#so i'm just bringing back old pride drawings

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART II: MY HEART DREAMS

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part III // part IV // part V // part V

wc: 7.1k author's note: ahhh tysm to everyone reading!!! your comments literally make my day and the taglist DAMN!! seriously I'm so grateful <3 also i apologize for this chapter being so long, i tried to stfu but it still ended up being 7k

One thing you should've realized sooner was that nothing escapes Sevika's notice in Zaun. 

You were barely a week into your new routine, legs burning as you struggled through your morning run. The only sound you could hear was of blood pounding in your ear—and the addition of a rumbling engine approaching from behind.  

You whip your head back, unsure if your ears were deceiving you but there it was, a truck filled with Sevika's scavenging team catching up, with Sevika herself leaning out the passenger window.

"Pick up the pace, pantry girl!" she shouted, her voice laden with amusement. "At this rate, you'll be old and gray before you join my team!"

Her crew howled with laughter as they sped by, leaving you red-faced and fuming in a cloud of dust.

Now, weeks later, you collapse onto the grass beside Caitlyn, both of you panting heavily after finishing your lap around the neighborhood. The memory of Sevika's taunts still burns, spurring you to push yourself harder during training.

Just as you're about to ask if you should do another lap, something ice-cold presses against your neck. You yelp, jerking upright in surprise.

A dark-haired woman hovers over you, a familiar smirk playing on her lips and a frosty water bottle in her hand. "Still jumping at shadows, I see," she teases. "I'm not sure I can use someone so easily startled on my team."

You glare up at her. "That's rich, coming from you," you retort. "Your late-night victory parties make it impossible to get a good night's sleep around here."

"Feeling left out? The invitations open, you know. Just bring your own drink."

"How about an invitation to join your team instead?"  You counter.

Sevika laughs, the sound was simultaneously frustrating and oddly captivating. "Maybe focus on not tripping over your own feet first, pantry girl."

After you finish your training for the day, you take a quick shower and make your way to the pantry for your shift. But as you approach, you notice something odd - your name isn't on the schedule. Again.

"That's the third time this week," you mutter.

Caitlyn notices your confusion. "Maybe they're cutting back on hours?" she suggests, but her tone is uncertain.

With your unexpected free time, you find yourself spending more time with your makeshift family. Family dinners were something you always had, but for the first time you didn’t have to worry about where or what your next meal would be.

Powder chatters animatedly about her latest inventions, while Caitlyn asks questions that make the kid’s eyes go wild with excitement. Vi listens with a mix of amusement and pride, occasionally ruffling her sister's hair.

Vander sits at the head of the table and he interjects with the occasional piece of wisdom that makes Vi interrupt to remind him that they were too old for lectures or dad jokes, drawing laughter from the group.

As plates are cleared and the conversation winds down, Powder asks to star gaze again, which Vander wants to say no to when everyone has work tomorrow. But then he looks outside and he’s reminded that things weren’t the same, you could afford the leisure to enjoy the skies now.

So you all move to the roof, continuing your evening under the stars. Powder points out constellations, making up stories for each one. Vi playfully argues with her interpretations, while Caitlyn offers more scientific explanations. You lean back, taking in the moment, feeling truly at peace for the first time in a long while.

As the night deepens, drowsiness sets in. One by one, you bid each other goodnight and retreat to your beds.

Morning arrives sooner than you'd like and you meet Caitlyn early, both of you squinting against the bright sunlight as you make your way to the training grounds. The morning sun warms your face as you and Caitlyn wait on the grass for Grayson to arrive with your sparring partner. You're chatting idly, speculating about who it might be when you hear approaching footsteps.

Your eyes widen as you see Grayson walking towards you, but it's the figure beside her that makes your breath catch. Sevika strides across the field, her presence somehow always able to steal your attention. She's wearing dark wash jeans that hug her legs and a sleeveless, tight black tee that shows off her toned arms with her usual red shawl draping over her left side.

Grayson offers an apologetic smile as they reach you. "Sorry we're late. There was a situation to handle."

Sevika merely grunts, barely acknowledging you and Caitlyn. Your heart races—if she was here to watch you were so screwed, there was no way Sevika would let you have a match without her snarky comments. 

"Marcus was supposed to be here today," Grayson explains, "but it seems he's... incapacitated."

You and Caitlyn exchange knowing looks. It's not the first time Marcus has been too drunk to show up, and frankly, you're relieved. Even when sober, he's a total ass.

"So... who are we sparring with?" you ask, though you have a sinking feeling you already know the answer.

Grayson gestures to Sevika. "Someone owes me a favor."

Sevika rubs her head, clearly annoyed. "Can we get this over with?" she grumbles.

Grayson chuckles. "She's just grumpy because she's hungover," she explains to you, then turns to Sevika with a raised eyebrow. "Which you wouldn't be if you didn't drink like it's water."

Sevika scowls, softly as she crosses her arms. "It's my day off," she retorts. "You never come to my parties."

"I drink on my own time," Grayson replies primly, adjusting her stance.

"You're too much of a goody two shoes," Sevika snorts, rolling her eyes.

You and Caitlyn look at each other in shock, from the fact that the two captains are bickering like siblings and they’re going to be sparring with Sevika. 

"Sevika?" Caitlyn sputters. "You want us to spar Sevika?"

"It's better practice for you two - Sevika has years of fighting experience. You can learn some new techniques today,"  She reassures. "So, who's first?"

"I'll get it over with," Caitlyn acquiesced, her voice steady despite the nerves you can see in her eyes.

As Caitlyn approaches the sparring area, Sevika reaches for her shawl. In one swift motion, she removes it, and your eyes widen in shock. Where you expected to see flesh and bone, there's instead a gleaming bionic arm. 

Intricate gears and pistons are visible beneath panels of transparent material, offering glimpses of the arm's inner workings. As Sevika flexes her fingers, you can see these components whirring and sliding with precision, each movement accompanied by a soft, almost musical hum.

Sevika doesn't react to the stares, her face stony as if this reveal is inconsequential. You feel a pang of guilt for gawking, but you can't help wondering - was this a war injury, or a result of the walkers? 

Caitlyn recovers from her shock like you do, now both of you feeling more intimidated by the strength and skills of the woman before you.  You watch as Sevika easily deflects Caitlyn's first attack, countering with a move so fast you barely see it. Caitlyn hits the ground hard, she barely has any time to react when Sevika strikes again.

"Come on, cupcake," Sevika taunts, using Vi's nickname for Caitlyn. 

The use of the nickname catches both you and Caitlyn off guard and she narrowly dodges a punch.  You had no idea how much Sevika had been paying attention to your group.

"Is that all you've got?" The captain says smugly.

As the sparring continues, you find yourself studying Sevika's every move. The way she anticipates Caitlyn's attacks, the efficiency of her counterstrikes, the subtle shifts in her stance.  

But it's more than just her fighting skills that captivate you. It's the fierce concentration in her eyes, the slight smirk that plays on her lips when she lands a particularly good hit. It's the way her muscles flex as she moves, the sheen of sweat that forms on her skin under the hot sun.

You're so lost in your observations that you almost miss when Grayson calls an end to the match. Caitlyn is panting, bruised but not beaten, while Sevika looks barely winded.

"Your turn, rookie," Sevika calls out, her eyes locking with yours.

Sevika takes a menacing stance, her bionic arm whirring softly as she flexes her fingers. You try to quell your nerves, reminding yourself of all your training.

The match begins, and Sevika doesn't hold back. She lunges forward with a quick jab that you barely dodge. Her follow-up kick catches you in the side, and you stumble back.

"With those sparring skills, you'll be dead by now," Sevika taunts, circling you like a predator.

You regain your footing, countering with a series of quick strikes that force Sevika to step back. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't think any walkers would be punching me back anytime soon," you retort.

Sevika smirks, effortlessly blocking your attacks. "There are still survivors out there, some who might not be as merciful as me." she says, suddenly dropping low and sweeping your legs out from under you.

You hit the ground hard but roll quickly, narrowly avoiding Sevika's follow-up strike. "I’m only alive because you needed the meds.”

“But you’re alive regardless?” She counters.

“Urgh, you're the worst, you know that? You just like watching me suffer-"

Your words are cut off as Sevika charges forward. You manage to sidestep, grabbing her arm and using her momentum to throw her off balance. For a moment, you have the upper hand, landing a solid hit to her midsection.

Sevika grunts, a flash of surprise in her eyes. "Well, it's not a bad view," she quips, her voice slightly breathless.

You're holding your own better than you expected, your training with Grayson evident in your improved technique. You even manage to land a few solid hits, each one making you more hopeful that you could finally prove yourself to the captain.

But Sevika is still Sevika. Just when you think you might have a chance, she changes tactics. As she unleashes a flurry of lightning-fast strikes, you are able to block the first few, but the last one catches you off guard, sending you stumbling back.

Before you can recover, Sevika is on you. With a move so smooth it seems almost effortless, she sweeps your legs again and follows you down. You’re on the ground immediately, the air knocked from your lungs, and suddenly Sevika is on top of you, pinning you down.

Her face is inches from yours, her breath hot on your cheek. "There's always next time, pantry girl," she says, her voice laced with arrogance.

Fury and frustration surge through you—at the nickname, at losing, but most of all at yourself for the way your heart races at her proximity. You struggle against her hold, but it's futile—you lost and couldn’t prove you were ready. 

The days blur into a haze of relentless training after the match, your body pushed to its limits.  Yet despite your efforts, something feels off. Each time you miss a target or fumble a move, Sevika's face flashes in your mind. Your focus wavers, distracted by unnameable thoughts that surface whenever you recall her challenging gaze or the smugness in her voice. 

The sharp crack of gunfire echoes across the makeshift shooting range. You squeeze the trigger, watching as your shot goes wide, missing the target by a good margin. Expaseration bubbles up inside you for missing yet again.

Next to you, Caitlyn's sniper barks and the center of her target explodes. Again. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy at her precision.

"Excellent shot, Caitlyn," Grayson praises, her eyes gleaming with approval. "I think I’m looking at my newest sniper."

Caitlyn beams at the compliment.

Grayson turns to you, her expression apprehensive. "Something on your mind? You seem distracted today."

"No, I'm fine," you mutter, trying to focus on the target in front of you.

Grayson raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Well, if you keep shooting like you did today, you can expect another month before Sevika would even consider accepting you on her team."

At the mention of Sevika's name, you can't help but frown. Grayson catches it immediately.

"What's wrong?" she probes, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You hesitate, then the words tumble out. "I just... I don't get her. I don't know how to convince her I deserve that spot on the team when she's so infuriating and stubborn."

To your surprise, Grayson laughs, a warm, rich sound. "She hasn't changed since we were deployed together, then."

Your ears perk up at this. "You were deployed with Sevika? Can you tell me about it?"

Grayson shrugs. "What is there to tell? We were in the military together for 10 years and she's a brilliant soldier."

"That's all to her?" you press, not satisfied with such a simple answer.

Grayson gives you a long, appraising look. "What is it that you really want to know about her?"

The question catches you off guard. You open your mouth to respond, then close it again. What do you want to know? But more importantly, why do you want to know? You realize you don't have an answer, and the realization unsettles you.

Seeing your confusion, Grayson's expression softens. "Sevika is not the best fighter," she says quietly.

"What?"

Grayson chuckles at your expression. "Don't get me wrong, she's an advanced and skilled fighter. But she's not unbeatable." She pauses, her eyes distant as if recalling memories from long ago. "What makes her different... She is loyal and fierce. That woman fights till her very last breath. If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her."

Your mind whirs at this information. Who is Sevika beyond the soldier everyone knows her as? You find yourself hungry for more details, more glimpses into the woman behind the tough exterior.

Then you catch yourself, anger flaring up. Why do you care? Why does it matter who Sevika really is? She's just the leader of the scavenging team, nothing more.

You shake your head, trying to clear these thoughts. "Thanks, Grayson," you mutter, turning back to the target.

As you raise your gun again, you can feel Grayson's knowing gaze on you. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the target. But in your mind's eye, all you can see is Sevika—her cocky grin, her ruthless determination, the mystery that surrounds her.

You squeeze the trigger, and this time, your shot flies true, hitting just off-center. Progress, but not perfection. Much like your understanding of Sevika, you realize. You're getting closer, but there's still so much more to uncover.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

A slight breeze rustles the leaves as you wait by the usual tree, checking your watch. Caitlyn's late, which isn't like her.   You’ve been waiting for 20 minutes already and this was the Caitlyn, the one who’s never even been late to a shift at the pantry.  

You’re about to turn back to the house when suddenly you hear shouting from the road a few blocks away. Without thinking, you immediately sprint towards the commotion.

When you arrived, the scene before you was the last thing you would expect—Caitlyn and Vi were in each other's faces, their voices rising with each exchange. A burly guy from Sevika's crew is half-heartedly trying to separate them.

"You fucking liar!" Caitlyn screams, her face flushed with anger. "Why would you join without telling me?"  

You momentarily pause from trying to pull the fighting couple apart, in all the years you knew Caitlyn she had hardly cursed; Vi must’ve fucked up, bad.

Vi's stance is defensive, her hands raised. "It's safer for you this way!"

"Safer?" Caitlyn's laugh is bitter. "I didn't ask for a white knight, I asked for a partner that's honest!"

The guy from Sevika's crew steps between them. "Come on, ladies, this ain't the place-"

Caitlyn whirls on him. "How could you let her in Sevika’s group like this?"

He backs up, hands raised. “Listen, I had no part in this. Vi was the one who asked, and Sevika accepted her."

Caitlyn's face contorts with anger, and she lunges forward. You jump in, grabbing her arms. "Cait, stop!"

But as you hold her back, his words sink in. "Wait, WHAT?" You turn to Vi, shock evident on your face. "She accepted you to join her scavenging and not me?"

Vi looks away, guilt written across her features. Your blood boils. You release Caitlyn and round on the guy. "Where the HELL is she?"

He crosses his arms, defiant. "I don't have to answer to you."

You step closer, your voice low and dangerous. "Oh, trust me. You want to tell me."

He hesitates, then sighs. "Fine, but it's your funeral. She's in her garage."

Without another word, you turn on your heel and march away, leaving Caitlyn and Vi to their argument. You had your own annoying, lying woman to deal with.

The garage comes into view, its large door open. As you approach, you catch sight of Sevika bent over a motorcycle. Her back muscles flex as she works, visible beneath a black sports bra. Her jeans hang low on her hips, revealing the band of her boxers. For a moment, you were unable to comprehend the sight of Sevika in clothes that weren't military green. 

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before addressing her. "Vi and Caitlyn are out there fighting. I thought you should know."

She turns, surprise briefly flickering across her features before her trademark nonchalance slides back into place. "And that concerns me... how exactly?" she questions, wiping her hand with a rag. "Last I checked, I wasn't running a relationship counseling service."

"Because of all the bullshit you gave about me not being ready? Why won't you let me on the team?" you demand, your voice cracking with desperation. "You let Vi join. What makes her so special?"

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"Then tell me!" you shout, stepping closer. "I'm sick of your cryptic bullshit, Sevika. I deserve to know!"

Something in Sevika snaps—Her composure shatters, replaced by a raw, barely contained fury. "Fine? You want to know why?" She grabs your arm, her grip tight enough to bruise. "Let's go."

She drags you out of the garage, marching through the community with large strides. You struggle to keep up, confused and a little scared by this sudden change in her demeanor.

As you reach the outskirts of the settlement, Sevika slows down. You follow her gaze and feel your blood run cold. Wooden crosses stretch out before you, maybe 20 to 25 of them, each marking a grave.

"This is why," Sevika grits.

You stand there, frozen, as Sevika turns to face you. Her eyes are blazing, but there's something else there too - something melancholic you've never seen before.

"Do you know how many empty graves we have?" she asks, gesturing to the crosses. "It's a fortune if you're able to bring a body home, or if you can spend someone's last moments together."

She walks among the graves, her fingers trailing over the rough wood of a cross. "This is the type of thing we have to deal with. Every time we go out there, we risk not coming back. And if we don't come back, this is what's left of us. A wooden cross and a memory."

"I've had to bury too many people. I've had to tell too many families that their loved ones aren't coming home. And sometimes, I couldn't even give them that closure."

She turns back to you, her eyes now hard, and gone was the brief moment of vulnerability you saw before. "This is why I won't let you on the team. Because I can't... I won't add another cross to this field."

The weight of her words hits you like a physical blow. But instead of understanding, you feel a surge of anger.

"So what?" you snap, surprising both yourself and Sevika. "You keep me locked away like I'm Rapunzel in a tower? Look around, Sevika!" You gesture wildly at the desolate landscape beyond the settlement. "There is nothing left to lose. The world is gone!"

For a moment, she's silent, and you think you might have finally gotten through to her. But then her expression hardens, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

"You can say that," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "until you have the world in your hand and it's ripped away from you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You see a flash of something in Sevika's eyes - a deep, soul-crushing resignation that makes your anger falter.

"There is always something to lose," she continues. "And every time you think you have nothing left to lose, life finds a way to prove you wrong."

She steps closer to you. "You think you're ready to face what's out there? You think you have nothing to lose? Trust me, pantry girl, you have no idea what loss really is."

"What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?" you challenge, your voice rising. "This isn't living, Sevika. It's just... existing."

Sevika's eyes flash dangerously. "You don't understand-"

"No, you don't understand!" you interrupted, shoving her back. "We're all going to die—But I'd rather die out there, trying to do something I wanted, rather than rot away in here!"

You’re angry and you know you just provoked her but you can’t help but shove her back again, frustrated at her but, even more so at yourself.  You were terrified, of fucking course you were—but who wasn’t in the world you were living in? 

With a growl, she lunges forward, shoving you hard. You stumble back, shock and anger coursing through you. Without thinking, you retaliate, pushing Sevika with all your might.

The two of you grapple, a tangle of limbs and fury. Grass and dirt kick up around you as you roll on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sevika's bionic arm hisses as she tries to pin you down, but you're quicker, fueled by frustration and pent-up emotion.

With a burst of strength, you manage to flip Sevika onto her back. You straddle her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, which fall limp immediately. Both of you are panting heavily, faces flushed and hair disheveled.

"I won," you gasp out, your chest heaving. "You promised. If I could beat you, you'd let me join."

Sevika looks up at you, her expression unreadable. "When will you learn patience?" 

The proximity is intoxicating, and for a moment, you're distracted by the feeling of Sevika beneath you, the rise and fall of her chest, the intensity in her eyes. 

"You can't expect me to live like this," you insist, your voice softer now but no less passionate. "What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?"

Something flickers in Sevika's eyes—pain, fear, or something else entirely. Without warning, she bucks her hips, throwing you off balance. In one smooth motion, she shoves you away and stands up.

You scramble to your feet, ready to continue the fight, but Sevika's next move stops you cold. 

"Sevika!" you call out, your voice cracking. "Don't you walk away from me!"

But she doesn't stop, doesn't even look back. 

You're left standing there, alone among silent tombstones and empty graves, watching her retreating figure disappear into the gathering dusk.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The weight of defeat settles heavily on your shoulders as you stumble into your room. You collapse onto your bed, fully clothed, as the scene replays in your mind. Sevika's face haunts you - not her usual cocky smirk or searching gaze, but that fleeting expression of raw pain you glimpsed just before she walked away.

There's something deeper, a hollowness in your chest you can't quite name. It's more than just the sting of losing an argument or watching her retreat. 

There was something else in her eyes that truly unsettled you—that flash of fear when she looked at you, as if dreading you might become another one of those wooden crosses she would have to mark.

Just as you're about to drift off, a sudden burst of loud music jolts you awake. Shouts and laughter follow, unmistakably coming from a few blocks down—right where Sevika's house is located.

You groan, pressing your pillow over your head. Of course, another one of her infamous parties. But as you lie there, listening to the distant sounds of celebration, a part of you can't help but wonder what Sevika looks like when she's relaxed, surrounded by her team. 

After an hour of futile attempts to sleep, frustration wins out.  You sit up, running a hand through your hair in annoyance. You throw on a hoodie and stomp towards the door, grabbing the nearest pair of slippers without looking.  

The cool night air does little to calm your irritation as you march down the street. You pound on the door, ready to give her a piece of your mind.

To your surprise, it's Sevika herself who answers. Her usual scowl morphs into a grimace as she recognizes you, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight of her throws you off balance—her gray wife beater clings to her frame, and her cargo pants are smeared with what you hope is just mud. Despite the mess, she looks... good. Annoyingly so.

"Do you know what time it is?" you demand, trying to focus on your anger.

Sevika takes a long drag of her cigarette and then blows the smoke out slowly. Her eyes drift downward. "I like your slippers," she remarks.

You glance down, mortification washing over you as you realize you're wearing Powder's pink bunny slippers. "Shit," you mutter, but quickly shake it off. "Why do you have to be so loud? This might come as a surprise but some people are trying to sleep!"

"Worried you won't get enough sleep to organize properly tomorrow?" Sevika taunts, leaning against the doorframe. "Make sure you don't mix up the soup and fruit cocktail cans."

Her dismissive attitude ignites your temper. "Fine, whatever. You're acting like a complete ass," you spit out.

Sevika's eyebrow raises slightly. "Is that all? Because if so, I've got a party to get back to."

You're about to retort when you catch a glimpse of the interior of her house. It's a mess—empty bottles strewn about, gear haphazardly tossed in corners. 

"What?" Sevika's voice snaps you back to reality.

"I... nothing," you stammer, taking a step back. "Just turn the music down, okay?"

Sevika studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she turns and disappears into the house. A few seconds later, the volume of the music noticeably decreases.  Sevika.. Was being obedient? 

She reappears at the door, taking another drag of her cigarette. "Anything else?" 

You open your mouth, then close it again. What else is there to say? That her apparent disregard for what you want infuriates you? That her words about from earlier today won’t leave your mind? That despite everything, you find yourself drawn to her in a way you can't explain?

Instead, you just shake your head. "No. That's... that's all. Thanks."

As you turn to leave, Sevika's voice stops you. "Wait."

You pause, looking back at her expectantly.  You notice that there is a hesitancy to her this time, like you were fragile and if she got too close you might shatter.

"Wear proper attire tomorrow, okay?" she says, her tone businesslike. "And check in at the armory with Vi."

You blink, confused. "Vi? What does she-"

Sevika cuts you off with an exasperated sigh. "Do I really have to explain it to you, rookie?"

"Yeah, cause I don't get it," you retort.

"You're on the team."

For a moment, you just stare at her, unable to process what you've heard. Sevika refuses to meet your gaze, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.

As realization dawns, a wide grin breaks out across your face. Sevika immediately cuts in, "Don't think I'm going soft on you and giving you anything you want. This is an easy spot, but-"

You can't help the shit-eating grin that spreads even wider. "Thank you," you say, your voice sincere despite your obvious excitement.

Sevika just nods, her expression carefully neutral. "Yeah, okay. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

You nod enthusiastically. "Right. Yes. Thank you again. Good night!"

You turn and walk away, trying desperately to keep your cool. But as soon as you think Sevika has fully closed her door, you can't contain yourself anymore. You do a little excited jump right there in the street, pumping your fist in the air. Then, grinning like a fool, you take off running towards home.

What you don't see is Sevika, still standing in her doorway. She watches your celebratory dance with a mixture of disbelief and something akin to fondness. Shaking her head, she finally closes the door, a small, bemused smile playing at the corners of her lips.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The early morning sun casts a golden glow over the farm as your team arrives. The dilapidated barn looms ahead, its red paint peeling and faded. Overgrown fields stretch out to your right, while a rickety fence encloses what must have once been a thriving chicken coop.

Sevika's voice rings out across the coop.  "Alright, gather the chickens."

You blink, certain you've misheard. "Wait, what?"  

You weren’t expecting your first mission to be on a farm, much less to gather the animals. But your confusion is quickly overwhelmed by the sight of your teammates scattering, chasing after a flock of very startled, very loud chickens.  

"How do you expect us to get food?" Sevika asks, her tone matter-of-fact.

You turn to her, eyebrow raised. "Why aren't you helping?"

The air seems to still as everyone freezes, shocked by your boldness. Sevika's eyes narrow dangerously.

"I'm your captain," she states, as if that explains everything.

A reckless grin spreads across your face. "What? Afraid you can't catch a single chicken in front of your people?"

Sevika's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you wonder if you've pushed too far. Then, to everyone's surprise, she vaults over the fence and into the coop.

"You have a mouth on you," she growls, eyeing a particularly plump hen. "That's going to get you in trouble one day."

You hop in after her, heart racing at how she easily accepted your challenge. "Only if I'm caught," you quip back.

The two of you circle the hen, which clucks nervously. You lunge forward, but the bird darts away.

"You're scaring it!" Sevika snaps.

"Me?!" you retort. "You're practically harassing the thing!"

As you both scan the coop for a chicken that wasn’t running like it had its head chopped off, a voice pipes up from outside the fence. "They’re bickering like an old couple!"

In perfect unison, you and Sevika whip around, shouting, "Don't you dare say that!"

The moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze, looking at each other in shock, and then it’s replaced quickly with a scowl as the determination to capture the chicken sets back in.

Okay, so barreling at full force towards the animal was not the way to go considering everyone was already filling their cages.  You mentally devise a plan to corner the chicken, gesturing for Sevika to move to the right while you go left. But as you both rush forward, the hen squawks indignantly and darts between you in a perfect straight line.

Unable to stop your momentum, you and Sevika collide, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You find yourself pinned beneath her, acutely aware of her weight, her warmth, the scent of her body wash and gunpowder that clings to her skin.

Sevika pushes herself up slightly, her face inches from yours. "This is dumb," she mutters. "I don't need to prove anything."

"Mhmm," you manage, your brain short-circuiting from the proximity.

She grunts, rolling off you and standing up. "There's one last chicken," she says, brushing dirt from her clothes. "We better get it."

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, scanning the coop for that last elusive hen. The last hen clucks nervously, darting between the wooden beams of the coop. You and Sevika exchange a quick nod, wordlessly agreeing on a strategy.

Sevika crouches low, her movements slow and deliberate as she inches towards the left side of the coop. You mirror her actions on the right, creating a human barrier. The hen's beady eyes dart between you, sensing the trap.  

"Easy now," Sevika murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The hen makes a break for it, but you're ready. You lunge forward, herding it back towards Sevika. She reaches out, her fingers just brushing the chicken's feathers—

A deep rumble suddenly echoes across the farm, stopping you both in your tracks. You both freeze, exchanging a brief, confused glance. In that instant, the barn door explodes outward with a deafening crash. Splinters of wood fly through the air, unleashing a horde of walkers that stumble and lurch towards you.

"Fuck! Run!" someone screams, and chaos erupts.

Your teammates scramble to grab their chicken cages, but you're transfixed by the sight of Sevika, who's inexplicably clutching the chicken she just caught to her chest with her left arm. Without thinking, you grab her right hand and bolt, pulling her along.

As you run, weaving between broken fences and overgrown crops, the absurdity of the situation hits you. Here you are, fleeing from a walkers horde, hand-in-hand with your usually stoic captain who was so dead set on capturing a single chicken she risked a few minutes just to get it. Suddenly, Sevika bursts out laughing, a rich, genuine sound you've never heard before.

"This is so fucking stupid," she gasps between chuckles.

Her laughter is infectious, and soon you're both giggling like maniacs as you sprint towards the getaway car. The wind whips through your hair, you look over at her and see her tiny ponytail bouncing, her eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy.

As you approach the car, you see one of your teammates dancing in the driver's seat, bobbing their head to music that was loud enough you could hear it from a distance.

Sevika's eyes widened in disbelief. "What is that moron doing?"

"Start the car!" you yell in unison with Sevika.

"Start the fucking car!" echoes from all directions as your team converges on the vehicle.

In a mad scramble, you and Sevika end up diving into the trunk together, barely missing from crashing into each other. The car peels out, tires kicking up dust as you make your escape. You twist around to look back, seeing the walkers crest the hill behind you, their grotesque forms looking like ants as you get further away from the farm.

As the adrenaline starts to fade, you become acutely aware that you're still clutching Sevika's hand. You both look down at your intertwined fingers and quickly release a faint blush coloring your cheeks. 

You glance at Sevika and are struck by the sight of her wide grin, revealing the charming tooth gap from the first time you met her. She looks lighter somehow, the usual weight of responsibility temporarily lifted from her shoulders.

"Maybe you should put the chicken in the cage," you suggest, nodding towards the bird still tucked under her arm.

"Right," Sevika says, quickly stuffing the bewildered chicken into a nearby cage.

Free of your feathered companion, you lean out of the trunk slightly, letting the wind rush through your hair. The music from the car's speakers drifts back to you, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the smell of the woods and the high from the adrenaline rush.

When you open your eyes and turn back, you catch Sevika staring at you. She's not looking at the receding farmland or checking for pursuing walkers. Her eyes are fixed solely on you, an unreadable expression on her face. In this moment, bathed in sunlight and the afterglow of survival, she looks different. Softer. There was no reminiscent of the super soldier you knew her as.

As your eyes meet, Sevika doesn't look away. Instead, her grin softens into something more intimate, more real. You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, a feeling you can't quite name but don't want to let go of.

The car hits a bump, jolting you both and breaking the moment. Sevika clears her throat and turns to secure the chicken cage, you weren’t sure if had imagined the smile or not.

As you return to Zaun, the adrenaline from your narrow escape fades into a collective sense of relief and camaraderie. The team works together to unload the chickens, and despite the close call, everyone seems to be in high spirits.

"Hey, how about another bonfire party?" someone suggests, and a chorus of agreement follows.

To your surprise, Sevika turns to you. "You should come," she says gruffly. "You’re part of the team now."

"Yeah, sure," you reply, fighting to keep the eagerness out of your voice.

As the team disperses to prepare, you notice Vi sprinting towards a certain someone waiting for her at the entrance. "Caitlyn!" Vi shouts, throwing herself into Caitlyn's arms and kissing her passionately.

You raise an eyebrow. "Well, those two made up fast," you mutter to yourself.

Later that evening, you find yourself seated on the cool ground in front of a roaring bonfire. The flames dance hypnotically, casting flickering shadows across the faces of your teammates. The air is filled with laughter, the clink of bottles, and the rich aroma of smoke and grilled food.

You're nursing a beer, listening intently as the others regale you with stories from previous hunts. Sevika sits not far from you, perched regally on a lawn chair. She's quieter than the others, but you notice her lips quirk up occasionally at particularly funny or outrageous parts of the stories.

As the night wears on, a cool breeze picks up. You shiver involuntarily, the chill seeping through your thin shirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sevika glance your way. Without a word, she shrugs off her shawl and leans forward, draping it over your shoulders.

The gesture catches you off guard. You want to thank her, but something in her posture tells you she'd rather not draw attention to the act of kindness. No one else seems to have noticed, and you wonder if this is just how Sevika takes care of her team—quietly, without fuss or expectation of gratitude.

You pull the shawl tighter around you, inhaling the faint scent of cigarettes and gunpowder that clings to it. 

The conversation lulls for a moment, and then someone pipes up, "Hey, remember that time at the hospital in Piltover when we-"

"Uh," another teammate interrupts, glancing nervously at Sevika. "Sevika’s here."

All eyes turn to your captain. Sevika just grunts, taking a long swig from her bottle. You can't tell if it's approval or indifference, but the storyteller takes it as permission to continue.

The crackling fire seems to dim as the storyteller begins, his voice low and reverent. "It was before Zaun was established. Sevika, Silco, Grayson, and some of us old veterans had been cooped up in the hospital for weeks. But it was time we got out, find new people and a place to stay."

You lean in, curious, sneaking glances at Sevika, whose face remains impassive.

"The hospital was completely surrounded," the storyteller continues. "But we had weapons and vehicles. Silco had this completely badass idea to add extra defenses to the ambulance in the garage."

A chorus of whoops erupts from the group, and you see a flicker of pride in Sevika's eyes.

"The plan was to pile as many people as possible into the ambulance. But in the garage," The storyteller's voice drops. "There must've been an opening or something. Somehow, those bastards found their way in."

You find yourself holding your breath while Sevika's face is impassive, but you notice her grip tightening on her bottle.

"It happened so fast. One second Silco was up, the next he was down, a walker lunging for his throat. And Sevika," He shakes his head in awe. "She didn't hesitate. She threw herself between them."

All eyes turn to Sevika. You glance at Sevika, trying to imagine her and the emotions in that moment. 

"Go on," she says. "Finish it."

The storyteller hesitates, unsure. "We had to go back in. We cleared the area, but the walker's teeth sank into her arm instead of Silco's neck." the storyteller says softly. "Even then, she didn't stop fighting. She bashed its skull in with her free hand, then turned and took out two more, saving a few more of us.  But the bite meant she was infected…"

There's a collective intake of breath around the fire. You feel a chill that has nothing to do with the night air.

His voice trails off, and Sevika finishes for him. "So Silco ended up amputating my arm," she states.

"When I die, I'll die on my own accord.  Not because some mindless corpse decided it was my time."

The silence that follows is profound. You see a mix of awe, respect, and a hint of fear on the faces around you as Sevika's words hang in the air.

Then, as if a spell is broken, cheers erupt. "Fuck yeah, boss!" someone shouts, and others join in.

Sevika just grins as she stubs out her cigarette and stands.  “I’m calling it a night, try not to have too much fun."

You remain rooted to the spot even though you know you should go give the shawl that's still draped around your shoulders back.  

As you’re watching Sevika’s retreating form, you're struck once again by how little you truly understand her. Just when you think you've got her figured out, she does something that shatters your assumptions. Her rare, genuine smile from moments ago was like a crack in her armor, offering a glimpse of something you're not sure you were meant to see.

You recall Grayson's comment; If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her. But Sevika isn’t just dragging anyone down—she's fighting, clawing her way up. She’ll endure whatever comes, as long as she’s the one who gets to forge her own path.

Sevika faced death itself, and she emerged victorious.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni @theacedragon0w0

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp

[soulaires]

Love Dilemma.

pairings: Aaron Warner x f!reader

summary: in which your daughter thinks your name is ‘love’ because apparently your husband has been calling you that.

warnings: fluff, crack, dad!aaron warner, use of y/n, ooc(?) warner, soft aaron warner.

« words: 1,304 ┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail; read my other aaron warner fics here.

authors note: it’s here!! This is not proofread and English is not my first language so excuse it!! Also I think baby Dior would call her daddy “Aaron” sometimes 🥹

You have a problem.

And this time, it’s not about kenji but it’s about your daughter, dior.

dior, your five-year-old bundle of joy, had somehow gotten it into her head that her mother's name was 'Love.' It was all Aaron's fault, really. He had a habit of calling you 'Love' ever since, and somehow, your daughter had decided to take it quite literally.

One sunny morning, You and Aaron were in the kitchen, cooking pancakes, while your husband is hugging you from behind, face buried into your neck. dior bounded in, her bright eyes sparkling with excitement. "Love, can we have pancakes today?"

Y/N nearly dropped the pancake batter. She turned to her daughter, trying to suppress a giggle. "Of course, sweetheart. Pancakes it is."

dior clapped her hands in delight. "Yay! Love makes the best pancakes!"

Meanwhile, Aaron who heard the conversation couldn't help but laugh. "You're right, princess. Love does make the best pancakes."

And so, the nickname 'Love' continued to stick. dior began using it with alarming regularity. She'd call out "Love, I'm hungry!" when she wanted a snack, or "Love, can you help me tie my shoelaces?" when she needed assistance.

You and Aaron had a good laugh about it, and they couldn't bring themselves to correct her. It was just too adorable. You guys always reasoned that she'd grow out of it soon enough.

But dior's idea of her mother's name wasn't limited to just your home.

dior's school project on family portraits was approaching, and she was brimming with excitement. She couldn't wait to draw her family and proudly display it in her classroom. A

Your husband had helped her gather all the art supplies she needed, from colored pencils to a large sheet of drawing paper.

As your daughter sat at the kitchen table with her art supplies scattered around her, Aaron watched his daughter with a warm smile. "Princess, are you ready to start your family portrait?"

dior nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with determination. "Yes, daddy!"

You leaned over to kiss dior's forehead. "Remember to write 'Mommy' for me."

dior frowned, her brows furrowed in concentration. "But Mommy, Daddy calls you 'Love.' Shouldn't I put that?”

You chuckled softly, touched by her daughter's innocence. "Well, it's true that Daddy calls me 'Love,' but for your school project, you should use 'Mommy,' okay?"

dior hesitated for a moment, torn between her father's endearing nickname and her mother's request. Finally, she nodded with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Okay, Mommy!"

With that, she set to work on her family portrait. As her colorful imagination flowed onto the paper, she meticulously drew each family member. Aaron's beaming smile, dior's pigtails, and their pet dog curled up in a cozy corner. But when she came to draw Y/N, she paused, her pencil hovering over the paper.

After a moment of contemplation, she couldn't resist her inner mischievous streak. She wrote 'Love' beneath the drawing of her mother instead of 'Mommy.'

dior stepped back to admire her masterpiece, her face glowing with pride. "There, it's done, daddy!"

You peered over your husband's shoulder at the drawing, your eyes widening in surprise. Instead of 'Mommy,' you saw the word 'Love' elegantly written beneath the figure that was unmistakably her. You and Aaron couldn't help but burst into laughter, both surprised and amused by your daughter's antics.

"dior, you little rascal," you chuckled, giving your daughter a playful nudge. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

dior giggled mischievously, her eyes twinkling with delight. "I thought it was the perfect name for you, Mommy."

Aaron hugged his daughter tightly, unable to contain his laughter. "You know what, sweetheart? I think it's perfect, too."

And so, dior's family portrait proudly displayed the name 'Love' beneath her mother's figure when it was showcased at school. When her classmates asked about it, she simply explained, "That's my mommy, but we like to call her 'Love' sometimes."

And that leads her teacher to call you.

You guys received a call from her preschool teacher. "Mrs. Warner," she began, "dior has been insisting that your name is 'Love' in class. Is there something we should know?"

feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, can’t form some words to say so you let your husband explain the situation to the teacher.

"It's just a little mix-up. She thinks my wife’s name is 'Love' because her daddy calls her mommy that."

The teacher chuckled. "Well, it's quite sweet, but you guys should try to correct her. We wouldn't want her to get confused."

"Of course," You finally spoke up, agreeing, though you knew it wouldn't be easy.

That evening, Aaron tried to gently correct dior. "Baby, you know Mommy's real name is not 'Love,' right?”

dior looked up with her big, innocent eyes, puzzled. "But Daddy, you call you mommy 'Love,' Why can't I?"

You heard your husband sighed, realizing it was a battle he couldn't win especially with her using her cute puppy dog eyes. Aaron looked at you for help, and you chuckled softly.

"Okay, you can call me 'Love' if you want, but just remember, my real name is 'Y/N.' Or you can call me ‘mommy’"

Your daughter nodded, seeming satisfied with the compromise. "Okay, Love."

You and Aaron couldn't help but smile at your daughter's stubbornness. You guys decided to let it go for now and see how long this phase would last.

As weeks turned into months, dior's nickname for her mother only grew more endearing. She would say things like, "Love, can you read me a bedtime story?" or "Love, can we go to the park today?" It had become a running joke in your household, and even your friends found it amusing.

One evening, you invited your friends, kenji and Juliette, over for dinner. Kenji, being kenji, couldn't resist teasing you about his newfound moniker. "So, Love, what's on the menu tonight?"

You chuckled, setting the salad on the table. "Well, Love has prepared a special meal for you all."

Juliette joined in, a mischievous grin on her face. "Love, you've really outdone yourself with this dinner."

You and Aaron exchanged amused glances, and you all shared a hearty laugh.

As You and Aaron settled into your cozy shared bedroom one evening, ready to end the day and drift off to sleep, the atmosphere was filled with a sense of contentment. You guys had just finished reading a bedtime story to dior and tucked her in, and now it was time for some much-needed rest.

As You pulled the covers over yourself and snuggled into your side of the bed, Aaron couldn't resist a mischievous grin. "Well, Love, are you ready for a good night's sleep?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Aaron, you just can't resist, can you?"

He chuckled, his eyes filled with playful mischief. "Well, you know, now that everyone calls you 'Love,' I have to make sure you remember who you belong to. You're my love."

You playfully swatted his arm, heart warming at his affectionate teasing. "Oh, really? I thought I belonged to baby dior now."

Aaron, feeling playfully betrayed, put on an exaggerated pout.

"What? My own daughter's stealing my 'Love'? That's it, I'm going to sell her toys."

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. You leaned over to give him a gentle kiss. "Oh my god, don’t. She will cry and gonna start calling you ‘Aaron’ now"

His pout dissolved into a grin as he wrapped his arms around you. "Just like her mother, calling me Aaron when mad." He teased, Kissing your forehead he can’t help but smile widely.

He loves you so much.

He loves you and his princess.

His two best girls.

No one’s gonna take this away from him.

Or else everything’s gonna be burned down.

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @aishaleblanc

[makkir0ll]

setting the past (part one/ prologue)

ukai x reader.

wc: 837

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: woohoo finally finished part one of idk how many. i haven't written since my wattpad days and i have so many good ideas for this fic so i hope y'all enjoy this. i just need to like collect my thoughts and put them in order because thinking about the plot my brain goes like 100 mph but then when i actually have to write it, suddenly im illiterate.

anyways enjoy this!!

masterlist

Once practice concluded, and the clatter of equipment being stowed away subsided, the Karasuno boys formed a line in front of Ukai and Takeda, anticipating any last-minute announcements before dispersing.

".. and make sure you're eating well and getting enough rest. That's all I have to say for today," Ukai stated firmly, his arms crossed as he surveyed the team.

Takeda cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the eager players. "Yes, indeed. I know this is short notice, but the coach from Kozue Highschool reached out for a practice match later this week, and I accepted."

"HUH?" The boys chorused in a mix of surprise and excitement. A practice match against the reigning national champions was unexpected, to say the least.

"Didn't they win nationals last year?" Daichi questioned, his brows furrowing with intrigue.

"Did they? I'm not sure but you know more than I do." Takeda replies with a smile. "But apparently, their coach is an alumna of Karasuno," He glances at Ukai. "Y/N, I believe? Do you know her? She might be from the same graduating class as you"

Ukai's reaction to your name didn't escape notice. He knew exactly who you were—the pride of Japan's under-19 women's team and, to add a twist, his high school sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know her," Ukai replied, turning to the players. "That means this won't be an easy match. Not only because Kozue is a national champion, but also because Y/N is coaching them. She was- is one of the best womens volleyball player. So think expect nothing less from her team. Be prepared to face some formidable opponents."

"WOW! A NATIONAL CHAMPION TEAM! I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY WITH THEM!" Hinata exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "I won't lose to them!"

"Yeah, me neither," Ukai thought to himself, his expression unreadable.

After practice, as the Karasuno third years made their way home, Suga couldn't help but bring up the tension surrounding Ukai and you.

"So, Y/N is definitely Coach's ex, right?" Suga prodded, casting a knowing glance at his companions.

"Oh, absolutely," they agreed. They continued to discuss the possibilities as they walked home.

Ah, the history between you and Ukai. It was a tale of high school romance, filled with shared lunches, mutual support at games, and stolen moments in the clubroom. But graduation day shattered those dreams, as Ukai chose to explore college life, leaving you heartbroken and struggling to move on.

But some wounds never truly heal. Ukai remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, the memory of him etched into your heart as your first love, your first heartbreak.

Little did you know the storm brewing ahead as you prepared for the practice match against your alma mater, Karasuno Highschool.

The bus ride back to Miyagi was quiet, your team fast asleep behind you. As the bus slowed to a halt, you felt a surge of excitement—the familiarity of your hometown, the anticipation of facing your old school.

Karasuno High. The memories flooded back as you recognized the school's facade. Your stomach churned with excitement and nerves as you led your team off the bus.

"...twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yep! That's everyone," you counted, gently tapping your players as they stumbled out of the bus, still half-asleep.

"Why are we playing at a school two hours away again?" Haru, your team captain, yawned.

"Because, one, I used to go here back in the day, and two, I heard they're really good now. I'm excited to see what they look like. It'll be good practice," you explained, walking into the school towards the old gym where you spent multiple late nights after practice. you hear the familiar sound of volleyballs hitting the ground grow louder the more you walk toward the ajar door.

But what you didn't anticipate was a volleyball hurtling towards your face. Instinctively, you raised your arms, but it never struck you. A familiar figure stood beside you, his presence startling.

Ukai Keishin.

You were at a loss for words. It couldn't be him. Yet, there he was, saving you from a potential injury.

"Hinata, you can't be receiving like that!" Ukai's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

"What does it look like, Y/N?" he retorted with a teasing smirk. "Same reason you're here, I suppose."

You couldn't believe your luck—running into your high school ex at a crucial moment. Hoping to avoid any further interaction, you turned away and made your way to your team.

"Thank you for having us here," you bowed to the Karasuno team, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. As you started stretching with your team, your mind raced, your gaze occasionally drifting to Ukai. Your usual composure faltered, and your team couldn't help but notice.

This practice was shaping up to be far more challenging than you had hoped.

[hisui-dreamer]

a calculated kiss

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Leona Kingscholar makes an effort, you best believe he wants a reward.

Tags: crushes, banter, crack, math is mentioned, slight pining, bot proofread

Word count: 1.4k+

Notes: this fic idea came to me in a dream and boy what a nice dream it was hehe

Masterlist

The room was a labyrinth of towering book spines, stretching up to the ceiling and beyond. The air was heavy with the aroma of old paper and ink, giving the room a musty, soothing smell. The dim lighting cast a tranquil aura upon the room, transforming it into a sanctuary amidst the frenzied bustle of the school.

It was the perfect place to take a nap.

As Leona rounded the corner, his nostrils flared with a familiar scent that set his heart alight. He turned his head, following the aroma to its source, and there you were, hunched over a table with a look of intense concentration etched onto your face. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over your face and highlighting your face. Your furrowed brow and the way you squinted at the worksheets on the desk told him that you were deep in thought, lost in a world of your own creation.

For someone who walked into his life without warning, he found it surprising how quickly you had wormed your way into his heart. You were like a sudden gust of wind that swept into his life, catching him off guard, and he couldn't help but be enchanted by the way you danced and twirled, carrying with you the promise of change and new beginnings. Like a rare and delicate flower, you had miraculously bloomed in the midst of winter, bringing him a warmth and vibrancy that thawed his heart, inviting him to bask in your radiance.

With a nonchalant gait, he strolled over to where you sat. His lips curved into a smug grin, his signature expression that often preceded his teasing remarks. "Oi, herbivore," he quipped, dripping with amusement. "What's got you so bothered?"

You whipped your head up in response, mumbling his name in disbelief. "Leona... It's nothing really, I'm just having some trouble with this assignment," they admitted, holding up a sheet of paper covered in scribbles and crossed-out words. "I can't seem to get it right."

He raised an eyebrow in a curious fashion, a spark of genuine interest ignited within him, momentarily illuminating his otherwise impassive features. With a sharp exhale, a sound caught between a scoff and a chuckle, he leaned forward, his commanding presence drawing you in. "Hah, it can't be that bad. Show me," he offered, his voice a rich timbre that rolled off his tongue like honey.

As he scrutinized the paper, his sharp eyes darted back and forth across the page, his mind working at a breakneck pace. "Math, huh?" he mused, his lips curving upward in a hint of a smirk. "Hmm, this stuff is easy."

With a abrupt surge of energy, he dove into the work, his fingers deftly dancing across the page as he explained the problem with ease. You could hardly believe your eyes as he pointed out mistakes and offered suggestions, each correction executed with effortless grace. It was as if the numbers themselves were at his command, bending to his will with each swift stroke of his pen. "There, just like that."

"Wow, Leona, you're really good at this!" you exclaimed. "I never would have been able to do this without you!"

His lips curled upwards into a triumphant grin, his chest swelling with pride. "It's just some simple math," he replied confidently. "Now," he said, his hand darting out to snatch the worksheet from you in a blur of motion, "give it a go on your own this time."

At your incredulous expression, Leona huffed. "What, did you think I'd be doing your work for you?" he teased, his voice tinged with playful mischief.

You shook your head wryly, though your lips curved up in a smile. "I was hoping you would," you said, nudging him playfully. "But I suppose I'll have to do it myself."

Leona chuckled, enjoying your playful banter. "You'll be fine," he reassured you. "You won't learn if you don't do it yourself."

You let out a sigh, a hint of reluctance in your voice. "I know," you admitted, the weight of the task ahead of you starting to settle in. "But it's just so overwhelming sometimes. I don't even know where to start."

Leona leaned back in his chair, his viridescent eyes never leaving yours. "Well, break it down then," he suggested, his voice calm and reassuring. "What's the first step? What do you need to do?"

He guided you through the process, breaking down the assignment into manageable chunks, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his help. Slowly but surely, his playful teasing gave way to genuine interest in your progress. He listened attentively as you shared your thoughts and ideas, offering advice and encouragement along the way.

As you gazed upon the once-blank notebook, now brimming with neatly-written answers, you were struck with a surge of pride and accomplishment. It felt as if a refreshing breeze on a sweltering summer day had washed over you, invigorating your very being. The weight of your academic responsibilities lifted, replaced by a sense of contentment and satisfaction that settled deep within your soul.

"Thanks, Leona," you said, your voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Leona's mischievous grin illuminated his face as he cockily replied, "Well, I think I deserve a reward for my services, don't you?"

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh really? And what kind of reward were you thinking of?"

Leona leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne mingled with the scent of the room, creating an intoxicating mix that made your head spin. His voice was a velvet whisper, weaving a seductive spell that sent a flock of butterflies aflutter in your stomach. His breath warm against your ear, he posed his question. "How about a kiss?"

Your cheeks instantly flushed as you stared at him in shock, not expecting his bold request. Leona couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction.

"Well… okay," you answered meekly.

His eyes opened wide like a startled fawn, but as he opened his mouth to speak, your delicate lips brushed against his, and he was struck by a wave of sensations crashing into him like a surging tide. The kiss was tender, a symphony of sweetness that sent electric jolts down his spine and set his heart racing like a galloping stallion. Leona could feel your warmth seeping into him, your tenderness enveloping him like a comforting blanket.

When you finally pulled apart, Leona blinked, before he started laughing, his body shaking with mirth. "Hahahahaha! Who would've thought a herbivore like you would have the guts!"

You shook your head and smiled, your cheeks still slightly warm. "You're the one who asked for it. But thank you for helping me with my homework. It means a lot to me."

He chuckled, like a melody of soft bells in the distance, drawing even closer until his forehead rested gently against yours. His warm breath danced across your skin. "It was my pleasure," he murmured, his voice low and husky like the deep rumble of a cello. "I wouldn't mind lendin' you a hand again, you know. As long as there's a little somethin' in it for me, of course," he added, his smug grin returning in full force, like the bright and mischievous glint of a cat's eyes in the dark.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his playful demeanor. "Always looking for a reward, aren't you?" you teased.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. "What can I say? I like to be motivated."

You laughed, enjoying the banter between the two of you. As much as you enjoyed his company, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. "Well, if you're looking for a reward, maybe I can think of something," you said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thumped like a drum as you peered into his emerald eyes, brimming with an insatiable longing that made your insides twist in a knot. In a flash, his lips met yours, and you were enveloped in his embrace, his arms a shield that enveloped you. It felt electric, sending sparks flying through your body. It was as if the heat and fervour that had been simmering between the two of you had finally erupted into a tempest. As you melted into his hold, you couldn't help but wonder what other rewards he wanted from you.

But really, you could never deny him anything.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[i-yap]

Can I request a Platonic Yandere Batfamily x female reader. I wanted to to read some thing because it was my birthday 5 days ago.

Batfamily is known for being manipulative and sneaky. Y/N an adult (18)living in Gotham,and have lived there since child hood. Your life is good well and even became a professional figure skater,until you meet them.

Summary: Reader is a professional figure skater. The batfamily goes to the skating rink to see one of Bruce's friend practice skating,that's until they first meet reader. The batfamily and reader are introduced by Bruce's friend. Ever since then they couldn't get reader out of their heads,they even went as far as stalking and kidnapping reader and bringing them back to the mansion.

Happy belated birthday!! Ive never written yandere...or the whole batfam x y/n so I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations.

warning- yandere , stalking, pain, torture, just plain old yandere stuff okay? manipulation mind games , cold, hunger

there is mention of cas, steph, duke..idk them that well yet

Yandere Batfam x reader (PLATONIC ONLY)

Woosh , there you go, as graceful as a swan . A warm beauty on a sheet of white. In this cold cold city , you were like a ray of sun, the pride of this city. Ever since Bruce had brought you home for a private dinner to further discuss his generous funding to the sports facilities in public schools where you volunteered to teach underprivileged kids for free, the family hadn’t been able to pull their eyes away from you.

 On the rink and outside it. Be it your home, your training centre or you grocery shopping. You were used to eyes on you. After all you were the star of the city! And in a city that only ever produces cynical, evil and cruelty …maybe it was foolish to assume you would shine so bright forever.

It was Dick who suggested bringing you in. He found tim’s cameras that were strategically placed..well everywhere, and then Damian’s stash of drawings of an ice princess that strikingly resembled you and finally when Jason beat up the reporter that criticized your latest performance.

Bruce regretted not making sure to hide you better, but after the cards life had dealt his family, they all deserved to have this one good thing in their life. After everything they have given this city, this world, why cant they have just this one gift as repayment.

After all, its not like they want to hurt you right? At least not until you misbehave that is. They want to protect you. This city turns the brightest star the dust, good people cant survive here. It was best they take you before you hardened or broke. But even as they patiently explained all that to you, you refused to cooperate . So stubborn, so strong, on and off the ice. No wonder the family was so drawn to you!

Even as they brought you an entire ice rink to put shows that you missed so much, you continued to complain. Well maybe a couple days without food would help? Don’t worry Tim got soft and brought you your favorite snacks. Hm..still not cooperating. Maybe a couple days sleeping on the ice will help, you do love spending all your time there. Don’t worry, Jason came to cuddle you.

When Alfred was not allowed to interact with you, that’s when you finally broke. With no one else to give you company, the lonliness got to you. Suddenly the Cheery sunshiney dick Grayson seemed much more funny and lovely to be around. And Bruce acted like the father you never had.

 All these years you trained so hard for attention you never got as a kid, and now you had it ! at least that’s what tim told you..and why would he lie? He always looked out for you, helped clean your wounds when you were punished. And Jason! Why would he want to hurt you ? after everything that has happened to him, would he really hurt someone else? Someone as nice as dick could never be cruel and Damian? You mean your little baby? The kid who called you Ummi and drew you pretty paintings? No you must have lost your mind. This was your true family and its good you finally realized that!

( I COULD FINALLY PUT IN ALL MY TAGS MUAHAHAHHA)

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twelve

pairing: (hinted) kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: "action" i guess still netural

el's thoughts: this took wayy too long, i'm sorry haha but it's here! quick thank you to @jahayla-parker for helping me edit! i hope y'all like it! please remember to reblog and comment :)

masterlist

a/n: previously on the phoenix and the crow

She hummed, “We all do things for reasons only we know.” Twisting her fingers around each other, she sighed. “There are plenty of things I’ve done that if I had taken the time to actually think it through… I wouldn’t have made those choices, but in the end I’m standing here today and I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t made thoes choices. So, I wouldn’t change anything.”

“I wouldn’t-” Kaz was interrupted by Toyla shouting that they made it. Inej, Nina and Zoya all walked to one side, waiting for Y/N. 

The inferni gave Kaz a tight smile, “Well, I’m off.” She pulled her shoulders back as she walked to where the other girls stood waiting. 

Kaz watched in astonishment as the girl with whom he had just carried an intimate conversation with slipped back into the formal behavior that came with being a soldier. It was as if she had put back on a stoic and formal front, slipping back into her all too familiar mask. It was as if Y/N had only allowed herself a short break from such a pretense for those few private moments with him.

~*~

Each step was taken cautiously as the group of six walked through the Fold. Growls could be heard around them causing Y/N to check their surroundings every minute despite Alina encircling them in a shield of light.

“This is it. The heart of the Fold. Where Kirigan first damned this country into darkness.” Alina spoke as she stood beside Mal, a set of stone steps behind them like ruins of an old building. “I think this is where we stand a chance of bringing it down.” Mal shifted closer to her, ready to draw his knife. She placed her hands over his and refused. “No. We can do this.” Alina lifted* her right hand and motioned for Mal to hold it. 

Bewilderment washed over Y/N all at once when she saw the bright red light flow through the sun summoner’s veins. “He’s the firebird.”

Flares of blue and red light seeped out of Alina in powerful waves. The red spiraled around the couple and flew all over the place encompassing them like a forest fire. 

The other four women stood to the side and watched in awe. “It’s beautiful.” Nina’s breath caught in her throat as she spoke. Zoya and Y/N reached for the heartrender’s hands as Inej said her prayers of worship in silence. The inferni’s amazement* was cut short when she felt another presence. She felt as if all the air had left her lungs as she turned to Zoya. “He’s here.”

“How touching.” The Darkling strode through Alina and Mal’s shield of light with his hands clasped and extended outwards before him. The black scars on his face were impossible to miss as Y/N stared him down from where she stood while holding her ground. 

Alina let go of Mal, the red light instantly fading away. 

“I almost feel bad for what I have to do now.” Kirigan said as he walked closer. “He is family after all.” He spat his words as if they were the vilest concept. The summoner threw a glance at the tracker before diverting her attention back to the Darkling. 

“Get down!” Mal shouted. 

Y/N’s attention was pulled toward where Mal stood with his gun drawn. She ducked down just in time to dodge the bullet meant for the nichovoya. 

The Darkling drew his hands together, summoning the Cut. Alina quickly copied, both summoners aiming for the other. Their slices hit one another with such force they nearly canceled out each other’s power. Fortunately, Alina had used slightly more force and a piece struck Aleksander’s side. He flew back and landed hard on his back with a groan. Alina grinned with pride as she watched Kirigan squirm in pain.

“I’m hit.” His voice was strained while he spoke. 

“Mal.” The sun summoner rushed to his side and in a flurry of panic, the light shield fell leaving everyone vulnerable to the monsters that are local to the Fold. Right before the four girls could run to Alina and Mal, Nina was snatched by the nichovoya.

“Nina.” Dread formed in Y/N’s bones despite the roaring rage in her chest. “Nina!” Inej and Zoya turned and looked around desperately for the heartrender. The three of them moved to stand back to back, circling each other protectively. 

“Stay with me.” Alina’s voice cried out over the rushing of blood in their ears. “Stay with me!”

With a glance thrown quickly to Zoya, Y/N ran over to where Alina was bent over Mal’s body. She fell to her knees next to them as Mal drew his knife and handed it to the crying girl. 

“I can’t.” Alina cried. 

“Make them redraw all the maps.”

Y/N looked away from the couple while she felt her emotions bubble over. 

The Darkling was once again adding another theft to his long list of stolen lives and other cherished belongings of the innocent girls he’d tormented. Genya, Zoya, Y/N, and Alina. Just another thing he got to ruin with his blood-stained hands. Convincing each girl of his feelings and intentions while he utilizes them as if they were pawns in a chess game. Sacrificing each of them for more power. 

“I love you.” Alina said, her voice cracking from her tears.

“You know where to find me.”

Alina nodded, taking a deep breath before she plunged the knife through Mal’s chest. Instant regret and pain washed over her as she threw her head back and screamed. Her arm flew up over her head, as she channeled every last ounce of her power towards the sky, towards destroying the Fold. 

Y/N watched the scene unfold with wide eyes before standing and running towards the two suli girls as the Fold vanished*. The now blue sky above them felt like a breath of fresh air, before they noticed the nichovoya spawning around them. They all shared a look and nodded. 

Zoya twisted the wind between her hands, shoving the shadow monsters forward so Inej could use the Neshyenyer through the shadows. Y/N helped herd them with small flames. The squaller was thrown to the side by a long hand of shadow while Inej kept fighting the shadow monsters. 

Alina’s voice could be heard calling Nina while she still leaned over Mal. 

Once Inej sliced through the last shadow monster* all three grisha women rushed to the sun summoner’s side. Nina instantly started her attempts to revive the tracker.

Y/N rose to her feet when she noticed Kirgian standing. 

“Now… You know sacrifice.”

The inferni scoffed, “Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” She spoke on behalf of the grieving summoner. “And look what it did.” She gestured around them.

“Indeed.” The Darkling nodded, “Look what it did.” He tore his eyes away from her to the lifeless body on the stone steps. 

A fresh wave of tears washed over Alina as she stood slightly behind the inferni, “Mal and I changed the world. We tore down your Shadow Fold.”

“You have my sympathies for what comes next. When you realize that what you’ve done solves nothing. The world doesn’t need a Saint to protect it, Alina.” He took a step forward, “It needs a monster. And while I remain-” His words fell off into a coughing fit, his breath more labored. “Let me be your monster.” 

Y/N stepped forward but Alina held her back. “You think that after everything, I’ll still stand by you?”

“There is no light without darkness. Without me, you have no counter, no balance. Let me carry the hatred of this world.”

“Hatred.” Alina scoffed*, “Because of the choices you made.”

“Choices you too will make… in time.”

“I will never walk your path.” 

“I know you believe that now…” He groaned as he stepped forward again, “But look at Y/N.” The inferni stiffed at the mention of her name. “She’s already had to make some choices. Haven’t you?” She looked away as shame crept up on her. 

“Soon the both of you will have no equal. The years spent alone will grind you down, they will harden you. And who will be there to shield you from it? Who will be there to save you?” Kirigan reached his hand to Alina’s face but she reacted quicker. Grabbing his wrist first, “I will save myself. Your legacy is already written. There is no redemption.” She shoved his hand away from her causing him to fall to his knees. 

A loud gasp escaped his lips as his shadows shifted and formed. The sun summoner backed up as the shadow monster walked towards her. Y/N shoved Alina out of the way when she saw the claw-like hand reach for her. The monster grasped the inferni by her neck, lifting her off her feet into the air. Kirigan tried to lunge forward, “Leave her alone! No!” He was quickly shoved to the ground. 

“Y/N!” Inej shouted and threw the Neshyenyer right under the grisha’s arm embedding itself within the monster causing it to go up in flames. 

The Darkling rose to his feet while Y/N gasped for air. “You can’t control them, can you? You can’t control any of it.” 

He extended his hand to her, “I thought I could control it all once. Find peace. And for a moment, I swear I did.” He closed his eyes as if he was taken back to his memories.

Y/N rose* to her feet with the blade in hand and took a deep breath through her nose. She raised the sword and plunged it into the Darkling, just below his ribs. His eyes shot wide open, “Without me, know they will come for you.”

“I’m… I’m a monster.” Y/N shuddered at the thought while she stared down at her hands. Kirigan came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Possibly, but as long as I’m around they will never know.”

The inferni gritted her teeth, “Let them come.” She pulled the sword out and let his body fall to the sand beneath them. 

Alina walked to stand above him, blocking the sun from his eyes. 

“Alina… you make sure there is nothing left of me. Please.” He choked on his breath, “Please.”

Y/N turned around and walked to where Nina knelt beside Mal’s body. Y/N turned briefly and made eye contact with Zoya, only exchanging a silent nod. 

After no response from Mal’s body a dark look flashed in Alina’s eyes. Y/N noticed and spoke, “Think through your actions, Alina. Once done, you can’t reverse them.” The sun summoner ignored all caution and proceeded anyway, bringing Mal back to life with a loud gasp.

Y/N walked away to stand next to Zoya. 

“What do we do with him?” The squaller asked.

“Will you wait with him until we return? I don’t want any heretics to find the body and make a martyr’s relic of it.” Alina said. “We’ll burn him where he fell. We’re on the other side of this now. There’s no turning back.”

~*~*~*~

taglist:@rachelcarroll1819 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @khaleesihavilliard @simrah1012 @foulkryptonitepeanut @astridyoo15 @queenofshinigamis @peakyispunk @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @winstonthecow22 @lee-says-things @bunneex @writingmysanity @sleepynightchild @madnessinwrighting @romanticvampire

[delopsia]

a little nosedive preview? 💐I'm sorry for taking so long on this, it's been a weird month

"I thought they were s'pposed to quit arguin'?" 

You hear Rhett before you see him. Half-open eyes and messy hair stumbling down the unlit hallway, his arms full with his fuzzy brown blanket. Must have had the same idea that you did, seeking out the room furthest from Tyler's, hoping for another minute or two of sleep.

You hate to tell him that there's no peace to be found in this damned house. 

"Bold of you to believe them," your attention darts back to the notebook resting in your lap, pen idly drawing across old lines, darkening them. Four in the morning is too early for creativity, but you can't fall back asleep, and you didn't bring anything to distract from the never-ending quarrel.

The couch cushion dips, Rhett's heavyweight settling in next to you. His cheek finds its way to your shoulder, landing there so naturally that you hardly even question it. "What're ya drawin'?"

"Same thing as before, just making it look a little less..." You don't know where you were going with that. Rhett isn't awake enough to catch it.

His gaze is so warm that you can feel it following your hand around the page, drinking in the careful strokes of the pen. 

It's almost enough to distract from Kate's muffled swearing, but nothing short of a speaker at full blast is going to drown them out. So the pen continues to dance across the paper, and the silence remains battered by two people who need to suck up their pride and kiss already. If not for the sake of their own mundane love lives, then for the sanity of those around them. 

"Have ya ever considered buildin' this idea?" Rhett reaches out to trace his finger around your crudely drawn wheel, the only spot he can touch without getting in your way.

"I started on it a long time ago," rattling it off without much thought. You don't have the capacity to consider what you're saying right now. "The sockets and connections are already built into the roof, but I could never get the hydraulic arms right." 

"I could help."

"Yeah?"

He tilts his head up to look at you, and you're just awake enough to realize that those aren't actually stars sparkling behind his eyes. But damn, does it sure look like tiny galaxies are lurking beneath the sea of blue. 

You don't know why you let him lean up and rub his nose against yours, but it must be the reason why you nuzzle him back. 

[miraclesabound]

All of This is Temporary

Summary: What should have been Mikey and Reader's special night goes sideways, and unfortunately, it never gets fixed.

Pairing: Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader, pre-relationship

Notes: This idea of Mikey and his friend getting thrown out of some VIP event came to me in a dream (and the music cue as well). A surprise cameo from one of my other favorite characters from a different show, because he showed up in the dream too. Also on AO3.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Bear, canon-typical language, classism, unrequited (?) love, addiction themes, tragic ending (mention of Mikey's suicide)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination, @cinewhore, @phoenixhalliwell, @nolita-fairytale

NOVEMBER 2021

The movie that Mikey won tickets for is at Doc Films , and given the place's history, you and Mikey are almost more dressed for an opera than a movie. He's done out in an old but clean tux, bow tie and cummerbund included - and you bought yourself a silver dress with matching clutch. You may not be a couple, but you take internal satisfaction in knowing how good you two look together right now.

The main thing that's important to you is that, at least from what you can tell, Mikey is fully sober this evening. You know you're not his keeper, but you feel some pride on his behalf - whatever he's strugging with, he's made the effort for you tonight, and that warms your heart.

However, that warmth sours in your stomach when you actually get to the theater. When you and Mikey walk in, it's clear that this is a much smaller event than you thought - and that you and Mikey are WILDLY overdressed. Of the maybe twenty total people there, the only other person dressed formally is a gruff-looking man whose hair is almost as dark as Mikey's is. In his case, he's wearing a strikingly modern all-black suit.

Mikey smiles when he sees the other man and gives him a hearty handshake. "Roy fuckin' Kent! What brings ya this way?"

Roy shrugs, but he accepts Mikey's handshake just the same. "Mikey Berzatto, ya old dog - just takin' some travel time - Coach Lasso fuckin' insisted... And who's this, then?"

Mikey introduces you, explaining that Roy had visited The Beef by accident a few years back during an exhibition tour in the States. "You better come in for a couple sandwiches tomorrow for lunch, ya hear me?" he tells Roy. "Won't take no for an answer!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Roy says. You and Mikey take your seats on Roy's other side.

A woman a few seats away chimes in with: "Oh, you two look so nice - is that your tux?" You don't care for the look of her - she comes across like someone trying to draw Mikey's sister Natalie from a mirror image only.

You want to believe that she's just being nice, but something about her tone is venomous, and Mikey must feel the same way. His response is icy. " 'Course it's mine, why wouldn't it be?"

"You're Michael Berzatto, right?"

"Yeah?"

"My cousins love your shop - I guess I'm just wondering why a sandwich shop owner would need to buy a tux instead of renting one; that's all."

If you didn't know better, you'd think she was trying to call you and Mikey tacky. Apparently Roy feels the same way, because he leans over towards her and says, "Oi, Pam, knock it off, yeah? Movie's startin'."

"Pam..." you think to yourself. "Why does that name sound familiar?" The lights turn off, and you smile to yourself when you hear a familiar musical sting playing for the movie intro.

"Don't call me by my name...all of this is temporary..."

You know this song very well, and you can't help but hum along. To your pleasant surprise, you swear that Roy is humming too. Who knew such a brash guy liked Halsey? Neither of you notice Mikey staring at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Suddenly the lights come up, and that woman who looks like Natalie's evil twin is standing in front of you, a sickening smile on her face. "Miss, you're going to have to leave," she tells you. "This is an exclusive event, and you're causing a disturbance."

Roy, God bless the man, speaks up for you - and thank goodness, because you feel like you're going to vaporize from embarrassment. "Pam, it's nothin', I was humming too."

"You're a VIP, Roy, and she isn't. It's my movie, and if I want her and her ridiculous disco ball of a dress out of here, that's my prerogative." Shit, you realize. This is Pam Stratford, the writer that Mikey enjoys so much. No wonder he was excited to get these tickets...

Mikey pulls you into his side - almost as if he expects Pam to take a swing at you. "Listen, I've always liked your work, but you don't get to talk to my g- - my friend like that - we got our tickets fair and square."

You can see that flash in Mikey's eyes that means either a bender or a fight is coming, and you don't want to see him arrested. Pam seems like the type to call the police in faster than they're needed. Pushing lightly against his chest, you say "Bear, it's ok, I'll just go..."

"Then I'm leavin' too," he says. "Roy, I'll catch ya tomorrow - Pam? You can go fuck yourself for bein' a snobby bitch." The silence is deafening as you two leave the theater, but the outraged look on Pam's face is almost worth it.

You shudder as you step out into the night air, even with Mikey holding you and blasting like a furnace. "It's cold - take me home?"

"Yeah, let's get you back before you freeze."

--

The train ride back to your neighborhood is quiet, and it's not until the two of you are walking up to your stoop that Mikey says, "Pam was wrong - you look gorgeous in that dress, and that's God's honest truth."

You smile at him. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

"Do we...wanna try this again some other time?" he asks, holding your purse for you as you dig out your keys. "Maybe not a movie, but some other excuse to dress up?"

"I'd like that, Bear," you agree. "Let's aim for after Christmas - I know how nutty things get for you during December."

"Then it's a date?" Mikey asks. He doesn't mean to put you on the spot, but if you don't feel the same way he does, he'd rather know now.

Your smile grows even wider. "It's a date - we'll nail down details after New Years." With a sudden burst of bravery, you hug him tight and kiss his cheek. "G'night, my bear."

--

Unfortunately, the holidays madness makes Mikey spiral in a bad way, and he never texts you back about the date. In fact, you don't realize as you turn to open your door that this will be the last time you see him alive.

[crackedpumpkin]

Hiiii, I'm a friend of Coleseyebrows and she mentioned you so I wanted to check you out! Would it be possible to do a Platonic Cole x reader, like lil baby reader gets adopted off the streets kinda thing (kinda cringe of me ngl)? He's just such a father figure it sounded like a cute idea!

a/n: Hello lovely! I adore this ask of yours, and it's my first ever platonic! reader fluffy oneshot thing so tbh it was a challenge to write it;;; It's been a while since I was a baby, so it was lowkey difficult to remember what it was like as...well, a baby :)

However, I really do hope you enjoy it, and feel free to request more if you'd like in the future!!

|| ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʟ ᴛɪᴇꜱ || ᴅᴀᴅ! ᴄᴏʟᴇ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ x ᴀᴅᴏᴘᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

“Yeah, but if you do a double kickflip, you’ll get past the level with no worry!” 

Jay frowns, nodding doubtfully as Cole explains the secret to beating the last level of the newly released game they’ve been recently obsessed with. 

“Oh yeah, Kai asked for some noodles from Chen’s,” Cole recalls, turning down the street and walking past an alleyway. He’s about to continue talking about the game, only to pause, a peculiar sound attracting his attention.

He takes a step back, Jay watching in confusion. The earth ninja walks down the alleyway to a barely covered box. Surely he’s just hearing things. There’s no way-

A baby’s gurgle echoes throughout the alleyway, both the ninja freezing at the sound. He and Jay exchange worried glances, reaching down and opening the cardboard box. 

That’s when he first meets you, a newborn baby swaddled in a tattered blanket with warm, e/c eyes staring up into his. His heart instantly melts at the sight, a soft smile spreading across his lips. 

“Cole, we should probably report this to the police,” Jay says, concern laced into his words as he looks around for any sign of the baby’s parents.

“I don’t know, Jay. I mean, a baby? In an alleyway? In a box?” 

“Abandonment 101…” Jay breathes out in disbelief, brows furrowing as he tries to decide what to do next. 

“We can’t exactly just leave them here either,” Cole reasons, picking you up as you giggle happily at his body's warmth to your shivering self. He uses his fingers to tickle your nose, awwing when your small button nose wrinkles into a sneeze.

“Well…There’s always the city’s orphanage….” Jay suggests hesitantly, Cole shrugging in agreement. They make their way there, Cole already doting on you and showering you with tickles and cooing noises that you eagerly respond to.

Jay watches you warily, unsure of how to react when you stare up at him with pure curiosity shining in your eyes. His hesitance disappears, however, as soon as you smile at him, and he lets out a small “aww.”

They soon reached the orphanage but got turned away by the staff there, as all their resources were already used up, and they couldn’t afford to take care of another child. 

“Awww, she’s such a cute baby!” Whispers surround Cole as he walks down the street with you in his arms. His chest is puffed up slightly in pride as you giggle with a small burp, Jay watching with a raised brow.

“You do know we can’t keep her, right?” 

“But the orphanage is full, and Dareth can’t even be trusted to take care of a dog.” Cole points out, rocking you gently. The swaying motion lulls you to sleep, and your eyelids slowly close. He wipes away a tiny sliver of drool that trails down your cheek, chuckling softly.

“But we’re ninjas! We can barely take care of Ninjago, much less a baby!” Jay frets.

“I’m not liking the negativity you’re bringing to this conversation; it’s affecting lil’ Rose here.” Cole huffs, holding you close. 

“Rose?? You can’t name them. It means you’re already attached! We can’t get attached; we’re not old enough to have a baby!” Jay’s hysterical panic draws attention, and the passersby send the ninja odd looks.

Cole shushes him, more worried about waking the baby in his arms. “I’m sure Master Wu can help. He took us in after all.”

“Yeah, when we weren’t babies!”

“It’ll be fine. Besides, I think we’d be great parents.” 

— — — — — — — — 

“Hey, you got my noodles!” Kai jumps off the couch, approaching the two ninjas that flinch. Cole takes a step back. 

“Why’re you two acting so weird?” Kai laughs, reaching out to the swaddle of blankets. However, before he can touch them, Jay swats his hand away with a glare.

“Watch it!” Cole hisses, turning to reveal you sleeping soundly in his arms.

Kai’s jaw drops, eyes filled with astonishment as the smile leaves his lips. 

“That’s not my noodles.”

“Where’s Master Wu?” Cole asks, only for Kai to be interrupted by Nya’s excited gasp. She enters the room with Zane, the both of them walking over.

“Is that a baby??” She squeals quietly, gesturing for Cole to hand you over. He does so reluctantly, eyeing how Nya cradles you in her arms.

“Cole, I thought you went out to buy food, so why have you returned with another lifeform?” Zane asks.

“Long story short, they’ll be staying with us for a while since the orphanage is full,” Jay explains. 

“Is that a baby??”

Kai groans. “Yes, Lloyd, catch up to the conversation already.” 

The green ninja rolls his eyes at Kai’s smirk, walking to where Nya holds you. You’re still asleep, despite all the noise and commotion caused by your presence. He coos, brushing his fingers against your cheek. 

This stirs you, and you wake up to see unfamiliar faces staring down at you. This makes your nose scrunch, and your eyes start to water as fear seizes control. You begin to cry, wailing at the sudden change of surroundings from earlier.

“What do we do??” 

“I read that babies like to be teased, or maybe she’s hungry!” Zane suggests, hands over his ears as he winces.

“Uh, here, baby! Have a potato chip!” Kai grabs an open container of spicy chips, holding one up to you. You accidentally inhale the flavoured dusting, the spice stinging your eyes as you wail louder.

“Babies can’t have that!” Jay smacks the potato chip out of Kai’s hands, the latter glaring at him, offended by the action.

“Cole, hold her!” Nya hands you over to him, and he desperately tries to soothe you by gently rocking you. 

“Shh, you’re safe now, little Rose.” He murmurs, and the familiar scent makes you blink, recognizing him as the one who picked you up. You like his warmth, your cries slowing to a stop as you sniffle with teary eyes.

The ninja all breathe sighs of relief, only to freeze as the door is slammed open by none other than Master Wu.

“What is going on here??”

— — — — — — — — 

“Goodnight, Rose.” Cole watches your eyes close, drifting off to sleep after your tiring day. 

After that day three years ago, Master Wu allowed the ninja to adopt you. It wasn’t official, but he warned his students that caring for a literal child would be their greatest challenge yet.

So far, it was proving true. You start to cry, having woken up from an uncomfortable sensation on your back. Tonight was his turn for night duty with you, the others sleeping soundly in their comfortable beds.

Cole begins to hum absentmindedly, hand gently rocking your crib as your loud cries echo across the Destiny's Bounty. 

It's a while before he realizes your cries have stopped, and he glances down at you. Surprise fills his eyes when he hears your happy coos, relieved you have calmed down.

He looks down at you, smiling softly when he sees your wide, innocent eyes that stare up back at him with intrigue. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” 

From the way you tilt your head, it seems that the answer is yes.

“Once upon a time, there lived the First Spinjitsu Master….” He recites the tale Master Wu told them many times, loving how your eyes seem to light up as he speaks. He continues talking, only stopping when he sees your eyelids flutter shut.

“Rest well, Rose.” He whispers, continuing to gently rock the crib.

Sure, it’s hard taking care of a baby. But moments like these? They made it worth it.

— — — — — — — — 

“Not like that, sweetheart. Make sure you hold it upright.” Cole chuckles when you accidentally let go of the wooden ladle, and it bumps against your forehead with a soft bonk. You blink a couple times, eyes wide before they start to fill with tears.

“Uh oh.” Cole senses the incoming tears, picking you up and placing you on the tabletop. He grabs the first aid kit from the side of the fridge, opens it and puts a band-aid over the sore spot. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll never get hurt as long as I’m around.”

“Thanks, dad,” You say, rubbing the spot where the spoon had landed harshly. 

You manage a grin, lighting up when you see Aunt Nya walking into the kitchen. She notices you immediately, worry filling her face when she sees the first aid kit on the counter. 

“Cole!” She scolds, gently massaging the area around the band-aid. She summons some water, holding a bubble of it on the spot where it instantly provides relief. “Do you feel better, sweetie?” She asks sympathetically, eyeing your adoptive dad with a slight glare.

He huffs, crossing his arms. “We were just baking cake, they asked!” He protests. 

“It’s true, Auntie Nya. I wanted to do it for your birthday this week.” You glance up at her with a slight pout, and she melts at your expression. 

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetie, but I’d love to try your baking!” You brighten up, smiling widely. After getting a glass of milk, she leaves the kitchen, pressing a quick and affectionate kiss against your forehead.

It’s been 10 years since you were adopted by the ninja, all of them becoming family, with Cole as your primary caretaker. The day you addressed him as ‘Papa’ for the first time brought tears to his eyes, and he was teased about it relentlessly for weeks until you called the rest of the ninjas ‘Papa’ as well. 

Everyone was brought close to tears except for Wu. According to Uncle Kai, you had giggled and called him ‘Granpa.’ 

Grandpa Wu accepted the name without further question.

You hop off the counter, giving your dad a hug. His strong arms pull you close, ruffling your hair as you giggle with a wrinkle of your nose, shoving him off you. “Don’t!!” You laugh, “Uncle Zane braided it for me today.”

“What, you don’t like my artistic hairstyles?” He jokes, and you shudder at the memory of him getting your hair tangled into a giant knot that took hours of detangling. He gives you a noogie as you move away, shifting to start washing the dishes.

“I’m glad you’re our kid.” He murmurs, and your eyes curve into crescents as you smile back sweetly.

“And I’m happy you’re my dad.”

[strawberry-cowmilk]

Satan's child's relationship with her uncles and the other characters. Headcanons

Hi! That's such a cute and creative idea! (a lot of you are giving me baby fever with these kinds of requests haha) I hope you like what I made of it!

satan's child with the obey me cast

a/n: just to give her some personality, let's say she's the same child I've written for before in my (character) as a dad series, also I'm going to try this new format for this post

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read, child is around 5-6 years old

content warnings: children, child getting forgotten in a car

-----

brothers (uncles)

satan might not like lucifer too much, but his daughter does! she likes him because, despite his busy schedule, he tries his best to make time for his family. also she thinks the way lucifer says mammon's name while angry is funny. satan started to let his guard down around lucifer because his daughter likes him so much

mammon is great with kids, he's also one of the most fun babysitters out of everyone. only one time mammon wanted to take his brother's daughter to the mall, on the way they drove past a recently opened casino. mammon went in just to see what it looked like but ended up staying for two hours. also he forgot the child in the car (she was fine, satan killed mammon though)

uncle levi doesn't leave his room too much, but when he does, satan's daughter tries to talk to him. she wants to know what her uncle is up to, and would love to play devil cart with him. sadly levi doesn't trust kids in his room full of collector's items

asmo adores her and she adores asmo back. satan and him are good friends anyways. he gets her clothes from majolish, holds uncle-niece tea parties with her (you and satan are always free to join) and lets her paint his nails. even if it looks terrible he'll wear the manicure with pride

she loves uncle beel because he always gives her akudonald's and candy when you and satan said no. sometimes she gets a little too curious and starts to play with beel's heavy workout equipment, in those times beel has to get her away from the stuff before she hurts herself

she wants to get closer to belphie but he doesn't have enough energy to look after an energetic child like her most times. plus one time she saw him put sardines in lucifer's shoes and thought it was mean. during the same time satan was joining the activity (he had to tell his child not to copy what she just saw)

side characters

diavolo is great with children, sometimes when he comes to visit the house of lamentation he brings her gifts and all, of course this makes her like diavolo. sometimes she even makes him little drawings as a thank-you

she doesn't see barbatos too often, a big part of her impression of him comes from the stories she's heard. and those stories kind of make him look like somebody who works 25/8 and wouldn't want to spend time with her

everyone knows simeon is an amazing caretaker, so naturally he's a great option in case you need a babysitter. your daughter loves spending time with simeon, also because she and luke are somewhat close in age. everytime simeon is watching her, he's got a ton of fun activities planned like visiting a zoo or museum (one that isn't boring for kids)

luke was kind of afraid she'd be short-tempered like her father, luckily she's quite the opposite. luke likes to think of himself as a big brother figure, since the two do see each other often and she always asks him to teach her how to bake sweets. simeon thinks it's good for both kids to have a playmate

solomon also thought she'd be a mini avatar of wrath (also every time simeon babysits her at purgatory hall, satan basically threatens solomon to not give her homemade food) she thinks solomon's magic is really cool, sometimes she'll bring him random objects and asks if he can make them fly

[aspenwritesstuff]

Part Seven: Just You

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl, @propertyoftoru, @pumkiinpasties @raehawthorne

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts, @notastraykid

"Felix smiling because of you was quickly becoming one of your favorite things, and when he rushed forward without warning to hug you? You realized his hugs may be one of them, too." "Hugging Felix was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after being out in the cold. Comfortable, easy, soothing."

warnings: cheating mention, mentions of blood and snot, self-doubt, swearing, mention of violence, not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter, really, it's a lot of fluff.

wc: 5582

author's note: hi, hello. I am alive! I'm so, so sorry for how long it's taken me to update this fic. Writing has been hard, the last year has been a hell of a time. but I'm back now, and I hope that it was worth the wait. If you're still here, thank you. I appreciate your patience and love for PMW.

xoxo,

Aspen

As Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender opened his freezer to pull out a frosty bottle of liquor, you felt at peace. Despite the clutter here and there, his apartment managed to radiate the same comfort and warmth as the man himself. 

Following a heartfelt apology for the mess - along with an explanation, despite your insistence that you didn’t mind the few things he’d left out, that he simply wasn’t expecting company - Felix had given you what he referred to as “the grand tour.” 

Felix had given a remarkable amount of attention to detail whilst showing you around, as if you were staying longer than just a night, and made sure to show you where every single thing you could possibly need would be located. He’d even shown you how to operate his game consoles with a reasoning of, “Just in case you’re awake after I am,” and a bright smile.

“You could be a realtor, if you ever get bored of tending bar,” you mused, pulling yourself from the memory of your tour before casting Felix a teasing smile. He chuckled before shaking his head and pouring a shot in two of the glasses you’d made for him.

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a comedic level of wariness, drawing out the words as he tucked away the only unused part of your gift away in the cupboard, “But I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Your gaze was drawn to the pale blue in the midst of clear glass as your gift to Felix bumped against crystal, a tinge of self-consciousness settling in your thoughts at the absolute contrast to the things he’d already owned. He didn’t seem to mind, though, the corners of his lips remaining curved upwards in a content smile as he shut the cupboard. “Here,” Felix’s voice broke through the train of thought you’d been spiraling down, the squeak of ceramic against granite accompanying the sliding of the minty green cup to you.

“Thanks.” You managed, tearing your eyes from one out-of-place little shot glass to another, taking it into both of your hands despite its size. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t have a celebratory drink in honor of your victory?” He said with an innocent seriousness, though he couldn’t hold his smirk towards his own joke for long. “Which victory?” You asked in reply, his lightheartedness paired with the way his head cocked to the side like a curious cat while he’d awaited your reply bringing a small smile to your own lips. “Being the number one fake girlfriend, of course!” He said with a blinding smile, holding up his pink shot glass filled with soju as he waited for you to toast with him, “To the best fake girlfriend in the world!” His prideful tone made you laugh quietly as you lifted your own glass to his with a small ‘clink’ that only tiny little ceramic glasses could make, downing your shot before speaking breathlessly through the burn, “You know, you’re not a half bad fake boyfriend either.” Felix absolutely beamed.

“Now you’re just flattering me,” his voice carried his smile, making it unknown whether or not the heat in your chest was the lingering effects of the soju or simply Felix’s warmth.

“You got a split lip for me tonight, I’d say that definitely got you some points,” you corrected him as he filled the glasses once more, sliding yours back over to you. “And you cleaned it up for me, so the score is evened,” he countered, raising a brow as if challenging you to argue. Of course, you did. “You cleaned my mascara up, too.” “Blood is arguably grosser than gray tear tracks,” he said with a tilt of his head, a hint of a smile betraying just how seriously he was trying to convince you he was taking this. “I snotted on your blazer,” you scoffed, “That’s pretty gross.” “I work at a bar, I’ve seen grosser.” “Touche,” you conceded before downing your second shot, pondering for a moment on how the evening had unfolded before speaking, “I’m still sorry, y’know, about–” “Ah-ah!” Felix held up a finger and shook it, his brows shooting up, “No apologizing for something I chose to do.” “But you–” “I said no apologizing!” he repeated firmly, a frown on his normally cheerful face nearly being enough to make you stop.

As powerful as a pouting Lee Felix was, your guilt was stronger. “You wouldn’t have gotten punched if it weren’t for me.” Felix paused at that, his goofy little scowl morphing into a genuine, parted-lips look of surprise and contemplation. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you now. I’d do it again,” he said earnestly, looking right past your eyes and into your soul. He’d been pretending before, but now? Now Felix was actually serious. “Felix…” you began, trailing off as you realized you couldn’t say what you wanted to. Surely Felix would frown for real if you told him that you didn’t think you, yourself, were worth the trouble - and genuinely upsetting Felix sounded like a great way to cry for the third time this evening. “I’m serious!” he insisted, taking his second shot and dutifully pouring you both another, “And, honestly? That guy seemed like a dick. I’d probably have punched him eventually anyway, y’know? So stop blaming yourself for a silly little scrape.” You sputtered out a laugh, having failed to hold it back at the idea of San and Felix somehow meeting without you as a mutual existence in their lives. “You think so?” You asked him, still trying to hold back from simply cackling at the notion. “Oh, for sure. Assholes love going to bars, and I work at one. I’m sure I’d have seen him eventually and he’d have done something that would warrant a punch.” You couldn’t argue that, at least. San did have a penchant for being a dick pretty much anywhere he went. “I don’t see you as the ‘punch-a-random-dude’ kind of person, Felix,” you argued the next best - and valid - thing you could.

“He isn’t a random dude, he’s a prick and he sucks,” Felix said somberly, looking gravely serious as he slid your refilled cup over to you.

The laugh that threatened to escape had now succeeded, making you cover your mouth while it made its way through you and out into the air. Once it had died down, Felix took his shot and sighed, looking a bit conflicted. You wondered what on earth could be so serious in his little sunshine-y head, but you didn’t have to ponder long. “So…who was that guy?” Felix asked quietly, averting his eyes as if afraid the question would be far too much. Normally, he’d be right…but now? You weren’t sure if it was because it was Felix asking, or the way he’d been there for you tonight, or the soju that was now effectively making you relax, but you would tell him. It was weird. Jisung knew about San because he’d been there firsthand, but otherwise you simply opted out of sharing. Of course, there were mutual friends of you and San’s who’d ask you, but you would always abruptly change the subject and then make a point not to see those people again. So, it was weird…

But you wanted to tell him. “That was San,” you answered him in a sigh, lifting your shot to your lips and taking it in one fell swoop - you’d likely need it. “And he is?” Felix prompted you to continue, though not aggressively. He was gentle about it, pulling the information from you like a splinter that might hurt, but needed to come out. He wasn’t being nosy, he wasn’t being impatient. He was being compassionate. 

As if just as much as you wanted to tell him, he wanted to know. Not for gossip, not for himself…but to understand. “He’s my ex,” you answered simply, setting your shot glass down as Felix immediately pulled it close to himself again, waiting to pour until he was sure you’d finished a complete - if not short - sentence. “You dated him?” Felix asked in an almost dumbfounded way, like the idea of San having once been someone you cared about was unreal. “I almost married him,” you corrected, watching as Felix’s eyes widened briefly before he regained his composure. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said quietly, putting the now empty soju bottle next to the sink before moving around the counter to stand next to you rather than across. You appreciated his proximity more than you’d want to admit.

“Dodged a bullet, didn’t I?” you murmured, a dry laugh leaving you as you stared down at the shot of soju, “Or, I guess, the bullet dodged me in favor of a different target.” “No…” Felix whispered, going wide-eyed, “He..?” “Yeah.” Silence ensued for a moment as Felix simply glanced at you, then to the floor, then back to you. “Married her, too, if the ring on his finger was anything to judge by,” you added, figuring if you were going to talk about this? You may as well get it all out. “Only thing that ring is gonna be good for is splitting my lip,” Felix said with a quiet, simmering anger, taking his shot before turning to look at you, “Nothing born of cheating is gonna last. He’ll be alone, and he’ll have no one to blame but himself.” “That’s what I tell myself, too,” you responded in kind, swallowing your soju just as he had moments ago, “But maybe I’m wrong. He’s married, and I don’t even believe in love.” “Because of him?” Felix asked quietly, carefully picking up the shot glasses and setting them near the sink, turning to face you as he leaned back on the counter. “Yeah. Because of him.”

Felix frowned, walking up to you and clapping his hands against your cheeks just hard enough to make you pay attention, though there was no sting. His stare looked intense, though not in the same way it did earlier at the gala. He looked angry then. Now he looked sad. “Don’t you dare give him that power,” Felix said sternly, his voice rumbling in his chest as he continued to hold your face, “He doesn’t deserve to have any influence over you or your life. Ever.” “Felix, it’s not that big of–” you began, wanting to assure him that it wasn’t something that needed tending to - at least not now. “Yes. It is.” He interrupted, lowering his hands and sighing softly, “I hate that he did that to you. I wish I’d punched him harder.” “Felix, really, I’m okay.” “No you’re not.” “I’ll be okay.” “I know.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the soft swishing of Felix’s hand through his hair, before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry I got so worked up,” he mumbled, still looking away, “I just…you’re important to me, and he hurt you and messed with your brain and–” “Felix, it’s okay,” it was your turn to interrupt now, and the softness of your own voice surprised you. “Thanks for telling me,” he said quietly, looking over at you with a sheepish little grin, the beginnings of the brightness you knew him for starting to return. “It’d be kind of unfair of me not to,” you conceded rather than accepting his gratitude, doing your best to return what you hoped was a semblance of a smile. “What? Why?” Felix asked, perplexion leading him into that all-too-familiar by now head tilt. “You’re trying to prove me wrong, right?” Felix nodded in response, to which you continued, “Shouldn’t you know why I hold my beliefs?” Felix paused, but then nodded, “I suppose so…but still. You didn’t have to tell me, y’know? But you did.” He was right. You didn’t have to tell Felix about San at all, let alone that you’d almost married him. You didn’t have to tell him that San was now getting to live the life that could’ve been yours if he’d stayed faithful. You didn’t have to, but… “I wanted to,” you said quietly, “I…haven’t really talked about it much.” “Will no one listen?” Felix asked innocently, now intent on understanding as much of you as you’d allow. “It’s not that, plenty of people asked.” “Why me?” That question gave you pause. Why Felix, of all people, to unload - albeit in very little detail - what happened with San to? You knew the answer.

Who else to tell but the man who made you a silly little mug that matters to you more than an award? Who else to tell but the man who left a date with his dream girl just to come find you and make sure you were alright? Who else to tell but the man who carried you to bed when you fell asleep in his truck? Who else to tell but the man who almost punched your best friend, and did punch your ex, simply because he wanted you safe? Felix was warm. He was sunlight, he was joy. He was security, dependable even though he might be a bit goofy at times. Felix was safe.

Who else would you tell if not Lee Felix? That was far too long of an answer to give the eagerly waiting man, however, so you settled for simply saying, “Because you’re you.”

And he smiled.

Felix smiling because of you was quickly becoming one of your favorite things, and when he rushed forward without warning to hug you? You realized his hugs may be one of them, too.

Hugging Felix was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after being out in the cold. Comfortable, easy, soothing.

Felix did not hold you too tightly, just enough to make sure you knew he had you, one of his hands absently rubbing your mid back. He smelled of the peach soju you’d shared earlier and remnants of his cologne, and he was warm. Not in the sense you usually saw him, but genuinely and truly warm. 

“You know what you need?” he posed his question with an eager smile as he pulled back from the hug, though you wished he hadn’t.

You don’t voice that, though, so instead you settled on a query of your own, “What’s that?” 

“Brownies.”

Of all the things to suggest, making brownies at midnight was not on the list of expectations from Felix.

Though at this point, it seemed, Felix had a habit of defying your expectations.

“Hand me the flour?”

You complied, pulling yourself from that train of thought to hand him the large bag of flour, to which he thanked you with that brilliant smile of his.

As you watched Felix expertly fold the batter into itself, you couldn’t help but wonder what else there was to him that you had yet to discover. As much as being taken aback by Felix wasn’t a problem, it also opened the door to an almost unhealthy level of curiosity to who he was when he wasn’t existing in your presence.

A curiosity you couldn’t quite identify the necessity for.

“How long have you been baking for?” you asked, rather than focusing on finding the root of your newfound interest in his life.

Felix paused in his stirring, setting the rubber spatula down to rest against the edge of the bowl as he hummed, answering after a brief moment of contemplation, “A few years, I think?” he began, sounding just as unsure of the answer as you would’ve been, “I started out trying to learn to impress a girl, but turns out she had a boyfriend.” You stifled the urge to roll your eyes; of course he would’ve learned in an attempt to find love. A so very Felix reason to pick up a hobby.

“I liked it, though,” he began, “Baking, that is…not that she had a boyfriend. That’d be weird,” he said with a small laugh, shaking his head as he looked back to the bowl of batter and added in some cocoa powder.

“What makes you like it so much?” you asked him, surprised by the interest you heard behind your own inquiry.

“Well,” he began with another smile as he blended the powder in the bowl, reaching for the chocolate chips to add into the sweet-smelling mixture, “It’s kind of cheesy…” he mumbled, setting the bowl aside to get a pan from beneath the stove.

“Hit me with it,” you said with a small laugh, watching as he poured the rich brown batter into the pan carefully.

“Okay…” he spoke hesitantly, opening the oven and sliding the tray in, “I like having a skill that makes people smile.”

That gave you pause.

While you hadn’t necessarily been wrong about the reason for his initial interest in the hobby being very true-to-form, something about knowing he’d continued because it made people happy struck you, as if there were no other reason that would make as much sense as that one did. Why you hadn’t expected it was beyond you, but you felt a warmth settling in your chest at the thought.

“To make people smile?” you inquired, to which he nodded.

“Yeah. Someone has a bad day? Baked goods. Celebrating? Baked goods. Friends coming over? Baked goods. They’re never really out of place, y’know? And they always make things better.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant but likely not as deeply as he felt it. The look on his face spoke leagues, he looked so proud of being able to do something that brought at least a bit of a bright point to someone’s day.

“That makes sense for you,” you answered him eventually, the corners of your lips turning upwards.

“Does it?” he countered, tilting his head as he picked up a towel to wipe any lingering brownie from his fingertips, “How do you figure?”

“Well, yeah,” you started, the words to say coming from your lips in an unplanned series of compliments that made Felix’s cheeks turn progressively darker shades of pink, “You’re selfless, Felix. You left a date to make sure I was okay, you remembered I like dumb novelty mugs, you’re always smiling and ready to help at a moment’s notice…so, yeah, I think it makes perfect sense that, even with a hobby, you want it to bring brightness into someone else’s life.”

Felix cleared his throat, a grin on his lips that he tried to hide by looking away bashfully, “Wow…I mean, thank you, I…” he trailed off, “I’m really not that great, though, y’know? I’m just…me.”

“Just you was the first person I felt safe sharing my past with San to, remember?” you countered immediately, an ache forming in your gut as you felt the self-deprecating nature of Felix’s comment about himself. You wondered if there were maybe something that had happened to him, just as something had happened to you, to plant such a seed of self doubt in his mind.

You wanted to find whatever it was and pluck it from his little blonde head.

“I guess you’re right…” he said quietly, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“No guessing about it, Felix. Just you is pretty great, remember that.” The seriousness with which you spoke those words to Felix surprised you, and apparently him as he paused for a moment with his lips slightly parted.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, still looking every part a flustered boy who hadn’t the slightest clue how to accept a compliment.

“Yeah,” you said back, equal sheepishness in your tone now that exactly what you’d said and how you’d said it registered with you. 

Time passed quietly, though not awkwardly after that conversation. Felix had busied himself by washing the mixing bowls and measuring cups while you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone. A sudden ping almost made you jump, the comfortable silence broken by a pop-up denoting a new message.

Dumb Squirrel: hey, minho and i just got back to our hotel!

Dumb Squirrel: how was the gala?

Dumb Squirrel: did you win?

You couldn’t help but smile, the startling dings becoming less jarring and more comforting as they continued to flood through. 

You: how’s Jeju?

You: I won, yeah.

You: The gala was…something.

Jisung’s reply came almost the second after you’d hit send, rendering switching back to scrolling socials a bit pointless as you tapped the drop-down.

Dumb Squirrel: “something”???

Dumb Squirrel: explain.

You sighed. Explaining this to Jisung may very well be as exhausting if not more than the actual events that had occurred. You could already guess that he’d react poorly, if not violently - not that Jisung could take a punch, let alone throw one. As tempting as lying was, this was your best friend…and you knew he’d find out eventually.

You: well…San was there.

The absolute flurry of texts you were then bombarded with were nothing short of the literary equivalent of a storm.

Dumb Squirrel: WHAT?!

Dumb Squirrel: what the fuck?

Dumb Squirrel: W H Y the fuck?

Dumb Squirrel: you didn’t call me why?

Dumb Squirrel: are you okay?

Dumb Squirrel: do you need me to come home?

You waited a moment, just to be sure he was done with his rapid-fire questions before responding.

You: I’m okay. He said it was to save me from embarrassment, but I don’t know if I believe that. I didn’t call because I was at the gala and you’re busy. You don’t need to come home.

You: Felix kinda saved me.

Jisung’s next text came in slower, a welcome relief from what was beginning to tempt you to turn off your ringer.

Dumb Squirrel: Felix showed?

Dumb Squirrel: I was hoping he would! thank god he did.That was…puzzling. Why had Jisung assumed Felix would come?

You: Did you have something to do with him showing up?

You: I swear if you gave him a guilt trip…

Dumb Squirrel: No, no, nothing like that. He just asked me what the gala was out of nowhere, so I told him. And he didn’t like that you were alone, and asked me if you’d have liked someone there.

Dumb Squirrel: all I did was tell him that yeah, you probably would.

You frowned, this made no sense…

You: How did he even know to ask about it? I never told him.

Dumb Squirrel: I don’t know, that’s a Felix question.

You: and you had NOTHING to do with it?

Dumb Squirrel: would I lie and pass up on being your knight in shining armor by association?

He had a point. Jisung would never pass up on an opportunity to boast about saving the day for you, even when it was something as simple as bringing you a coffee when you had a deadline coming up…there was no way he’d not admit to sending someone to accompany you at the gala.

“Hey, brownies are coming out!” Felix chimed happily from the kitchen, pink oven mitts on his hands bringing a fond look to your face.

You: Felix made me brownies, gotta go. Have fun with minho!

Dumb Squirrel: You’re still with him???

Dumb Squirrel: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Dumb Squirrel: details????

Dumb Squirrel: bitch????

You ignored the texts with a small exhale of a laugh before leaving your phone on the arm of the couch, joining Felix in the kitchen. 

The smell in the air was heavenly. Cocoa and a hint of coffee filling your lungs, replacing any thought you had other than just how good something with that rich of a smell would taste. Your mouth watered, and it took more effort than you’d care to admit in order to remember what you wanted to ask Felix.

“So, Jisung texted,” you began, hoping to maybe find a smooth way to ask without sounding accusatory. Simply asking straightforwardly how he knew about the gala felt a bit too brash, a bit too harsh for someone like Felix. 

Felix was gentle, so you would be gentle.

“Oh! What’d he have to say?” Felix asked happily while slicing the brownies carefully with a knife, taking a spatula and scooping two out of the pan and onto little plates adorned with pastel flowers along the edges.

“He and Minho are back to their hotel room,” you started, pressing your lips together as you wondered how exactly you’d tackle the elephant in the room that only you could see.

“Oh, that’s right, they’re on vacation, right?” he asked innocently, handing you a plate expectantly.

“Mhm, Jeju,” you said quietly, sitting down at the island counter with your brownie. Why was it so hard to just ask?

“Ooh! Pretty this time of year,” he noted, sitting one seat over from you and setting his own plate down, immediately taking a bite of the brownie with a pleased grumble from deep in his chest, “Try it!” he encouraged, covering his mouth with his hand so as not to show off the mouthful he had.

It was impossible not to, when his eyes sparkled while stared at you. The question could wait.

You lifted the still-warm brownie in your hand, taking a bite from the corner. As soon as it hit your tongue, the perfect mixture of crispy and gooey, you felt your eyes widen with an unintentional exclamation of, “Mmm!” leaving your lips, brows now sky high as you chewed, savoring it for everything it was.

It was more than just a brownie. It was a gift from a boy filled with sunshine - a boy who’d saved you tonight, despite your uncertainty as to how he’d known you’d needed saving in the first place. It was made specifically for you, by a boy who’d learned for someone else entirely.

The boy who liked to bake to make people happier baked these for you, to make you happier.

That was more important right now.

“These are amazing, Felix!” you complimented, lips upturned without you having the intention for them to be, to which he grinned right back.

“Really?” he chirped, straightening up as he accepted the praise, his fluffy hair bouncing around his head as he almost vibrated with the happiness that compliment gave him, “They’re my own recipe, I’m glad you like them!”

“I do!” you nodded before taking another bite, the flavor being perfect - not too sweet, hints of the bitter from the instant coffee powder he’d used in them, “You could sell these!”

Felix shook his head, “They lose their meaning then,” he said earnestly, “It’s not special anymore if just anyone can have them.”

That made your heart lurch in your chest.

You were not just anyone to Lee Felix.

“I guess I see your point,” you managed to speak, rather than pondering exactly what his explanation meant to you. The two of you ate in silence for a while, your brownie being nothing but a few crumbs on a plate when you remembered your original question.

“Felix?”

“Hmm?” he asked, picking up both of your plates and carrying them to the sink.

“How did you know where I was?” you asked him, feeling much more settled now that you’d had a moment of peace with him.

“Oh…” Felix trailed off, a breathless chuckle leaving him as he turned to face you, running a hand through his hair - something you’d learned he did often when nervous, “I think you sent me a picture on accident instead of Jisung.”

“Huh?” you asked him, reaching for your phone only to remember you’d left it on the couch. Felix quickly pulled his own out, saving you the effort, and opening your texts to show you the photo and the text that had mistakenly been sent to him.

He was right in the assumption the photo and message had been meant for Jisung, a dry humor to the ‘pray for me’ you’d attached once you’d arrived to the gala sending off pings in your head as you realized that the message hadn’t, in fact, made it to the intended recipient.

It was an accident, albeit a lucky one.

“And you came..?” you asked him, handing the phone back to him in an almost-daze. 

“Well, yeah. I asked Jisung what it was, and once I found out you were all alone at such an important thing for you, I couldn’t just leave you by yourself,” he mumbled, looking away shyly as if admitting his own kindness were difficult for him.

“But you were out with Ryujin,” you pointed out, though if anyone knew that it was Felix.

“I know…I told her I had an emergency with a friend, though, and she understood,” he said, waving a hand almost as though trying to shoo away your concerns.

“How did you even know it was an emergency? You didn’t even know about San,” you spoke quietly, sounding every bit as confused as you felt.

“I didn’t need to know about him to know that being there for you was important,” he shrugged, still downplaying just how big it had been to you.

“More important than a date with the girl you’re head over heels for?” you asked him, incredulous that - without knowing about the discomfort of an ex being there - Felix still found being there for you to be urgent.

“Sure, why not?” he asked, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion as to how that was even a question, “I can reschedule a date, you can’t reschedule an award show.”

He…wasn’t wrong, no…but it felt almost foreign to have the show put on such a high pedestal. You had to beg San, back when you’d actually wanted him there, to come. A man you were supposed to marry basically needed to be dragged to it. And here was Felix…a friend who you’d made in the strangest of circumstances, who’d dropped something he’d wanted for months, unprompted, to support you.

It took everything you had not to cry - and Felix could tell.

“Hey, hey, did I say something wrong?” he asked, hurriedly making his way to your side and putting a hand on your shoulder - a warm, safe, comforting hand. The same hand on the same shoulder he’d comforted you with at the gala…

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just…” you trailed off, cursing the wetness you felt in your eyes as your cheeks grew hot, shaking your head as it felt like your throat grew tighter.

His hand squeezed your shoulder, but he didn’t speak. You didn’t need to look at him to know he held a furrow between his brows, concern written on every facet of his face.

“I just can’t believe you’d show up for me,” you finished your thought, your voice cracking as you managed to keep the tears from spilling down your face.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Felix said softly, moving his hand to your back to rub small, soothing circles there.

“Because I’m…me,” you said with a dry laugh, wiping your eyes on the back of your hands - they still smelled like the brownies, and it was strangely comforting.

“None of that,” Felix said with a frown, reaching behind him to grab a paper towel in case you’d need to wipe your eyes or blow your nose, “Just you is pretty great, too, y’know.”

He echoed the sentiment you’d given him earlier, though it felt almost uncanny to have reversed towards you now. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked up at him and nodded with a quiet sniffle.

“Yeah?” you managed to ask, your voice thick with emotion.

“I wouldn’t make you brownies if you weren’t.” His words were like an oath, his face devoid of any hint of humor as he nodded in return.

And you believed him. You believed that somehow, Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, found just you to be enough. 

Enough to make his special recipe he saved for making others happy for. Enough to leave the girl he was hopelessly in love with alone at a bar. Enough to punch your ex in the face. Enough to carefully clean your face up. Enough to remember you collected, let alone to make a silly novelty mug for. Enough to carry you up to your apartment when you’d fallen asleep. Enough to care about.

Even after the threat of tears were gone for the time being, that thought would stick with you.

You were enough to be cared for, and that thought would surround you just as much as the scent of brownies and Felix’s shampoo as you fell asleep in his bed that night, his light snoring from the couch being the sweetest lullaby.

It was the best night’s sleep you’d had since San left, and the final thoughts in your head were that you certainly hoped Felix knew that he, too, was enough. More than enough. You hoped he knew that everything he’d done for you had given you a deep sense of peace, quieting those voices in the back of your mind that would whisper things into your ears to make you doubt yourself. You hoped he knew that his brownies made you happy. You hoped he knew that you’d always be grateful for just how much he’d done for you - not only in the last twenty-four hours, but since you’d met him.

You were already grateful, too, for the things he had yet to do, because there was no doubt in your mind that there would, in fact, be more he would do for you.

Not that you’d ever ask him. You wouldn’t have to. That was just Lee Felix.

[soemthingsparkly]

hello! I just finished reading the most recent chapter of your Hermitcraft Coffee Co. fic, and I would LOVE to see the deleted scenes you mentioned in the notes at the beginning of the chapter! I'm loving this AU btw, it's so good! :))

Hi Hi Hi!!!! Just to let you know, I am vibrating with exitement because of this. LET ME FETCH ONE.

AND THANK YOU FOR ENJOYING THE FIC THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY. :D <33

The Hermit Coffee Co. Chapter 10 Deleted Scene: Short King Squad

“Oh, sorry, my bad, my bad,” he says, and then leans into Mumbo and stage-whispers, “Jeez, these nerdy frat boys are so sensitive.”  

Mumbo slides his gaze towards Grian, to find the man staring back with mischief. 

“I’m not going to bite, G,” he says, causing Grian to break out in a delighted grin.

“Oh, but you want to,” Grian teases. “And that’s almost just as good.”

Mumbo rolls his eyes, which makes Grian laugh again and both are too distracted by each other to notice the look that Tango and Impulse exchange.

[CUT]

Tango reaches over and takes his phone back. “I sketched them up last night after work. It was actually Grian here that inspired me with his little…” Tango wiggled his fingers in the direction of Grian’s wrist. “Friendship bracelet.”

Grian’s expression sours and he tucks both hands under the table. “It’s not a friendship bracelet.”

“But you do match with Jimmy and Joel, don’t you?” Mumbo asks, pressing a finger to his chin. Grian’s eyes glint and the corner of his lips twitch in amusement.

It makes things easier again and the discomfort in Mumbo subsides a little.

Tango is wearing a joyous smile at this interaction. “Aka, bracelets that signify your friendship, also known as… friendship bracelets.”

Grian huffs and rolls his eyes, which makes Mumbo chuckle in delight. Without much prior thought, Mumbo snakes his arm around Grian’s shoulders and pulls him into his side for a brief squeeze.

“It's okay, G, the friendship bracelet isn't embarrassing,” Mumbo says, ruffling his hand through Grian’s mop of styled chestnut locks. “It’s the fact that it says Bad Boy that really makes people cringe.”

Grian cackles at that and Mumbo feels a warm surge of pride, even when Grian pushes him off.

Tango clicks his tongue.

“Actually, Mumbo, Grian, I think you’ll find that cringe culture is dead and the concept of “coolness” is a social construction that exists within the insecure to alienate others."

Impulse takes a sip of his beer and shrugs one shoulder.

“I don’t know, T, that sounds a little like an argument someone uncool might make.”

Grian snickers and Tango points an orange painted fingernail in Impulse’s direction. He grins and says, “Be quiet, or no hoodie for you.”

Impulse mimes locking his lips.

“Careful, mate,” Mumbo says with a wink and returns his arm to resting comfortably on the back of Grian’s chair. “You don't want your custom nerd hoodie on the line.”

“It’s cool to be a nerd now, actually,” Tango mutters, folding his napkin into a neatly tucked triangle.

Zedaph pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry, T, you're almost 30. You don't have to worry about being cool anymore.”

Tango grimaces. “I’m 27! That's not almost 30.”

Grian mock-gasps. “Woah, I didn't realise you were so old, Tango. You don’t look a day over 15.”

Having just taken a sip of his drink, Mumbo quickly brings a hand to his mouth to stop himself from spitting it out or choking.

“When’s your growth spurt due, by the way?” Grian asks and Zedaph barks a laugh at that.

Tango, clearly enjoying himself, jabs an accusing finger in Grian’s direction. “Hey now, don't you start. Where’s your step-stool, shorty?”

“Oh, I leant it to Bdubs.”

“I HEARD THAT,” comes a shout from the other end of the table and that draws a pure cackle of delight from Tango.

“Nice one, G,” he says, swiping a finger across his lower lid, before holding his fist out to Grian.

After the briefest hesitation, Grian leans forward across Mumbo and brushes his knuckles against Tango’s.

He doesn't sit quite so far back on his return and ends up neatly tucked up against Mumbo’s side.

[END]

It's not super polished, but I did enjoy writing Grian and Tango joining forces to bully Bdubs, so I'm very glad you asked to see it :D I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for stopping by, it means a lot to me! <3

[basketobread]

Hi! I've been wanting to say this to you for a while now, but you and your art bring me so much joy!! \(^o^)/ Every time you pop up on my dash I always have a good laugh, I absolutely LOVE your energy and the way you draw! You have one of the best and most unique art styles I've seen, you're definitely one of my fave artists ever!! 🥰

I first saw your "Thy Mother" art with Lotus and I was INSTANTLY hooked xD As a bard enthusiast myself and my beloved Tav being a bard, I just DIED of laughter when I saw that artwork IT'S TOO DAMN GOOD 😂

I also have a huge soft spot for Lunara! She's so cute and also, one of my fave things you do is when you draw that funny wrinkly face on Karlach. It ALWAYS cheers me up whenever I'm having a bad day, plus I keep coming back to that "White Girl Shadowheart" artwork of yours and it never gets old! 🤣

Thank you SO much for gracing us with your art and for being such an awesome hooman bean all the time!! 🙌❤️❤️❤️

oh my gosh... well, if this isn't just the sweetest message i've ever read then idk what is!! 😭😭❤❤ THANK YOU!!! SO VERY MUCH!!! FOR THESE KIND WORDS!!! seriously, you have NO idea how much this means to me. i started this blog just to have fun and post some fanart of my fav game ever and did NOT expect so many people to tune in on my bg3 adventure!!

i am FOREVER GRATEFUL!!! and you have absolutely no idea how ECSTATIC i feel to hear you talk about my characters in such a way too!! lotus and lunara are my pride and joy so seeing people enjoy them as much as i do has been a blast <33

seriously, i cannot express how happy i am to have received this ask. you're so sweet!! i'm going to be thinking about this all day now HAHA

[theredharpy]

Can't have one without the other || König x Reader x Ghost ||

Jealousy • Mature • Slowburn • Enemies to lovers • R18

As Price is forced to make a tough call to bring in someone he had promised an old friend of his to protect, a mission that holds the weight of countless lives, needs the involvement of both KorTac and the mysterious red haired woman who had previously been in an elite trained military team that had supposedly disbanded and vanished.Ghost is against the idea but something draws him to her, whereas König wants to know more, what unravels nobody could've expected.

Sugar: Pt.4 ||

Morning approached all too quickly, Red scnurched her face at the rude awakening of her alarm clock that was sat across the room, it was a routine she'd always set for herself when she joined the army early on for one thing, it made her get out of bed and stand up.

6:30am.

"Jesus Christ." She groaned to herself as she violently flung the bedsheet from her body and quickly got herself up to switch the alarm off, peering around the room her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit space around her.

It didn't take her too long to throw on some of her basic training outfit and gather her gear for the day before exiting the room, deciding to quickly stop by the reck room to make some breakfast and a coffee as she walked down the hallway her mind soon trailed off to yesterday's introduction to the team, especially to Ghost, Soap and König in particular, her body was already feeling tense about the upcoming training session with Ghost.

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and decided to put it to the back of her mind as she turned a corner and entered the doorway leading into the Reck Room, the air was strife with the smell of coffee and food.

Standing by the kettle was the towered over form of none other than Ghost, no-one else was around which to Red caught her off guard she noticed how Soap almost stuck by his side like glue but then again, they are all preparing for this mission, everyone needs their downtime.

Ghost had gone to detailed lengths to make his coffee, a specific brand, followed by his personal cup which of course was a white cup with a black skull face on it.

He was completely unaware of her presence in the same room, for a moment she second guessed about approaching him but her mind told her otherwise, she needed to diffuse the situation before it spiraled into something else.

She had to swollow her pride.

Just fuckin say sorry to him.

So plucking up the courage she continued to walk into the room and spoke aloud.

"Got any left for another one." She spoke in the gentlelist tone possible.

Ghost lifted his head, his eyes broke contact from placing the kettle on boil and set his eyes on the woman instead.

"If I did have another one, why should I give it to you." He responded bitterly but not with a raised tone, he sounded exhausted.

Red furrowed her brows at his words but brushed them off all the same as she stood at the oppositw side of him, she knew he had enough.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you." She gestured with her hand. "This is also very strange to me too, so I get the distrust." She broke eye contact with him for a second looking around the kitchen counter top for a spare cup before moving her eyes up to start looking through the cabinets.

Ghost continued to watch her, he picked up the tone in her voice, the way her face slightly changed expressions as she apologized to him.

He needed to hear that.

No.

He wanted to hear that,

Deep down he was sorry too, but he was too stubborn to admit that right now.

"Would you like me to make you a coffee?" He responded calmly.

"That would be great, thank you." She stood up on her toes to grab a single peach coloured cup before placing it down beside his.

She'd gone to sit down on the nearby breakfast bar, there was a momentary pause of silence until the kettle had finished boiling, filling the air around Ghost with hot steam.

"What happened." Ghost's thick accent cut through the silence, there was no emotion in his tone, but it was softer than a few moments ago.

"With your team." He glanced over his shoulder after he'd finished pouring the coffee into the cup.

"Oh we're gonna talk about that right now." Red sat up feeling an unsettled ease run all the way up her spine and into her shoulders the moment she caught his gaze and his question.

"Right now, Red." Ghost stubbornly responded, finishing making both coffees he brought them over to the table and dragged one of the bar stools to the opposite side, facing her directly.

"Right." She swallowed thickly and placed a hand under her chin. "Where the hell do I even start." She mumbled to herself as she studied the table for a second, lost in her own thoughts of the past.

"Why do you even wanna know." She questioned him.

"So I know you ain't gonna stab me in the fuckin back when I need you Sargent."

"I have plenty of time, I ain't moving until you've told me."

Stubborn bastard.

Red huffed in annoyance finally giving in to his demands, "they all died." She deadpanned and looked him dead in the eyes, watching for any sign of emotion as he slightly leaned forward.

"Alot of people die that's part of the job."

"Yeah but not the entire fucking team."

"You gonna tell me how that all played out."

Red choose her next words carefully as once again she broke eye contact with the towering force starring directly at her, it was an extremely tough subject to talk to, but then again she was talking to Ghost, which is like being thrown in at the deep end of the pool and wishing for the best.

"It was my team.." She smacked her hand down on the table as she shook her head at herself, a pained look set in on her delicate face.

"My fuckin fault." She side eyed him.

"A mistake like--but still." She spoke through broken words.

"Mistakes happen." Ghost couldn't help but study the woman, her words where almost a mirror of his own past.

"Just like you I was place in charge of a team, I thought I could handle it..fucksake they where like family to me." She swept her hand along the table before tightly clenching it into a fist as her jaw tightened. "I just--." She bit her lip as her mind was filled with memories she would've rather forget. "I made a wrong move and everyone paid for it including me."

"Captured, Tortured and used as a lure to bring the rest of my team out from the fuckin woods."

Her tone raised as she continued to shake her head at her own disappointment with herself.

What Ghost wasn't telling her is that he'd gone through her files after their heated exchange, he wanted to know full details about who he was working with, who Price was bringing into 141.

Just trusting his word wasn't enough on this one,

but hearing it from Red in person, showed him she could be trusted, in a way knowing what he knew now, he was more pissed at Price for bringing her back into a situation that was probably more difficult for her to deal with than she or anyone else realised, simply putting it, he'd been in her position one time too many.

He studied her, each slight emotion in her pale blue eyes, each time her jaw clenched and tensed up, each reaction, her shortness in breath, the way she stopped herself from getting overwhelmed.

Red had to stop herself from the memories, from the pain, she buried it a long time ago.

"But I can't let it effect me, not now.." she grabbed the coffee cup in her hand, swirling the liquid.

"Not when you guys need me for this, we are a team." She pursed her lips together giving the lieutenant a smile, before bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip.

"Glad to hear it." Ghost grabbed his own cup in his hand and excused himself from the table, but not before saying one last thing to the woman. "I expect to see you at training Sargent, no excuses."

Red lifted her cup in response, "I'll be there." She watched as he turned away to walk out and into the hallway. "thanks for the coffee! It's really good." She yelled, her voice echoed down the hallway.

No problem, love.

[heartstringsduet]

What about from this list michelle: https://www.tumblr.com/ladytessa74/723652683216683008?source=share

An anon asked me this but I'm not taking prompts at the moment so feel free to take: https://www.tumblr.com/ladytessa74/723655016015134720/are-you-taking-those-writing-prompts-for-tarlos?source=share

Thank you Tessa my dear loyal prompter <3333 taking innocent peeks at their partner's phone every once in a while they're scrolling 

There are nights that they just want to have a little ‘me-time.’ Carlos usually cleans or cooks or finds design inspo on Pinterest for the newest loft project.

TK usually plays with Lou II or facetimes a friend, but most often, he scrolls endlessly on his phone. Carlos only sees glimpses of TK’s screen when he vacuums behind the couch, when he sits next to him to read, or when he tests how sucked in TK is into his phone and how many kisses to the back of his neck it takes to draw his attention away. It usually doesn’t take more than three.

TK’s screen is a wonder bag. There are the usual Insta posts from old old friends, though TK had deleted a lot of them and set his account to private a long time ago. But in between, there are Reels of lizards walking around in tiny cowboy hats or bathing or sleeping, influencers promoting an eye cream Carlos is sure will be in their bathroom at some point if Owen’s genes have a word in it, there are Tiktok dances and baby elephants, more lizards, condensed articles of The New Yorker. Occasionally, Carlos will hear someone explain how they made it through recovery and what joy it brings them to stick to it over a year, two, a decade. That’s when he will check in with TK after, feeling a bit less helpless as the months go on and he trusts that TK will know when and what to share with him in his own time. Still, TK always gets an extra hug those days and he will hopefully never question them. Carlos needs them just as much; it’s half pride and joy and half compassion. It’s always anything but filled with love.

Every one in a while, he will find TK scroll and then linger on a photo of a shirtless celebrity, like Henry Cavill. By the third or forth time Carlos might react by being extra passionate in bed after, he has figured out that it might not be an accident that TK always does this when Carlos is close by. It’s okay. Carlos doesn't mind reminding TK what real life has to offer.

Whenever Carlos is on his phone, scrolling through design on Pinterest, TK will put his head on his shoulder and drowsily point at one of the pins and say, “This one?” and Carlos will kiss his head and ask, “Where?”

“Hm. Bathroom?”

“I was thinking our bedroom. Over your bedside table?”

“Okay.”

Other times, TK will come up to kiss his neck from behind when Carlos is reading an article to learn about how to take care of shedding bearded dragons, looks into dealing with trauma, on ways to better deescalate situations for his job, or how to communicate feelings better. These are kisses that make the shame of being caught ease up a bit, because they, like his hugs, are TK’s silent way to share pride, compassion and love. These are peeks they don't ever intent to hide from the other.

[tavyliasin]

The Scent of Cinnamon 2 - The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

With the talking over, it is time for the deal to be sealed. However, Haarlep is not willing to relinquish their physical form so quickly, nor are they in any rush to finalise the contract with Raphael without enjoying it first. 4,965 Words - AO3 Link Click Here

--- Summary: Haarlep draws out the first kiss into far more devious uses of their own lips as well as Raphael's. They will ensure he doesn't forget a single thing about them. The sound of their voice, the feel of their touch, the taste of their- Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 3.5/5  Content Warnings: Oral Sex, Shapshifting, Power Play, Mild Choking, BDSM, Aphrodisiacs, Incubus Kiss, Mild Blood, Mild Humiliation/Name Calling

Spoilers Vague House of Hope and Act 3, but most of this series is focused on what came before. Canon Compliance As before this is now taking on my canon and headcanons for this section. Other Notes Haarlep has the ability in this to change their form, which in my HC here is only for when they are in their original body. So unfortunately not something we will see later in the series when they have Raphael's form, but they want him to remember. They want you to remember too~

Song Pairing (Click the song title to open it in spotify) Diabolical by NYXX "I love the night That's the only time I feel really alive! I'm sugar on your tongue My name sounds so sweet Swimming in your blood I'm under your skin, baby Well, I got you strung out You just can't get enough, oh"

--- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT --- ---

The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

The moment their lips touched, Raphael could feel a heat that rivalled his own. Haarlep curled one arm around his waist, the other hand reaching up into his hair to pull him closer. Their tail snaked out from behind them, grabbing at the base of the cambion’s own tail and squeezing hard. Raphael’s mouth opened involuntarily at the sensation, exactly as Haarlep planned. Their tongue dove between his lips, hot with sweet cinnamon and an edge of hellfire that immediately drew a low moan from his throat. Their wings fluttered happily, he was responding perfectly. They could feel the well defined muscles of his body beneath the layers of silk shirts, a pleased purr rumbling in their throat as they continued to devour his kiss, tasting the edge of black pepper and coal fires. The cambion was pliant, willing, the tension beginning to soften as the aphrodisiac began to work its way into his infernal blood. Had he been mortal, Haarlep would have pulled back, consciously weakening the effects of their saliva lest their partner’s body burn entirely to cinders in the heat of lust. But Raphael was no mortal. Inexperienced, perhaps, or at least he had yet to bed an incubus, succubus, or concubus… He would be able to withstand what Haarlep demanded of him. Their words had been no passing whim or idle threat. They were determined to burn their very presence into his soul. Their tail pulled his leg up, hooking his now bent knee around their hip as their hand moved down to grip his thigh, the hint of sharp claws making their presence felt through the fabric. The move was reminiscent of an old romance, a lover bringing their bodies closer, holding them together with affection and a dire need to be connected in their passion… Romance, however, was not in Haarlep’s vocabulary. This was all about power. —

The cambion was now balanced on one leg, forced to cling to the incubus to retain his balance, lips still locked together and moaning softly from the effort it took to cling to what remained of his pride. His mind was becoming clouded by desire, a lust risen from a libido he had long thought to be non-existent. His body responded likewise, fine silks straining as he unconsciously pressed his hips towards the Harlot he had invited to get closer than any others had been permitted. This felt different to the boring performance required to satisfy mortals foolish enough to lust after him while chasing the power his contracts held. Those times he simply went through the motions, physical stimulation enough to prevent anyone foolish enough to complain from voicing them. His pulse did not rise, his breath did not turn ragged with desperation, and his tongue certainly did not seek to drink in the sweet cinnamon of mortal conquests. When they pulled back, he was breathless, lips already seeking theirs for a moment before they tugged his hair slightly to force eye contact. The emerald green was even brighter, the slight glow colouring their tan cheeks, made all the more vivid by the dark makeup they wore to accentuate their features. Raphael’s arms were around their back, holding tightly to keep his balance still, though one clawed finger stretched up to the base of Haarlep’s wings. They smiled as his sharpened talons drew the slightest drop of blood from their skin, a slight shake in their breath from the sensation. Good, he thought to himself, feel it, I will not give you everything quite so easily. 

“Marking me already~” their voice purred close to his ear as they pulled him closer, “do go on, I shall return every mark in kind. I will ensure your body knows nothing but me.” “You are very sure of yourself, Harlot.” He growled deeply, pushing back against their control again, even as the heat in him built further.

“My my, Archduke, you gave me a name and yet you do not use it? Very well…” Their lips pressed to his ear, quickly replaced by sharp teeth that bit down and made him hiss from the moment of pain. They smirked as they licked the droplet of blood from his heated crimson skin. “When you lose control, when you give yourself over to me, when you are ready to turn over your pride to the pleasure that only I can give you, when the only word left upon your breathless tongue is me - that is when you shall call me by my proper name.”

“If you believe yourself capable of such a thing, you are welcome to-” Raphael’s voice was cut short. He had forgotten about their wicked tail, but now the almost sharp arrowpoint tip was at his throat. “It is adorable how you fight me even as you want me. How your lips speak of rebellion but your hips are pressing you to my body to seek your greedy release already.” They kissed more softly now, each touch of their lips a heated lie of affection, another spark to his overheated libido. They began to alternate little bites with their soothing tongue when they reached his neck, nudging his frilled collar out of the way even as the tip of their tail still pressed into the vulnerable flesh beneath his chin. “Go ahead, Archduke, let yourself go. We have all night, or longer if I have to - I shall not let you have a moment’s rest until our deal is complete. Do not think you shall get away with finishing swiftly and considering our business finished.” “Haa-” Their tail pressed down now on his tongue, stopping the word even as his body quivered against them with his release. “Too easy, and not even honest. There is more to your pride than preventing the stain spreading through your smallclothes.” They smirked, aware of the damp spreading through the layered finery. All Raphael could do was groan against the invasion in his mouth. The Harlot pressed against him did not seem to care one bit for how easily he had been overtaken by a swift climax, driven over the edge by the stimulation of their voice in his ear, their body possessively gripping him, the scent of cinnamon hot on their skin… 

— Haarlep withdrew their tail from the groaning cambion’s lips painstakingly slowly. “My, what a mess you have made…” They gazed down at the infernal fire in his eyes, still fighting their control over him. “Oh, very well, I shall indulge my poor Master a while longer.” Their words might have spoken with a respectful title, but the tone carried no such deference. They found it delightful to peel away his pride as easily as they begin to peel away his outer clothing, finally allowing his feet to both remain on the floor. For now. “Do not expect me to be so generous with you every time we meet. This is…a special occasion. We may only make our deal once, after all, and then you shall be intimately bonded to the form you wish me to take.” They ran their hands down his exposed body, tracing the lines of muscle with sharp claws. He was young, lithe, and undeniably strong. But that strength would be so much more delicious when it bent to their will. Raphael bit his lip, Haarlep watched with amusement as they continued down until they were on their knees. “You know, the next time I do this for you, you will feel it too. Can you imagine, tasting the ghost of yourself on your own tongue, your lips parting just as mine do, your throat filling with your own heat-” The incubus stopped with a laugh as they saw him already responding without a hint of their touch. “But you will remember this face, Archduke. You will hear the echo of this voice even when I speak with yours, you will see these eyes buried behind your own, you will feel the touch of my hands to the point that touching your own body will feel like me.” —

Their words sank into Raphael’s consciousness, burying deep into his lust-clouded mind. He had no way to know if this was another part of the deal, if it was just a game they were playing to toy with him, but some part of him - some very deep and intimate part of the core of his being - was paying very close attention. The moment their tongue began to taste him, curling around the ridges of his tip, he groaned. His wings spread behind him, tail pressing down onto the floor, both of them an attempt to maintain his balance. Haarlep’s own tail coiled around his hips, pulling him closer as they suddenly took every inch between their infernally heated lips. He felt their throat tighten as they swallowed, pulling every last drop that had spilled into their mouth with a soft moan. If Raphael had any care for the gods, he would’ve sent several silent prayers for his own sake at the sight of the incubus looking up at him. Ebony hair still perfectly sleek, horns wickedly sharp, and those perfectly green eyes gazing up at him as they pulled back until only his tip was still in their mouth. Even though they had stopped talking, he could still hear their voice. The night had barely begun and they were living up to their promise… Sharp teeth kept his thoughts sharper, not allowing him even a moment’s lapse in concentration as they continued to work every nerve with only their mouth. —

Haarlep listened with great enjoyment to the heavier breathing above them. They could feel his pulse quicken on their tongue, and though this was an act they performed only rarely, it was necessary to sear the essence of their being into his memory. Even as the essence of his being quickly rushed out once again, pouring heated lust down their throat. They swallowed hard, being sure to drain every last hint of him. It was amusing that even this carried the faint taste of cherry, a thought that brought a smirk to their lips as they released him from their grasp. “Once again, you are so very easy to please~” They rose slowly from their feet, watching his brow furrow with growing gratification, even though anyone else seeing that same expression from the cambion would be feeling nothing but the knot of fear sinking into their stomach. “Oh don’t be so serious~ you are with an incubus, after all. And not just any incubus. When we are through, I shall be your incubus, just as you shall be mine.” “As I shall be your what?” Raphael’s face darkened more, eyes blazing even as they laughed at his query. “Why, my Master, of course. Although, by your own agreement, not one with any power over me within these four walls.” They began to lead the way to his bed, tail curling around his wrist to tug him along behind them like a disobedient brat on a short leash. “Do not dawdle, Master, if I am to be your loyal servant then I must know every way I can serve you.” They looked back over their shoulder at the cambion, his feet moving automatically across the floor, as they left the last part of their thought unspoken: Perhaps I shall have you call me Master, some day… —

Raphael allowed himself to be led, wondering how he did not already feel drained completely by the incubus’ powers. It seemed they had an easy control over it, just as they had a vice grip on a libido he was not aware that he had. The aphrodisiac they had kissed into him was growing still, a burning that kept him pulled towards them more powerfully than the tail tugging on his arm. “You can serve me without force, Harlot.” He spat the insult easily as they reached the edge of the bed. “Oh, of course I could, Archduke.” They returned the spiteful nickname with his own, their face betraying their quiet amusement at his reactions. “But isn’t a little force a lot more fun ? Of course, if you don’t think you can take any more…speak one word, with your mouth or your mind, and I will show you nothing but mercy. Angel should fit us well, no? I doubt either one of us would utter such a disgustingly divine term.” Without warning, their claws were on his chin, pulling him into a ferocious kiss that still tasted of his own skin and seed. Haarlep’s other hand gripped the base of his tail and pulled on it wickedly, their own tail coiling around his waist preventing him from moving with the vicious yank to reduce the pain. Raphael yelped against their lips, or would have had they not been so tightly holding him, not giving him room to so much as breath. His mouth was filled with a ferocious tongue, the taste of cherry, salt, and cinnamon hot with more of the salacious drug that set his nerves alight even further. He felt his own blood rush lower once more, flooding him with an aching need that made his knees weaken. The cambion’s hands rapidly sought purchase at the point Haarlep’s wings connected to their back, claws digging in to sensitive muscle and drawing a low warning growl from the incubus. —

The pain did not bother Haarlep so much as the audacity to cause it. Still, it was pleasing to them that they could make him lose his grip on his sanity so easily. Perhaps in years to come it might be harder to pull such a reaction, but they relished it now. Even their wings would be in his memory, the feel of every kiss lingering on his lips when they eventually pulled away for the last time in this form. Everything they did was carefully calculated, though. They could not risk giving him too much of their “poison”, there was little point in draining him to the point of death. Instead, the goal was to secure their deal, cement their very being in the core of his soul, and perhaps even gain a little favour in the process. His demise would cost them everything, but the potential of his power could bring them anything. “That’s enough for now, Master, greedy as you are, you should not think yourself enough to handle too much at once.” They licked their lips as they pulled back, pleased to see the hint of disappointment in his proud eyes. “Now, if you would be so kind as to release those claws of yours from my back, kitten.” “Harlot, I will permit you to name me Archduke if you must insist on insulting me, but I am far from some mewling housepet.” He snarled, the attempt at intimidation only amusing the incubus further. “If you say so~” Haarlep purred, silently wondering exactly what his mewling would sound like when they inevitably drew it out of him. That would be an exciting challenge… Their tail was still wrapped around his waist, one hand on the base of the cambion’s own appendage with a tight grip. They chose their timing carefully now, using one foot to hook Raphael’s knee out of balance, their other hand on his shoulder to spin and hurl him bodily onto the bed with the strength of all their limbs working in a smooth and powerful motion. —

The air left Raphael’s lungs in a rush as his body slammed onto the mattress. He would have cursed under his breath had he any left within him to curse with, instead he lay gasping as his wings folded uncomfortably beneath him. He watched as the incubus stood beside the bed, towering over him with a wicked grin. They were clearly satisfied with watching him writhing and vulnerable, looking every bit like a predator about to swoop down upon helpless prey the way their wings spread even further above them casting a looming shadow over him. They finally began to unfasten their robes, allowing the silk to slide slowly over their skin, revealing their body inch by agonising inch, as he felt compelled to watch intently. Unsurprising to the fiend, Haarlep did not wear anything beneath the silk. However, they appeared somewhat smoother than he had imagined. Raphael’s eyes were directed to the hand that wandered down Haarlep’s body, curling in between their legs for a moment before reappearing slick and shining. “Are you hungry, Archduke? You should know that I am capable of transforming this part of myself to whatever I wish, it makes it far easier to devour my usual meals. This does not mean I will deign to receive you here, but your mouth would do well to remember everything that I am, that I was, and that I could have been had I not chosen to accept your terms.” They smiled as they licked their own arousal from their fingers, an act that he found far more enticing than he should as his own tongue absentmindedly licked his lips. “See? You are just aching for another taste, are you not? Use your words now, Master, I should like to hear it clearly, if you please.”

“You insolent-” He found his usual venom running dry in his throat. “If you insist on being so obstinate, hurry up. I will not be kept waiting. I have no issue with what configuration you prefer, if this is what is necessary to fulfil the contract then so be it.” Haarlep laughed again, seeing through his veil of pride easily. “Rationalise it however you like. I prefer my other form, it is more… versatile for the pleasures I can provide, but I will not have any part of me forgotten.” They knelt on the bed, moving forward until they were straddling his chest. “So, tell me. Are you not hungry? Don’t you want another taste?” The scent from them was even stronger now, the essence of lust itself raising his appetite against his will. Raphael moved his wings upwards and out of the way, stretching them uncomfortably above his head. “Must you draw this out?” “Oh do indulge me for one night, Archduke. This is the last time I shall feel such pleasures, at least until you see fit to allow me this form again. Though I should imagine that might well be centuries, so prove to me that it is worth my time.” They moved a little closer, though still keeping just out of reach. Frustrated, Raphael grabbed at Haarlep’s hips, pulling them forwards and onto his face with a ferocity that surprised even himself. He moaned as he began to taste them, the same cinnamon spice dancing across his tongue in a heady cocktail of pure lust. His greed made him messy, a thin line trailing down his chin and neck, holding them tight against him as they moaned wantonly above him. It would be humiliating were anyone to know he was accepting a lesser demon above him, allowing their thighs to grip at his cheeks, giving them everything they asked for and more in an unsightly display of submission. —

The incubus gazed down at the cambion between their thighs, relishing the tight grip he had on them, how his claws dug in to their heated skin. They reached down to smooth some of the hair that had fallen out of place when they threw him to the bed, a moment of softness before they found a firm grip on his horns to redirect his attentions. They moaned a second time as he obeyed the unspoken demand, switching to sucking, nibbling, and flicking his tongue in a way that was swiftly driving them towards a climax they longed for. Even an incubus was entitled to their body’s own pleasures, especially as these sensations would soon be lost to them when they took on his form. This…this they would miss. They would miss the feeling of their muscles tensing, the heat building in a single point, the almost overwhelming sensitivity reaching a near unbearable peak before their head fell back in pure bliss. Their hips were barely held in place by Raphael’s rough grip as he relentlessly continued to devour them, pulling out every last shuddering convulsion, before roughly pulling them forward to delve his tongue deeper inside them again, earning himself a pleased gasp as Haarlep’s wings fluttered in a moment of pure ecstasy. —

Raphael listened closely, judging by the incubus’ breathing and moaning, stopping only when he was certain they would be satisfied. His pride might be reeling at submitting to them like this, but it would also not stand for him to fail at the given task either. It was a conundrum he did not wish to indulge with further thought. That was unnecessary. So long as the deal would be done, he reminded himself, it didn’t matter what it was that signed the line. Or how slick his skin was with sweat and cinnamon scented lust. His head fell back onto silken pillows the moment Haarlep released their grip on his horns, the taste of them still hot on his tongue. Emerald eyes gazed down with approval, as the incubus casually wiped a line of moisture that was trailing down his cheek with the side of their hand. “Good, Master, very good~” They purred their approval, though the cambion felt the title was even more disparaging than before. Still, something about the praise… He shook the thought from his mind. He did not need nor desire the devotions of a lesser being. “Are you quite satisfied now, Harlot?” “You think so much of yourself after a single passable performance?” They grinned wickedly. “You have barely done half of your work, or did your lust-addled mind forget that I told you I can change my form?”

The magic was almost subtle at first the infernal flames wrapping around their hips and curling beneath them. Despite his resistance to fire, Raphael’s hands withdrew from the range of the effects automatically in the way one might recoil from a sharp blade against the skin. He blinked a few times as the light hit his eyes, and when his vision cleared he saw that they had indeed completely changed. With their devilish tail, horns, and wings, he had perhaps expected something more rigid and barbed, similar to his own cambion form, however perhaps to his relief now what he saw was decidedly closer to a human shape. The tip was a little wider, maybe, as if echoing the arrow-head end of their tail- A tail which now cruelly curled forwards around his throat, applying just the lightest pressure so he could feel it. —

Haarlep watched Raphael’s eyes as they changed, wondering what he might be thinking behind his carefully held expression. As their tail took hold of him, however, they felt the bob of his throat as he swallowed subconsciously. “Hardly an impressive trick for someone as long-lived as you, surely~” They mocked him, though both were over a century old he was certainly less experienced in the bedroom. Not that they minded. They were using this time to judge his responses, to get a feel for his body and his needs, to begin learning how best they might use him to satisfy their needs. Besides, this way they could shape his desires closer to their own whims, just as he was going to shape their entire body to fit his designs. “Do not think yourself so impressive,” Raphael lied, “I have simply not witnessed this ability from your kind up close. Cheap parlour tricks, nothing more.” “Cheap?” They were offended by the implication. Everything they had given, everything they stood to receive- “Enough. Pay for your words with that silvered devil tongue. Make that your Parlour Trick, and I might deign to make it pleasant.” Their voice was growing more demanding, their movements rougher as they yanked him forward by the neck and thrust between his lips. —

The cambion resisted the urge push them away, instead working his tongue swiftly, rewarded by the stiffening and growth that pressed towards the back of his throat. The shape was different, but their flesh just the same. Heated, the taste of them becoming as familiar as their scent. He wasn’t yet sure if he despised it or felt a deep desperation for more - the effects of their aphrodisiac made it maddeningly difficult to tell. He felt the same way about the pressure on his neck. It was demeaning, of course, but having that choice of when to act taken away… No, now was not the time to go admitting deeper desires that were blinking into life. The bitch above him, as he decided bitch was indeed a fitting word, demanded satisfaction. Just as he was finding a rhythm, however, copying the careful motions they had used on him earlier, he found his breath leaving him in a gasp as their clawed hand reached behind them and took hold of him again. Raphael almost bit down in a mixture of surprise and frustration. Perhaps they would’ve deserved it if he did, or so he thought…but the pleasure quickly grew to be the greater sensation of the three as that grip began to work him into a desperate need once more. He blinked back his own frustration as they laughed above him. “Oh you are so so delicious~” The grip of their tail loosened slightly, but their hips thrust forwards instead. “And how do I taste, Master, do I satisfy your hunger?” He could only moan as they filled his throat, swallowing hard around their intrusion, and at last remembering he had hands available for more than just gripping the silken sheets beneath him. The cambion slid his hands across the incubus’ abdomen, caressing their form with an act akin to affection but bearing none of the goodwill or pleasant emotion. His claws dug in and drew sharp lines into that far-too-perfect skin, crimson seeping out in drops along rich tan, as if already painting them with his own infernal hues. —

It was Haarlep’s turn to moan now, the pain was unexpected but not unwelcome - pleasure and pain were two sides of the same coin and it was one they enjoyed spinning on its edge. However, they were still not going to take the insult of being coloured with their own blood without incident. Sharp talons pressed threateningly into Raphael’s most sensitive areas, not yet breaking the skin but close . “Now, now, play nicely or be prepared to feel the same as you-” They paused as he redoubled the efforts with his mouth, clearly pleased with the way he was able to stop their words mid sentence. They decided firmly to remove every last trace of that smug look by the time the night was through, however…they felt their release building again with the stimulation of being with a newer partner and tasting so many delicious sensations and emotions drifting from his body. Each touch, every motion they made on him, all the reactions of his body were singing to them - this was a buffet, and one they would take their time over. They released their grip on him now, bringing their hands instead to grab his wrists, letting the thrill of the power raise their arousal further as he continued to work lips, tongue -

Their wings rose high above them, shuddering with the pleasure once more as their tail tightened slightly on the throat that was obediently swallowing everything. He was not so careless to be as messy with his meal this time, though his eyes watered from the pulsing rush that filled him as they moaned through the orgasm. —

The cambion’s body shuddered slightly with the effort, and the complete overstimulated arousal of having the incubus use his body for their own gratification. By the time they withdrew, still pulsing slightly and shifting their weight back over his chest, releasing their tail from his throat, he felt as if the sensation of them within his mouth would leave an eternal impression. He lay gasping a while as they caressed his body with a liar’s touch, the passion of a lover with all the emotion of a chef who was simply preparing a meal, or perhaps more accurately an archivist checking every last letter in the document of a deal. “You did well, Archduke, after consuming that much of my particular poison most would be consumed entirely by lust by now~” They casually pushed their stray hair back over their shoulder, gazing down at where he lay, assessing the reactions in his body. “Although, you aren’t too far from that now, are you?” 

“Go on, Harlot, you have me where you want me, do you not? You are well aware of your potent abilities. Do what you will.” His eyes almost betrayed the pleading of his body as it ached, yearned for everything he knew they could give him. They were finding every string in his body, tuning each and every one until they were able to play him like an infernal violin. “What are you waiting for? Permission?” “No,” they smirked, eyes flashing with a light that screamed danger to every remaining sensible thought in Raphael’s lust-addled mind, “I was waiting for this. To see you fall entirely into your own desire. To desperation.” “Harlot,” he began, but found even the insult was dying to a whisper on his tongue. “Please- ” The incubus laughed, a mirthless sound that ricocheted off the walls, accompanied by the display of their wings and tail rising to their full height above them as they glared down at the helpless cambion in their claws. “Be careful what you wish for, Master, you might just get it.”

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- --- The next part will cover the finalising of the deal, and I should have it out within 24 hours as it is already written and published on AO3 - it just takes a little time to transfer. I didn't set out to write what is essentially just shy of 5,000 words of oral sex, but here we are and here it is~ Haarlep would be satisfied with no less. Raphael is not permitted to forget, and neither are we~ They also have the ability here to change their genitals, which I decided makes sense for a genderfluid incubus who has different kinds of partners to satisfy. It's not in lore, but it's in mine now~

The story continues at the link below!