familiar. He vaguely remembers this used to be a cake shop.

The shopkeeper, carrying a potted plant, pushes open the glass door. His greeting is caught in his throat at the sight of Xavier.

--

"I bought this place, so I'm living here now. The backyard is a greenhouse, and the third. floor is a workspace." Jeremiah invites his long-lost friend into the shop and serves two cups of hot tea. "The spaceship's launcher is-"

"Did she eat dinner at your place that weekend?"

Xavier unexpectedly interrupts him with a long-lost memory, leaving Jeremiah somewhat at a loss.

"Ah, you mean Bella…" He scratches his head. "She did. And she immediately noticed that I rented the house. Bella said no one would clear out a house until it's only filled with flowers. She knew who I was from the start and said she saw me when she was a child. She also said she'd like to see my real home if she could."

Jeremiah touches a small ring he wears on a necklace as he speaks, then he tucks it back into his collar. "Enough about me. How are you? Do you need a new identity? I can get you one."

Xavier shakes his head, walking over to a cluster of blue flowers. In the center of the five petals is a small yellow star. Wavyleaf sea lavender. He hasn't seen one in a long time.

"…I won't lie, I felt quite guilty these past two years. It seems like everyone had a reason to give up and leave halfway except you. Well, you did too, but you wouldn't because no one could replace you. We all thought that you'd still make it to the end, even if you were the only one left. It's cruel, but sometimes I think those of us who left early can live their lives in peace as long as you're still holding on."

"You can always choose what kind of life you want to lead," Xavier says softly. It's as if tiny suns illuminate the slightly wilted petals. "Have you gotten used to Earth food?"

Jeremiah stands up. "Captain, can I come back?"

Xavier looks at him, seemingly thinking his question is unnecessary. "Just do what you think is right."

--

By the time Xavier leaves Philo, night has already enveloped the newly built Linkon City. On the overpass, Xavier looks down at the endless stream of cars and hurried pedestrians. Everyone is absorbed in their journey, and not a single person pauses to gaze at the stars above.

Of course, it's late. Everyone is rushing home, like how all life ultimately returns to where it came from.

No matter what he chooses, his fate always remains the same.

"Xavier, you already found her, right? So, why don't you settle down somewhere?"

As he leaves, Jeremiah's words echo in his ears.

His gaze falls on the distant cityscape. Over the years, the light pollution in Linkon City has become increasingly severe, making it impossible to see anything.

He remembers the waterfall of stars he had seen deep in the forest. That's his last memory of his distant homeland.

Maybe, this time, he can settle down.

If possible, he wants a place where he can see the stars.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

A Christmas Miracle-Chapter 2

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers, Ruby Arias, Santa Claus, Streaky the cat, Lillian Luthor, Alex Danvers

Summary: After her last two breakups, Lena doesn't think there is love out there for her. However, will Ruby's wish to Santa make Lena a believer in miracles?

Chapter 1

Lena pulled up to her step mother’s house. She stared at the front door and sighed. She didn’t really want to trouble her stepmother but for all Lex’s faults, he wouldn’t dare attack her at his mother’s house. She got out of the car and went to the back seat to get Ruby out of her carseat. Once freed, Ruby sprinted towards the house screaming “Grandma!” Lena sighed and rushed after her. 

By the time she caught up with her, Ruby had rung the doorbell 12 times. Lena quickly scooped her up, held her and said, “You don’t have to keep ringing the doorbell.”

Ruby pouted and said, “I wanted to see grandma faster.”

Lena chuckled and said, “Don’t pout. I need you to put on that smile that grandma likes. We need to keep her blood pressure down while we tell her about today.”

Ruby beamed and exclaimed, “I will do my best!”

Suddenly, the door opened to a flustered Lillian whose face quickly changed to happiness once she realized who was at the door.

“Girls! I didn’t expect to see you this weekend. Come in,” beamed Lillian as she ushered the girls inside.

Lena and Ruby quickly came into the house. Once Lena placed Ruby down, she instantly made a beeline for Lillian and exclaimed, “Grandma!” Lillian kneeled down to Ruby’s level and Ruby jumped into her arms for a big hug.

As Lillian squeezed her tight, she exclaimed, “I can’t believe how big you have gotten.”

Ruby smiled and said, “Mommy says that I’m a growing weed.”

Lillian chuckled and said, “I think you are growing like a pretty rose that I can’t wait to see what you bloom into.” 

Lillian kissed her forehead as Ruby hugged her tighter. Lena smiled at the display. Sam and Ruby weren’t related to Lillian at all but she embraced them as family when they met almost six years ago. Lena had just started working at L-Corp. She was initially filling in for Lillian since she was recovering from having a knee replacement surgery at Lena’s penthouse and Lex was serving time for his umpteenth attempt at Superman’s life. Sam was an intern accountant  at the time and brought to her attention that money was being funneled out of the company into a shell account. 

Lena was initially surprised that none of the accounts found this sooner but began to realize that the majority of the department was corrupt and was being pay-rolled by Lex even though he was still in prison. Lena quickly got rid of most of the accounting department and replaced it with people that she trusted and placed Sam as the head of the department. They quickly became friends which is when she noticed that Sam and her three month old have been living out of her car for a couple of months. Sam’s boyfriend kicked her out of their apartment and she had been on her own ever since. Lena offered Sam and Ruby to stay with her and Lillian. It ended up being the best thing for everyone. Lillian had been bored being stuck in the house all day. She was used to being on the move and independent. However, having a baby in the house brighten Lillians perspective. She thought that Ruby was the cutest baby in the world and constantly volunteered to babysit her. When she got well enough, she would constantly take Ruby shopping for matching outfits. Ruby was the only baby she new that had designer baby clothes. Sam thought it was too much, but Lillian just smiled and said, “Well, grandmas are always supposed to spoil their grandchildren.” 

Sam was so touched by this because her own mother rejected her when she found out that Sam got pregnant without being married. Lillian and Sam bonded after that and now Sam is like a second daughter to Lillian. 

Lillian looked up to Lena smiling and said, “What bring you guys by today?”

Lena rubbed the back of her neck nervously. She didn’t want to blurt out the real reason they were here. She wanted to ease them into it. Luckily she smelled something that could help her stall.

Lena sniffed and said, “Whatever that is smells delicious.”

Lillian smiled and said, “Oh, I had made lunch for me and the bridge club. We had roast beef sandwiches and potato wedges along with cupcakes. I actually have some left over if you guys haven’t eaten anything yet.”

“Oh, cupcakes!” Ruby exclaimed as she raced for the kitchen. 

Lillian chuckled and said, “I am kind of a little hurt that she stopped hugging me once cupcakes became involved. “

Lena linked her arms in Lillians, smiled, and said, “You know that she will be cuddling with you before you know it asking you to read her favorite book.”

Lillian smiled and said, “Well, I have perfected the character’s voices after all.”

Lena rolled her eyes as she and Lillian headed to the kitchen. 

*****

Lena watched as Ruby tried to go for a second cupcake. Lena sighed and said, “Ruby, you already have one. You don’t need another one.”

Ruby turned to Lillian with huge round eyes and a quivering pout. 

“Grandma, can I please have another cupcake?”

Lillian chuckled and said, “Of course dear. Anything for my favorite granddaughter.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Ruby as she grabbed another cupcake. 

Lena shook her head and said, “Mom, you shouldn’t have given her the extra cupcake. She is now going to be bouncing with energy until she goes to bed.”

Lillian smiled and said, “That is not so bad. Besides, who could say no to that adorable face?”

Lillian patted Ruby on the head which caused her to smile as she bit into her cupcake. Lena smiled at the display of affection between the two. Lillian looked so peaceful and she didn’t want to ruin it. 

Lena sighed as she went to get another cupcake for herself. 

As she took a bite, Lillian said, “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. Did something happen before coming here?”

Lena sighed while putting down the cupcake. 

Here we go. 

She looked up at her mom with a passive look on her face and said, “Well, an incident did occur before coming here.”

Lillian looked up frowning and said, “Oh. I hope it was something too troubling.”

Read the rest on AO3

[elismor]

A piece of my personal fannish history came back to me today and I want to share the story of it because, to me, it's about the very best part of fandom: friendship.

In 1996, I went to Syndicon in Baltimore, Maryland and met my friend Virginia in person for the first time. We knew one another from HIGHLA-L (that's an email list for all you youngsters wondering wtf a -l is) and spent an evening sitting on the floor in a hotel ballroom talking about fanfic and life and Highlander while everyone around us danced to Jim Byrnes and his band.

In 1998(ish) two other HL friends and I went to Scotland for a con where Peter Wingfield was appearing and took a day to drive a massive loop through the highlands. We stopped at the highlander monument in Glenfinnan (on the shores of Loch Shiel--because no HL fan can say Glenfinnan without adding that) and, on a whim, decided to bring a bottle of water from the loch back to Virginia. So, we scoured the car for a bottle and got to work.

I fell in while scooping the water out. It was February.

This past summer, Virginia passed away from cancer and her niece contacted her closest group of fandom friends to ask us if we wanted anything to remember her by (as she was a collector of fandom things) and, on a whim, I said that if she still had the water, I would love to have it.

It arrived in today's mail. I always figured that V would decant it out of the Cherry Coke bottle we had on hand and put it into something fancier for display...but she did not. So there it is, stashed on my office bookshelf until I figure out where I'm going to put it for real.

Twenty Seven years of friendship and laughter (and tears) and inside jokes and fandom drama (and real life drama) and joy...and now grief.

Everyone does fandom in their own way and mine has always been more about the connections with fellow fans than the source material. Virginia and I ran a fanfic archive together. She met me at Five Points Station in Atlanta in 1996 when I was there for the Olympics. She came out to me on a beach in Florida in 2002(ish). We went to Dragon*Con together and bought lightsabers. And she kept this bottle of lake water I got her...for all these years.

Cherish your fandom friends, folks. For they surely cherish you.