#sorry this took so long to answer I had to get into the mood perhaps more later

[dykedvonte]

More Benny/main three chairmen HCs? 🥺

I like can't remember what I've already said so if some repeat pls don't be mad:

Tommy occasionally thinks of trying to branch out industry wise and maybe do a tour but he's paranoid about leaving Vegas

None of them really picked up chems before the Strip. It's not a taboo but getting body issues or withdrawal while having to wander around the Mojave wastes is not bueno.

Swank is well liked by the other casinos even if he doesn't care for them. He's always cordial mainly cause he's scared of being killed or cooked by the other two

Benny has very nice handwriting. He can mimic script but he can't read it.

Tommy practically lives in the theater due to how busy he always is and it's kinda treated as a separate establishment. House sends messages to him (not Ben or Swank) about its entertainers

Honestly, if Benny had told them sooner they may have helped him but at the same time they would've been pissed he's already back on his bullshit

Swank misses the old days the most and Tommy the least. His only complaint is the songs don't hit the same as they did with outside acoustics.

Swank, Tommy, and Benny have matching tattoos from the Boot Rider days that signified they were like a set scouting team (Pls don't ask of what I am still ironing that out)

Any ending where Benny is killed Swank mourns as I feel they were super close. Tommy isn't indifferent but he always half-joked Benny's ambition would lead him to an early grave.

That table at lunch where you can hear them talking super loud and it's all the juiciest gossip but they don't care cause it's not about them

Tallest is Swank shortest is Benny

They are loyal to the Chairmen and follow House's instructions but if House did catch Benny and want him brought in they would've helped him escape

Tommy lost his eye from a cazadore attack. I do not think I have to explain what happened (also a big reason he is least nostalgic)

Only Tommy is good at gambling, Benny bluffs too much and Swank never trusts his own hands

All their suits are gaudy and they only act like Benny's is the worst cause he has copies. Swank has an atrocious pinstripe suit and Tommy's is like chromatic. Eye sores, all of them

They are wary of House and Benny's relationship cause while Benny doesn't notice House's weird sentiments about him they do. It's little things about how Benny mentions House compares him to a son and successor and how much stress he puts the Tops under. They prefer House's silence to his usual "doting" just cause it's less weird and Benny seems more himself when he's not actively checking in with House

Benny trusts their judgement a lot more than he'd ever let on and a lot of his choices as the Head of the Chairmen come from taking their little comments into consideration

Uhh i hope this is adequate. I had to lock into NV head space sense I'm jumping around the games and franchise lore.

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[iheartmapi]

Vicious

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: After Spain’s match against Germany, Alexia injuries her knee. Having to take a health break from playing irritates her, Y/n tries to cheer her girlfriend up to no avail, they fight and Alexia leaves…she’s gone for a long time so you go looking for her.

Angst with happy ending.

TW: crude language, degrading language about oneself, ACL injury

Word count: 1,691

The sun was setting slowly behind the city landscape, the warm tones slowly turning into various shades of violet and dark blue almost reminded you of the way Alexia’s mood drastically changed after her ACL injury.

You stood in the kitchen of your shared house, occasionally looking behind you to see your moody girlfriend sitting on the couch in the living room, her injured leg perched up on a small stool, you were making some tea, the electric kettle buzzing, two cups were on the counter, for Alexia’s tea you had went with a blend of chamomile and lavender, it was advertised as “calming” and that’s one thing she definitely wanted right now.

As the kettle got done with heating the water up you swiftly poured it into the cups. You carefully put them on the coffee table and finally sat down next to your girlfriend. The silence went on for maybe like two minutes..during the few past days it felt as if you were walking on eggshells around her, you turned your head to look at her and smiled even though she wasn’t even glancing in your direction, only looking into emptiness with her brows furrowed and arms crossed almost like a small child that didn’t get its candy. “Hey, don’t worry so much I’m sure you’ll heal quickly, why don’t you drink some tea-“ You were about to finish your sentence but Alexia opted to cut it short “I don’t want tea right now” Well that was rude…but you shouldn’t be so hard on her, after all you knew how difficult dealing with this injury was for her, so you kept on trying, trying to cheer her up. “Oh…well how about we see what they’re playing on the TV? We can always watch some show or movie or anything really-“ Alexia sat up straighter, irritation clear in her eyes “Can you quit it with the tea and TV? Or better, just quit trying to cheer me up, it’s annoying” she barked at you, “Alright, Jesus…sorry for wanting to be nice” you answered calmly but it was evident that you were offended and perhaps getting annoyed with how unapproachable she was being lately.

“”Nice”? For fucks sake Y/n! Do you see my leg? I’m useless, and I’m supposed to be a ball of sunshine just because you want it?!” She waved her hands around like a maniac “But why would I expect you to get it” she scoffed, you turned to look at her again your eyes narrowing “Seriously? Am I some subtype then or something?“ Alexia looked away, running away from your gaze that was demanding an explanation “I didn’t say that” she answered more quietly now “You kind of did though” you argued, “Oh my god can’t I just live in peace for one goddamn minute?! Here you go again, making a problem out of nothing, it’s like this every time something isn’t in tip top shape…it’s tiring Y/n, I swear you’re so difficult for no reason” that kind of hurt, you were appalled by her outburst “It’s not my fault, don’t you think it’s hard for me as well? Especially when-“ You bit your tongue before you could finish that sentence, maybe it was true and you were really making a problem out of nothing..but you had your emotions too, and Alexia shouldn’t be expecting you to be fine every time she gets enraged like this.

“Especially when what?” She repeated your words, her tone sharp, you took a breath not wanting to answer that, “Especially when what Y/n!” She said once again, this time nearly yelling, “Especially when you’re such a vicious bitch everytime you’re mad!” Quietness fell upon the both of you, before Alexia suddenly got up from the couch, slowly though as to not make her leg worse..but even for her it was clear how hasty she was trying to be with her moves.

“Where are you going?” Your eyes were trying to run after her, she waddled towards the front door “Doesn’t matter” she fumed, you didn’t follow her at first, but as you heard the sound of jingling keys you stood up as well and rushed to the front door, surely Alexia was leaving.

“Alexia?” Confusion crossed your face, and then worry and regret for your earlier words “Alexia come on! I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!” She didn’t answer your pleas, and just left…you sighed as the door closed.

She was a grown woman, you couldn’t just stop her from leaving the house if she wanted to..you sulked onto the carpet beneath you, hands covering your face, why the hell did you say that? You were definitely too rough on her..but at the same time what were you supposed to do? There was nothing you could do now, you were just going to wait for her to come back home, after all she couldn’t be out for too long, especially with a leg like that.

So here you were now, sipping on your tea as you sat and welled in your own sadness, eyes glancing at the empty cup on the coffee table that was supposed to be Alexia’s..It’s been probably three hours now, and there were no signs of life from Alexia, you picked up your phone; the lack of messages or missed calls from your girlfriend was no surprise to you, you picked your best friends number, Mapi, you had to talk to someone when there was no one in this empty house filled with bitter tension.

“¡Hola, tía!” Mapi’s voice echoed from the other side, “Hey” you answered, a small smile on your face, which was heard in your tone but the overwhelming sadness took it over, Mapi could easily recognise that, “Is everything alright? You sound very down in the dumps” you weren’t sure how to answer, eventually you just sighed and told Mapi about what happened earlier with Alexia.

“And then…she just left the house, it’s been three hours I’m starting to worry, I mean- what if she like fell down and hurt herself even more or something?” You said “You know how she can be, I’m sure she’s fine, she can’t stay mad at you forever Y’know?…especially not you” Mapi said with her cheery voice “I have to go and look for her” you answered seriously “Have you seen her? Do you know where she can be?” You then added, looking for any kind of answer for someone in reasonable humour “Nah…sorry, just be careful ok?” The girl attested “Yeah..I promise I’ll be” the two of you said your goodbye’s and you hanged up..you grouched, trying to think of ANY place Alexia could be right now.

Then one thought came rushing to you like an arrow, what about a specific football pitch she always went to after lost matches? You figured; if she was gone for so long, and you didn’t know where she was then it wouldn’t hurt to drive there and see for yourself.

You literally bolted to your car, and just drove…fifteen minutes passed and you arrived at the spot, the football pitch was set in the outskirts of the town, here it was quiet for a change, the sky was now dark since so much time has passed…as you looked around the place you could understand why this place brought a sense of comfort to Alexia.

Through the tall fence you noticed a figure sulking on one of the benches, as you entered the pitch, it became apparent to you that it was Alexia..thank god you thought first, at least you knew she was safe.

You sauntered over to the bench, the melancholy, regret and anger all mixed together into one confusing combination hanging in the air.

The two of you didn’t say anything for now, instead you just sat yourself next to her on the bench, once again Alexia’s gaze was far and blurry she was just simply staring nowhere. “Alexia…” you kept it quiet not wanting to cause any more arguments today. Finally, your girlfriend looked at you with something else than annoyance and silent resentment.

“Please, let’s go back home” you asked half-whispering, her chest rose as she took a deep breath, it’s like she wanted to but didn’t at the same time, maybe going straight to the point wasn’t the first option, there we’re definitely some things the two of you needed to say to each other. “I’m sorry…I know it’s hard, I know how useless you must feel right now..I really just wanted to make you happy, I hate seeing you like that..that- that I’m just willing to try anything to make it better” you started, Alexia turned to you at once her eyes almost glassy “I’m..I’m sorry too Y/n I just don’t know what came over me..I guess the irritation took over me, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you” she answered “I don’t know why I did that, but I just…I don’t know, it’s my whole life, and now with this stupid knee I’m just stuck home, and I just feel like I’ve got no other purpose” she almost teared up, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into an embrace “Alexia…you know that’s not true” you whispered “Injuries happen, you’ll get back to playing in no time I’m sure” you added, a quiet sob was heard, it was unlike her to be so vulnerable…but you appreciated that she was able to show that side of herself with you.

Pulling away, you placed a kiss on her temple, “You’re right, let’s go back home” she said wiping the traces left behind by some tears with her sleeve.

You got up and offered her your arm, she took it and the two of you slowly made your way towards the exit of the pitch.

“I’m sorry I called you a vicious bitch”

“No, don’t apologize, you were right then…I guess I was a bit of a bitch” she smiled

“I’m sorry for calling you annoying” she then added more seriously

“You were being honest then too” you grinned as well and the two of you chuckled.

“I guess we’re a good match together”

(Thanks to @kshvue099)

[jinnie-ret]

9th member reader where skz are on a talk show or smth and the host is saying some uncomfy stuff abt reader being the only girl in a group of boys. the boys would be kinda passive aggressive about their replies because they cant outright say anything for fear of bad publicity and being disrespectful. i like the idea of the boys sticking up for reader in any way they can, even if they have to be sly about it so reader knows they have their back

bite my tongue

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst

content warnings: sexual harassment (verbal)

word count: 1.6k

summary: when an interviewer decides to pick on you specifically, the boys do their best to hold back and get you out of the situation.

Thank you so much for this request! I'm sorry it took so long for me to answer but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

You decided you hated interviews. There was clearly a difference between how they'd talk to the boys in comparison to how they'd treat you. Whether it was by completely ignoring your existence or sexualising you as the only female in the group, it made you feel awful. The gross comments that were made caused you to feel uncomfortable, yet your demeanour was too shy to fight back. Perhaps that was a good thing, you had 8 other members to defend you at all times anyways.

You were currently doing an interview to promote S-CLASS, your new title track, and it seemed to be a nice atmosphere, a nice sit down conversation where you could talk about your music mixed in with other personal questions to make it more fun. But that was the issue, it wasn't fun. It started off light-hearted, and you worried you were being sensitive and overreacting at first when you suspected the questions you received weren't normal ones, but by the expressions on the boys' faces, you realised you were right to feel this way.

"So, Y/N, tell me, what was it like getting to do a more masculine dance this time? I saw the music video and I was quite surprised at how well you did," the male interviewer started off.

You mouth visibly dropped open in shock, yet you did your best to answer, despite your nerves.

"Ummm, I think my dance skills have improved over the years, yes," you said, not able to make eye contact with the man, not directly saying anything about his prejudiced words.

You had been with Stray Kids from the very start. Yes, the public had their things to say about you being in a group with a bunch of guys, but it had been 5 years now. Of course you were accustomed to the dance style of Stray Kids. You had created your own image through your music and dance, so what if the dance moves were typically more powerful with sharper movements? You were part of the dance line for a reason.

"Our Y/Nnie did so well," Hyunjin ruffled your hair from where he was sat behind you, trying to lighten the mood as he could tell his other members weren't too happy with how you were being treated.

You turned to Hyunjin with a thankful smile.

"So, 3RACHA, you do all the producing for the group right? That's quite a unique situation amongst idol groups," the man asked the group, and nearly everyone let out a sigh of relief and allowed themselves to smile, grateful for a normal question.

"Ah yes, 3RACHA have been together since predebut, so we've worked hard over the years to create music that represents our group and who we are," Jisung nodded and explained.

You couldn't help but check the time on your watch, seeing there was still 10 minutes to go.

"Y/N, how did it feel having to squeeze into your outfit in the MV? I noticed it was quite a tight leather jumpsuit you wore, that must have been difficult to wear considering it clinged onto you so tightly," the man directed his question at you again, and you were taken aback once more.

"It, umm, it wasn't too difficult, yeah... I think it fitted the vibe of the song," you said, clearly uncomfortable as you shifted in your seat.

Why did you get these types of questions? The boys got asked about music, and you instead got ridiculed for your skills and sexualised by the gross man in his mid 40s.

"Don't you want to ask me about how I fitted into my outfit? I've been working out these days," Changbin tensed his arms, flexing and patting his muscles proudly as he took the attention away from you. He seemed to have been thinking the same way as you.

"Maybe you should help Y/N, she's so small and weak, you could do anything you wanted with her," the man suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, and quite frankly, you wanted to throw up.

"Have you been working out, sir?" Minho spoke sharply and asked the man, infuriated.

"Oh yes I'm quite strong, can lift just about anyone in this room," he said. The statement of course, inferred he was challenging everyone else, yet his eyes never left your shy and nervous figure sat on the stool.

Everyone could see it. And they knew it was time for something to be done. They didn't think they could last the rest of the interview without punching the interviewer in the face. Yet, they did their best to keep their composure.

"Sorry, sir," Chan began through gritted teeth, tongue poking his cheek, "unfortunately we don't have anymore time for this interview," and he gestured everyone to stand up and follow his lead, exiting the room.

As you did so, you saw the blatantly shocked face on the man's face, Felix wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you left.

The boys were calm, until you made it to your backstage room where you had gotten ready earlier. All hell broke loose.

"What does that man think he's doing?" Changbin slammed his hand down onto the table, making you jump as you stayed quiet.

"I can't believe all those stupid things he was saying!" Minho growled, folding his arms.

"He's disgusting," Seungmin shook his head.

Chan was the angriest of them all, face of thunder as he paced the room. And yet, you couldn't help but feel bad. Surely, that interview couldn't be released now? And it was meant to help promote your new music, and because of your presence in the group, you felt like you were taking that opportunity away from them.

"Y/Nnie?" Jeongin waved his hand in your face to get your attention.

"Hmm?" you shook your head wondering what he was asking.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, and with all the anger that was in the room, it dissipated with your calm voice breaking through it.

"I guess..." you didn't really know what to say at this point. You felt like you should have been used to it by now.

"I know that look on your face, Y/Nnie, don't even go there," Chan shook his head at you, a frown still present on his face.

"I don't want to do interviews anymore," you suddenly blurted, fiddling with your hands nervously.

"Y/N..." Hyunjin sighed, but you cut him off.

"Every time we promote something we get an interview like this that can't be put out to the public. And it's because I'm here. And then that means our music will be getting out to less people out there and-" you fretted.

"If you seriously think this is your fault Y/N," Seungmin sat up, pure disbelief seeping through his words as he couldn't believe that even with the way you were being treated you still felt guilty.

"Y/N, you didn't make that interviewer say all those gross things towards you," Felix rubbed your shoulder soothingly.

"You actually did really well to still try and answer him," Jisung nodded at you, thinking that he wouldn't have been able to have done the same thing.

"I had to bite my tongue so many times to not shout at him," Changbin gritted his teeth.

"This is why I shouldn't do these anymore, because it just ends up stressing you guys out," you felt bad, sitting down with your leg bouncing up and down.

"You're worried about us? We're worried about you, it's not fair that someone talks to you like that," Jeongin shook his head, hands on his hips.

"Y/N, here's what we're going to do. First, we're going to file a complaint against that guy. And second, for all future interviews we'll get the company to do a thorough check on if they're respectful and actually treat their guests right," Chan began, a plan already sorted in his mind for what action they could take.

"You're part of this group as much as anyone else, we can't represent Stray Kids without you there with us," Minho said like it was obvious, but it didn't feel that way to you.

"But it's always going to be the same thing. I'd rather not risk it again," you say, upset at the situation you had all been put in.

"Chan hyung already said, we can check what the show is like before going on it. That way you can decide from there, yeah?" Felix suggested, hand stroking through your hair as he sat next to you on the sofa.

"Or if you really don't want to do interviews anymore, I'm sure there's a way we can work around it. We could do more company based promotions and Div.1 can help us make our own shows?" Jisung wondered.

"No, I don't want to make things more complicated... I'll do them, I will, I just don't want this to ever happen again. It stresses me out, makes me feel all, gross," you shuddered.

"As long as you're sure, Y/N," Changbin checked in on you as everyone grabbed their things ready to leave the studio.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you mustered up a small smile, leaving with the others.

As you walked to the cars, you spoke up again, speaking louder than your normal quiet voice to catch the attention of everyone else.

"Thanks, by the way guys. Thank you for doing that."

"You don't have to thank us for that, Y/Nnie. We'd do that anytime, you know that," Hyunjin ruffled your hair, him and the rest of the boys now seeming more themselves and happier as you were leaving.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

[copinghex]

From his tenderness | T.S

Summary: After a long and tiring day, Tommy tucks his wife in bed. 🔞

A/N: Saturday smut hehe

Tommy knew she was in a bad mood the second she entered his office. The windows of their shared house were all closed to keep the cold out, but she still felt her hands shaking.

She plopped into the sofa and left out a sigh, covering her face with both hands.

"You didn't answer any of my texts," Tommy started, "why did you get a phone if you're not gonna use it?" 

"Tommy-" she complained, "I must've turned off the notifications, right? I'm sorry," 

He sized her up and cracked a weak smile, "You look fucking exhausted," 

"Tsk, thanks," she snorted.

"Rough day?" 

"Yeah," 

"I ordered dinner," 

"What?" 

"You didn't answer my texts so I ordered your favorite," Tommy explained and she grabbed her phone, glancing at the messages on the lockscreen.

"Hmm, I'm not hungry yet," she complained, "I just wanna go straight to bed,"

"Then go," he took a sip of his whiskey glass and went back to his work, "I'll join you later,"'

"Join me now," 

"I've work to do," 

"Don't you always? You had the whole day to finish this," she argued.

"I've got emails to send," 

"Oh? Managing to send emails without me?" she mocked, "They grow up so fast," 

"Weren't you going to bed?" Tommy gave her a scolding look.

Silence took over and she stood up, "I'll take a shower," she announced before leaving the office.

She made her way through the house checking her social media, dropping the phone on the bed when she got in the bedroom. Picking a set of clean clothes, she headed to the bathroom.

Taking her working clothes off felt the same as taking a burden off her back. She started the shower and waited until it got warm.

The water ran down her tense muscles, she quickly rubbed the soap on her skin and rinsed off. After washing her hair as well, she closed her eyes, enjoying the water on her back, however the incomplete chores of the day still clouded her mind.

With a deep frustrated sigh, she turned off the shower and grabbed her towel, perhaps a good night of sleep could achieve better success in relaxing her.

Back to the bedroom, she got dressed and plopped in bed, right in the middle, unbothered by her wet hair in the sheets or the fact Tommy might want to lay down later, he didn't put her first when she told him about her terrible day so she wouldn't put him first now either.

Except that, suddenly, a warm rough hand wrapped around her ankle. 

"Fuck!" she jumped, pulling her leg back, "What're you doing?" 

Tommy chuckled at how easily she got scared, they were the only people in the house, it couldn't be anyone else. 

"You're not gonna eat?" he asked, grabbing her leg and gently squeezing her calf muscles.

"No, I just want to sleep," she frowned, "what happened to your emails?" 

"I've set another priority," 

"Oh, really?" she scoffed and pulled her leg back again, "Or were you just struggling to edit a document?" 

"I decided to do something you often do for me,"

"You're gonna convert my docx files to pdf?" 

"Alright, fucking stop that," he demanded, "for someone who's so tired you're joking way too much," 

She smiled at his annoyed face, mentioning his lack of technological skills always made him defensive.

"So here's what you're gonna do," he held the hem of her shirt, "take these off, shut your pretty mouth and lay on your stomach,"

"Why?" she questioned.

"Do it," he gave her an assuring nod. 

Hesitantly, she took her clothes off, laying down on only underwear. She frowned when Tommy reached for something from the dressing table and straddled her thighs.

"What are you-"

"Just relax, alright? I dropped my paperwork for this," 

A shiver ran down her spine as Tommy spread lotion through her back. He pressured in between her shoulder blades, melting the tension underneath his palm just like she had done for him many times. 

A smirk showed on his face when he noticed the sleepy look on her face, he was certain that when he finished, she'd promptly fall asleep in his arms. 

His rough hands trailed the way down to her lower back, effortlessly soothing the knots on her muscles. Tommy took his time to extinguish any ounces of tension, handling her body with the mastery he cultivated in the time they were together.

At certain point, she felt liquid in his hands, loose as a ragdoll, but surprisingly, not asleep yet. Whatever was clouding her mind was resistant to enough to not vanish.

Gently, Tommy lifted her hips and pressed her back down, making her arch for him. His fingers brushed on her clothed pussy making her whine,

"Tommy-" she peeked at him, "I'm tired," 

"It works for me when I can't sleep," he argued and she chuckled.

"Not always, that's why I insist you take your meds," 

"Yeah," he admitted in defeated tone, "and what an insistent creature you are," 

"You are a creature," she struck back then smiled, "come here," 

Turning to face him, she tried to attach her lips to his neck, he quickly held her jaw though, not allowing her leave any marks on him.

"No, last time I had to keep up with John spitting three jokes per minute," 

"But Tom-" she tried to remove his hand.

"No, just let me take care of you, eh?" 

With a weak smile, she nodded, "Okay," 

Tommy pecked her lips and headed to the wardrobe, rummaging through the drawers until he found their lube bottle, "Tongue or fingers?" 

"You," 

"Alright," with a naughty smirk, he also got a condom and a tiny vibrator.

Once he was back in bed, she attached their lips together, her mind slipped away from any worries at the feeling of his gentle kiss. One of Tommy's hands rested on the top of her head while the other guided her legs around him.

At the same time, her hands explored the soft skin under his shirt, the lean muscles twitched and she smiled against his lips, she knew Tommy had many women before and yet, simple gentle touches made him weak.

When necessity demanded, they broke the kiss, breathing heavily with desire.

"I love you," she breathed out.

"You better," he weakly smiled, pampering kisses on the valley of her breasts.

Reaching for their little toy, Tommy turned it on and attached his lips to her neck. Her eyes closed at the exquisite combination, nibbles soothed by his gentle tongue, followed by wet kisses.

In feather-like movements, he teased her nipples with the vibrator. He wasn't particularly fond of the loud sound, but he was of the sweet moans he heard when it came to play.

She barely realized when they started to leave her lungs, Tommy couldn't waste the opportunity to point out, "Not so stressed now, eh?" 

"Hm-hmm," she denied.

"Does it feel good, love?" he whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

"Hm," finally opening her eyes, she pleaded, "want you, Tom," 

With a mix of scoff and laugh, Tommy put the vibrator away and laid down on the bed, "C'here," 

Taking her panties off, she placed one knee on each side of his head, at full display for him. She gripped on the headboard feeling his warm breath against her.

He affectionately stroked her hips at the same time kisses were placed on her inner thighs, a playful bite made her gasp with laughter which was quickly interrupted by the feeling of his warm mouth.

Tommy dragged his tongue through her wet folds, tasting her entry before moving to her swollen clit. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, he switched between licking and gently sucking.

His strong hands pulled her further into his face and instinctively, her hips moved searching for more. As his name poured from her lips in weak moans, she moved forward trying to get him on her entry again, he obliged, teasing her needy hole before giving her pussy an appreciative kiss.

Suddenly, Tommy stopped, contanting himself with tracing her inner lips with feather-like touches.

"Tom?" she asked, confused and slightly frustrated with the lack of touch.

"It's alright," he soothed, "I got you," 

Pushing two fingers into her, he resumed his movements, this time the double pleasure got louder moans from her. His fingertips brushed the perfect spot on her insides and the coldness of his wedding ring added an even better touch, she felt herself soaking up his hand and chin.

The sweet tightness of an orgasm started to grow on her stomach, resting her cheek on the headboard, her hips moved in small circles trying to get all the pleasure her man provided.

She took a hand to Tommy's head, holding into his soft hair, the raspy groan he left out against her pussy was enough to send her over the edge. She couldn't control the urge of fucking his face through the overwhelming wave of pleasure.

He kept going until she started panting and finally feeling her eyelids heavy. Every ounce of stress or energy left her body and she moaned a spoiled sound, expressing how satisfied she was. Tommy should have stopped by then, he didn't.

Guiding her arms behind her back, he simply ordered her not to move, there was no need for physical restraint, her unquestionable obedience was enough. Pulling the hood of her clit, he left her completely exposed, flapping his tongue on her reddish tip.

"Tommy, please," she whined, "please, please please, it's sensitive," 

Tommy chuckled hearing her pathetic begging, dragging his tongue to her soaked entry and finishing his short torture sucking her lips together.

With two little smacks on her ass, he allowed her to get off his face. She moved down to his hips, comfortably sitting before laying down on his chest with her eyes closed.

"Want to sleep now?" he whispered.

"No," she quietly answered, "still want you," 

"Yeah? You're sleepy, I can tell," 

"Hmmm," she complained, "want you, Tom," 

"I know, love, but looks like you're already sleeping," 

"Hm," 

"When you wake up I'll give you what you want, alright?" 

She took a moment to considerate his offer, then finally agreed, "Hmm," 

Kissing her forehead, Tommy stroked her lower back until he heard low snores coming from her. With a small smile, he carefully got out of bed, covering her naked body with a blanket before leaving the room.

He still had paperwork to make, this time without worrying about her.

[coeurify]

reader being a brat towards ellie all day until eventually ellie just snaps and goes “the fuck did you just say to me?” ahdhrhejrhhsbfjejejdhdj

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ as always. brat!reader & brat tamer/mean!ellie. name calling, fingering!r receiving, slapping, spit, overstim, rough treatment, pinch of dacryphilia & dumbification

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i went a little overboard. 3.5k words. sorry it took so long.

Maybe it had been too cold that morning. Perhaps you slept slightly wrong and woke up a little sore or had a bad dream. Or you could blame it on the way the sun pressed through the cracks of your window, irritating your eyes into an early rise. It didn’t really matter what had caused it, just that something did. From the moment you woke up, everything was irritating you.

The way your skin pressed against the suddenly itchy bed sheets.. how your sleeping shorts had become slightly off-kilter, it all sent tiny pricks of annoyance over your skin. As you huffed and sat in bed, your girlfriend woke beside you. Her hair was messy in the sort of way that would usually send you tumbling right back into a lying position, pressing kisses to her cheeks. Instead, you shooed her wandering hand away, pouting and mumbling for her to get off you. Usually, your bad mornings tumbled into this, a bratty attitude laid out over Ellie, scrambling to find a way to blow off steam. You just couldn’t help it. You knew it would always end in your favorite way to rid of this awful feeling.

You would swear up and down until you were dizzy and red in the face that you were not being a brat. Scoff that you weren’t pushing all the right buttons to get attention, that your attitude did not exist. Usually, Ellie would let the small comments or envelope-pushing slide past her. It was attention you were looking for, and Ellie knew better than to give bratty girls any of that. Today, however, you had kicked everything up a notch.

The creeping frustration that built on your bones was begging to be released, to be silenced into buzzing against your ears instead of the metal screeching it began to resemble. The only way you could find to coax the feeling down? Acting up. It started right away when the two of you left the bed. You turned your face when Ellie leaned in to kiss you, shrugging her off as you dropped out of the annoying fabric of your shorts.

“What’s got you in a mood?” Ellie asked quickly, watching as you kicked away the bottoms dramatically.

“Nothing,” you ignore her gaze as the word came out clipped. Now only in a long shirt, you pass through the door, Ellie hot on your heels. “You're not gonna put pants on?”

Your girlfriend and you both make your way down the stairs of your shared home, though your feet are a little heavier against the wood. You roll your eyes at her simple comment. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Ellie warned before you could answer her previous question.

Of course, you do it again, “Why would I? Got nothing to do..” your fingers find the wall as you stomp to the kitchen.

“Jesse and Dina are supposed to come over,” Ellie offered in a reply, trying again to grab at your tensed-up waist as you found the counter. You avoid the affection, flipping to look at her with a glare. “So tell them I don’t want them to!”

“Stop with the attitude,” Ellie groaned, earning her a quick middle finger as you slammed yourself behind the bathroom door next to the kitchen.

Your attitude the rest of the day was not better, nor was it very fair to your girlfriend. By midday, she knew the game you were playing, whether intentionally or not. The brattiness, the sly comments you made, or how you avoided doing anything she asked— it just built upon themselves with the ticking clock.

You were lying on the couch still early into the afternoon, your shirt bunched up enough to reveal the pretty lace piece you wore. That’s when Ellie asked you a favor. “Baby, pass me my sketchbook? I left it on the window ledge behind you,” her voice is gentle, not looking to push her luck with you. She was searching through her backpack to find pencils, green eyes finding your own after the question.

“No, I'm too comfy,” you shrugged, glancing over at her. Ellie’s jaw clicked, fist clenching around the pencils as she approached you. Not wanting to feed into your display, she simply leaned over you on the couch. Hovering for just a moment before she grabbed the sketchbook, she then shoved your feet so she could sit next to you. You had mumbled some words of disapproval, feet kicking against her a bit before a hand came down on your ankle, squeezing enough to end the childish display.

When the day dragged on, and your frustration found no cure, tensing all of your muscles up, you pushed a little more. You had shaken away the idea of simply telling Ellie you were wound up because, in your mind, that simply didn’t make sense. Instead, your only sign is a few of your bratty antics becoming a little more physical. You were more obviously searching for some sort of release to the pressure building.

When Ellie was in the kitchen, speaking on the phone to who you could only guess was Jesse, you pushed by her. The space was definitely big enough to squeeze through your two bodies without much touching, but you did. Your ass pressed against her front as you slid through the area between the counter and the island she had settled in between, making sure to take your time. You pretended to search through some papers on the island before stepping away. When Ellie reached to tug your shirt back, you slapped her hand away. Soon you were speaking loudly enough to embarrass her to the other line of the phone, “Stop being grabby, Ellie.”

If looks could kill, you were sure your knees would have caved in with the glare your girlfriend shot you. Ellie’s cheeks flushed as the voice on the phone started laughing, making her rub a hand over her forehead. You simply walked away, that tension in you only tightening when Ellie didn’t follow after you, instead acting unbothered.

When the sun began setting, you found yourself lying on your shared bed. You did your best to focus on the pages beneath your fingers, but your mind instead drifted to Ellie. You had resorted to ignoring her after she didn’t play into your game, stomping up the stairs and into your room. It left you alone and wondering too much about what she may be up to downstairs without you.

The book you attempted to use as stress relief was no help in easing you; its white pages only irritating the pads of your fingers more. The flame in your chest was licking all of the surrounding areas now— and no book or act of brattiness seemed to be dousing it into something manageable. What you needed was Ellie, and right on cue, she walked through the door.

Ellie was tugging on a jacket over her white undershirt in a way that brought your eyebrows into a furrowed stance, a twinge of unease adding to the annoyance already there at the thought she may be leaving. “Where are you going?”

Your girlfriend found your gaze as she searched around for something. “Seeing Dina and Jesse since you didn’t want them over,” Ellie’s fingers wrapped around the keyring she seemed to be looking for.

The words from earlier revisit you, how you had complained about your friends coming over. It was a little embarrassing, but any of that feeling was drowned over by the growing fire that found its way to your throat from Ellie’s tone.

“I don’t want you to go over there either,” you cross your arms. By now, there was no denying you were just being bratty, and a little ridiculous. There was no excuse for how you tried to poke at Ellie’s demeanor with the demand, looking to egg her on into some sort of reaction that she denied you all day.

“Babe,” Ellie sighed, “don't do this right now.”

You were treading on thin ice, the cracks of the frozen water taking place on Ellie’s face first, a frown building on her pretty lips. “I said don’t go,” you try again when she steps to the door.

“And why shouldn’t I?” your girlfriend challenges, pausing at the door frame as green eyes searched for a hint of truth behind your annoyed face.

“Because I told you not to.”

Ellie actually scoffed at that remark, feet planting solidly in between the bedroom and hallway, a clear sign you had absolutely gotten your way. “Because you told me to?”

Still, you pushed more than you should. “Yea, can’t you fucking listen?” the foul language asked for a death wish, one that you knew you were sure to get when Ellie straightened up, looking away from your place on the bed.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Ellie steps closer to the bed, jacket falling off of her shoulder as the room seems to close in; walls gain a nasty tilt to them as she stands above you. It leads the book to fall off the side of the bed as you move to your knees, hurrying to where Ellie stood at the edge.

The frustration you had felt all day was reaching its peak, unable to form a wall against any words from falling from your mouth as you continue your little rant, despite knowing you had already pissed Ellie off enough.

“Think I was pretty clear,” your voice is a little more shaky than you would like it to be, but there's no helping the noise in your throat with the way Ellie is staring at you. You can feel it all over, though the heat it causes peaks in your lower stomach.

“You’re such a brat,” Ellie grits, the jacket shoved completely off, causing a mess on the floor as she finally gives in. A hand reaches forward, gripping your chin harshly enough that it stings, lips pressing open. “You think you can tell me what to do, especially after acting up all fuckin day? You should be apologizing.”

With your cheeks squished uncomfortably against your teeth, it's hard to sound very demanding. You still try your best, eyes narrowing as you speak, “I am not a fucking brat.” The answer seems to anger Ellie even more; her eyes send a sickly excited feeling through your veins. It burns against your mind like a drug you can’t get enough of. You knew what came next, and yet you still pushed your thinning luck.

“And you think you can tell me what to do? Tell me to apologize?” The words earn a slight tap on your cheek with her fingers in a warning. It almost makes you back down, though the losing blow is Ellie’s next move. A quick shove back into the plush blankets of your bed have you scrambling before your wavering confidence can protect your stance. The knee that slots between your waiting thighs is the kill shot, Ellie now caging you in.

“You don’t wanna say sorry, angel?” the girl asks, the denim of her jeans pressing against the lace panties in a way that has you struggling to stay coherent, a small poke in the right direction of ending this overwhelming pent-up energy. You only shake your head in response.

“Then I’ll just have to make you, hm?” Ellie has lost any softness to her words, likely chipped away by the fraying patience she had for your actions today. Her jean-clad knee presses into you again, moving gently against your underwear. “Make you behave again,” she continues, watching as your lip tugs between the pearly white of your teeth.

“El-” you begin, only to be cut off by her tsking. “Brats don't get to talk. You know that.”

“Good thing I’m not a brat,” you protested, leading another hand to find a grip on your cheeks, Ellie’s lips curling into a scowl. “Such a loud fucking mouth today, huh, angel? Why don’t you open it for me again?”

Though Ellie may be posing it as a question, you knew her far too well to take it as that, mulling over your two choices. Listen, part your lips for her, and let go of some of that brattiness that pulled on your hair as it owned you— or don’t. To continue your thread of personality from today, you opted for the second. Though you don't keep your jaw locked too tight, making it easy when Ellie’s palm holds your chin and lets her thumb pass through your lips, pressing against your tongue and forcing your mouth open. “Can’t ever listen,” your girlfriend muttered, mouth moving slightly before she leaned in further, a string of saliva dripping from her parted lips and directly into your mouth as her hand moved.

The act has you squeezing around her knee, a low whine threatening to rise when the leg keeps you from finding any friction. “Swallow, baby,” Ellie asks, and this time you listen. It’s, without much thought, an act you had done a hundred times before now, though it now meant Ellie had the upper hand. “You wanna listen now?” the auburn-haired girl sneers, making you glance away.

“Want you to tell me what’s got you acting like this,” she makes quick work of bunching your sleep shirt up, pulling away from you as her fingers dip into the band of the lace you wear, peeling it down your legs. You should feel a little ashamed, shirt pushed almost above your tits, panties discarded on the floor, all while Ellie is completely clothed. That shame doesn’t come. Instead, a feeling of need floods your senses— knocking you off your flimsy built pedestal. You bite your tongue to halt any reply.

The tensed-up flesh of your thighs is kneaded by her large hand, a condescending sort of coo coming from Ellie. “Aw baby, you’re all stiff..” the words don’t ease you, and neither does her palm pressing your thighs open. When she’s met with your glistening cunt, the wetness purely from all of the attitude you had dished out today and her rough handling, she actually laughed. It’s low and mean, eyes flicking up to you. “You all wound up? That’s you’re acting like a brat? Need someone to fuck it away?”

Ellie murmurs her words like they’re only for her to hear, and maybe they are. She wasn’t stupid; she could see that frustration dripping off you all day. She had just waited for the cue to have a go at you for it. Her fingers brush over your slit only once before she's above you again, a hand pressed into the blanket near your head. The denial of her touch has you mad again, huffing and refusing to meet the green eyes. “Tell me I'm right. Tell me you were a bitch all day 'cause you wanted this.”

You can feel the muscle of your tongue burn from how hard you’ve bitten it to keep from spilling out words Ellie wanted to hear. The burn is quickly overshadowed by the quick sting that takes place on your cheek when Ellie’s palm finds home there after a swift and light slap. It wasn’t rough, not that you would mind if it were, only used to grab your attention. The sting subsides as she speaks. “Look at me and tell me, or I won't touch you.”

The threat is enough to claw out of your little silent trick, the brat inside you finally shoved down for a moment by a needier, whinier side of you. “You’re right,” you whine, hips bucking up as her hand travels toward your bare cunt. Ellie accepts the answer, middle finger dipping into your folds, sliding through the wetness there. “I shouldn’t even let you come,” she threatens, the finger pressing into you slowly. The act pulls a whine that's even louder than before, only built upon with more small whimpers as the long digit begins to move. This was the feeling you had been searching for all day, and Ellie was glad to provide it, despite the acts you both put on.

“Fuck you,” you manage to reply at the empty threat, though that brings another finger into your center, stretching out around your squeezing walls.

“I am,” Ellie bragged, scissoring her fingers as they pressed in and out at a quicker pace. Your head falls back, mouth open wide enough to puff out little continuous exhales, each shaking in a way that breaks any semblance of control you could pretend to have. “You just needed me to fuck you open on my fingers to shut you up, hm?”

You answer with a roll of your hips, pushing down as her thumb joins the deadly mix, circling your clit. Her thrusts give you no chance for rest, a constant pressure building in your core. A heat rises to your cheeks as you feel your mind dip into a state of incoherence, your words coming a little jumbled before you iron the sounds out. “El- fuck..” Is all that comes, though it’s enough for Ellie to triple her pace, leaving your eyes glassy. The unshed tears blur your eyes, unable to find a way to fire the right signals in your brain to blink them away. Incapable of finding a way to communicate to Ellie with anything more than soft moans and cries. Part of you still wanted to brat, to find some remark to fight the dirty words that press from your girlfriend’s angry lips. It's useless.

“Pissing me off all fucking day, making me miss hanging out with our friends,” she rasped, licking her lips as she looked down at your weeping pussy, the wet spot on the sheets growing with every plunge into you. “For what? So I could ruin this pretty pussy?”

A quick nod is your only reaction, the knot in your lower belly threatening to break with more of the derogatory words, “Such a fucking whore,” Ellie muses, regarding you as you lick over your dry lips, whimpering in a lame attempt to pretend her words didn’t please you. “If you needed me, could've just asked, you know? Woulda’ made you feel so nice, baby.. but I think you like it better like this, right?”

Ellie is babbling by now, obviously just as affected by the act as you are. You finally answer, “ ‘S no fun to ask,” the words are slurred, gasped out by a sore throat. The exact time you speak, your orgasm comes rushing through you, walls throbbing around Ellie’s fingers as you soak them, dripping onto the bed beneath your body. The ache in your bones finally subsides, arms going lax against the bed as the auburn-haired girl works you through the high.. and then doesn’t stop. It causes your head to lift, squirming as her thumb finds your sensitive clit again, the fingers moving at a languid pace. The filthy noise of them dipping into your sopping cunt has you shivering, searching for comfort in your girlfriend’s eyes. You find none; the pupils glazed over as she stares directly at you, stone cold.

“You thought I’d let you go with what you wanted?” Ellie chides, a few pieces of her hair falling forward as she makes a few more slow thrusts. “You wanted to get off so bad, so you will. Til’ I decide it's enough.”

“Ellie,” you break, tears spilling from their cage within your eyes, hot trails down your cheeks as your girlfriend quickens her pace. “Please.” falls from you simultaneously with the tears that find your lips. It's the first time you’ve said that word all day, a simple nod to the fact you had given up on bratting— too enthralled by the overwhelming feeling Ellie brought upon you.

Another coo sounds in your ear as Ellie leans closer, her free hand coming to wipe at your red cheeks, fingers wet from your tears. “So pretty when you cry, baby,” is all she says, ignoring your plea. Not that it was clear what you were begging for, to you or her. Still, you mumble the word a few more times— a prayer you recite as the other girl’s motions do anything but holy actions, sending you into a rambling state.

“Please, please, please,” you rattle on, too far past the point of looking for any other words. “Please what?” Ellie asks, pressing a few kisses over the tear-stained cheeks. Unable to answer, another sob bubbles up from a hard plunge into you, rendering your mind officially useless. All you could hear, see, and feel was Ellie— and you weren’t upset with it.

“Can't answer?” your girl assumes, chuckling against the part of your neck she bites into. “Forget your words, baby?” When you nod at that, Ellie’s tongue licks over the teeth marks, but you can feel her smile against your skin. The smug feeling radiates off of her with every press into you, the sounds that accompany it only push her ego even fucking higher.

Your hips involuntarily grind into her, body searching for an end to the overwhelming heat. The heat that has poured into the room is almost awful, clinging to your skin with a sheer layer of mugginess and a smell that was only bearable to the two of you. When Ellie bites at your neck again, you see red. The stinging sensation, paired with the mess she was making in between your shaking thighs had you tumbling into another high. This one sucks any air from your lungs, vision doting black before you force the teary eyes shut. Your fingers grasp at whatever they can find, twirling into the fabric of her shirt to seek comfort.

“Where’d that attitude go? Not so much of a brat anymore, hm?” is what you hear next, the phrase falling on ringing ears.

The following silence is enough of an answer for Ellie, who gives you time to work through the aftershocks of your second orgasm before pulling her fingers out. You begin to think you may be able to rest now, but that dream is killed when you feel something tap against your lips—without much thought, you part them, met with the taste of yourself as she dips the wet digits into your mouth.

“Clean my fingers for me, baby. Wanna use my mouth this time.”

[sserpente]

A/N: This is short and silly and I enjoyed every second of writing it.

Words: 685 Warnings: none

You sighed as you let your head fall back to admire the stars. Thousands of piercing little lights dotting the night sky. It was rather beautiful, and for the first time ever since you had gotten into this mess (and a tadpole had gotten into you), you felt… content.

Perhaps it was because despite all this—you let your gaze wander over the campsite—fate decided to give something back. Someone. Your eyes found Astarion, brooding over one of the books you had recently picked up. Gods, you longed to take a bite right out of him the way he stood there in those tight and dark trousers and his white cotton shirt. It was quite incredible this handsome man… vampire spawn… liked you back. Not only that but you had mutated into his… lifeline, so to speak. Absentmindedly, you brought your hand to your neck, fingertips ghosting over the two puncture wounds his fangs had left behind last night. It had become a pleasurable and enjoyable ritual for you both now.

You’d have dinner with the others and at night, once everyone else was asleep, Astarion would get his fill and have supper for himself.

Another sigh. Dinner had been quite amazing and filling today. Gale had volunteered to cook after you found a crate full of abandoned supplies. Potato chips, carrot soup, garlic bread, and even lasagne… a chef would have slapped his palm against his forehead at the combination of all of these things for one evening but alas… you hadn’t eaten this much in over a week.

You were practically drunk on a full belly and that was before having a glass of wine already. Speaking of which… grabbing your empty glass, you got up from your bedroll, sauntering over to Astarion’s tent.

His head lifted as soon as he sensed you—and you actually liked to think that he could smell you, your blood, before he could hear or see you. A slight smile played on his lips when your eyes locked and he shut the book in his hands, putting it aside.

“Have a glass with me?” you offered, tilting your head as you waved the chalice in the air.

“Oh? Are we celebrating something, darling?”

“No… I’m just in a really good mood today.”

Astarion smirked in response and reached for the bottle of elven wine on the small table next to his tent.

“Well, given the current state of things, I’ll drink to that,” he purred, filling both your glasses. You clinked them, each taking a big sip before the vampire spawn took yours from you and set them both aside along with the bottle.

“Now would you say… you’re also in the mood for a bit of fun tonight?”

You grinned when he pulled you close, his face only inches from yours. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You closed your eyes, allowing him to lean forward and capture your lips in a hungry kiss.

“Ow! Gods, damn it!”

All of a sudden, as if stung by an adder, Astarion released you, half-blowing raspberries and cursing as he coughed as if you had poisoned him.

“What… are you alright? What happened? Oh… oh gods!” Realisation hit you only a second after.

“Oh no… Gale made garlic bread tonight! I completely forgot you can’t… oh, Astarion, I am so sorry. Let me have a look, is it bad?”

“I’m fine! It’s not going to kill me, it just… burns. Gods!” A few more curses followed as he brought his fingertips to his lips, assessing the damage done.

“I’ll go rinse my mouth, alright? I’ll be right back.”

The sound of acknowledgment he made was hardly an answer. It was enough for you to turn back around though, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were holding back a grin.

“It could be worse… I mean… I could have put my lips elsewhere.”

“Very funny, darling.” Still, there was a hint of amusement swinging in his voice and you certainly couldn’t help the little chuckle forcing its way out of your throat. He had to admit… it was hilarious.

A/N: I'm on my second playthrough as Durge right now and I realised one thing about myself: As much as I love villains and misunderstood bad guys, I'm really bad at being evil. 😂 I feel soo bad every time I make a mean decision, hahaha!

[grandlinedreams]

Hii Salem! Thank you so much for effort everytime <3

Can I request something about Law x insecure yn? Something like yn has seen Law and Robin a few times together and yn thinks that Robin is much prettier, taller, intelligent and more suitable for Law than her and for this gets sad about not being enough for Law

OUGH sorry this took so long to get to bb, I hope that I did this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: a little dose of angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship]

The problem isn't with Robin.

You like her, you really do. She's kind and intelligent, beautiful ㅡ and a wonderful addition to her crew.

The problem is with you.

You tell yourself over and over that you're better than this, that you won't let the little green monster rear its ugly head inside you, that jealousy has no place in your relationship with Law.

But watching Robin and Law be deep in conversation with each other still makes you wonder. Would Law be happier if you were like that? Taller, smarter, prettier?

You're strong in your own right and you're by no means dumb, nor have you ever had reason to doubt your own beauty ㅡ and yet. Law deserves the world, even if he doesn't think he does. He deserves someone who can give that to him ㅡ even if it isn't you.

Your dismal mood persists even as you try your best to shove it down, the dimished cheer and way your smile doesn't quite meet your eyes unnoticed by all but the one person who often knows you better than you do.

Law waits until after dinner to confront you about it, finding you in the lounge, idly watching the fish swim around in the tank. "Something is bothering you."

It's a statement, not a question ㅡ and a silent demand for an answer. He won't pry if you truly don't want him to, but he also doesn't like the idea of you being upset.

You watch a fish flit beneath an arch of rocks, iridescent scales shimmering before you sigh softly. How do you even go about this? You don't want to make this a bigger issue than it has to be ㅡ especially when the problem is only in your head. "If there's anything I can change to be a better partner for you, I'd like to know."

The buzz of the fish tank seems to grow louder in the silence that follows. Your stomach twists. Why had you said anything? Perhaps this is what does it, what pops the bubble you've been happily living in for the better part of a year ㅡ your own thoughts and self-doubts.

Law watches your expression crumble further, the knit of your brow and press of your lips as you stare at the fish, and he frowns. Had he done something to make you think you weren't enough? The idea alone is absurd, even more so for the fact that you think he'd want you to change for him ㅡ to diminish what makes you inherently you for the sake of your relationship.

As if all of your little quirks and habits weren't the exact reason Law developed feelings for you in the first place.

"No," he answers at last, settling a hand on your head. "I don't want you to change anything."

You turn towards him. "Butㅡ"

"If I didn't think that this would work out in the long run," he says softly but firmly, "then I never would have said anything. I want you as you are now, not a watered down version." He pauses. "Provided you still want me as I am?"

You blink. "Of course I do."

Law's lips quirk before his hand at your head slips down to press to your cheek, watching as you lean into the soft, subtle comfort. "Then there's nothing to worry about."

[sansaorgana]

Hi! Please take your time with everything's that's going on for you at the moment and if you don't want to write this that's absolutely fine!!

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of me getting out of an abusive relationship that lasted 6 years so it's been ups and downs today with celebrating and grief. If it's okay, can you maybe write a Buck fic where he's there for the reader (his girlfriend) whose in a similar situation? I've spent the day binge watching MOTA and I just want a cuddle from Buck aha

I completely get it if you don't want to write this because I know its pretty heavy stuff and I hope everything gets better for you soon! Enjoy that bottle of wine!!!

hi, darling! thank you for your request and I'm terribly sorry you had to wait so long because I have just checked and you sent it to me in the beginning of April 🤧 it is a quite heavy topic indeed and I hope I did it justice... Buck and Reader are married here but she had a husband before – I thought this sort of situation would suit this time period the most 💝

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Buck’s day started as usual – getting ready for work in the morning as he shaved his face, combed his hair and put the clothes on that you had ironed for him on the evening before. He walked downstairs to have breakfast and spotted a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and a toast already waiting for him with a cup of coffee. He smiled to himself and approached you standing by the window to give you a kiss on the cheek before sitting down by the table to eat. From the corner of his eye he noticed that you were quite nostalgic and sad this morning but he didn’t want to push you into telling him what was wrong because perhaps the answer was “nothing” and you were just tired.

However, you were unusually quiet, staring out of the window with a cup of your own coffee in your hand as you watched the birds outside on the tree’s benches but the beverage was long forgotten in your hand. Buck hadn’t seen you sipping on it at all and he was sure it was cold now.

“Is everything alright, love?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded your head with a shy smile but the look you gave him was brief and unusually unfocused as if you were trying to avoid his gaze.

Buck decided not to push you, especially now when he was before work. He decided to ask you more in the evening if your mood would still be so odd. However, when he was finishing his scrambled eggs, you suddenly opened your mouth again.

“You know, today’s the day… It’s the anniversary of my divorce with… With him,” you sighed and finally took a sip of your cold coffee.

Buck’s shoulders stiffened at those words. He had no idea about the anniversary taking place today out of all days and every mention of your ex-husband felt like a punch in the guts. Not because he was jealous or something – he had no reasons to be and he knew that – but because he was aware what that man had been like and how he had been treating you.

You had been already divorced when you had met Buck and some people had been warning him about getting into a relationship with a woman “with the past” but Buck had known better. He had known you and he had known “your past” from you. He couldn’t blame you for falling in love and he couldn’t blame you for leaving a man like that son of a bitch. He hadn’t known how to appreciate a woman like you, he had been taking advantage of your love and devotion.

Buck was not like that. He was patient with you, he was understanding, he was protective. He had promised to take care of you, to help you heal as you were helping him to heal after the war. It was a peaceful and cosy marriage that had lasted about a year now but he knew that the demons of your past would sometimes show up. Just like his did – they liked to come back in sudden anxiety attacks or unreasonable fear of loud things like the fireworks on the Fourth of July. They liked to come back in dreams, too – nightmares, actually.

You always knew how to comfort him, how to calm him down, to make him feel safe again. But now he felt awkward and helpless when it was his time to do the same for you. He didn’t know how to react properly. Should he congratulate you? Or tell you to forget about it? Both options seemed kind of wrong.

“I see,” he only cleared his throat awkwardly before taking the last sip of coffee and standing up to approach you. He kissed your cheek again and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. “I gotta go now… Do you want to go out somewhere nice in the evening?” He furrowed his brow. “Like a restaurant? You wouldn’t have to cook today.”

“I…” You hesitated. “I don’t know. It would feel like celebrating and even though I have reasons to… I don’t want to think of him at all. I want this day to be normal,” you looked at him and he nodded before pecking your lips and wishing you a good day as he left for work.

However, he knew that it was easier said than done. You would still think of your ex-husband all day long. It was inevitable and only natural. Buck felt bad for you and on his way back from work he stopped by the store and contemplated on getting you flowers. Once again he had a dilemma because it would be a nice gesture that would make you smile but on the other hand it would feel like a symbol of congratulations and a celebration. You wanted this day to be usual but you were unusually sad and quiet so he wanted to bring a smile to your face…

Walking back to the store’s entrance door, frustrated, he walked past the alley with the toys and then he stopped at the sight of an adorable teddy bear as he suddenly got an idea. He bought it and took it home, a little nervous of how you would react.

In the meantime, you were growing impatient because he was late and the dinner was getting cold. Staring out of the window, you finally spotted your husband’s car and you went to the hall to greet him.

“You’re late!” You pointed out and Buck smiled at you.

“I’m sorry. I stopped by the store,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek and handed you a teddy bear.

“What is it?” You furrowed your brows at the soft toy in your hands. “It’s adorable but… Why?”

“I was thinking… I mean, it reminded me of you because it’s adorable, let’s start with that,” Buck chuckled. “But also, I thought… I want you to have it so he’s watching over you when I’m out at work or something, you know. And when you’re sad, you can look at him and smile, yeah?” He scratched himself behind his neck awkwardly.

Your heart swelled in your chest at his words as the corners of your eyes pricked with tears. Despite your words from the morning that you didn’t want to think of your abusive ex-husband, he had been occupying your thoughts all day long. And you wished you had asked Buck to call his work and tell them he was sick, just to stay with you. But you would feel guilty if you did that. So, you spent most of the day dwelling on the past and trying to fight back the bad memories. And now, your husband’s sweet gesture meant the world to you.

You wiped your wet cheeks and threw your arms around his neck to hold him close.

“Thank you…” You whispered. “Thank you so much, I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. The most in the whole world,” Buck rubbed your back and kissed your temple.

“Go wash your hands and eat dinner now because it’s getting cold,” you took a step back and caressed his hair to fix the reckless hair strand.

You went to the kitchen, too and you sat the teddy bear on the window sill by the kitchen sink. He would watch over you every day as you cooked, baked or washed the dishes. You couldn’t stop smiling widely at it and Buck’s heart was growing in his chest out of happiness at the sight.

Sometimes he fantasised about finding your ex-husband – wherever he was now – and teaching him a lesson or two. Not even about killing him, no; dying would be too easy for that bastard. But he knew it was not worth it. He knew you wanted to let go of the past and your ex-husband was not worth going to jail for either. But seeing you, Buck couldn’t believe that someone had wanted to hurt something so lovely and pure. He just couldn’t comprehend how anyone could want to cause pain to his wife.

When he was done with his dinner, he washed the dishes in silence, not even letting you know that he had already finished because you’d insist on cleaning since he was “tired after work”. He didn’t want to interrupt you reading a magazine in the living room, so he washed the dishes himself and only then he joined you on the sofa.

“You’re done now, baby?” You looked up at him and put the magazine away to stand up.

“Stay,” Buck put his hand on your thigh. “I’ve already washed the dishes.”

“Oh, baby, you shouldn’t have! You’re so tired after work,” you pointed out with a pout.

“I’m completely fine,” he chuckled. “Come here,” he invited you to sit on his lap, so you happily did as you crossed your hands behind his neck and he pulled you closer. “Are you happy, darling?” He asked, more seriously now.

The question left you speechless for a moment but you knew where he was coming from. The bittersweet anniversary of your divorce had been occupying his mind as well for the whole day – not only yours.

“I am,” you nodded your head and bit on your lower lip. “The happiest,” you assured him. “Being your wife makes me feel happy, safe, proud and fulfilled. And I would tell you if something was wrong. Like we have promised each other to be honest and open,” you caressed his hair and leaned in to rub your nose with his. “And one day I’m going to have more wedding anniversaries with you than I have ever had with him and I’m going to forget his face and his voice completely and I can’t wait for that day. But perhaps I had to survive him to be able to meet you,” you shrugged your arms. “And just because of that, I can’t regret anything from my past because everything has been leading me to you.”

Buck only nodded at that before joining your lips together in a sweet kiss. He knew what you were talking about because he would go to ten more wars and survive ten more captive camps if it meant that he would end up as your husband.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[artificial-transmutations]

Relationship goals

The moment Toby's butt touched the couch, he could start counting seconds. Five, four, three...

"Toby! Where are you again?!" The shouting voice of his girlfriend, Norah pierced the peace before it had even started. Fuming like a small steam engine, she turned around the corner.

"I see. Slacking off again." She gave him a stern look, but still didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she walked over to the kitchen where they usually ate breakfast together.

"I'm sorry," Toby mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, be useful!", she snapped. Toby had heard this sentence a lot. "Did you make me any tea?"

"No..."

Norah sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to do without."

She sat down at the table and took out her phone. She scrolled through the messages there for a few minutes before looking up.

"Where is my tea?" she asked annoyedly.

"I thought you didn't want any, because you said..." Toby began, but was cut off by the sharp voice of Norah.

"I don't need excuses! Just do it! I made myself perfectly clear, I think."

So, Toby stood up and started preparing tea. Living with Norah had become... difficult. She used to be a sweet and caring girl, or at least that's how he remembered her. But now, she was constantly angry about everything. Ever since they moved in together, she had been getting angrier and angrier every day. Not to mention controlling. He even had the thought of breaking up with her because of it, but he had quickly discarded it again. They were together for so long now, and they were engaged. Not to mention that he didn't think he would find anyone else like her again...

"Toby! Where. Is. My. Fucking. Tea?" Her voice echoed through the apartment once more.

"Coming!" He replied while pouring hot water into a cup.

He put the kettle back on the stove and looked up at Norah. She was sitting there, glaring angrily at him.

"Here you go, sweety." Toby said in a calm voice, trying to soothe her mood.

"Right now, there is nothing sweet about me!" She snarled. "Just give me the damn tea."

"Okay..." Toby sighed and walked over to her, placing the cup next to her.

As Toby sat down on his chair, her eyes glared at him once more. "Don't you have anything better to do than sitting around? Did you already do the dishes?"

So, Toby sighed and went to do the dishes. On some days, it was really bad, and today was one of these days. It was probably his fault, though. If he just tried harder, she probably wouldn't be so angry all the time. He looked over to her, swiping on her phone while drinking the tea, and sighed. Still, in moments like these, he sometimes wished they had a different kind of relationship. There was nothing wrong with a dominant part in a relationship, if the other one still enjoyed it, but sometimes what they had felt just wrong. Besides, with her being angry all the time, their bedroom activity had pretty much come to a halt entirely.

His thoughts and wishes continued as he was working the soaped dishes in the sink. Perhaps he just needed to be a bit more confident. Yes. Perhaps that would help. He finished his work and got back to the kitchen, where Norah was already waiting for him.

"Took you long enough. Now, head to the garden, the lawn needs mowing." She commanded.

Toby was just about to follow her order, when he remembered he wanted to be more confident, so he replied: "I don't want to, sweety. Perhaps you could do it?"

Norah stared at him like he was an alien.

"What? That's a man's work!" she hissed.

"Then perhaps you need to be a man about it." Toby said, his voice a bit firmer now.

He would have expected about every reaction from Norah except the one she did: Obviously at a loss of words for a few moments, she finally said "Fine!" in an angry tone and stood up, walking to the garden. Toby was more than a bit surprised, and he followed her outside, sitting down in a garden chair, while Norah was getting the lawnmower.

As soon as she started it up, though, Norah started to change. The most obvious and immediate change was her height. While she had trouble handling the mower at first because she was just a bit short, that problem quickly solved itself, as she shot up at least a dozen centimeters. Moving the device forward became a lot easier, too, because her arms and legs packed on muscle mass quickly. She looked really ridiculous like that, with muscular arms and legs, but still her petite female torso in-between and her narrow girly head with the long blonde ponytail on top of it.

That was about to change, too, however. Her torso filled up with muscle while at the same time, her boobs receded into her body, leaving only a pretty masculine chest covered by a white t-shirt behind. Toby's mind told him to be disappointed by the loss of boobs, but he really wasn't. She looked good that way. Toby wasn't gay, but that firm chest got him excited pretty quickly. Perhaps he was bi, to some extend?

He got really curious of how Norah would look like if her face and the contents of her pants were male in anatomy as well. He didn't have to wait long for an answer. As if whatever magic that was changing her had noticed his thoughts, her face became somewhat more masculine. Her hair got shorter until it was a medium length male haircut, and sharp, somewhat masculine features became prevalent.

As her tight jeans transformed into a pair of long blue shorts made of nylon, Toby could see a small bulge forming in the front, clearly a sign of male anatomy. At the same time, Norah's butt grew larger and firmer, as it filled up with muscle.

Toby was really enjoying the view now. His dick had grown hard in his ...speedo? Toby took a double check. Yes, he was lying in the lawn chair only wearing a tight fitting speedo now, that was clearly showing his erection. However, Toby felt confident enough not to hide it! Why shouldn't he hide his hardon from his girlfriend? Was it even his girlfriend anymore or was it a boyfriend now? It didn't matter right now, and Toby continued to check out his own body. Unlike Norah's, his body had become a bit more compact, smoother, more elegant. He was probably even less muscular than before. What little strength remained was well hidden in a lean build, not a trace of bulging biceps. He made sure to keep his body always in his best condition, though. He shaved his chest and pubes every morning along with his face, to keep his smooth boyish charm, but there was more to him than that. Sure, his dick was on full display right now, the slightly above average length straining against the speedo, but his real asset was his juicy behind, an ass worthy of a gold star bottom like himself.

He turned back to the man mowing the lawn, shouting across: "Hey, Noah! Loose the shirt! And the shorts! I want to see your meat!"

'Noah'? Wasn't he called something else?

Noah shook his head to get rid of the distracting thought. Thinking had never been his strong side, no need to start with it now. He looked back to Tobias and answered in his considerably deeper voice than before: "Sure thing, boss!"

He started to pull off his shirt, which was getting more and more difficult along the way. His upper body continued to stack on muscle, and with each pound of muscle added, his intelligence diminished further, leaving him not much more than a drooling idiot once he had finished peeling his shirt off. He chuckled dumbly. He just loved to expose his muscular, hairy body, especially for his boss. As he pulled down his shorts, exposing his filled to the brim jockstrap underneath, as always in a state of arousal, as the wet patch from his precum on front of his underwear proved.

He had really been lucky to have met Tobias and got together with him. He was so smart, and he didn't mind thinking for the two of them. Noah knew fair well that he was dumb as a brick, but that didn't matter. He loved following orders, so his boss and him fit together like... something that fit together well.

"Yo, Noah. When you finished with the lawn, I need you to fill up a hole back here!"

Noah grinned. He understood that order (at least he was pretty sure about it) and his fat cock strained his jockstrap even more, as he got back to mowing.

Here it is! The first story to come out of early access and hit tumblr! If you like to always get the earliest possible access to all my stories PLUS awesome exclusive content that will never reach Tumblr, consider subscribing at my riot page!

[iaure]

𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗱

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city.

tw: general yandere behaviour, stalking, harassment, ptsd, mentions of mourning

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ aaa i am so tired! i am sorry about the delay ૮꒰⸝⸝> ༝ <⸝⸝꒱ა work has been rough but i am tougher! there is another part planned already of which i am more excited about; it is another Leon pov!! next time he will have perversions...it will be somewhat nsfw! i am very excited about part four ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა please keep an eye out! ♡

you'd been doing better.

♡ the days began to blur by as you repaired your life. work got easier, you started making friends, and you were picking up the pieces.

♡ your new friend Leon was, as always, a constant ray of light in your life. you had progressed into a blooming friendship!

♡ he was always so sweet, even going so far as to bring you gifts.

♡ for your birthday, he even got you a video game you had mentioned wanting off hand; a AAA game that cost 70$. not a cheap price for someone who you met at a bakery.

♡ when he gave it to you, you tried tell him it was too much-but he insisted, saying it was your birthday and that you deserved it.

♡ the thought made your heart jump, but you took the game.

♡ your coworker jokes that he's got a crush on you, and slowly, you're starting believe it.

♡ you'd seen times where you were working in the back, and leon would come in. he'd look around, realise you weren't in sight, and his mood would visibly plummet upon not seeing you.

♡ according to your coworker, he'll even straight up turn around and leave if you aren't working that day.

♡ as weird as it is, you think it's cute.

but recently, you've been having troubles.

♡ your apartment was maybe a five minute walk from your work, truthfully. you often just made the trek to save gas and get some exercise in.

♡ but you've been feeling eyes on you lately.

♡ it's a nagging feeling, and while it's only a five minute walk, you're back into that quiet terror you had back when K was in your life.

♡ you've been checking over your shoulder, hiding pepper spray in your pockets, and staying as alert as possible.

home was just as unnerving.

♡ before, the mourning had left your apartment as a bit of a mess. it was normal and fine, but now that you had work, you found yourself realising just how bad it had gotten.

♡ you made yourself a list of things to do, to chip away at and celebrate each time something was done.

♡ but in the last week or two, that list has been checking itself off.

♡ parts of your apartment has been cleaner. the sink full of dishes washed themselves. your bathroom was wiped down. your bed was made, pillows fluffed and sheets taut. laundry, for the most part, was transferred from washer to drier while you were gone.

♡ 'for the most part' was because some garments were going missing; used towels, your favourite shirt, undergarments.

♡ they turn up again, but it's always some time later and with new stains or portions torn away.

♡ needless to say, you were freaked out.

♡ you had sent a request to get your lock changed to your super, but it was taking just too long.

♡ your paranoia skyrocketed. was it K? was it possible there was a gas leak and you were having memory loss? what was the most reasonable thing that could answer this?

♡ your mind is reeling, and it's been progressively getting worse until one night at work.

♡ you were closing up, and leon was there, keeping you company. was he supposed to be there after close? perhaps not, but he was your friend and he never did anything wrong; just watched you clean up with his head in his hands and a sappy smile.

♡ you had looked out into the windows, and the darkness outside was...so much. it was raining hard, and the night was absolute. anything could happen in a five minute walk. what if K was out there?

♡ you had paused, and leon saw. his voice was soft, kind, as he walked up and held your hand. "is something wrong?", he said.

♡ you told him only a bit about what was going on, the bare minimum so he knew that you didn't feel safe.

♡ his face contorted-shock, fear, worry-but he kept on listening, and he looked so sympathetic to your plight, almost like a kicked puppy.

♡ you then have a great idea. Leon was strong and brave. could he possibly walk you home?

♡ at your asking, Leon lights up. were he a dog, his tail would be wagging.

♡ "I'll be your knight in shining armour," he says. and you believe it.

♡ when you close the shop, he's right behind you, carrying his gym bag in one arm and your umbrella in the other. he takes care to cover you with it, but it's not until you turn that you realise he's already drenched.

♡ he waves it off, joking that it's a shower.

♡ you feel bad, but when you try to insist on sharing it, he tosses you a pout that breaks your heart. damn you, heartthrob!

♡ he keeps on looking around during the walk to your apartment, as though you're about to get jumped at any moment. as strange as it seemed, you appreciated how vigilant he was.

♡ for once, you felt safe. there were no eyes on you besides Leon's careful, kind gaze. this was the most comforted you'd been in...a while.

♡ when you get to your apartment, the rain had doubled down, forcing the two of you to ditch the umbrella and run under the roof of the first floor, laughing as Leon shook the rain off like a dog.

♡ when you finally get to your apartment, your joy dissolves into fear. your stomach churns at the idea that K might be inside, trying to wait out Leon.

♡ you turn to Leon, and before you find it in you to say good night, you look him over.

♡ he looks a little bit like a puppy left out in the rain, in a cardboard box. he's happy to see you, sad that you're leaving, drenched, and giving you big, sad eyes.

let's be honest.

♡ were you going to say good night, giving Leon no reward for his kind act and potentially walking right into your potential stalker's arms?

♡ or were you going to invite him in, getting Leon some food and thanking him as well as hypothetically warding off K?

♡ when you asked him to come in, he practically did a jig. was he really that excited to see the inside of your apartment?

♡ he's a polite guest, which isn't surprising. he took off his shoes, set his bag by the door, and tried to dry off the best he could before sitting on your couch.

♡ you began digging around, trying to see what you had that would be moderately okay for a guest to eat, silently grateful that your home had been cleaning itself up.

♡ you turn every now and then to speak with Leon, and each time, he moves a step closer to you, giving you the most devoted look.

♡ it makes your heart pound, but you can't let it distract you.

♡ you finally give up, electing to order a pizza of Leon's choice, which ends up being your choice when he tells you to order your favourite.

♡ "I wanna know more about you!", he says.

♡ you pay for it, since he helped you, but he tries to help pay. when you refuse, he makes a small noise of what was presumably discontent, but he lets it go.

♡ while you're waiting for the pizza, you begin to confess your concerns with your home, about the cleaning and how items seem to be shuffling about of their own will.

♡ Leon's first guess, much like yours, was a gas leak. but he agrees, after a moment, that you should change your locks anyway.

♡ the conversation changed direction multiple times, going with the flow. Leon was a great listener, and every time you list something you like or hate, you can see him filing it away in his head.

♡ the rain gets harder, and the night gets longer.

♡ the pizza was delivered, and you two begin eating when-unceremoniously and without warning-the power went out. you could see off in the distance it wasn't just your apartment complex; it was a sizable chunk of the block you were on.

♡ there was a beat of silence between the two of you as you realised what happened.

♡ you got up to light some candles as Leon ran over to the door, fishing out a flashlight he had on him, for whatever reason.

♡ he passed it off to you, with a small frown. "I guess that's my cue to go," he said. his voice was low, upset at having your time together cut short. he was still a little wet, and it just made him look...a bit pathetic, to be honest.

♡ as you began to ask him if he was going to be okay in the rain, he mentioned that he lived thirty minutes from his gym, which was ten minutes from the bakery, which was five minutes from your apartment...

♡ which meant a miserable fifteen minutes spent in the rain and another 30 spent being cold and wet in the car.

no, you insisted-he could stay the night, if he wanted to wait out the rain.

♡ over the course of the night, you've come to realise a handful of things. one, Leon was sweet. two, he also got excited over what seemed to be the littlest things.

♡ his jaw dropped when you offered him to stay, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. it was as though you'd fulfilled his biggest wish and had ultimately become his saviour.

♡ you gave him some clothes to change into that once belonged to your brother-it's not like he'd wear them anymore-and instructed him to the bathroom.

♡ he found it in record time as you yourself got changed, ready to go to bed and wait out the power outage.

♡ when he stepped out, he had evidently dried down his hair with a towel that had been hanging in your bathroom, and looked at you with big eyes. he had also evidently decided to sleep on the couch, using a blanket from his bag (which you've decided to call his wonderbag, considering everything he pulls from it).

♡ you gave him two more, just to make sure he was comfortable, before wishing him good night.

♡ all was well. you were safe, you were home, and you could sleep.

♡ it wasn't until maybe two or three in the morning that you woke up to a nigh horrifying sight.

Leon was standing at the foot of your bed, staring at you.

♡ you let out a bit of a gasp, still too sleepy to realise really how strange it was. you asked him what he was doing, and his voice...how small it felt.

♡ "I thought you were gone."

♡ your heart breaks. god, Leon really was whipped. if even you could tell at that point, then it must've been some cupid-arrow shenanigans that got him this bad.

♡ in your haze, you just want to go back to sleep. so you pat the empty side of your bed, rolling over and shoving your head into your pillow.

♡ leon takes a second. he registers.

♡ "Do you want me to...sleep with you?"

♡ his awe is palpable. he asks twice, then thrice, each time with you answering with a nod until you ultimately just repeat him in your own voice.

♡ he climbs in and you realise he'd be trailing the blankets you gave him behind him, pulling them over the both of you when he got into the bed.

♡ there's a moment or two where he's just staring at you again, and you open your eyes with a soft smile. you tell him to get to bed.

♡ and you shut your eyes, sure that wherever K was, they were far, far away.

♡ ...did Leon just get closer?

[beauleifu]

Hello! Can you write a oneshot or a headcanon (platonic, ofc) about Macaque with a reserved but also very outgoing child? (like those kids that are calm and reserved but if you mention something they really like they just go off and start rambling all happy and excited)

I had this idea in my head for a little while, I think it'd be really funny and wholesome if he just appeared at Pigsy's Noodles w/ his child and everyone's like "wh- YOU'RE A DAD??? WHEN??? HOW????" and he just watches with that Tired Parent Look™ as his kid stares directly at MK and goes "YOU'RE THAT MONKIE GUY ON THE TV!!!"

Sorry for any errors! English is not my first language, I apologize for the long text aswell, I'm just an absolute sap for the "tired but loving dad" trope also you can totally delete my ask or skip it if you don't want to write it!! Thank you either way, your writing is wonderful :) !

All right! *cracks fingers, snaps neck- whoops-*

You got it anon! Sorry for not answering this ask sooner, I realized headcanons are easier to write than an actual oneshot considering the limited time I have to write nowadays. But I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the ask! <333

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

MACAQUE X CHILD!READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Long ago, a wise old monkey had taken you under his wing, to train you and teach you the ways- okay, let's save the theatrics for later, that's Macaque's thing. Your father figure. Honestly, he's growing on you, and it's starting to show now that people are pointing it out.

TW: None!

HEADCANNONS

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Macaque doesn't normally take you somewhere where conflict is bound to arise. He'd prefer someplace more peaceful, like a park/museum/theater. Unless, of course, he's in the mood for adventure and will literally take you skydiving without a permit.

Totally the irresponsible dad. He's protective as FUCK, let's make that clear, but in the end he trusts you to take care of yourself

perhaps a bit too much, and even you think that

He'll encourage you to pet that snake

He'll give you the thumbs up if you wanted to climb to the top of the weather tower during a thunderstorm

Like "Go get 'em, (Y/N)! Make your father proud!"

With such a dramatic character when it comes to encouraging you, Macaque will become insanely tired. He'll be snoring on the couch and won't wake up even if you stacked all the furniture in the house on his back

Speaking of the house, he and you live far away from any danger

This guy didn't know jack shit about being a dad at first (you kind of hat to teach him, oh how the turns have tabled) But once he understood the basics, he took the reins, eager to impress you and earn your respect. Macaque isn't usually a sucker for developing any relationship with Earthly figures, but you were the only exception. He'd lay awake at night thinking if he's making the right choice, then slapping himself for even considering abandoning you. You are too precious.

Which is why he's totally, utterly wrapped around your little finger

So when you ask to get take-out at Pigsy's Noodles, it doesn't take much effort to sway his stoic resolve

"Dad. Pops. Papa. Father of mine," you say, grabbing his face, looking a lot older than you actually are. "Please!"

Since Macaque can't turn his face to the side (squished as it is), he sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. You catch the faint, irritated twitch of his tail, but that's about the only hint of Fed-Up Parent you can detect.

"(Y/N), Megapolis is miles away."

"You have shadow magic!"

"You can't just abuse my powers, especially now that you've decided to abuse yours," he grunts, albeit grinning at you. He' loosing.

Triumph fills your chest. "I can handle it! Uncle Pigsy would love to see me!"

"Uncle!?" Macaque splutters, finally escaping your grip. Shocked eyes blink down at you. "Sweetheart, you haven't even met Pigsy, you've only seen him from afar."

You blink up, flaunting those devil-may-care puppy eyes.

Oh, he hates it when you do that.

"Puh-lease! I'll do anything! i'll scratch your back! Do my chores before games! I-I'll stay out of your secret stash of peaches!" You gasp, flopping down on the soft carpet lining the floor. You consider the intricate pattern for a moment, then mutter under your breath; "Even though you said you hate those. . . ."

Macaque fixes you with a stern look. "You know about that, huh?"

"Mayyybe."

Like I said, not that much effort. The guy may be invulnerable to harm at best, but his immortality falls short under your tactics. Persuasive skills that he taught you to use.

Sucks how plans backfire, huh?

When you two do get to the shop, however, Macaque goes into full parent-mode

He doesn't care if you think it's uncool, you're holding his hand and that's that. He'd get you one of those child harnesses but thank the stars you'd convinced him you're worth more than such a humiliating child-control device.

So in you go, holding hands, Macaque glaring at anyone who spares you a curious glance.

When Macaque sees who's at the counter, he almost does a 180 out of there

It's MK.

Of all people.

He hasn't seen the two of you yet, though. You feel Macaque's paw tighten over your small, nimble fingers, and you can't help but squeeze back in return, asking a silent question.

It's times like these where you don't know what to do. You're still a child, even if this was your idea.

But then you spot who's at the counter

and At the same time, Pigsy comes 'round the corner with a giant tray of noodles- fit for the exact number of people surrounding the Monkie Kid. Suddenly, Macaque realizes who all is there.

This guy

Parent-Panic-Pro

The literal Monkey King is the first to turn head, eyes landing on Macaque first. You can tell instantly his fight-or-flight response just kicked in; shoulders tensing, teeth baring, eyes widening (oh yes, typical ex behavior- HAHA)

Then, all heads are turning.

And Monkey King's eyes land on you

Macaque steps in front of you, form tense and on high alert. "Heyyyy," he says, awkwardly.

The Monkey King tilts his head, perhaps confused as to why his old friend is protecting a little kid. Then he realizes. Poor guy connects the dots, lets out an unholy gasp of astonishment, and points and the both of you

"YOU. YOU- AND THEM- MACISTHATYOURKID-"

Pandemonium.

At least, in the most gentle context. MK and his friends do a double take, the Monkey King is gaping and trying to figure out who could ever love Macaque to result in this- and your dad just completely gives up. He gives you this look, like 'see why I was against bringing you here'

And you know. And your eyes say sorry, that you'll make it up to him later

Typical silent father/child communicating

(you guys are really good at that, communicating through your eyes or expressions. it helps in crowds)

That is, until your eyes fall on MK and realize for the first time that he's actually there

And Macaque's face falls into an impossibly disappointed facade (really, he's happy you're socializing) as you let go of his hand and prance right up to MK, eyes literal stars.

Thank goodness for MK, for he's kind and patient enough to let you blabble and gush on about how cool he is and how you've stayed up to date on the latest chaos he's incited (poor dude looks a bit downcast at that)

Funny how you went to such a well-behaved, shy kid to an energetic hyper-fixated gremlin in two seconds

All the while, Pigsy is listening, Monkey King corners Macaque and quietly demands answers (the two of them talk in the background for awhile as you socialize)

Noodles are served

There's just so many people in Pigsy's Noodles that the owner himself couldn't keep track of who ordered what, so everyone just got the same thing- and lots of it

In the end, you're all sitting down at the table (everyone had worked together to gather as many spare tables/chairs as possible to sit together at one huge-ass table)

You insisted you sit with Mei and MK in order to interrogate them about their adventures

OF course, you mean well, and they know that. And Macaque never pulls you aside because he likes seeing you like this, it makes him happy knowing you're indulging in the things you love, and he deosn't have the heart to tell you it's almost time to go home.

So you stay there for awhile, chatting with Mk and his friends

You get to know Pigsy (he doesn't mind being called your uncle, said at this point he's practically everyone's uncle or dad)

But alas

You're bit a child

And towards the end of the night, aftter everyone is stuffed full of noodles, you're conked out in your chair, slumped and snoring softly, eyes fluttering from dreaming

Everyone glances at you, how fucking adorable you are

Macaque straightens, clears his throat, says it's time for him to leave

Sun Wukong stops him for a moment, just to say

"Keep them safe, Mac."

Of course, like the #1 Dad he is, Macaque snorts. "I think I know more about raising a kid than you do, Wukong. I'll . . . see you out there."

Then he picks you up, carefully, so you stay sleeping, and walks out

but not before turning around to thank everyone for dinner

For once, they offer smiles (some are weaker and less meaningful than others, but props for trying. Macaque is kinda responsible for a lot of pain in their lives, anyways)

You don't register any of it, too full of noodles and new information regarding your idols

Macaque knows he'll never hear the end of it

Perhaps that's a good thing, considering the fond smile on his face as he gently carries you home, lays you in bed, and pulls the covers over your snoring form. He eagerly awaits the morning to which you'll wake him up excitedly ranting about tonight, about how you want to do it again

And he's wrapped around your little finger, so if course he'll listen to you

this guy would move the world for you

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒, 𝐌.𝐐

pairing: recom!quaritch x latina!recom!reader

summary: colonel miles quaritch has a thing for the lieutenant, but he would never guess that he could perhaps be her type of man.

author's note: so i was listening to mayores by becky g and i couldn't get the idea of miles with a latina gf out of my head.

warnings: just lots of cussing

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

  · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

 Colonel Miles Quaritch had a crush. He would never admit it out loud, but ever since he was human he only had eyes for you. But of course, he thought you were way out of his league, so he never tried anything. Why would a pretty thing like you bang an old man like him? And clearly, he wasn't the only one thinking about you, as Lyle hit on you every time you walked past him, and rumor has it that you had a thing going on with Lopez.

When you all came back as recombinants, Miles remembered the way his old self felt about you. His new na'vi body intensified the desires he had for you. He couldn't avoid staring at you whenever you were training at the gym or the shooting range. There was something about your presence that just wholly captured his attention. Maybe it was the way you flirted with everyone around you, or how you lightened up the mood every time you stepped into a room.

He couldn't understand how someone as sweet as you could be a marine. And how you could be such a damn good marine. He wondered if there was something you are not good at.

You walked down the hallway to the cafeteria with Walker and Zdinarsk by your side. You chuckled at one of your friends’ stupid dirty jokes as you made entrance to the room.

"Y'all are late," The Colonel stated.

"Geez, good morning, Sir." You smiled, sitting between Wainfleet and Lopez, "Hola, papi" You smiled, kissing your friend's cheek. 

"¿Qué pasa, mami?" Lopez took a sip from his cup. "Took you guys long enough. We started without you."

"Sorry we're late, we were at the gym. It turns out these new bodies have a lot of stamina." You poured yourself some black coffee, "Damn, I feel like running a marathon!"

Quaritch huffed. His dirty mind was running with ways he could get you exhausted. Clearing his throat, he uttered;

"Save yourself some of that energy, Lieutenant. Gonna need that for when we go hunt Sully down." 

You playfully shrugged and quickly took Lyle's glasses out of his head, putting them on.

"Hey!" He frowned.

"How do I look?" You questioned, turning yourself to Lopez.

"Hermosa" He smirked.

You turned around and met eyes with the person in front of you across the table.

"You think I look pretty, Coronel?" You grinned sweetly, but before Miles could answer, Wainfleet stole his glasses back from you, "Damn, Lyle!"

The corporal snickered, "Sorry, but no business with these shades, sweetheart. Try Mansk's instead."

You glanced at Mansk, who just stared at you over his glasses. He silently shook his head and you just nodded.

"What do you have for us today, Colonel?" Walker asked.

You secretly hoped that your squad would hunt Jake Sully today. Looking for a chance to show off your new abilities, your new na'vi body has made you way more flexible, agile, and stronger than you once were. And having the memories from your human life, you remember how Quaritch used to praise you every time you repeatedly shot in the center of a target, or how you easily overpowered some of the boys at training. Your Colonel's validation was a big part of your human life. Miles thought you were the best on your human team, and now you wanted him to think that you are the best as a recom as well. 

"Most of you will take the limp dicks scientists to the forest, they'll take some samples outta the plants and I need you to keep them alive. The rest can stay and have the day off." The group whined about the task of bodyguarding the scientists, "Ah-ah, you know I don't like whining, y'all sound like a bunch of pussies."

Miles sipped on his bitter coffee while his eyes traveled through the avatars at the table.

"Walker, Mansk, Ja, Lopez and Fike will go. That's an odd number. Which makes me question, which one of my girls should I send to play outside?"

Z-dog gasped, "What!? Why not one more male?"

"Still whining, Zdinarsk? Maybe I should leave Mansk out of this one and send you and Y/N with them." Quaritch smirked, "But I'm still deciding. I'll report my decision before lunchtime."

You rolled your eyes, having enough of that matter. You knew he would probably choose you since Z-dog has been out on the last task in the forest. So you finished drinking your coffee and got up from the table.

"I'm still feeling energetic as fuck, so I'll tire myself at the shooting range. I'll be back in time for the report. Adiós."

If a stare could kill, your body would be mutilated in pieces from the eyes watching you leave the room, completely hypnotized by the way your hips and tail moved from side to side as you walked to the exit door.

Miles snorted at the reactions, "Y'all could be a little subtle for once?"

"I agree, you guys are looking at her like she's a piece of meat," Lopez commented.

"Nah, you're only saying that cuz she lets you hit it." Fike teased wickedly. Lopez brushed it off;

"I ain't hitting a thing, trust me. I'm not her type and she made it very clear."

"What's her type, then? She's into gringos?" Lyle joked hopefully.

Lopez scoffed, biting on his bread, "Not exactly."

"Damn, is she into girls?" Walker questioned.

"Yeah, I've been getting that vibe from her too." Z-dog pointed out. "She said I have a nice ass while I was doing squats."

"I don't know if she likes chicas, but I do know she has a soft spot for mayores." Lopez clicked his tongue at the revelation, but everyone looked clueless to what he said, "Aye, I meant viejos. She has a thing for mature men I guess."

"So she likes 'em older, uh? Man, I really thought I had a chance with her. That's a boomer." Wainfleet tsked.

But Miles listened silently, and Lopez's words got his mind in a non-stopping wonder. As a recombinant, he was 20 years old. He had the body and the strength of a young na'vi, but he also had the knowledge and the ways of a 50-year-old man. Was he old enough to your liking? Could you feel some sort of attraction to him? Could this mean he has a shot with you?

  part 2

[sebastianswallows]

It's not like any other love | S.S. | Part 5

— PAIRING: dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian finally gets what he wants, although not in the way in which he expected to. A sacrifice is made, and it's MC making it for him. The Avada Kedavra part of the story.

— WARNINGS: Nothing, unless you count the murder

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you for sticking with me to the end, my dears! This one is admittedly very rushed, so I’m sorry about that. I was a bit over-eager to end this story, and I went through a few versions of it in my head (who casts AK, and on whom; some endings were sadder than others). I hope you can find some enjoyment in it anyway 💚

Winter settled all around them. The warm autumn afternoons were long gone and the days grew shorter, the nights longer, and throughout it, Sebastian was as troubled as ever — about his sister, about Ominis, about their friend…

He couldn’t forget the look Ominis gave him as they got out of their beds that morning after his heated dream. When the Gaunt boy realised Sebastian was awake and had gotten up from his bed, Ominis blushed to the tips of his ears, threw a scathing narrowing of the eyes in his direction, and promptly turned away. He avoided him at breakfast too, and it wasn’t until the next afternoon that he spoke to Sebastian again. Feeling guilty, Sebastian didn’t speak to him either, nor to anyone else that day. He felt as if his embarrassing lusts from the night before were dragged behind him like a shadow, however irrational this may have been. And while everyone else might not have known in truth, he was certain Ominis did, somehow. Perhaps he had just been pretending to sleep, or perhaps heard something… His hearing was especially sharp, and the more Sebastian thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

But there was nothing to do about it anymore. If Ominis knew, he knew. And if the girl knew… Well, how could she? Unless she remembered what he made her do while under Imperio.

In between working on homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Sebastian leafed through books on Unforgivable Curses and tried to find out how likely it was for Imperio victims to remember what they did. There seemed to be no definitive answer, and it rather varied from person to person. It was an issue which was bound to be confounded — or so said the consensus from magical researchers — by victims who were so ashamed of what they had done that they merely pretended not to remember.

Was that what happened with her? Was she so ashamed? She never sat next to him during classes anymore, and avoided his eyes on most days — although when Sebastian managed to catch her gaze, she always smiled sweetly, bashfully at him. He gave her some time, gave himself some time, and ceased all contact for a while. It gave him the chance to focus on his research into the relic.

To his surprise, it was Ominis who brought her up again.

“Have you two had a fight?” he asked one evening while they were reading by the fireplace.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Sebastian kept quiet and turned back to his book, already feeling blood blooming in his cheeks and his throat constricting.

“Well?” asked Ominis again. Clearly, he was in one of his more relentless moods that night.

“No, we haven’t,” Sebastian snapped. “Everything’s fine. Why?”

“Just asking,” hummed Ominis, sounding not very convinced. “She’s not upset with you, is she?”

Sebastian gave a trembling sigh that tried to hide his fear but managed only to reveal it. “Why would she be upset with me?”

“I can think of a number of reasons,” Ominis smirked. “I’m sure you can, too.”

“Leave it be, Ominis,” he grumbled. “I’m not in the mood.”

His friend looked like he was about to say something, but took pity on him at the last moment.

Sebastian saw them again throughout the following days: Ominis and her, talking in the corridors, spending time by the windows of the great lake, leaving breakfast together… What they talked about in their little whispers, he could not grasp, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The only thing that could distract him from his misery was research into the relic, and he was rewarded with a breakthrough in November. His first thought was to reach out to his friend again. She did like her adventures outside of the castle, and this was an excuse to steal some of her time for himself.

“If it’s in this catacomb, I have to find it,” he said as they stood outside, cold air billowing their school robes.

“I’m ready,” she said with calm resolution.

“By the way, Ominis has been asking about you. You didn’t tell him what we were doing, did you?”

“I didn’t, I promise,” she said immediately.

He couldn’t tell if she was lying. Well, if Ominis had known, he’d probably have had a hard time keeping it to himself — for all of his decorum, the Gaunt boy could hardly hide his feelings... But Sebastian didn’t trust them yet, either of them. In fact, the more he studied Slytherin’s notes, the more his suspicions grew concerning his dealings with his friends, as well as their dealings with each other. It was as if a subtle curse was cast over his mind, but Sebastian was certain that once they’d find the relic and put it to use, and Anne was well again, he could leave all this behind and everything could go back to how it was.

“Good. Ominis would be livid if he knew what we were about to do,” he warned.

The catacomb was crawling with spiders, a maze of dusty old bones and slippery slopes and puzzles, haunted at every step by strange noises that echoed from the most unexpected angles, but together, they could reach the end. It was remarkably easy with a few simple spells, and he wondered whether this would have been considered more advanced in the time of Slytherin’s student.

All thoughts melted from Sebastian’s mind, however, once they finally found the relic. He felt as if his heart could leap in his chest, and his friend beside him seemed as convinced as he was that they should take the relic. They looked at each other and agreed, and he felt like he could kiss her, really kiss her…

But they hardly touched the item when they heard someone entering the chamber behind them. The green school robes and tallow hair and red echo of the wand revealed it to be Ominis.

“I’m sorry, Ominis, but I’m taking it,” said Sebastian.

“If you won’t put it back, then I will,” he said.

“Hold on, both of you. Sebastian, please, take a step back.”

“Fine. But Ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.”

“Can’t believe this…” the boy sighed.

Sebastian paced along the far wall of the catacomb, so close to his goal, and so close to losing it. He watched his two friends discuss it, catching only fragments of their conversation… It was so like how it used to be when he and Ominis were causing trouble with Anne all over Hogwarts, and yet it was so different now without her. He didn’t wish to fight his oldest friend, but he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from it if it came to that…

Fortunately, it didn’t.

The girl came back, triumphant if a little fearful, while behind her Ominis paced just as restlessly but defeated, standing back to let them pass.

“What happened back there?” said Sebastian as they made their way out, too shocked to be grateful yet.

“Ominis and I found a compromise.”

He had expected anything else: threats, blackmail, even for her to use Imperio, but not for the boy to fold so quickly. Sebastian was struck at first by envy of the sway she held over his other friend, of the care she must have felt for him to solve this peacefully at any cost, and then the usual suspicions reared their myriad heads of what was going on between the two that he didn’t know about.

“Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. Is that it?” said Sebastian with a bite as they ran together out of the catacomb.

“I told him we ought to give you this chance — that the relic is too important to ignore.”

“There has to be more to it than that. Tell me.”

She looked at him and her eyes hid nothing — not her hurt at his suspicion, not the joy that they had made off with the relic, not the spark of affection that was like a reflection of his own.

“We agreed on what was needed, Sebastian. You have my word.”

“How can I know you’re telling the truth?” he frowned. “I can never tell when you’re lying to me…”

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” she insisted, slowing down in their trek up through the tunnels as she held his gaze. “I’ve meant everything I’ve ever said to you, Sebastian.”

Her words circled through his mind the whole way to Feldcroft, and he found himself returning to them for a hidden meaning he sensed in them. That was put aside after they saw smoke coming from the little hamlet, and goblins attacking Anne and Uncle Solomon.

He didn’t regret what he did to protect her, and with his friend by his side, he felt all the more justified in fighting back, but his Uncle didn’t see it that way. A useless coward that couldn’t even protect his niece, couldn’t even protect himself…

And then, Sebastian was banished.

Days trailed by feverishly as he used all his spare time to cross-reference the student’s notes about the relic with books from the forbidden section of the library, and the closer he got to an answer, the more unhappy he was with it: while the relic promised not just a reversal but a complete control of the curse, it would only work back in the catacombs.

Sebastian wasted nights away trying to piece everything together in his head, from the nature of the relic and the sacrifice it required to the injustice of his uncle, Anne’s resentment, and the precarious friendship he found himself in with Ominis and the girl…

Then, an idea slipped into his mind without him even realising he had thought of it again — what she said in the catacomb, about her having meant everything she’d ever said to him… Was that her way of talking about what she did while under Imperio? The things she’d said to him, under his command…? It struck him like a knife in the heart, but of a most pleasurable kind — a sudden and piercing infatuation with her all over again, one that he could never hope to extract and live beyond it.

But what if that wasn’t what she meant? What if it was just another of his dreams, like so many wishful imaginings at night, a growth on the surface of a malignant fantasy…? He wished he didn’t have to wonder.

Sebastian had little time to waste in wondering, however. That could come later. Before Solomon took Anne away to some miserable place far away from him, he had to act fast, and neither Anne nor Ominis seemed keen to help. He realised only once he was deep in the catacomb, surrounded by Inferi, that he should have asked her to join him all along. She could help control the living dead while he transferred the curse from Anne to one of them, as the dark sacrifice demanded. He was so close to curing Anne forever, and all his research was ready to pay off, he just needed Anne to stay with him a little longer…

And just as he was thinking of her again, after days of not seeing her, there she was.

“Sebastian!”

“I told you. The relic is the answer. I’ve been trying to reverse the dark magic that injured Anne, but this will allow me to control it. Just as I can control the Inferi…”

“Control…? I had to fight Inferi —”

She wasn’t halfway done with her reproach when Uncle Solomon arrived, as ill-tempered as a December wind and more furious than Sebastian had ever seen him. The old man’s fear from the day when he cowered, surrounded by smoke and goblins, was gone now. He took one look at the scene around him and hardly stopped to think before he summoned the relic straight out of Sebastian’s hand. Then, with a careless flick of his wand, it disappeared forever.

“No… The relic!”

Sebastian’s body barely caught up with his mind, but by the time it did, it was too late. Another hope for Anne, the last hope he had, vanished before his eyes. The Inferi around them, released from their trance, trained their icy eyes on the three of them immediately, but Sebastian was resolute now. If it was the last thing he did, he would make Solomon pay.

All of his silly duelling practices, all those late nights in the Undercroft, all the books he’d read on dark magic, everything gained a new meaning and purpose and Sebastian focused it on him. His father’s resentful brother, the failure of their family, not good enough to be an Auror, not good enough to be a father, and certainly the worst Uncle he and Anne could have. The man that gave his parents’ death a dual tragedy after it landed the lives of him and his twin in his hands… Sebastian blasted curse after curse at him, and meant every one. He could perform several wordlessly, the spells flying out of his wand as if it were part of his body, an extension of his mind, a channel for his pure desire for revenge.

The Inferi were drawing closer, and his friend did her best to keep them at bay. Sebastian had to fight them off if he hoped to finish that battle, all while dodging curses from Solomon.

Eventually, the battle turned. Encircled by Inferi, Sebastian blasted fire spells at them, and among the scent of dead burning flesh and their high screams, he heard the girl call for his name. She probably couldn’t see him anymore. Distantly he heard Solomon’s angry shouts as well, the same meaningless arrogant chastisement he had learned to ignore, and which today he hoped to shut up forever.

“Crucio!” a high voice called. It was the girl who cast it. With a dull thud and the cracking of bones, his Uncle fell to the ground, his grumbles replaced by harrowed screaming.

By the time Sebastian cleared out the Inferi around him, the girl was standing over Solomon, wand pointed at him, ready to cast it again. She seemed to lose focus of everything around her, her anger of a singular direction the sort of which he’d rarely seen from her.

“Bring back the relic!” she cried to the body of Solomon, huddling in pain. “Now!”

But it was no use, the man was senseless under the curse.

“Use Imperio!” Sebastian called out to her before he had to train his wand again at the Inferi and clear them out from around her.

He had never seen her use Crucio before. That day in the Scriptorium, she’d insisted he use it on her. Before today, he hadn’t thought her capable of it… So he was equally as surprised to see her cast Imperio as well on his uncle.

The old man rose to his feet, slowly, his body sapless under her spell. Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see her wand hand trembling, although he couldn’t say whether it was from fear or something else…

“Confringo!” yelled Sebastian, burning away the last of the Inferi as he made his way to her.

“Bring back the relic,” she ordered in a slow, steady voice.

And sure enough, Solomon raised his wand, presented his hand, but nothing materialised in it.

“You made it disappear, now bring it back!” she cried.

“It’s no use,” said Sebastian with a heartbroken realisation. “He didn’t just use the Vanishing spell. I think he… I think he broke it apart. I think it’s gone forever.”

“Is that what you did?” she asked the man.

“Yes,” said Solomon roughly. “You will never see it again.”

The girl’s shoulders fell, hopeless and tired, and she turned to Sebastian with a sorry look in her eyes. For his part, he felt an anger that was so still and boundless he thought he would never see the end of it, like a sarcophagus cast over his mind.

“I want him dead,” he said out loud. “I want him dead…”

“Sebastian,” she whispered tearfully. “You can’t, it’s… He’s your uncle.”

“And I’m his nephew, and he was ready to kill me. He was ready to kill you too, you saw him! If you hadn’t protected yourself, he would have hexed you to death countless times today.”

“I know, but…”

“And he’s doomed Anne, and I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do other than kill him.”

“But how will Anne feel about it?”

“And what about how I feel about it?” he asked before he could think, hands trembling with fury, wand crackling with unspoken spells in his grip. “Because of him, my sister will never heal, and I have wasted everything I had trying to help her, and now he tried to kill you and me, and… and…”

He didn’t trust himself to speak, and he didn’t like to say it again, but he wished with everything he had that Solomon had never entered their lives. The only way to fix what happened, and it was hardly a fix at all, was to get rid of him, forever.

Sebastian raised his wand, looking straight at his uncle. He avoided the pleading eyes of the girl beside him, so small and quiet now that the catacomb chamber was dead all around them. He didn’t wish to see her eyes again and the fear, the disappointment in them. A part of Sebastian knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but there was time for that later. He could not live with himself if he let Solomon free from that place.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Before Sebastian could speak the curse that took his uncle’s life, another voice rang out. The girl had cast it herself. It was the third Unforgivable Curse she had cast that day.

The fat old corpse crumpled before them, and Sebastian turned to her in terror and awe. Her wand clattered on the ground and she covered her mouth with her hands, stuck in a breathless gasp.

“What did you do?” asked Sebastian with wonder.

“He’s dead?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, he’s — how did you know the curse?!”

“I learned it on my own. I convinced Ominis to show me some of the books you’ve read, I thought it would be useful, but… Oh Sebastian, you’re not angry with me?” she asked as she began to cry.

“No!” he said quickly as he took two large steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Not at all, but why would you—?”

“I didn’t want you to do it,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I couldn’t let you be the one to do it. I hated him for what he did to you, I wanted to punish him, I— I wanted him gone.”

“He’s gone now,” he whispered, cupping her head while he looked at the corpse beside them. The girl’s arms encircled him and held on to him tightly.

He never would have guessed that she could do it, that she, who could not even cast Imperio on him, would kill for him, had killed for him… Sebastian did not know what to think anymore.

“Why would you do that for me?” he whispered as he held her. The girl said nothing as she buried her sobs into his neck. Gingerly, he cupped her cheek and pulled her back to look into her eyes. “Why would you do that for me?” he asked again.

“I love you,” she said as if it explained everything — and it did.

Sebastian only realised that he was smiling when she smiled back, red-rimmed tearful eyes crinkling with unexpected joy. He pulled her face toward him, kissed her dry and salty lips, and said what he had long wanted to say.

“I love you too.”

They laughed madly together, giggles echoing throughout the catacombs strewn with bones and corpses — but his mind was far away from all of that, and he could tell hers was too.

“For the longest time, I thought you didn’t,” said Sebastian. “I mean, I wasn’t sure how you felt about me, but…”

“I did,” she nodded. “Love you. For quite a while now.”

“Since when?”

“I suppose since you protected me in the library,” she grinned.

Sebastian chuckled. “I’ve loved you longer, then. Ever since you first beat me in a duel.”

She laughed and shook her head at him, but finally looked at him with the adoration he’d only seen from her in his dreams, an open and vulnerable look that he could feel swallowing him whole, drinking him in, taking him somewhere deep inside her where he could rest. He thought he looked the same way at her…

“Sebastian” she winced, “what are we going to do about— ?”

“The corpse?”

“Ominis said he was going to inform Professor Black that you were here and that you had a family feud of some sort. They could arrive at any minute.”

“Is that why Solomon was here?”

“No, Anne had gone to tell him.”

“Oh Anne,” he groaned.

“We have to do something. Can we… can we…”

Sebastian looked down at the body. It had some signs of combat from when the three of them had fought, but any examination would reveal none of them to have been fatal. That would doubtlessly cause suspicion, and the suspicion would fall on them.

“Here’s what we’ll do.”

They climbed up to a higher ledge from where they could see the whole chamber, and with repeated spells bombarded the ceiling until it gave way and collapsed. Heavy stones fell on Uncle Solomon’s corpse until they could hardly see it. A trickle of blood muddied the earth beneath him, still warm. It would have to do.

“We’ll say he came to find us and we had to fight the Inferi together, but there were too many and he told us to escape. The spells he used caused a tragic cave-in, and he heroically saved Feldcroft from attack by any escaped Inferi.”

“Do you think they’ll believe us?” she asked, arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug. The room was dark and filled with dust as the fallen rocks settled in the room before them.

“It will be the most convenient answer for everyone. Nobody wants to think that a pair of 5th-years know the killing curse, or are capable of anything like it,” he said darkly. Then, turning toward her, Sebastian held her face in his hands and focused all of her attention on him. “You can not tell anyone what truly happened here.”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“This has to be our secret. It will be our secret for the rest of our lives and we will have to carry it together. Forever. Otherwise,” he said, taking a deep breath to gain the courage to say what followed, “otherwise I’m not sure I could protect you.”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice, the gravity of her actions sending a shiver through her whole body.

“But you don’t have to worry about anything,” he smiled. “We love each other, don’t we?”

“Yes, of course…”

“And as long as we have that, nothing bad will happen.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat as she stared into his eyes, her whole body suddenly drained of all warmth. She said nothing, but neither did she deny anything he’d just said. She could not afford to.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll protect you. I love you,” Sebastian said, more of a whisper to himself than something meant for her to hear. The hunger that had built up inside of him all these months — for her affection, for her touch, for her sweet words and gazes and attention — finally had a hope of being satisfied. He leaned in and chastely kissed her cheek, licking the traces of dried tears from her skin. “I love you…”

[bringthekaos]

(Post divorce) Jayce haven't seen Viktor for a couple weeks, and he decides to sneak to Emberflit amidst the night. When he finally arrives, he finds the Herald covered in splashes of blood and although he is very worried at first he soon realizes its from his patients. It's been a "difficult" week after some minor chembarons broke their own peace treaty and their quarry left a lot of injured people. Viktor is tired, dirty and honestly not in the mood to speak.

Jayce thinks is kinda sexy tho

This one deserved a ficlet, sorry it took so long 🥰

I think I’ll call it

Aftermath

(Kinda dark and morbid, fyi)

—

The moment Jayce creaked the unlocked door open, he knew something had happened—the smell of blood and antiseptics accosted his nose like he’d run headlong into a brick wall. The lights spilling into the house proper from Viktor’s lab were strobing and flashing, signifying that they’d been on nonstop for several days. The air was thick and hot and heavy as it filled Jayce’s lungs, and with horror, he realized why—the incinerator was on and hissing like a threatened beast, thick ashen smoke spilling out into the blackened vents above. Viktor must have been trying to save someone, perhaps many someones… and he’d failed.

When Jayce rounded the corner to the lab, his breath left him as if he’d been punched—Viktor was standing just beyond his operating table, bent over it slightly with his (once Jayce looked closer, blood-covered) hands braced hard against it and sending an ominous rattle through the bolted-down legs. The metal of his augments was ashen and unpolished, with a morbid smattering of blood smears marring his entire torso, and he was still donning his mask. He was breathing rather hard, harder than Jayce typically witnessed outside of battle and bedroom, and there were short bursts of steam puffing from the vents in his neck.

Jayce had to mentally chastise himself for the knee-jerk arousal that fired off through him at the sight; while this slightly unhinged look was certainly a turn-on… now was clearly not the time.

He briefly considered speaking, soft and prodding; are you okay? But he was fairly certain he had that answer already, so he simply got to work—traversing the short distance to the sink and soaking the tattered washrag he found there. He approached Viktor thereafter, but paused before reaching out—now that he was up close, he could see the slight tremble in Viktor’s organic right hand.

He didn’t think he’d receive an answer if he asked, so he simply raised the rag, slowly and deliberately; ensuring Viktor saw the movement. And while Viktor did not flinch or even physically react at all as Jayce began soothing away the ash and blood from Viktor’s augmented arm, a more forceful puff of steam escaped from his neck like a tiny gasp.

“I heard about the squabble…” Jayce said gently, reaching with his other hand and prying Viktor’s augmented fist away from the table so that he could squeeze the rag out at his wrist. “We were instructed not to get involved… you know how the Council is. They only care about conflicts that will impact them or their pockets.”

A sound like an angry growl rumbled deep in Viktor’s ribcage, but Jayce instinctively knew it wasn’t aimed at him. So he kept on, carefully encircling Viktor’s fingers with the rag to clear the blood away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking in the middle. “I wish I’d been here to help…”

Another grating sound resounded from Viktor’s chest, this one sounding far less angry and more… defeated, and Jayce knew what it meant—‘it wouldn’t have made a difference if you were.’

Jayce nodded his understanding, reaching next for Viktor’s other arm and forcing him to take a step back from the table. Viktor moved awkwardly, almost stiff, and it was then that Jayce saw it—the hinge on Viktor’s embedded brace in his leg had been locked into place, jamming the piston and preventing his knee from bending… preventing him from collapsing.

Jayce clicked his tongue with pity, grabbing Viktor’s wrist and insinuating that he take two steps back, to the cot against the wall. Viktor complied, his footfalls heavy and uncoordinated, and before he bent to reach for the lever that would free the brace, Jayce looked into those glowing pools of fiery ochre spilling from that unreadable mask.

“May I?” he asked carefully, motioning with a nod down at Viktor’s leg.

Viktor was still for a moment, completely unresponsive, and Jayce had to stifle another sound of pity—he’d been in the state Viktor was in now, knew what it felt like… like standing in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, his entire body flayed and numb, and his mind unable to comprehend anything but the chaos. But eventually Viktor just barely nodded, and Jayce bent to release the brace.

Viktor’s legs immediately gave out, and Jayce did his best to catch him and ease him back to plop heavily into a seated position on the cot.

“Ok, there we go… just… let me…” Jayce huffed, doing his best to keep Viktor upright as he reached for the pillow and nestled it between Viktor’s back and the wall. Viktor settled quickly against it, the tension releasing from several augmented joints with a chorus of clicks and whirs.

Jayce went back to work clearing away the blood and ash, and it took at least another fifteen minutes and several refreshes of the rag. But eventually Viktor was mess-free (or as mess-free as was possible, without a shower), and Jayce deposited the soiled rag on the floor and cautiously knelt in front of him. He reached up slowly with both hands, cradling Viktor’s head and allowing his thumbs to rest on the very edges of the mask.

He simply stared into the eye holes for an extended moment, before putting the question to voice,

“May I?” he asked again, soothing his thumbs back to the clasps.

Viktor inhaled, long and slow, and then as he let it out in a single heartbreaking sigh, he nodded.

Jayce felt like his heart plummeted into his stomach when Viktor’s face was revealed to him—there were deep purple bags under his heavily-lidded eyes, and marking his cheeks were the telltale black streaks of long-dried tears. The sheen of his augmented eyes seemed dull and hazy… a robotic version of bloodshot, Jayce realized with equal parts sorrow and awe.

With another tut of pity, Jayce reached once more for the rag, pushed to his feet, and spun to sit on the cot next to Viktor. Almost immediately, Viktor had leaned (collapsed, more like) into Jayce’s shoulder, and Jayce quickly wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

“You did all that you could,” Jayce offered sadly, wrapping the single clean spot on the rag around his finger and carefully raising it to soothe the grime from Viktor’s cheek. And while he hadn’t been here, didn’t know what happened, he was confident in the truth of it—Viktor always did everything he possibly could to help, sometimes more. But Viktor released a dissenting grunt, ever disappointed in his limits, so Jayce squeezed him tighter as he moved on to the other cheek.

“You did, V. I know you did,” he whispered, leaning in to place a simple kiss to Viktor’s temple.

His kiss was apparently a balm, because all the tension, all the tightness in Viktor’s frame released, and his full weight came down hard against Jayce’s chest. Jayce chuckled fondly, burying his nose in Viktor’s hair and delivering another kiss there. He would definitely need a shower soon, but for now… he just needed this.