#what would you do if in the morning your mother was singing and cooking and a few hours later she was being taken away by an ambulance

[fregget-frou]

Angel oc angst and their backstory + personality

I love Aklaq so much

Aklaq is getting better at it but they’re still very self conscious about their injuries when they were 16. They got into a nasty car accident where they had to have their left leg amputated because of the damage from the fire. Since then they’ve hated how less mobile they seem to be, and angry with them for struggling with things. Aklaq used to be the families support and did most of the work along with their younger brothers and took a lot of pride in being strong and reliable. Since then they struggle to do alot of prolonged activities because of chronic pain and less stamina. They hate being looked down upon and it was a large problem in the beginning of them and David’s relationship because he kept on belittling them and trying to do things for them because they’re disabled. This led to a large fight when David was constantly forcing them to stop doing chores and generally anything physical which led to them breaking down because they felt trapped.

They’re trying but it’s hard, both them and David are very reserved people just expressing that in different ways and they both struggle to make meaningful relationships. Aklaq lost their mom before they moved to California for college and simply couldn’t stand being in the same place where she used to be so they left. Their little brothers were old enough to live on their own but still felt hurt as Aklaq refused to talk about their mom and even acknowledge she died. When angel finally accepted that their mom was gone it was hard but at the very least David was their to be able to get that feeling. Their mom and Aklaq had a similar dynamic with David And Gabe, Aklaq being the oldest and being the one to take over the family farm, being raised by their mother alone because their father passed etc.

Aklaq is an older oc that I adapted into a listener and I find their personality along with David’s to be great together, even with the clashing because they are in similar situations and can lean on each other. I just love them pls

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist

someone's opening old wounds

warnings: mentions of misogynistic views against pregnant women, crude language, pretty chill overall.

wc: 5.3

There was a song Simon’s mother used to sing to him as a kid when he couldn’t sleep.

The words had gotten lost in his mind over the years, but the tune still stuck with him like it was imbued in his DNA. The notes were certainly intended to be sung by someone with a wider range than him, but the deep baritone of his humming still carried it well enough. A special kind of comforting somberness permeated the tune in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to convey to anyone. Not properly, anyway. It was the bittersweet nostalgia of his childhood, full of an inexplicable pain and grief, yet still brimming with longing. 

However, like most days, Simon didn’t have the necessary time to dwell on the past, no matter how much that tune haunted him. If he got distracted and overcooked the eggs again, he knew he’d be paying for it later at work when you’d eventually bombard him with text after text requesting that he bring you something actually palatable. Really, he didn’t mind doting on you, even if he had to secretly do it at work, and he knew Johnny didn’t mind being his errand boy. But being away from you, even for a short period of time, made his skin crawl, like he was only ever at ease when you were within sight. 

A part of him had always been that way; attached to you in some anxious and unhealthy way. It just grew more as your due date grew closer.

“You’re humming again.” 

Simon brought his attention away from cooking in order to glance over his shoulder at you. Countless months had passed since the day you found out you were pregnant, since the day you both got a first look at the life that grew inside of you. That little blip on the screen was completely unrecognizable compared to the near full grown baby boy that had your stomach swelling like a water balloon. He would come any day by that point, which only concerned Simon further that you still chose to go to work despite it. Though, he knew it was pointless to try and convince you otherwise.

“You’re awake,” Simon countered, refusing to acknowledge his less than melodic humming. 

“Hard not to be when your son is playing football with my bladder,” you chuckled. 

With a hand on your stomach, you slowly crept into the living room where you plopped on the couch. Any sort of movement completely exhausted you those days. Standing, sitting, walking; it had all become a chore after your front had suddenly become so much heavier than the rest of your body. The prospect of birthing your son was nice when you thought about not having to carry around that extra weight anymore, yet it was terrifying when you fully remembered you would actually have to have him. 

“We’ll sign him up for the little tykes when he’s old enough,” Simon humored as he turned the stove off. 

“Good,” you hummed, “he’s gotta burn off all this energy somehow.” 

With a plate in each hand, Simon sauntered off to the living room where he handed you your breakfast before sitting down next to you. Forks scraped against china as you both devoured your meals in the quiet stillness of the morning. The eggs went down easy, perfectly cooked just how you liked them, but once you got to the sausage and bacon, you took one sniff and nearly spewed. 

“Christ,” you muttered as you scraped them onto Simon’s plate. 

“Still?” he questioned. 

“I guess,” you replied sourly. 

In exchange, Simon gave you half of his remaining eggs, and only chuckled a little when you ate those like you were starved. Even though the room in your stomach grew smaller, your appetite only increased. Though you hoped otherwise, you knew it was just an omen for what your son would be like when he was older. If he would turn out anything like his dad, your fridge and pantry would be empty within days of going to the market. 

“You don’t have to keep comin’ into work,” Simon suddenly piped up. 

Smirking, you glanced at your husband before continuing to peck away at your breakfast. “Are you saying that because you think it’ll be good for me to get some bed rest, or because you’re tired of the way Sallow and the others keep looking at me in the halls?” 

“Both,” he deadpanned. 

“Ah.” A breathy sigh escaped you as you placed your empty plate on your lap and leaned back against the couch. If you stayed like that much longer, you were certain you’d melt into the cushions. “I’ve only got one more day. Just a few more things to sort out, and then I won’t have to see Sallow, or any of the others, for a long time. I think I can manage.” 

“Or they can get fucked and handle it without you,” he shrugged. 

“There’s that, too,” you chuckled. 

Once Simon finished his plate, he slipped yours out of your lap before quickly slinking back into the kitchen to wash them. With an overdramatic grunt, you pushed yourself up from the couch. Everything spun for a short moment before you steadied yourself and wandered into the kitchen behind Simon. Had your stomach not been as large and stretched as it was, you would have snuck up behind him to embrace him from his back. Instead, you opted to lean against the counter next to him. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you assured him. 

“Not nervous. Just preparing,” he excused. 

“Nervously preparing?” you teased. 

He gave you a look that forced you to pause, and your expression softened as he turned the water off. A gentle hand reached for his arm where you gave him a good squeeze to catch his attention once more. Brown eyes locked onto yours as his hands absentmindedly wandered to your stomach. Your son was always restless in the mornings, and the slight smile that pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips at his kicks was unmistakable. 

“We’ve done all we can for now,” you said as you rested your hands over his. “We’ve got the nursery set up, and we’ve got him clothes, diapers, bottles… All there’s left to do is wait. Besides, I don’t think either of us will ever fully be ready for something like this.” 

“I know,” he replied softly. “Just worried ‘bout you. You’re the one who has to do the hard work.” 

Chuckling, you gave his hands a small squeeze. “I’ll be alright. Promise.”

There wasn’t much time left that morning to dwell on the intimidating prospect of the near future, no matter how much you wished you could have stood in that kitchen forever. Instead, you had to shove your growing body into the uncomfortable maternity wear that your stomach seemed to grow out of weekly. A part of you was excited to give birth just so your clothes wouldn’t feel constricting any longer, yet of course there was the obvious obstacle of actually having your son. That realization hit you about twenty times a day, if not more.

Like you had told Simon earlier, there was no use in stressing over what would come anyway, and eventually you were too busy to even think about it at all. Despite your best efforts throughout the week, there were countless stacks of paperwork for you to sort through and file, and you were almost certain someone did this to you on purpose. Someone out there was certainly attempting to keep you chained there longer than you wanted to be, and you were half tempted to take Simon’s advice of fuck it and let them deal with it. 

When noon rolled around and your stomach started growling, you were approached by your guardian angel. Or, at least that’s what you started calling Johnny those days. Apparently he had learned about your pregnancy pretty early on, not that you really minded. Johnny proved time and time again that he was worth keeping around, as you weren’t quick to forget the days during Simon’s time as prisoner. You weren’t sure you would have survived long enough if it wasn’t for him, and that was a debt you were certain you wouldn’t be able to repay anytime soon. 

Once Johnny approached your desk, he looked down at you with a grin as he placed a takeout box in front of you, accompanied by the largest bottled water you had ever seen in your life. Its mouthwatering scent wafted over to you, and you wasted no time sliding the box closer to you with unapologetic hunger. 

“Got sent on another errand?” you teased. 

“Nah, I did this of my own volition this time,” Johnny smiled. 

Flipping open the takeout box, you were met with one of the most greasy meals you had ever laid your eyes on. Certainly not at all the healthiest thing for you to eat, but those days you craved anything high in calories. You were certain you could have the meal finished in a few minutes tops, and if you were lucky you wouldn’t even get heartburn afterwards. 

“Figured I’d get you a treat since it’s your last day and all,” Johnny admitted as you began to dig in. 

“You make it sound like you’re never going to see me again,” you joked. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have your hands plenty full,” he said as his eyes flickered to your stomach. 

“Not busy enough to where the little guy won’t be able to see his favorite uncle.” 

Johnny’s grin grew wider at your comment, if that was even possible. Though he had been rather quiet about his excitement for your child, it was still obvious. The way he never seemed afraid to dote on you, always helping you at work where Simon couldn’t afford to; really, he was the closest thing to family you were able to get, and there wasn’t a day that went by that you weren’t grateful for him. 

“Favorite?” he prompted as if urging you to go on about how great he was. 

“Well, of course. You’ll be his only uncle, so it’s not like there’s much competition,” you teased.

Johnny raised a hand up to his chest as if you had wounded him, which only got you to giggle. Shaking your head, you quickly shoved another bite of food into your mouth before chastising him. 

“Get back to work, MacTavish.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Really, there wasn’t much work for him to do that day. There never was. He wasn’t an officer, yet he still was higher rank than a majority of the soldiers that spent their workday there. More often than not, he would give Troopers busy work, help with training sessions, and on the very rare occasion, give lectures. 

He had a love-hate relationship with his rank. Most would call him an extrovert, which wasn’t exactly incorrect. He enjoyed his conversation and banter just as much as the next man did. It was easier to be a part of more laid back conversation with others when he wasn’t their direct superior. However, he was never allowed to deal out punishment how he saw fit, and that was more frustrating than anything else. People being able to get away with bad things, people being able to walk around freely without a care in the world.

And there were plenty of people who needed punishment. 

“Soap?” 

A majority of Johnny’s day had gone by in a blur, and though he probably could have snuck off base, he had decided to stick around to work on the Sudoku puzzle in that day's paper. That was, until Loughty decided to interrupt him. Though, he had to give credit where credit was due. He had been trying to get the man to call him by his nickname for ages rather than use that Sergeant MacTavish bullshit, and it seemed like all his prompting had finally gotten through that thick skull of his. 

Looking up from the puzzle, Johnny was quick to take in the man’s appearance. Loughty always dressed as if he was going to be inspected at any moment, and truly was a man who followed every rule like he would be shot on sight if not. No amount of sharp looks could hide the fact that there was an aura of pure anxiety that always seemed to exude from the guy. Perhaps that was why he was the rule follower that he was. 

“What is it?” he asked as he tapped his pencil against his thigh. 

The lump in Loughty’s throat was visible, and though he did his best to swallow it, the pure worry was evident on his face. Still, he steadied his hands and straightened his back before speaking. 

“I think Arlo might be getting himself into trouble,” he finally admitted. 

Unphased, Johnny had to hold himself back from laughing at the man as he tossed the newspaper onto the side table next to him. “When is he not?” 

“No, I mean real trouble,” Loughty insisted. “As in, I think this could get him discharged, or worse.” 

Somehow that didn’t surprise Johnny either. Despite Loughty’s apparent anxiety and a need to follow the rules, he had certainly made a friend that was the complete opposite of him. Still, despite his personal reservations about the man, Sallow was an annoyingly good soldier. Wicked smart, he passed every test with flying colors. His only downfall would be his own hubris. 

“What’s he done now?” Johnny asked. 

“We were assigned to sort away some paperwork in the archives. I think Sergeant Callaghan was just trying to get us out of his hair,” Loughty said, attempting some tone of humor. Once he realized that his words fell flat, his face hardened to something more serious. “He started going through bins that he shouldn’t, even though Callaghan told us to keep our hands off of anything but the Urzikstan archives. I guess the point is, while I was actually doing my job, he started going through the bins one by one until he came across some files marked with the location Salthouse and I guess found something about Mrs. Riley and-” 

“Where is he?” Johnny cut him off. 

Salthouse. Fucking Salthouse. Of course. Johnny could still recall the events of that day all too well. Everything they went through to save you. How they had to rush you off for medical after you had been shot. Then there was the utter torture that was healing. What had really haunted him the most was the pictures of you; the ones Simon had shredded. He was glad that those pictures were gone, because if Sallow had gotten his hands on them, had even gotten a glimpse of them, he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold himself back. 

“That’s the problem. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to talk to Mrs. Riley about it.”

Five o’clock was so close you could nearly taste it. Your entire day was spent working double time in order to get everything prepared for your leave, and the many times you had to use the restroom didn’t help expedite things either. The dying drone of your computer shutting down was like music to your ears, and as you stood from your desk you made sure to do a quick glance over it. Everything was tidy, neat and hidden away. All that was left to do was go home. 

Except it was never that easy, and really, you should have known better. That giddy smile on your face quickly vanished the moment your eyes landed on Arlo Sallow. The expression on his face was the same as it had been for the last few months as your pregnancy grew more noticeable. Some poorly hidden disdain, yet a sick humor, like he was in on a joke that you weren’t. 

Over your pregnancy, you had learned something terribly heart wrenching and frustrating about being a woman; you were less than human, and especially while pregnant. Your body had changed and spent so much energy to grow your son, and yet still you were seen as nothing but a trope. An annoyance. People looked at you as if you were a freak of nature. And of course you could not talk about how excited you were to have your son lest someone complain about how they could never have kids, but if you didn’t seem enthusiastic enough then you were a bad mother before your child was even born. The double standard of it all had a dull rage bubble in the back of your skull, and it was only worse when Arlo fucking Sallow of all people had the audacity to stare at you like that, too. 

“Mrs. Riley,” he greeted you with a suave he didn’t deserve to hold. 

“Sallow,” you replied, your voice less than enthusiastic. “If you have any more paperwork, I suggest handing it off to someone else. Unless you don’t want it to get filed for another year or so.” 

“Oh, I’m well aware of your maternity leave starting today, don’t worry,” he dismissed. “I just figured I’d stop by with the hopes you could answer a question for me.” 

It took everything in you to hold back the urge to roll your eyes. There was always something so infuriatingly proper about Sallow. How he would speak so kindly and yet his words were laced with such malice you nearly choked on them. 

“Shoot,” you said, already bored with whatever game he tried to play. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Salthouse?” 

Everything around you melted away at his words, asked so nonchalantly yet with insidious intent at the same time. Your skin ran cold, and you could feel your blood pressure skyrocket as you assessed him, trying to figure out how he could have found out about something like that. It had been ages since you had last even thought of Salthouse and everything that happened there. Why was Sallow of all people trying to dig that up? 

“What the hell are you getting at?” you questioned, your voice low but sharp. You were still in the office with plenty of prying eyes. You couldn’t afford to get emotional. 

“Well you see. MacTavish was going on a while ago about how you used to be some sort of intelligence agent once upon a time. Got yourself captured by Mark Sizov after helping to rescue Ghost, or whatever. But, you see, I came across some files in the archives that said differently,” he explained coolly. He quickly glanced over his shoulder as if to assess the room behind him before turning back to face you once more. “Apparently, you weren’t ever an intelligence agent, or anything of the sort. Just a regular civilian. I’m just curious as to why the Sergeant would lie about something like that.” 

Sallow’s admittance of hearing Johnny’s fabricated story didn’t come as a surprise to you. The man made sure to tell you as soon as he was able to, and explained he did it in order to throw him off of your and Simon’s tail. What did concern you though, was how he managed to get that new information. 

“If you’re so curious, you should probably bring it up with your CO. I don’t think I’m exactly at liberty to share classified information,” you said in an attempt to dissuade him from pushing any further. 

“I figured I’d give you the chance to answer me first, actually,” he replied. “The reports I read through mentioned some… interesting photos that didn’t seem to be present with the rest of the files. Seems like someone had tampered with evidence, which would certainly get them court martialed. Or worse.”

Oh. So that’s what this was. A threat. Or more accurately, an ultimatum. You weren’t quite sure who exactly got rid of those photos of you, but if you had to guess it was almost certainly Simon, and by the look in Sallow’s eyes, he probably deduced the same thing. What he was really trying to tell you was that you would either re-live everything that happened to you in Salthouse for whatever demented joy he would get out of it, or he would formally report Simon for tampering with classified evidence. 

“Would you not also get in trouble for sleuthing through files you shouldn’t have?” you countered. 

“I think we can both agree that one of these transgressions is certainly worse than the other,” Sallow shrugged. 

You hummed as if you actually considered his words, when really you wanted to rip him a new one. There was something so intrusive about everything he had said, and you were nearly proud of yourself for holding everything together. All it was, was another game. You were so sick and tired of playing games.

God, he really was just like Bukin. 

“What do you get out of this? Truly? Does it bring you some sort of sick joy to toy with people the way you do? Because I’ll be the first to say I think everyone’s getting a little tired of your pompous attitude,” you said, teeth grinding. 

“I don’t see it as toying as much as… putting people in their place,” he explained. 

“Oh?” you prompted. 

“It’s a good reminder that people shouldn’t get too comfortable. You obviously got too comfortable with a certain member of Task Force 141. Had you just realized you should have stayed the stupid civilian rather than some soldier’s bitch, you probably never would have found yourself in Salthouse in the first place, right? At least, that’s what it sounds like. And Ghost’s authority is a farce at best. He struts around the place like he owns everything, and everyone just gives into his bullshit as if they’re too scared to challenge him. If only they knew how he failed.” 

Your teeth gritted so hard you swore one was about to shatter, yet you attempted to calm yourself by glancing away from him and gathering your thoughts. You were so fucking tired of games. Of people trying to force you to be a player when all you wanted was to be left alone. 

“So you’re… running around like an angry child because you have a problem with authority?” you concluded. “Listen, Sallow, I don’t like you, and never did, but believe me when I say I’m doing you a favor right now. Drop this. Whatever crusade you’re trying to go on? You’re not ranked nearly high enough to get off scot free. I don’t think you want to see just how far Ghost’s authority stretches.” 

A heavy smirk crossed Sallow’s face as he leaned forward. You didn’t realize how close the two of you had gotten to one another during your argument until you smelled his breath. It was annoyingly minty, like he kept a pack of gum hidden somewhere in his uniform. 

“You don’t scare me,” he claimed. 

Tilting your head to the side, you slowly blinked at him. “That’s fine. The last man who wasn’t afraid of me is dead in an orchard. Bravery doesn’t save you from consequences.” 

“Sallow!” 

Johnny’s voice boomed like dynamite throughout the open office, and everyone’s head perked up in a single, strong wave. You had never seen him look so angry before with eyes brimming with fire and a glare so sharp you were surprised Sallow wasn’t keeled over dead on the ground. Not even in Salthouse did he harbor such fury, as most of his expression had been saturated with concern. But not that time. That time the only expression you could read off of him was the insatiable urge to throttle Arlo Sallow. 

The look of confusion that the other office workers wore quickly grew into concern the moment Johnny and Sallow started to get into it. Though you could have stayed and watched the show, an odd wave of exhaustion clung to your body. Your lovely conversation with Sallow had taken more out of you mentally and emotionally than you cared to admit, and your thoughts began to wander to slinking off back home where you could rot away in bed for the rest of the night. 

While the men were distracted with their arguing — which couldn’t seem to quite reach your ears — you slipped out of the office before exiting the building. The promise of rain loomed over your head as you began your trip home. Whatever old wounds Sallow attempted to open, the memories he tried to pry from the shadowy depths of your brain, you refused to let them take you again. 

Grounding yourself was easier than ever those days. Perhaps you had the months — no, years — of intensive therapy to thank for that. Or maybe it was just the bed. A mixture of fresh linen and the smell of Simon imbued in the bedsheets calmed your mind as you curled on your side and breathed the scent in. Your son began to stir with restless feet against nearly every major organ inside of your body, and even in the emptiness of the apartment you couldn’t help but laugh. Not even born yet and he was already so much like Simon; such a restless fighter. 

Simon arrived home earlier than he normally did. It didn’t take him very long to find you either, as your resting form wasn’t exactly inconspicuous underneath the comforter. His body weighed down your side of the bed as he sat next to you where his hand instinctively made its way to your stomach. His hand always seemed to end up there eventually. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, gently prompting you awake. 

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sighed while you adjusted yourself in order to better look up at him. A smile flitted across your lips as you took his hand in yours where you reveled in the touch of his skin with a hum. His clothes were damp, and you could hear the faint sound of water tapping against the window. 

“Right as rain,” you teased. 

But Simon didn’t smile. His worry for you was nothing if not obvious, and his eyes assessed you as if he feared your body had sustained physical wounds with your argument with Sallow. 

“Johnny told me about everything. Said you ran off before he was able to check on you,” he said. 

“I didn’t run off,” you chuckled. “It was past five, and I wanted to go home. I certainly don’t get paid enough to listen to Sallow spew out that bullshit.” 

Simon paused for a moment before tenderly asking, “What did he say to you?” 

A laugh nearly escaped your throat when you thought back to everything that transpired between the two of you. Instead, you gently sat up in bed before adjusting your pillows so that you could lean against the headboard. 

“He basically admitted to snooping through files he shouldn’t have. Found the archives about Salthouse, which I’d like to mention for the record, I didn’t know those existed until he brought it up. Either way, he basically made it seem like I was a meddling bitch for getting involved with you, and you’re just some power hungry officer and that both of us needed to be put in our place. He also insinuated that you had destroyed those pictures of me and that he’d try to get you court martialed for it.”

He paused. “I did destroy those pictures.”

“I figured as much,” you chuckled. “But really, I’m fine. It was more of a nuisance than anything else. When Johnny showed up I didn’t really care enough to stick around.” 

Simon’s thumb brushed against the wave of your knuckles as a gentle rumble of thunder reverberated overhead. Being on the top floor of the apartment complex was nice because you didn’t have to worry about the noise anyone would make above you, but it always meant the wind and storms hit twice as hard than usual. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Cunt shouldn’t have had access to the archives in the first place,” he muttered. 

“It’s fine. I won’t have to deal with him for a year or so anyway,” you said as you squeezed his hand. 

“You won’t have to deal with him ever,” Simon corrected. “His verbal altercation with Johnny became physical. Swung at him in front of the entire front office. Cunt will probably be dishonorably discharged by the end of the week if he’s not locked up first.” 

“Seriously?” you questioned. “Johnny’s not hurt, is he?”

“‘Course not.” 

Still, there was something terribly satisfying about that news. As far as you could remember, that was the first time someone had wronged you and they had received justice without you or anyone else you cared about getting hurt in the process. Well, terribly hurt anyway, but you were sure Johnny didn’t mind taking a punch or two for you. The terrible nuisance that was Arlo Sallow would finally be snuffed out. 

“Good,” you smiled. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Simon pressed again. 

Huffing, you playfully rolled your eyes. “Baby, I’m fine. Just tired. Worked my ass off filing the remainder of that bullshit paperwork.”

Your playful and lighthearted attitude seemed to finally convince him that you really were alright, and he stood from the bed with a sigh. As he stripped off his wet layers of clothing, he insisted that you lay back down for a nap before he slid into bed next to you, pulling your back close to his chest. 

Another wave of thunder rattled the room as you settled into the mattress, and as usual, Simon’s hand rested on your stomach. Your child rested with you, but only for a short while before he was right back at it again using your bladder as a trampoline. 

“Christ, kid, I just got comfortable,” you chuckled, though you made no attempt at getting out of bed. 

“Think he can feel the thunder?” Simon wondered. 

“Maybe. He’s probably trying to fight it off,” you joked. 

A small chuckle left Simon, and you could feel his grin form against the back of your neck. “Atta boy.” 

Soft pitter patters of rain drowned the silence of the room as the two of you laid there enjoying one another's presence. Even after everything that had happened that day, you felt remarkably fine. More than that, you felt great. You were free from work, at home with your husband, cuddling in bed without a care in the world. It was the domestic life you had always craved. The one your mother had always wished for you. 

“I’m taking my paternal leave early,” Simon suddenly admitted. 

You made a poor attempt at trying to look at Simon from over your shoulder, only to fail terribly and plop your head back on your pillow. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Best if I don’t stick around while Sallow gets investigated. Don’t really wanna leave you alone, either,” he explained. 

You would have been fine alone for another few weeks until your due date, and though you could have laid there and explained that to Simon, you knew it was pointless. He had become your shadow, never wanting to leave you alone, always sewed to your side. It wasn’t like you could pretend to fully enjoy your time if he wasn’t there with you, anyways.

“You’re not worried about anyone putting any pieces together?” you asked. 

He shrugged. “Don’t care about what they think. Just care about you.” 

Smirking, you snuggled back into his chest. “Are you gonna thank Sallow for giving you a good excuse to stay home?” 

Simon chuckled sourly behind you, his breath hot on your neck. His laugh was infectious, and you crooned as he squeezed you tight. 

“Never in a million fuckin’ years.”

[hihhasotherfixations]

John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw P2

Part 1

Here’s some more of my headcanons for this man. They’re a but all over the place, apologies. But enjoy :3

Sfw:

While he himself is not religious, he was brought up in a Christian family.

Speaking of his family, he unfortunately doesn’t have a very big one. He has a father he barely talks to and older sister. His mother passed away from cancer when he was still a lieutenant and because of it, when he got promoted to captain there was no one around - his sister was caught up and stuck with work. It was not a good time for him. Instead of celebrating his accomplishment, he was alone and stricken with memories and grief.

His dad was incredibly strict growing up and Price’s relationship with him is still very strained to this day because of it.

His late mother was very adamant on not swearing and while he tries to uphold that, he’s also been in the military for 19 years. And sometimes (very often) the danger or his men become too much. This has caused him to adopt swearing even though he tries so hard not to. One of his most used swear words however is ‘jesus- fuck’ as it’s become almost a habit to swear with jesus christ, though he always catches himself last moment and tries to divert from swearing with the religious man’s name and says fuck instead.

Price can’t ride a bike. And I don’t mean a motorcycle, he’s fine with those - really good even. But an actual bike? Man can’t do it. Do I say this purely because I find the thought/image of Price on a bicycle cursed? Yes, yes I do.

Price finds it hard to say ‘no’ to the 141 when it comes to small and inconsequential things. Due to this, there was a time where for over a month, the 141 walked into his office, asked him to doodle a cat and then left without a word. And yet he did so every time, confused but content enough whenever they waddled off with their doodle. What he didn’t expect, was to show up on Christmas morning to find a blanket strewn over the couch in the rec room - it’s print being littered with every small cat he had doodled. It is now one of his favourite things.

Not a headcanon but I wanted to let the world know: Price has a tiny birthmark on his nose and it is the most adorable thing in the world. (Thankfully I’m seeing more people bringing attention to it >:3) Because of it, if you repeatedly kiss his nose for that reason? To kiss the birthmark? He’s gonna get really flustered really quickly. Not much will bring this man to a stop mid order-giving, but that would shut him up real quick ;3

He does not like singing but you can often catch him humming when doing something such as cooking or cleaning. He doesn’t really realise he’s doing it so don’t point it out! Otherwise he’s gonna be conscious of it and you won’t hear it for a month or two.

Terrible at golf. Gaz once took him golfing cause he thought that’s something Price enjoyed/was good at. It in fact turned into Price getting frustrated and nearly obliterating the golfbal with how hard he hit it. He gave up after that.

This is more logistics that I keep for myself but Price was in the British army for 4 years before he moved to enlist in the SAS.

Loves, loves, loves playing with your hair if you let him. Sitting/cuddling on the couch? His fingers are touching it in some way. Kissing? His hand is keeping your head near his via the back of your neck and his thumb will be rubbing back and forth over the hair there.

Pretty sure 90% of people share this headcanon but good LORD his sneezes. They are loud and you can hear him from across the field. He then proceeds to shrug it off like they’re nothing.

Man has the sharpest and loudest finger whistle and 100% uses it on his men to get their attention. Both the 141 and the soldiers he reigns over as captain. It’s a noise ingrained into every single person who has served with him and will get them to shoot straight and pay attention instantly.

This is a little more niche. But this man sucks at almost every game except for survival games. FPS? Absolute shit, will get maybe one bullet to hit before dying. Horror? While he doesn’t jump at the jump scares, if he is being chased by a monster or a killer, you can almost guarantee he will die. But survival games?? Give him the forest (kinda) or Subnautica to play and this man will absolutely tear it up. You can leave him for an hour or two and when you come back he’ll have crafted a base and be halfway through the game.

This includes Minecraft. Kinda. Man is an absolute god at building, but do not send him into the mines. You will see a message pop up of him falling into lava or dying by mobs every 5 minutes.

Basically any game where he’s not in constant danger, he’s fine.

Avid peanut butter enjoyer.

If Price were to ever have children, he would try very hard to give them the childhood he never had. He would not deny those kids of anything. They want to go outside in the rain to play in the mud? Alright, let him get the raincoats, he’ll wash the dirty, muddy clothes later (he is 100% out there with his kids, splashing them or letting them push him into puddles).

In the same vein, he would try very hard to separate work and life. Sure he might need to get stern sometimes and tell the rambunctious rascals off, but he tries very hard to do so in his dad voice, not in his captain voice. It would still happen sometimes though and he’d feel absolutely awful. Especially if he makes his kids cry because of it.

One of his favourite songs is Escape by Rupert Holmes (The piña colada song). You can oftentimes hear it and songs like that softly playing in his office while he’s doing paperwork.

Not really a headcanon and don’t ask me why, but this donkey is giving me Price vibes: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJV6o5cB/

While he smokes cigars, he’s not at all a chain smoker. Usually saves them for moments where he feels he earns them (after a mission, completing paperwork he really didn’t want to do etc), high stress, or when he’s really craving one.

In a similar topic, he hates cigarettes. Tried one when he was younger, hated it and instead unfortunately took over the cigar habit from his father (when said man was home). Because of this however, he can’t stand to smoke with Laswell. She tries sometimes - cause while she’s trying to quit, it’s hard - but Price only allows it if she’s upwind from him, blowing her smoke away from him.

He stubs his toe SO often. Don’t get me wrong, when out on the field, every step is calculated and precise and you will never in your life see him slip up. It’s a different matter entirely when he’s on leave or just around base though. His body doesn’t need to be on edge 24/7 anymore. Which means that if you’ve served under him, you’ve heard him curse out a door for daring to stand open in the way it did. When he’s at home with you? Double so. He tends to walk around without shoes at home - logically so. Which means his poor toes meet cupboards, table/chair legs and doors a bit too often. He’ll swear less when at home tho, more… take-a-deep-breath-to-control-the-rage kind of reaction.

For the love of god, call him pretty. It’s just- it does something with him. He’s heard handsome, rugged, manly, weathered, etc. And don’t get me wrong, if you call him any of those? Pride bursts through his chest and he’ll make sure to repay you in kind. But if it’s just you and him on the couch, leaned into each other, the tv softly playing? Just a quiet moment? And you call him pretty? It heals something in him.

Has once overheard soldiers insulting/mocking his facial hair and definitely made them shit themselves when he appeared behind them with his full 6”2 (188cm) buffed up captain stance - arms crossed with the most vicious glare you can even imagine. Also definitely made them run until they dropped and then do it again or gave them toilet duty for a month. It also definitely wasn’t only one time he overheard someone.

He’s an absolute history buff. At one point he seriously considered to become a history teacher but at that point he was too far into his military career. He didn’t feel like he could leave his men. It also felt like he’d have wasted years of his life and going back to school wasn’t really on his ‘want to do’ list at that age. So instead he opted he’d be of better use to the world right where he was.

If you allow him to infodump however? He will absolutely tell you the most random facts. Disturbing ones too. He just wants to tell you cool facts, its a way of showing love :)

Quality time often consists of him sitting beside you while you do whatever. He’s either reading a book or doing a puzzle, if he can he will have one hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing it while his mind is elsewhere (its a bit hard when he does puzzles with one hand, but he makes it work)

In the vein of those puzzles, he absolutely LOVES them. If you come home with a newspaper saying “I got this for you!” and show him the not-yet-made puzzle, he will absolutely fall a little bit more in love with you every time. That’s his form of you coming home with roses for him.

Ridiculously good at crosswords. Very rarely has to look up an answer. He also tends to ask you out loud. Not per se to actually ask you though. It’s more of a way of thinking out loud. “What’s a six letter word for a cloud formation in space? …Nebula, thank you.” And then just moves on without you ever having said a word, not even realising he does it.

He always feels guilty when leaving you for long periods of time due to work. Tries very hard to make up for it, even if you assure him he doesn’t have to.

He does things while on missions that he is not proud of. He does not tell you any of the more inhumane things he’s done because he’s terrified it’ll change your perception of him.

These moments haunt his every moment however. Sleeping and awake. You are his only escape.

He is not proud of a lot of things. But the 141 is one of them.

Kyle is one of the most prominent ones. From when he found him in Piccadilly to the elite soldier he is today, Price is incredibly proud of who he’s become. Though he’s also very worried for the danger he’s put the younger man in by dragging him into this world.

Price also makes sure to look after Ghost. Strangely enough, he feels almost responsible for what happened to Ghost despite him having nothing to do with it. Because of it however, he feels very protective over the man and tries to treat him the best he can.

Soap is someone who he sees a lot of himself in. So he always tries to push the man to be better than he was. Price sees the potential Soap has in furthering his military career and if the moment came to it, he’d recommend the man for a promotion in a heartbeat. Soap is someone he always trusts in.

He has a lot of scars on his body from his years of service. If he feels you run your fingers over the scar and you ask him about them, he’s okay with telling you about how he got it. Even if he spares the details sometimes.

Lastly, if Laswell and her wife ever got a child, Price would 100% be the favourite uncle and regular babysitter whenever he’s off deployment.

That’s it for the regular headcanons again :3 Please respect the banner and onto depravity.

Nsfw:

Whenever he’s making out with you, he LOVES having a hand on your throat. Not to squeeze. Never to squeeze. He does not like the thought of choking you at all, brings bad memories. But he is addicted to the thrum of your heartbeat underneath his fingertips. The submission that comes with it as you let him hold a place so vulnerable while he attacks your lips.

Doesn’t have to be during sex either. You two can be cuddling on the couch and he’ll gently pull you in by your neck or throat and press his lips into yours. Or push you up against the wall by it when you greet him as he comes home. Just let him hold you and move you like that.

Fingerprint bruises. Oh my god he properly leaves them whenever you two are having an especially… passionate night.

Don’t get him wrong though! He’ll kiss the bruises and apologise after, even if seeing them sends a flutter down his spine. Loves walking up to you and slotting his fingers right over the marks, careful and appreciative as his hands fill up the spots.

Man loves biting and nipping any place of you he can reach. Have I mentioned how much he loves leaving his marks on you? Hickeys and imprints of his teeth e v e r y w h e r e. (Won’t go above the collar if you don’t want him to)

Depending on how okay you are with it, he’ll definitely bite hard. He’s holding you in a mating press, kissing you to hell and back and when his hips start to stutter, when that telltale spark begins to come up, he’ll divert to where your neck meets your shoulder and bite while fucking the last few strokes into you, muffling his groans and noises of pleasure into your skin.

He has once broken skin while doing it, he felt absolutely awful after it. Immediately after coming down from his high and realising what he did, he went to go get the med kit from the bathroom. Naked and sweaty, he waddled away and back, concern and guilt as he disinfected the wound and dressed it, pressing a million apologies to you.

While it is rare to get him to actually fully give the reins to you and be submissive, when he does, call him by his honorifics still. Praise him with them. “You’re doing so good for me, captain” , “Are you feeling good, sir?” Whisper things like that in his ear and he’ll be whining and desperate for you like never before.

Man has a raging breeding kink. Will absolutely fill you up as many times if he can. Just the sight of seeing his cum leaking out of you instantly gets him going for a second round. The possessive side of him comes out thanks to the thought of you walking around with a piece of him inside you.

I don’t know if I mentioned it in p1 of this but he’s an absolute aftercare KING. Literally won’t want you to do anything. He’s cleaning you up with a towel first and foremost, gentle and careful - especially if he was a little rougher that day. After that, if you’ll let him, he’ll run a bath or shower for you and gently wash you himself. Kisses, cuddles and clean sheets are all in his service.

[simonsomeriley]

könig w/ a shy reader 💘

könig wasn't naturally outgoing or extroverted by nature either, and he thought he was one of the most introverted people in existence, but when he met you, oh god

you barely enjoyed any outings, preferring to stay home and watch a movie or play some board games, sing karaoke or have a pillow fight in the comfort and safety of your own home

the times that you do go out though, you'll keep yourself sheathed behind königs arm, preferring that he do the talking

him initiating that you go out for dinner on date night some day, mentally preparing yourself for how many people and noises there were going to be outside

könig would order for you though, you'd decide what you wanted before the waiter came and he'd order the meal for the both of you

going home after date night was what you looked forward to the most, though always ending up sore the morning after...

he's usually the one to do the grocery shopping while you cook, having fun experimenting with the cooking books his mother gifted you for your anniversary

he's a big man!!! he'll eat up all the food you'll give him!!!! especially when you cook recipes from his childhood

neither of you are big on PDA, but he'll sneak in a reassuring kiss or a squeeze to your waist if he notices you're anxious in public

he def gets you a dog to keep you company while he's away (he'll train the dog to lay its head on your lap at the command "cuddle")

[lesbians4lottienat]

Growing Pains - II

Following Lottie’s promise, things are starting to look up. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t hard days as well, though.

fem!martinez!reader (she/her pronouns for reader, reader is referred to as travis & javi's sister and a girl at some point i think), mild hurt/comfort, mild jealous lottie? part 2 of 2 :3 hope u all enjoy!!

link to part 1 here :3

You weren't sure what to expect when Lottie told you she would prove she truly loved you, you weren't sure what to expect. Maybe some kind gestures here and there, a compliment every once in a while, before she eventually gave up and admitted she just said it to make you feel better. You weren’t expecting…whatever the hell she’d been doing lately.

She insisted you come everywhere with her. Whether it was to do chores or to hang out, she wanted you by her side. She obviously gave you some time away from her, but whenever you would reject her advances simply to spend time with someone else, like your brothers, she agreed with the saddest look on her face.

Once, she off-handedly called one of your excursions a date. You rolled your eyes at her, hating the butterflies in your stomach for fluttering at her choice of words. You really, really didn’t want to fall deeper in love with someone you were almost certain was just doing this to cheer you up.

Whenever you felt down about struggling to find ways to help, she immediately shut down your worries. She’d sing your praise to you, complimenting every little detail about yourself. You weren’t sure that having the cutest outfits and gorgeous hair was enough to keep everyone else satisfied with your ways of participation, but it was still nice to hear.

Speaking of your methods of helping the rest of the team, you’d found that you had the most luck when it came to helping others with their tasks. You could carry some extra firewood or help bring a second bucket of water back to your camp. You helped Coach Ben widdle his crutches and helped Misty gather plants to turn into makeshift medicine. Honestly, everyone but you were satisfied with how much you were helping.

Still, you groan, tears pricking your eyes as you try desperately to pull your shirt on yourself. Some days were harder than others. Some days, you wish that Travis never strained to pull your motionless body out of that tree. Some days, you wish that Misty had just put you out of your misery instead of amputating your arm. You can feel fleeting stares on you; everyone’s eyes are pained as you struggle to dress yourself. This happens every morning; you try to dress yourself, taking much longer than everyone else. Eventually, Lottie helps you pull your clothes on when everyone else files out to start working (really, they know how embarrassed you are that you can’t do this yourself. They’re doing you a favor by not watching you any more than they have to.)

It had all been building up lately. How everyone treated you like you were fragile, and how you felt that no matter what you did, you’d never be able to help enough. You hated this. Hated how weak you were. Lottie approaches, going to grab your pile of clothing to help you. You sniffle harder. Everyone files out, as per usual. She helps you dress silently, and you rush off before she can invite you to help her with more chores.

–

You spend most of the day glued to Javi’s side. You help him with his daily chores, chatting absentmindedly about what you both miss the most about being in society. Petting dogs, taking showers with soap, and hugging your mother are among these things. He gets quiet after a while of you rambling about missing your mom’s cooking. You notice, frowning at your younger brother’s silence. He sighs glumly before returning to washing the clothes.

“Do you think anyone will find us?” he asks, dunking a sweater into the water and splashing himself. You feel bile rising in your throat. What should you do? Should you lie to him, like when you were kids and he asked if Mom and Dad still loved each other? Or should you tell the truth? For example, when he asked where babies came from?

(In hindsight, maybe you should’ve lied back then too.)

“I hope so,” you settle on after a long, awkward pause. Javi nods, muttering a simple, ‘Me too…’ before he resumes cleaning.

You sigh. As you two hike back to the cabin, you notice Javi scribbling on some paper.

“Where’d you get that from?” You ask, curious. His cheeks redden, and he hides it behind his back.

“Uhm…Shauna gave it to me,” he says carefully, “She’s using a journal to write down her feelings, and she said I should try it.”

You surprise him by smiling and ruffling his hair, causing a startled noise of surprise to leave his mouth.

“That’s a great idea! Do you think she’d let me use some paper, too?” you ask hopefully. He suddenly looks deep in thought.

“I’m not sure…she’s super protective of her journal, and- uh…well…”

Right. Your dominant arm had been…displaced, so to speak. Your face darkens, and Javi looks ready to apologize, but you simply shake your head.

“No worries, Jav. ‘s fine,” you mumble, clearly anything but fine. He frowns, and you both walk back in silence. Later, after you hang the clothing to dry, he wanders up to you and shifts awkwardly between his feet. You smile softly, opening your arms, knowing what your baby brother wants. You pull him into a hug, and he reciprocates almost immediately. If not for his hesitation about where to put his arms so as not to hurt your healing wound, you’d think it was a typical day back home in Wiskayok.

You hug him a little tighter at the thought. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

–

Travis and Nat return with many small animals, such as squirrels, birds, and a rabbit. You aren’t a big fan of butchering the animals, but you think leaving the job to Shauna alone is unfair. And so, you spend the rest of the night cramped by her side, transferring the inedible parts of the carcasses into the discard pile while Shauna gets to work. It's the least you can do, and she doesn’t seem to mind your company, so it’s a win-win. You usually work in silence; Shauna occasionally breaks it by telling you where to put something.

“Uh, Shauna,” you start, and she looks up at you curiously. You feel a little stupid for this, but think it is a necessary evil. “Thanks for, uh, letting Javi borrow some of your paper.”

Her face lights up, and she smiles at you. After your show of gratitude, she seems to loosen up, making more small conversation with you. Eventually, the two of you finish your task and bring the meat to Mari so she can cook it. You’re still laughing and joking with each other when you see Lottie out of the corner of your eye. She has a blank look, which worries you, but you decide to brush it off for now. Before retiring inside the cabin for the night, the team and you eat together. You sit by Javi and Travis, who Nat joins. You like Nat, you’ve decided. She’s much kinder than people give her credit for. Plus, you’re pretty sure she and Travis have some kind of thing going on; it’ll also be a new person to make fun of Travis with light-heartedly. That’s always a plus.

Lottie sits at the outskirts of the campfire, absentmindedly nibbling on her share of meat. You look at her with concern and tell Travis you’ll be right back. He wiggles his eyebrows at you when he realizes you’ll speak with Lottie, which earns him a smack in the back of his head.

You silently approach as she’s staring off into the distance. You take a seat next to her and whisper a simple, “Are you okay?”

She blinks, eyes wide and scared.

“Did you hear that?”

You didn't hear anything.

“Hear what?”

“Sounded like… never mind,” she mumbles, playing with her hands anxiously. You frown at this, about to ask a follow-up question. You don’t get the chance to, however.

“What were you and Shauna laughing about?” She asks, her tone painfully chipper at the mention of the other girl. You raise an eyebrow. Strange.

“Just about Javi. He’s a good kid. I wish we could cheer him up a bit,” you trail off. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she says far too quickly, and the scowl that’s formed on her face comes to your attention—even stranger. You always thought she and Shauna got along fine. You go to stand and take your leave, but she grabs your arm hastily. There’s this quiet, intense look in her eyes, and it sort of frightens you. You swallow nervously under her gaze.

“Tomorrow morning, I want to show you something,” she declares. You nod, utterly confused. She smiles up at you, the intense, dark look in her eyes gone. You feel the sensation of whiplash without ever having moved.

–

When Lottie said tomorrow morning, you weren’t expecting her to mean dawn. The sun, just barely rising, was your only light as she guided you through the thick foliage of the forest. She had helped you dress quickly, eager to show you whatever she was planning.

You nearly trip over roots often, it being far too dark for your liking. Honestly, you’re not sure how Lottie is seeing all this stuff in time to catch you and avoid tripping herself. Strangely enough, it’s like she knows these woods like the back of her hand.

You hike for what feels like hours to your sleep-deprived brain. When you finally reach your destination, it’s slightly lighter out. You’ve arrived at the lake. Confused, you look over at Lottie, who’s smiling contently.

“...why are we here?”

She looks over at you, deep brown eyes filled with something you can’t quite place. Then, she starts taking off her clothes. You feel your face heat up exponentially, and you turn away. A confused yelp leaves your mouth, causing her to laugh.

“We’re enjoying the sun!”

You blink.

“Lottie. The sun isn’t out yet.”

She rolls her eyes, moving closer to you. She begins tugging at your shirt, and you let her, although your face burns with embarrassment.

“I know that. I just wanted to hang out with you,” she says. “We can go back before it gets dark again, but you’ve been helping everyone with so much. You deserve a break.”

She places your clothes on the ground, plopping down on her own. You stand awkwardly as she pats the place beside her. You sit.

“Won’t the others be worried about where we went?”

“I borrowed some paper from Javi; I told him I wanted to do something nice for you, so he let me have some. Then, I wrote a note for everybody.”

–

The two of you spend the day at the lake. She splashes your unharmed side with water, and you splash her back. You talk about everything that's been going on lately and how you miss regular life. You both know you’ve been adjusting rather well; it’s just been difficult to accept that this may be the rest of your lives.

You sigh, leaning against her shoulder as the two of you cloudgaze. After a long dip in the conversation, she calls your name. You hum in response, resting your eyes in the meantime.

“I have something to tell you.”

You open your eyes to look at her. She’s looking away, however, suddenly extremely interested in the plants lining the shore.

“What’s up, Lott?”

“I…I love you,” she settles on, and you want to laugh.

“Yes, Lott, I know you’re trying very hard to prove that to me-”

“No,” she interrupts, “I love you. And you love me too, I think. Right?”

“...yes?” you mutter, confused at her sudden nervous demeanor.

“I…I’m not…right. In the head,” she says, and your confusion grows. “The doctors say it’s schizophrenia…I, uh, I didn’t say I love you back before because, uhm..they said I wasn’t built for relationships. Said I’d just end up hurting you.”

You blink a few times. She must take this as a bad reaction, as she apologizes profusely. You stop her, cupping her face. She’s crying now, tears of fear and embarrassment leaking from her eyes.

“Lottie, it’s- it’s okay,” you say, wiping her tears with your hands. You lean in an press a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m not mad.”

She sniffles and looks at you in pure disbelief.

“You…you’re not mad?”

You shake your head. She lunges forward at that moment, pressing her lips against your own. You nearly fall over, but you’re so happy to be kissing her again, to be near her again, to understand why she left, that you can’t find it in yourself to care. You love her. And she’s finally proven to you that she loves you, too.

You spend some time like this, cuddled up on the beach, kissing, laughing, and crying with one another. It’s wonderful. You’d missed this—the sensation she’d always brought to you: pure bliss.

You walk back to the cabin hand in hand. Coach Ben gives you both an earful about neglecting your responsibilities and leaving without telling anyone, but you’re far too elated to care.

For the first time in what feels like years, you genuinely smile. It was okay. The situation may have been awful initially, but it would be okay. Lottie was there with you. And she wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

–

[yunarim]

Can I please request headcanons for the Scarabia boys, Leona, Idia, Rook and Vil finding out that the reader is fluent in their mother tongue (for example: Arabic for Kalim and Jamil, Swahili for Leona, Greek for Idia, French ofc for Rook and German for Vil)?

It lowkey would be funny if they found out by hearing the reader curse

── ⋅⋅⋅ ATTENTION PLEASE | reader who is fluent in boys’ native languages

➷ gn reader, cultural references in some parts, reader is aware of the original fairytale in vil's part, slight cursing in vil's part ⤹ kalim al-asim, jamil viper, leona kingscholar, idia shroud, rook hunt, vil schoenheit

You’re hanging out with KALIM AL-ASIM in the Light Music Club room watching him humming something while you’re helping him arrange stuff. Lilia and Cater are just about to arrive when Kalim starts singing a bit louder and you turn to him, smiling brightly. He has a nice voice, you wonder why the Club never performs on stage with songs. 

“Do you know the song that was popular like, hundreds of years ago? They say it was created when Sorcerer of the Sands existed!!”

“Oh?” You don’t stop polishing his drumsticks. “I don’t think so, given my transmigration. Another world, remember?”

“Ah, right~” Kalim replies playfully. “But it never hurts to try once, don’t you think?” 

“Hey,” you let out a little laugh. “You’re a musician here, not me.”

“Come on, just try! I bet you would do great! Listen, try repeating after me! When the wind’s from the east and the sun’s from the west…”

Kalim surely makes the song sound so beautifully and easy to sing but you find yourself struggling memorizing the lyrics, and let out a small sigh.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay!! It’s actually easy!”

“The one whose hand is in fire is not like the one whose hand is in water…”

You want to try singing again but see Kalim’s dumbfounded facial expression and ask him what’s wrong. When you realize you just let a popular saying in your native language slip out of your tongue, you just say a weak ‘oh’ and apologize. 

“Sorry, let me translate it real quick…”

“No need,” Kalim replies and you realize that even the sound of his voice has changed. 

“Wait…” You say, pointing at him, your smile widens instantly. “You speak Arabic?”

“I didn’t expect you to know Arabic too!” Kalim can’t help but suddenly throw himself on you with hugs. “You’re amazing!”

“As well as you are!”

When Lilia and Cater finally arrive, they can’t even get what is happening at the moment. You almost agree that now you would speak Arabic only like in a way of ciphering things but then you realize that Jamil and apparently half of Scarabia students can speak Arabic so it’s not very confidential but at least you two can gossip playfully around Lilia and Cater from now on. 

➤ اللي ايده في المية مش زي اللي ايده في النار -  Easier said than done.

“What are we cooking today?" You ask JAMIL VIPER, washing your hands and tying the straps of the apron behind your back.

“Nothing complicated,” he says, taking eggs in one hand and vegetable oil in another. He then brings beans that he apparently soaked in water overnight, and starts boiling. “I could apologize for calling you out so early in the morning but you asked this yourself…”

“Sorry for seeing you online so early in the morning,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

Cooking with Jamil was always fun. The dishes he cooked reminded you of ones you were extremely familiar with back in your world. 

“Please would you prepare the bread? You need to place the bread cubes in— hey, are you perhaps following your intuition or something? I never told you the recipe.”

“Huh?” You turn to him when you put bread cubes into the boiling beans water and remove it immediately. “A-ah, right, sorry! I just… the ingredients choice reminded me of Bagila bil Dihin… I miss eating it while living in Ramshackle without any money to buy the ingredients, sadly… Oh, sorry, what was I saying? Tell me about the recipe, please.”

Jamil’s usual collected facade seems to shatter for a moment before you rush to him when onions start turning caramelized. 

“Sorry,” you repeat. “It just happened naturally…”

“Didn’t know you can cook Bagila bil Dihin.”

“Haah?!” Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “I didn’t know you could speak Arabic!” 

“You could have guessed with how many dishes we already cooked together.”

“Yeah maybe I could… But I couldn’t have guessed Arabic exists in Twisted Wonderland!”

“Well, you know now,” Jamil seems more relaxed around you as if he showed you a little bit more of the true side of himself. “Now, would you chop parsley? We can eat together before Kalim wakes up, if you will.”

“Sure!” You reply with a soft chuckle, feeling more energized. 

Jamil lets you try the dish first and suggests keeping it secret from Kalim for some time when he sees your smile. Would you let him fool around just a little? 

“I don’t get your logic,” you say to LEONA KINGSCHOLAR who’s lying on your lap when you’re doing your homework. 

“I don’t get yours either, herbivore,” he yawned, closing his eyes. “You’re being too much of a perfectionist. Just go with the flow or something.”

You sigh, staring at your copybook absentmindedly. A comfortable warmth radiating from Leona’s body was lulling you to sleep but you had exams coming up.

“No, because how the hell does ancient magic even work here? I see spells are needed to be casted in some sort of a Latin equivalent with proper pronunciation. But then there’s a language I don’t know. Also can you cast ancient magic in your native language? Will it be the exact same spell or another one? Arghh…”

“First, calm down. Second, it is Latin.”

“Our worlds seem to be not so different after all,” you shrug. “Actually, demonstrate one harmless ancient spell to me. I won’t ask any questions if you do.”

“Ha!” Leona laughs, adjusting himself on your lap to get into a more comfortable position since you’ve started fidgeting in excitement. “Harmless, you say. The only harmless magic I can cast is to shut you up.”

“I don’t care, cast it.”

“Just stop asking stupid questions and let me sleep already, herbivore.”

Leona smirks proudly, guessing you went under impression and finally shutted up. But the next second he was proved drastically wrong. 

“You know, if that’s the real ancient magic, then I can cast it too. Say, did it work? I believe it did.”

Leona opens his eyes instantly, bright emeralds of his glare aimed at you. You chuckle, resting your hand on top of his head, letting your fingers play with his silky hair.

“I thought we’re over with secrets, herbivore. And now you speak Swahili?”

“Who knows what else I’ve got in my sleeve. Now cast something real already!”

“Don’t wanna,” Leona yawns again. “But keep on trying, maybe even you can cast something. Aloud.”

“If you want to hear me speaking Swahili, then just say so!.. And he’s asleep.”

You’re playing a new detective adventure video game IDIA SHROUD just got. Even if Board Game Club basically is for board games only as it stated in the name, somehow nor Idia and Azul were against of playing a detective adventure PC game Idia just got… somewhere. 

“Hey,” you point at the game when an intro music starts playing. “It looks like it's from the Paleozoic era.”

“I have to agree,” Azul nods. “Looks quite interesting though.”

“Never thought you play for graphics only. What a drama… Wanna get kicked out of the Club?” Idia said quite dramatically when you roll your eyes.

The name says “Nancy Drxw”. You almost get deep into your thoughts when Idia starts playing and you see a kind of familiar gameplay system and setting. 

You get actually excited when the first 30 minutes pass. Mythology-based game turns out to be quite witty with its riddles and puzzles and while Idia is being a personification of an internet walkthrough and Azul hissing at him for dragging the spotlight on himself, you think the setting is extremely familiar to you.

“Let me handle this,” you say when you see a puzzle with 5 different names, tokens and letters of the Greek alphabet. 

You didn’t even know Greek existed here! 

“Ha! Even if I recognized you’re not a normie, there’s no way you can handle this,” Idia says, letting you try nevertheless.

“Ha, just look at him. It’s obvious that the playwright goes to Euripides and as for the token… theatre mask for sure, no doubt.”

Azul sitting at your left lets out a small ‘huh?’ unlike Idia who goes all broken, error 404 imprinting on his face at the moment.

“Excuse me—” Azul tries to ask you what was that just now but Idia interrupts him.

“Hey, move Sigma E to the center and the Mask to the inner red point!” 

You get excited as Idia leans a bit closer to you to show where to put certain elements on the screen and you don’t even get what’s wrong with Azul's expression when he finally breaks your idyll.

“What are you two even saying?”

“Ah, right.” You say, turning to Idia who seems just as confused as you. “How the hell do you know Greek?”

“I literally live in Hell—”

“Oh,” you say. “Right. The keeper of the Underworld and stuff. My bad.”

“One more intended pun and I’m not letting you solve the puzzles.”

“Drop your cipher, would you be oh so kind?” Azul sighs. 

“Nope!”

The first time you hear ROOK HUNT saying random things in French makes you think he knows some words and does it for aesthetic purposes or something. 

You watch a theatre play on your phone which was airing yesterday but you’ve been preoccupied with too many things already so the only way to watch it was today, sitting during a little break under the tree in the school yard. 

You heard Epel nagging about this particular play because somehow it turned out that Vil wants the next project for Film Research Club to be inspired by this play. What does it have to do with you? Well, figuring out the right mood and being a shoulder to cry on because the amount of French was overwhelming and—

And hey, you’ve got to watch something in your native language for the first time in what felt like a year already!

You surely don’t hear Rook approach you until he bends over you and says. 

“What a wonderful afternoon, dear Trickster!” You switch your gaze to him for a few seconds to give him a nod and smile in a greeting way. “ I see you’ve been watching quite a masterpiece, have you not?”

“Yeah, Epel asked me to watch but it’s pretty interesting. Want to join? Though I assume you already saw it.”

“Right you are,” he says but sits beside you nevertheless. “Do you need some help with translations? There are quite a lot of incredibly charming French lines!”

You chuckle softly and turn to him.

“Really? What are your favorites? I can actually see you performing the main lead role on stage.”

You haven’t seen Rook reacting to Vil for the first time in his life, but if you have, you could have sworn that you exceeded all the expectations. Heart-eyed Rook grabs your hands in excitement and declares his everlasting appreciation of how French sounds from you. 

“Alright alright, no need to exaggerate,” you giggle. “I must say I’m impressed too.”

Epel next day: is impressed, too. But more terrified because now he’s got two friends speaking alien language and ending up never translating it to him. 

VIL SCHOENHEIT asked you to help him out during Film Research Club activities. After doing some cleaning, you’re preparing decorations for the next scene.

Still holding a broom, you take a closer look at the stage and the decorations you need to arrange and how other students are adjusting the light. Wooden furniture, dust particles flying all around and glowing under soft sun rays penetrating from the old window; piles of utensils on the table. 

You giggle, making your way towards the centre, and use your broom. Somehow it reminds you of one particular scene from the Snow White movie, and you start singing softly when no one sees you. 

It’s not like anyone can speak your native language, so you don’t really care when you’re basically citing Snow White and whirl around, enjoying your little Dxney main character moment. 

Vil enters the room and wants to call for you but the closer he gets to the stage, the clearer he hears what you are saying exactly. He observes you for some good two-three minutes without you noticing him at all, and chuckles.

How peculiar.

“It won’t take long when there’s a song to help you set the pace,” you still sing, your body moves on its own. “And as you sweep the room, imagine that the broom…”

“Is someone that you love, and soon,” Vil interrupts you and you drop your broom that instant. 

“Ah shit, I got carried away,” you say, slapping yourself on the forehead and hear Vil sighing softly. 

“Language,” Vil says glaring at you with a hint of upcoming scolding, but he joins you on stage instead. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Your singing is quite decent, in fact. Never knew you could speak German, though, you never fail to impress me, hm?”

“Same here. In any case..!” You throw a quick anticipating glance at him and smile when he waves his hand and continues for you.

“You’ll find you’re dancing to the tune… Want to play this role? You would fit with how beautifully you speak.”

“Never expected you to say that to me.”

“Literally can someone translate what they’re saying?!” Epel, who was watching them from the very beginning, asked other students who were standing in the auditorium. “I can’t understand alien language, sorry.”

“Will be our little secret then.” Vil says to you before letting a little chuckle escape his tinted lips.

[whereforarthur]

Wedding Day Bliss~

Request: I had this idea if a wedding day. Like the whole wedding day leading up to the end of the night. Like the saying their vows and it being really emotional and George tearing up when she is walking down the aisle and the reception and all their friends and family watching them be so in love. Also their first dance as husband and wife I think would be so cute then sharing kisses and just being in their own bubble with George’s friends making speeches.

Pairing: George Clarkey x reader

Rating: PG-13

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

*****

"The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly who you are: good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with." —Juno

"You okay, mate?" Arthur's voice cut through the early morning chill as George stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hand hovered over the shaving cream, his eyes bloodshot from last night's festivities.

"Yeah, just trying to remember what year it is," George joked, rubbing his hand over his unshaven face. The wedding was in a few hours, and the nerves were starting to set in. He had never felt so alive, so ready to embark on a new chapter with the love of his life. Yet, the gravity of the promise he was about to make weighed on him like the hangover he was pretending not to have.

The house was buzzing with activity, the air thick with excitement and anticipation. The smell of fresh flowers wafted in from the open windows, mingling with the faint scent of his mother's famous breakfast spread. He could hear the distant chatter of the bridesmaids, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of champagne flutes as they toasted to the soon-to-be newlyweds. George took a deep breath and turned to face the day ahead.

When she reached him, George's hand trembled slightly as he took hers. The priest's words were a gentle hum in the background as they exchanged vows, their eyes never leaving each other's.

"Y/N," George began, his voice clear and steady despite the tumult of emotions churning within him. "Thank you for loving me, for understanding me, and for putting up with my friends. They're a wild bunch, but they're mine, and you've welcomed them into your heart without question." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the countless nights spent cleaning up after their drunken escapades. "I promise to stand by you, to cherish you, and to laugh with you, even when they're singing off-key karaoke at three in the morning."

Each word felt like a promise etched into their very souls, a declaration that no matter what life threw at them, they would face it together. And as he slipped the ring onto her finger, he knew that he had made the right choice.

The congregation chuckled softly, and George felt a warmth spread through him. He took a deep breath and continued, "I vow to support you in your dreams, even if it means watching every cooking show on Netflix with you." He winked, remembering her passion for culinary mastery, which often resulted in kitchen disasters that only she found amusing. "To be your partner, your confidant, and your rock, as you are mine."

"And now," the priest announced, turning to Y/N, "it is your turn to speak your vows." She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around George's. Her voice was steady and sure as she began, "George, my love, from the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Your kindness, your humor, your unwavering loyalty—these are the traits that have made me fall in love with you over and over again."

The room grew still, captivated by her every word. "I promise to be your home, a place where you can always find comfort and peace. I vow to stand by your side, through every challenge and every victory, holding your hand through it all. I will laugh with you, cry with you, and maybe even dance with you when you're feeling particularly courageous."

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, and George felt his cheeks warm at the thought of their many dance floor disasters. She went on, "I will cherish every moment we share, from the mundane to the magnificent, because each one is a gift that I never knew I needed until you gave it to me. I will love you fiercely, George, because you have shown me what it means to truly be loved."

The room was silent as the gravity of her words settled over the guests. The emotion in her voice was palpable, and George felt his heart swell with love for this incredible woman. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life making her as happy as she made him.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced, breaking the spell. George leaned in, his heart racing, and kissed her softly. It was a kiss that spoke of their future together, a gentle promise of love and protection. The congregation erupted in applause and cheers, and the organist began to play the wedding march.

They walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, smiling at their friends and family. The warmth of their union seemed to radiate outwards, wrapping everyone in a blanket of joy. The light from the stained glass windows painted them in a rainbow of colors, as if the very walls of the church were celebrating with them.

*****

The reception was held in the manor's lush gardens, under a grand marquee that had been set up especially for the occasion. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and the sound of laughter. The guests were already mingling, eager to congratulate the newlyweds. As they stepped outside, George and Y/N were greeted by a shower of confetti, thrown by their exuberant friends and relatives. It was like stepping into a whirlwind of love and good wishes.

Throughout the evening, George couldn't help but steal glances at his bride, her smile never fading, her eyes always sparkling. They danced, they talked, they laughed, and with every shared moment, he felt his heart swell with love. The speeches from his friends were equal parts embarrassing and endearing, each one reminding him of the incredible journey that had led them here.

But it was Arthur's speech that truly stole the show. He took the microphone with a grin that was a mix of mischief and affection, his eyes twinkling as he began to recount their escapades from over the years. The room grew quieter, anticipating the tales that were about to unfold.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Arthur started, his voice carrying over the clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of conversation. "I stand before you today, not just as George's best man, but as his confidant, his wingman, and occasionally his designated driver." The crowd chuckled, setting the tone for the heartfelt roast that was to come.

"Now, I've known George for what feels like an eternity," Arthur continued, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "We've been through it all—the good, the bad, and the questionably legal. And through it all, he's remained the same lovable, slightly disaster-prone man we all know and love."

The crowd chuckled, and George felt a warmth spread through him as Arthur winked at him. "But today, we're not just celebrating George and Y/N's love story," he said, his tone growing serious. "We're also saying goodbye to the bachelor days, the nights out that ended with pizza on the floor and George's head in the toilet." A collective groan echoed through the room, followed by laughter. "And Y/N, let me just say, you're a brave soul for taking him on. You're not just gaining a husband; you're inheriting a lifetime subscription to 'What the hell was I thinking?' magazine."

Arthur raised his glass, and the room fell silent. "But in all seriousness, George, I couldn't be happier for you. You've found someone who not only puts up with your terrible taste in music and your obsession with superheroes but also makes you a better man. And Y/N, you're not just stealing him from us; you're giving us back a George we haven't seen in a long time—one who's more at peace, more content, and dare I say it, more responsible."

The room erupted in laughter, and George couldn't help but feel a twinge of truth in Arthur's words. Y/N had indeed changed him for the better, bringing order to the chaos that was his life and filling his days with a warmth he hadn't realized he was missing. He looked over at her, her cheeks flushed with a blush that made her look even more radiant, and knew that every second of this new journey with her would be worth it.

As Arthur wrapped up his speech, the DJ took over. The air was electric with joy, and George found himself drawn to Y/N, ready for their first dance as husband and wife. The first dance was a slow, sweet melody that had been playing on the radio the first time they had kissed. As George held her in his arms, their bodies moving in perfect sync, he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for choosing me." Her eyes searched his, filled with a love so deep it seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. "I've always chosen you," she murmured back, her voice filled with a gentle certainty that washed over him like a warm summer rain.

*****

The evening passed in a blur of shared glances, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The air was electric with love and happiness, and every moment felt like a precious memory in the making. As the night grew darker, the stars began to twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, echoing the sparkle in their eyes.

Their friends and family watched with smiles, some with misty eyes, as the couple moved in perfect harmony. The lyrics of the song spoke of a love that had withstood the test of time, a promise of forever, and George felt it resonate deep within him. He whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, her cheek pressed against his chest, and she giggled, her happiness infectious.

He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was to have her, to call her his wife. Every few seconds, he'd lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips—any part of her he could reach without breaking the rhythm of their dance. Her eyes would flutter closed with each touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and he knew she felt the same overwhelming love that he did.

A silent conversation of love and adoration that didn't need words to convey the depth of their feelings. The music swelled around them, a cocoon of sound that blocked out the world and left only the two of them, spinning and swaying to the beat of their hearts. The warmth of her body against his was a reassurance that she was real, that this wasn't just some beautiful dream he would wake up from.

From the sidelines, George's friends couldn't help but tease him. They had never seen him so lost in a moment, so utterly consumed by happiness. "Look at him," Chris murmured to Arthur Hill, his own partner in crime at past escapades. "He's gone soft."

Arthur Hill chuckled, raising his glass. "It's about time," he said, a hint of sentimentality in his voice. "He's been chasing that love bug for years. It's good to see him finally catch it."

Their banter grew louder, a playful jab here and there, but the affection behind their words was unmistakable. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when George Clarkey would be this whipped," Arthur quipped, earning a playful glare from George.

Chris, Max, Arthur, and Arthur Hill had been the life of the party, charming the guests with their wit and camaraderie. They had been an integral part of George's life for years, and seeing them interact with Y/N and her friends was a delightful reminder of how intertwined their worlds had become. Their banter was light-hearted, their laughter infectious, and their love for the couple palpable.

As the night grew later and the music grew softer, the four friends—now bonded by more than just friendship—gathered around George and Y/N, raising their glasses in a toast. "To new beginnings," Arthur said, his voice a blend of joviality and sincerity. "May your love be as wild and unpredictable as our adventures, yet as steadfast as the foundation of this ancient city we call home."

Chris leaned in, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And may you never run out of patience for each other," he added with a knowing smile, "because with us around, you're going to need it." The group erupted in laughter, the tension of the day giving way to the easy camaraderie that had carried them through so much.

"To Y/N," Max said, raising his glass higher, "for saving us from ever having to listen to George's dreadful dating stories again." The room buzzed with knowing chuckles, and George couldn't help but laugh along. The group's laughter grew as they reminisced about his infamous Hinge dates—stories of catfishing, awkward silences, and that one girl who had stood him up a record eight times.

Y/N leaned into George, her eyes shining with mirth. "But I'm the one who finally caught you," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress against his ear. "And I'm so happy I could be the one to save you from a life of swiping and ghosting."

Their friends' laughter grew, but George's gaze never left hers. "You didn't just save me," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You gave me a reason to stop looking." He placed a tender kiss on her cheek, the warmth of his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

As the music played on, George watched his wife dance with her father, her smile never fading, her eyes shimmering with happiness. The moment was so perfect it hurt. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and turned to see Arthur, a solemn look on his face. "You know, George," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you're the luckiest man here."

George nodded, the weight of Arthur's words sinking in. "I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd find someone who could handle all of this—me, us, the fans, the chaos. But she does. She's my sanity in a world gone mad."

*****

The night grew later, the music slower, and the room more intimate. The air was thick with the scent of happiness and the warmth of a love that had conquered all. As the final notes of their first dance played out, George leaned in to kiss his wife, the sweetness of their union echoing in the silence that followed. Their friends and family cheered, but the couple remained lost in their own little world, oblivious to the applause.

The reception wound down, and the photographer captured their love in a series of candid shots, the flashes of the camera a stark contrast to the soft glow of the candlelit room. They mingled with their guests, thanking them for their presence, sharing laughs, and receiving well-wishes that felt like warm embraces. Each moment was a treasure, a memory to hold onto forever.

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of dance, laughter, and love. Each moment with Y/N felt like a gift, a precious memory to be stored away and cherished for the rest of their lives. They shared dances with their parents, the joy in their faces reflecting the happiness of their children. They watched as their friends paired off, spinning and laughing, the music weaving a tapestry of memories that would bind them all together for years to come.

Y/N leaned into George, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me, for loving me, for saving me too."

George pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Saving you?" He cocked his head, a question in his eyes.

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. "From a life of questionable life choices and questionable haircuts," she teased, her thumb gently tracing the line of his freshly trimmed hair. "But mostly, from the loneliness that comes from not knowing your soulmate is out there waiting for you."

George's heart swelled with gratitude, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've done more than that," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You've made me whole, Y/N. You've given me a purpose, a reason to wake up every morning with a smile."

Their friends had cleared the dance floor, giving them space to continue their intimate moment. The soft glow of the fairy lights above them cast a warm, romantic hue over the two of them, as if the universe itself was bending to highlight their love. Y/N's hand found its way to his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "And you've done the same for me," she murmured. "You've shown me that love isn't just a word in a book or a scene in a movie. It's real, it's messy, and it's beautiful."

Her words hit him like a tidal wave, the depth of her feelings resonating through his very being. He leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her skin, the gentle beat of her heart. "I never knew I could love someone like this," he confessed, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the night. "But here we are, and I can't imagine a single day without you by my side."

*****

The moon had risen high in the sky by the time the party began to wind down. The guests slowly started to say their goodbyes, each one offering congratulations and well wishes for a long and happy life together. As the last of the cars pulled away, George and Y/N stood on the porch, hand in hand, watching the taillights fade into the distance. The cool evening breeze danced around them, carrying with it the promise of a future filled with love and adventure.

Turning to face him, Y/N looked up into George's eyes, her own sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Ready for our grand finale?" she asked, a playful smile playing on her lips.

George raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Grand finale?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, her smile growing wider. "The part where we finally get to be alone."

"Alone?" George echoed, feigning innocence. "What could possibly happen when we're alone?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something," she teased, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

The banter between them was light, a playful dance of words that had become a hallmark of their relationship. George's cheeks flushed slightly, the humor in his eyes betraying his excitement. "First time as husband and wife, you mean," he clarified with a grin, squeezing her hand.

"Ah, yes," Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you know what they say, practice makes perfect."

Without a moment's hesitation, George bent down, wrapping one arm under her knees and the other around her waist, and scooped her up into his arms. She squealed with delight, her gown fluttering around them as he spun her in a circle. "Let's get to it then, Mrs. Clarkey," he said, his grin growing wider with each passing second.

Her laughter was like music to his ears, a sweet symphony that had played on repeat in his mind since the moment they first met. "I can't wait," she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The night was still young, and the possibilities stretched out before them like a never-ending horizon.

Carrying her over the threshold, George felt his heart swell with a love so profound, it was almost painful. This was it—the start of their forever, a journey they would navigate together, hand in hand.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, the sound echoing through the now empty house. The quiet was a stark contrast to the buzz of the wedding, but it was a welcome one. The world outside could wait—this moment was theirs, and theirs alone.

[moongirldreamer]

Lighthouse keeper!Eddie x siren!reader

Happy Eddiversary to those who celebrate (this is so late lol)

words: 1k

cw: none i don't think.

a/n: besties this is my first ever fic please be nice to me I tried my best.

Thank you to my friend @theold-ultraviolence Irma i wouldn't have come up with this au or written any of it, if it wasn't for you and our Self Indulgence Sundays. Thank you for nudging me i love you <3

Lightkeeper!Eddie headcannons

August 17 1824

It's been a week since the mysterious lass appeared on my doorstep. Two more till the supply dingy visits, it's been strange, readapting to living with a person but we’ve fallen into a routine. I've found a smile on my face many a time as I'm working. Her voice carries on the wind, it's almost as if it’s blowing it directly to me. 

E.M.

Eddie hardly counted the sailors he’d met and slept next to people, not civilized people at least, forced to wash with salt water to preserve the limited supply of fresh water. He spent many a night with a makeshift mask over his face to hopefully block out the scent of sweat and the sea but when she arrived, he found he didn't mind it, almost like he missed it. 

The keeper's house contained 2 rooms as the tending was intended to be a 2-man job, he never realized how empty the small space was until she occupied it. Grown used to the loneliness the sea brings he forgot that the ocean also gives, and she had given him a beautiful gift. He tried to be the perfect housemate before he went off to his tending. He left coffee already brewed in a small metal pot for her to reheat when she woke, fetched a bucket of water for her from the cistern and left a note on the kitchen table : back at sunset. Will cook dinner- E

Morning work was easy enough; take inventory, rain fell last night meaning the cistern had to be woken up with chalk and a good mixing and then any odd maintenance works the buildings needed. He would always know when she was awake no matter how far he wandered from their quarters, her voice seemed to carry on the wind straight to him. Often time he found himself singing along, whistling is a bad omen on ships he remembers this even on land. He knew quite a few sea shanties, picked up a few local songs while he was on the mainland, but she often sings songs he's never heard before and sometimes he thinks in a language he can't understand.

At noon he returns to a simple meal tack and stew she so proudly displays to him half burnt and over salted, but he grins and eats it anyway. She told him in the first week with misty eyes

“I don't want to be a burden, let me….. Let me cook lunch at least you work so hard let me help you” lip trembling and how could he deny her.

“The poor thing” he thought “could make anything taste like salt water and gruel” but he eats anyway.

“Thank you darling, what would i do without you?"

“You're welcome" grinning she looks down at her plate before shyly muttering

"if you're not too busy, would you like to join me on a walk at sunset?"

"OfCourse, anything for you" he smirks leaving her with a kiss on her hairline.

Sunset at the lighthouse made it seem like the sky and sea were competing for your attention, seeing which could glimmer brighter, but Eddies attention was elsewhere. He was enchanted by how her beauty seemed to be enhanced in the golden light.

"Open your hand" she blinks up at him one her fists closed tightly. Wordlessly he gives her his palm and she places an oyster shell, no longer than his pinkie, in it

He grins "an oyster?"

"Yes, my mother told me they were a sign of good fortune"

"Huh I only know them as dinner"

She laughs, mouth opening to give him a clever word or two when she suddenly goes stiff looking over his shoulder. 

"What is it?" he spins to look at what could've possibly rattled her, and behind him on a boulder is a seagull, a bit unremarkable too no missing limbs or gnarled features.

So, he laughs” You're scared of that little thing?”

“Yes, they're retched beasts of the sky with no manners” she grips his bicep keeping him between her and the bird.

“Y’know on the ships they say they’re the souls of drowned sailors, so we treat them kindly just like our human shipmates” he laughs as she moves her glare from the gull over to him.

“I think they should be chum” she says, squinting at the bird, almost daring it to attack.

In a sudden move the gull swoops over their heads missing hers by a centimeter and continuing out to sea.

"Did you see that! that that monster nearly killed me"

"Maybe you need this more than i do" he dropped the oyster back into her palm

"What? no, no i want you to have it, besides you'll need it if you're going to try befriending those creatures"

He chuckled, the sound like warm honey in the cool sea breeze. "Alright, if you insist. But I promise, no more gull attacks on my watch."

Shakily she grabbed his arm again as they continued their walk down the shoreline.

"Do you ever miss it? sailing? "

"Hmm, sometimes" he sends a wistful look out at the water the sun spilling over it as the last of it slips below the horizon.

"it was my life, the only thing I was good at" he grins, but it's sad round the edges.

"but i needed the change, it was getting too repetitive"

"so you decided to tend a lighthouse? the same job day in day out" her eyebrows pull together eyes squinting in confusion

another smile this one woven with affection "well I'd travelled a while but i needed to return to the sea almost- almost as if something was"

"Was calling you back" her tone changes, her voice becomes layered whispers singing and screaming. her eyes gleam, a secret understanding.

"Yes like-like it was calling me" he steps towards her without thinking, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, eyes locked on hers until he feels wet? Looking down he realizes his boots are drenched, shin length in the waves his brows furrow.

"What are you doing?" asks melodic laugh behind him and he turns to see her, face lit up with the last of the afternoon glee and a smile.

"Think I wanted to go for a swim" the end lifts like a question, he looks back down to his feet barely visible in the water

"But it's getting dark, we should head back" again her voice changes and he moves without remembering, until they're back to their quarters and she bids him goodnight.

That night as he refills the oil and cleans the lense at the top of the lighthouse out in the distance on a cluster of rocks he sees a figure bathed in darkness. He can only make out a humanoid figure with their hair whipping in the cold sea air behind them. Leaning over the railing to squint into the darkness his blood runs cold as a wail crosses the distance, then a soft whisper, as if it was said over his shoulder, of his name.

"eddie"

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

what he deserves, chapter 5

Sanji x Reader, a bit of Law x Reader

Warnings: angst, one-night stand, not really a love triangle – law and reader are mature about the situation. Some implied smut. WANO SPOILERS. Trauma from child abuse.

a/n: this is the end! possible alt. ending if people want it.

Summary: Witnessing all the suffering Sanji went through on Whole Cake Island, all you want is for him to be truly happy…even if it means not with you. Set after the fight in Wano, you go through the motions of an endless fight and end up in bed with the Hearts Pirates’ Captain to distract yourself from the one thing you want the most – Sanji.

masterlist

“Do you really think Law and I make a nice couple!”

Shocked – Sanji just stared blankly at you, fish still in hand. He didn’t even know what to think or say, so he just smiled. He smiled so brilliantly; you knew if he answered yes, it would crush you into a million jagged pieces. Little jagged pieces that had no chance of ever being put back together – it would be better off to just throw them into a forgotten drawer, where you only ever look for lost things. The kitchen door bumped into your back as it closed and Sanji placed the fish into the freezer, closed it and covered up the barrel of fish. He walked over to the sink and washed off his hands, finally using a kitchen cloth to dry them; he turned to you, hand on the kitchen island.

“I think the two of you make sense – he’s definitely the serious type but I could see you two going for the long haul.”

Fuck you, that’s what you wanted to say but foul language directed at Sanji tasted wrong. Instead, holding your composure, you moved to the opposite side of the island and stared at him. He stared back but quickly withdrew and apologized. “For what?”

“The other night,” he said. “I was insensitive when you were pouring your heart out to me. You have to know I – I didn’t mean anything by it.”

By what? Even if what he had said about Pudding was true, why did he have to say it out loud? Why couldn’t he have kept it to himself? Because in your mind, he was going to marry her, and he did spend time with her – you knew about the cake they made together. How easily it would have been for Pudding to put aside her wicked ways and fall for Sanji. How could see not see the kindness in his eyes and smile? How could she not have fallen in love with him as you have? She’d be a damn fool.

You were a damn fool.

“You remind me of my father, Sanji.”

The statement earned a shameful expression from the cook because he knew how your father was from the stories you’ve recounted to him. During the late-night sessions sitting in the aquarium room; dim lights above the glass filling the room as you exchange horror stories. Sometimes, most times, the two of you would fall asleep on the divan that was up against the glass. Then in the morning, Sanji would make coffee and you would keep him company as he made breakfast for the crew. He had cherished those talks but now it felt like it was all slipping away. He wanted to light a smoke, but it seemed like the wrong move, even if it would have calmed his nerves.

“The two of you share the same charming swagger, romantic notions easily roll of your tongue.” You glanced down at your hands, turning them over to study your palms – permanent faded scars imprinted onto them. Evidence from the lashes your father would give when you took too much of a breath. Staring back at Sanji, you heaved a sigh. “He swore up and down that he loved my mother, I have these tads of memories of that being true. Seeing him shower her with flowers and poems, he was an amazing singer. He’d sing her these longing ballads, dance with her in the middle of the kitchen…but the façade slowly fell…”

Sanji couldn’t move; now at his side, hands clasped against his slacks. He stared at you, heart aching for the child you once were – eyes darting to your hands. He had noticed the scars before and when he had asked, you had changed the subject. Now he realized that your bastard of a father had done that to you; a fire burned through Sanji’s body and if he hadn’t already been dead, he would have hunted him down. Killed him. Torture him with a slow death - a deserving death but he knew, deep down, you would have never allowed it. You were too kind. “You’re a lot like my father, Sanji. All the good parts. So charming and sweet, doting, and silly…”

Your hand moved alongside the kitchen island as you moved around it, stepping right in front of Sanji. He towered over you a little, eyes on you, waiting, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure what to say or if he should say anything at all, but you were so close and all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms. Hold you safe until the world ended and only then would he relax knowing the two of you would go to death together. That’s all he wanted, he knew that now, but fear gripped him still.

“The difference between you and him is that he indulged in the darkness inside him. He allowed himself to become mean, but you don’t have that in you, Sanji. There is not an ounce of darkness inside that heart of yours. Why do I know this? Because we are one of the same – we fear the same things.”

Stunned, he wasn’t sure you really understood the fear that beheld him; nights when he was alone, sleeping in bed, all he could ever think about was turning into a monster. Like his father and brothers. Then after using the raid suit that seemed to awaken…everything his father was hoping for when he was a child. That had scared him so badly he made Zoro promise to kill him if his humanity slipped away. He had to ask the swordsman because he was the only one that would do it – even with all the bickering, there was mutual respect. He knew Zoro would follow through with his code of honor, even if it meant never seeing you again – anything to keep himself for being a monster…of hurting….

“To love someone so much you hurt them, that is my fear. I don’t want to become a monster like my father – loved my mother so much he could only damage her. Tell me, Sanji, what is your fear?”

Your fingers shook against the counter, eyes fighting back tears. Emotions weaken your every breath, but you need to hear it out loud. Needed to hear him say it out loud. Tears formed in the man’s eyes, and he let out a deep breath, gathering up the courage but why did it feel so hard? Why were the words lingering in the back of his throat? Why was this harder to say to you? He felt dizzy and God, he needed a smoke but instead he thought of the small child he once was. The pain his family inflicted onto him and how he survived it all because of the two women in his life – his mother and sister. The kindness in their hearts kept him going and allowed him to escape that horrible place. His sister, Reiju, told him he’d find kind people in the world and how right she was – because he did find his kind people, he did find his family.

“I don’t want to become a monster like them.”

A tear fell from his eye, and you reached for his hand, telling him to look at you. He did, eyes shaking as you held his hand tenderly. “The greatest thing that ever came from that family is you – don’t you see that? How can such a lightness like you become a monster? Can’t you understand that? I need you to understand that, please.”

He started to cry, and you moved to him, closing in on the miles of space that seemed to have formed between you for some time now. Without hesitation, he moved down into your arms; falling onto his knees, he buried his head into your stomach. Holding back tears of your own, your fingers ran through his hair as his arms draped around your waist. Soothing his sorrows with each stroke of your fingers, you whispered his name. His head moved back to look up at you, eyes soft, sad. Touching his face, with bated breath, you told him he could never be a monster. “…and if by the grips of hell, you do. I’ll become a monster too and we can go into the darkness together.”

I love you, that’s what you were saying. He knew it in his heart, as he stared up at your melancholic face; you were sad for him, sad for yourself but that was the world, wasn’t it? Oh, God, what a fool he had been! All this time, you were right there in front of him but…that was why he had gone with his family, agreed to the marriage. Keeping his family safe from the family that rejected and neglected him; he wanted to keep Luffy, the others, you, safe. The thought of anything happening to any of you, that had been true fear, but he was an idiot. He should have had faith in Luffy, faith in you from the beginning. It was clear now, the depths you would have gone for him because there was no corner of the world he would not have gone to, to save his family. To save you.

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath and stood up; knees heavy, feet firming on the ground and before he could give into nerves – he took your face into his hands and kissed you. It felt like the air shifted; everything that made no sense, suddenly made complete sense. Arms slipped around his shoulders, fingers gliding up his neck into his hair; the small action sent things in motion. Before you could understand, Sanji had you leaned up against the counter, hands down at your waist. His lips captured yours and no amount of strength could pry them away. He groaned into your mouth, and you tugged at the buttons of his slacks – that’s when he paused. Breathless, for the second time of the day, he examined the expression in your eyes, and he asked if you were sure. “This isn’t exactly where I would have wanted…”

“This is perfect,” you murmured, nodding ferociously as he leaned in for a kiss. He laughed, forehead against yours, hands idly at the hem of your blouse. What if someone comes in, he asked, and you grabbed him by the chin. “Let them watch, I don’t care, Sanji. I’ve wanted this for so long, I’ve wanted...you.”

Tears started to well in your eyes and he lightheartedly chuckled, wiping the would be tears from the corner of your eyes. “No more crying today, let me show you how much I love you.”

The last three words left his mouth effortlessly and an aching erupted between the two of you. Mere seconds was all it took for Sanji to push aside everything that was on the kitchen island; his usual tidiness nonexistent as he helped you onto the counter. His limber fingers undoing the green kimono Nami had brought you. The silk felt cool against his skin and when he pulled off the garment, his eyes took in the sight before him – you were on your back, wanting him in all the ways one could want someone. He climbed onto the counter, using his right knee to separate your legs further. He was nervous but it was an exciting nervousness as he drifted down to you. He pulled himself out and you touched his shoulder, looking up at him with such strength, he could feel the fire inside you. It was all for him, and he knew right there, above the flesh of your love – he would live every day knowing he deserved you.

He deserved this, god damnit, he did.  And when he finally pushed into you and you withered under him, he knew it would be all fine. If somehow, he did become a monster – he knew you’d be right alongside him, monsters together; and if that wasn’t love, then what was?

…..

The bonfire was warm; the sound of Brook’s violin playing joyful music filled the air. Franky and Usopp were lighting fireworks and you watched as they cheered each other on, clapping and hooraying. Smiling, you leaned back into Sanji’s chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers were clasped together at your stomach and your hand was on his; his chin resting on your shoulder. Zoro was drinking alongside Jinbei, both lounging on chairs near the fire. Luffy had Otama on his shoulders as she pointed out all the different colors of the fireworks, Nami right by their side. Robin was sitting next to where Sanji and you stood, handing Chopper pieces of candy every so often – the pair enjoying the light show as the others.

“This feels nice.”

Turning your head to look at Sanji, you agreed, kissing him softly on the cheek. “I can’t believe we leave tomorrow…”

“Yeah, and I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. We’re going to have a hell of ride from here on out.”

He was right; there was so much more left to be explored. So many more people to fight, people to help along with every one’s personal goals – all this leading to Luffy being the King of the Pirates. It wasn’t an if, it was a when and you were ready for the journey, for the fighting and most importantly, for moments like this. Surrounded by the people you loved the most – a family brought together by one young pirate. Sighing, you asked Sanji if he had everything he needed for the next adventure. He knew you meant supplies wise, but he held you tighter, and said all he needed was right in his arms.

“Smooth,” you whispered, and he laughed, moving off your back. He stretched and nodded to someone past the bonfire – a familiar face. It was Law, standing next to Luffy. After the kitchen affair, Sanji and you laid on the counter, tangled and sweaty. He was perched up on his elbow, other hand on your stomach, cigarette finally in his mouth. He made invisible circles onto your skin when he quietly asked about Law and you. “I don’t need details but…”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you had assured him. “It really was just something that happened, and we both knew it was a one-time thing. It really was just two people lonely for the night.”

He seemed relieved with the answer, but you did mention the vivre card, and after a long moment, Sanji smiled softly. “He’s a powerful friend to have.”

“I’m going to make the second portion of the dinner, go talk to him.” Sanji kissed your forehead, and you held him by the elbow, stopping him from moving away from you. He gave you a perplexed smile but when you said I loved you to him; he beamed. Pulling you to him, he kissed you not once but twice. Laughing against your mouth when you pinched his butt. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart. I better go make food before Luffy decides he’s hungry again.”

You parted ways and watched as Sanji left to the cooking station; and when you moved passed Robin and Chopper, you gave each a light pat on the head. Walking over to Luffy, you said hello to Law, and he smiled at you. “I see you two worked things out.”

Nodding, you thanked him. “For being such a good friend to me, I appreciate it.”

Eyeing Luffy, Law nodded for you to follow him; the two of you moved to the side, out of hearing range. He stood at a respectable distance and said he was leaving tonight. “We have some things we need to get to. I heard you guys are leaving tomorrow, Luffy just told me.”

“My captain, loose lips.”

“I’m sure we’ll see each other soon; you Straw Hats have a way of crashing people’s plans…”

Grinning, you smiled proudly. “You mean we have a way of always saving people’s ass’s – that’s what you meant, right?”

Law drew a scowl and you laughed, patting him lightly on the shoulder. You told him to never change, and he finally smiled, telling you the same. Moving to give me a hug, the pirate stepped back, and you laughed, promising no harm would come to him. “Sanji’s not going to kick your ass, you don’t have to be afraid.”

The man grumbled under his breath but returned the gesture; the two of you embraced and you were grateful for him. For being there on a lonely night, for being thoughtful and mature; for being a friend. Giving him a tight squeeze, you smiled up at him and he reminded you of his vivre card. “If you guys ever need help…”

“Even if you don’t want to show it, you’re a kind person, Law.”

Parting ways, you watched as he walked back to his crew; laughing when Bepo attacked him with a hug. Oh, he was definitely a softie for his crew. Feeling a wave of lightness in the air, you turned to your own crew and strode to Nami when she waved you over. She eyed your outfit and gave a thumbs up, pulling you to her side she asked if Law and you bid your goodbyes. “Yeah, we did.”

“Good – I don’t want him sniffing around you now that Sanji and you are together.”

You let out a laugh, hugging her tightly. “You’re such a good friend, Nami.”

The two of you held each other, enjoying the fireworks for a while until you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. With a cigarette perched between his lips, Sanji asked Nami if he could have some time with you and the navigator smirked. “Just because she’s your girlfriend now doesn’t mean you can hog her time! And while we’re at it, no more…. you know, where we eat!”

Sanji and you flushed with shame, eyeing each other – as if to accuse the other of blabbing. Catching on, Nami rolled her eyes and commented that she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Sanji buried his face in your back, holding you tight against his body. Equally embarrassed, you apologized to Nami.

“Just don’t let it happen again, you’re lucky Robin was standing guard after I heard the noise.” She looked over to you and sneered. “You’re like really loud, by the way. I think we should ask Franky if there’s a way to add another bedroom – none of us should have to deal with that.”

“Please go away,” you begged her, and she howled, walking away with a shake of her head. Mortified, you told Sanji he could never touch you again and he laughed, tugging you firmly against his chest.

“Not a chance.”

Turning around to face him, you slipped both arms around his neck just as the last of the fireworks were set off. Sparks flew up above the sky, the sound of young Otama’s cheers rang in your eyes and when Sanji’s eyes set upon you – fireworks ignited in your heart. His eyes grew soft as his head leaned toward yours and when his lips touched yours; you knew it was all worth it. The suffering the two of you endured, from childhood to now, it all seemed worth it now that you had each other. Sanji’s heart finally felt at ease with you in his arms, he truly was where he belonged. Luffy shouted for everyone to gather, a toast with the best crew ever! Sanji and you kissed once more, hands on each other’s face; his thumb rubbed against your cheek. Brushing strands of hair from his face, your eyes took in the sight before you. A man who was confident, who knew he was deserving of the world and you, the woman who would make sure he’d get everything he wanted. “You’re going to find the All Blue, Sanji. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

The sound of your captain shouting Sanji and you over to where the rest of the crew now stood, brought a beaming smile onto the cook’s face. He gazed upon you with a hopeful glee in his eyes and reached down for your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As the words danced around Sanji’s heart, hand in hand, you walked over to Luffy and the others; Zoro being quick to make a quip about your new relationship status. Lovesick idiots were his exact words which sent Sanji into a raging fit. Holding him by the waist, you laughed which made Nami shout at you for egging them on. Chopper voiced his concern about Sanji and you being sick, Robin giggled at his cuteness, while Brook asked if seeing your panties was out of the question now – which in turn made Sanji’s fiery directed to him. Luffy shouted for Sanji to stop, that he would burn Brook down to the…bones. Usopp smacked Luffy on the head because the musician was already made of bones. Franky cheered for no one in particular, he just wanted to see a fight, while Jinbei could only laugh at the mess in front of him. After several minutes of this, the arguing turned into soft bickering that involved into laughter and then Sanji’s arm was around your shoulder, everyone’s cup of sake in the air. Smiles all around and in the morning, the Sunny would sail away from Wano. Sanji and you, side by side, would be monsters together, forever.

..........................................................................

tags:

@stuckinthewrongworld @theyluvmesblog

@synchronised-beat @hi3431

@fandomsunited @ghostercy

@yuki190 @bowscale @utakamo

@fire-child-kira @cheshireshiya

@teenyforestfairy @sukilovesyou

@69cocktimusprime @littlemissfiore @kodzuchim

@angeiisa @bitchycoffeepainter69

@secretlife028 @idiot-sanwich02

@abandonedbrat @breens-nick

@bocchi-the-heart @sseleniaa

@depression-247 @sweetgurl1623-blog-blog

@punem699 @themossiestchick @sweetcoldmelancholy

@sanjipudinzinho @baelien-queen

@kodzuchim @kfcmuncha @bloodysweetcat

@angeiisa @gingersnap126126 @amoamista

@sweetchimpeaches @dohkyu @yagurlyve

@simpx4xanimexmen @micaelacantsleep

@meritxellao @armaria

[fictionalmenxyn]

What it’s like to date, ¡Alejandro!

When I tell you this man is thee man for romance he is. You can’t tell me otherwise.

His cooking is thee best, so expect dinner dates at home and he’ll set up the table, have candles lit and some of your favourite beverage ready awaiting for you to drink.

I’d say his love language is physical touch. He can’t go a day without giving you at least a kiss or a hug. So when he is away he really misses you but you both make up for that.

He loves when you both are in the kitchen dancing and singing to music while making a meal together. It just brings a smile to his face every time.

He loves morning cuddles especially if he had just came back from a mission. He loves the smell of your freshly washed hair and the familiar smell of both the smell of your perfume and the smell of the fresh sheet on the bed. It just brings him comfort.

He loves seeing and teaching you speak Spanish and talking to his family in Spanish. He’s enjoys that your willing to learn about him and his family so you would do anything to make him and his family happy.

You like to wake up before him and make breakfast so by the time he comes into the kitchen you’ve either made it all or you are almost done.

This made is in heaven when he sees you in his clothes. Nicely outlines you and makes you look even hotter than you already are. Sometimes if it’s old and he doesn’t wear it as often he’d probably let you have it.

If you do or don’t know it he will still do it and that’s let you wear his cowboy hat. If you know what it means I bet you’d wear it with pride an all. But obviously won’t wear it in front of his parents.

His parents love you! Like I mean when it comes to your birthday, except the most outstanding present ever. And especially if you go get married. I feel like they’d be decently wealthy, but very humbled if you get me. I bet his mother would even teach you every single homemade recipe she can think of. And she’d even tell you stories of little Alejandro and show photos. Classic mum. But overall he is very close to his family and very grateful you have found a special bond with them.

In the mornings, if you choose to stay in bed he loves seeing you peacefully sleeping or smiling at him. He pulls you closer and kisses your forehead and whispers a good morning to you and you stay in the comfortable silence for a bit before getting ready for the day.

In the night he likes to cuddle and talk about anything. Either it’s how both of your days went or what your plans are tomorrow. He likes this time to talk as it’s peaceful and easy to talk.

Overall, he is a 10/10 and so is the relation ship. You are able to trust him and love him.

Hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to request/message me if you want

Have a good day/night!🫶

[messydiabolical]

I've been going though all my old documents of drell worldbuilding and such, so expect various snippets and rambles over the next few days! Kolyat Krios' early memories of his first home.

He was barely out of toddlerhood, and it was before his eidetic memory had fully taken hold. The memories he could recall from this time were hazy, there but hard to grasp. A lot like how the humans and turians seemed to describe their own memorisations.

He could see their first home in fragments. He knew it was small, cluttered, ramshackle. It was also very loving. An odd word to describe a building perhaps, but loving is how he remembered it.

 Mother bathing with me in the tiny shower, cursing when the hot water suddenly went out, then laughing it off. ‘Well that’s one way to really wake up and start a day!’ she waggles her eyebrows theatrically as she tickles my cold body through a towel, making me giggle, forgetting the chill. Her subvocal song trills in joy and I try to copy it, stuttered bursts of happiness in a staccato beat to her soothing tones.

 The neighbourhood was noisy, full of life and interesting, questionable smells.

Children were always outside, playing in the streets. Groups of teens and adults would also gather and mill about, though in retrospect, probably not for such innocent pursuits.

In the apartment upstairs someone was learning to play what sounded like an entire orchestras worth of instruments, taking a jack of all trades, master of none approach to the enterprise. They were very fond of practising late at night, the ceiling thudding with the beats.

A neighbour below them would watch Kolyat in the days while mother and father both worked. She was very old, saggy scales and eyes clouded over like the stormy clouds out beyond the dome walls. He adored her. She’d cook delicious soups that he’d gum and gnash at with his sprouting fangs, getting more all over his face and clothes than actually in his mouth. She’d just laugh in delight, rub his face with a cloth while he blew soupy raspberries in protest. She also loved to read storybooks, putting on funny voices for all the characters. Sometimes Kolyat would sleep over, and she’d make him a blanket fort on the sofa. Kolyat loved her very much.

‘Please Orla, I must insist you take some credits for your time.’ Mother shifts me on her hip. Her frillrings sparkle in the sputtering, broken hall light. I reach out with a pudgy little hand to play with them.

‘Now now dear, how many times must I insist. you keep those credits for him’. A wrinkly, gentle hand reaches over, stopping me before I grab too harshly on my silver hooped quarry.

Mother and father worked a lot. Mother seemed to like her work, exhausted as it left her. The same could not be said for father.

Father would come home from work dirty, dejected. Mother would rub his shoulders, kiss his cheek and put me on his lap, and he would melt a little. Kisses on my brow and a whispered promise. ‘I’ll make things better, do better for us’. Holds me a little tighter.

Kolyat can’t recall the exact words exchanged, but he remembers the night his parents fought, the first time he heard anything but loving devotion between them. The apartment only had one bedroom, so he usually slept in a crib he was vastly outgrowing, squeezed in next to his parents' bed. They had waited until he was asleep before bitter whispering began, then moved to the living room when it was clear things were escalating. It didn’t do much good; Kolyat had already woken up and the apartment had thin walls. It was a long night.

The next morning Thane was gone and Irikah, usually so positive, so determined, seemed to have lost a little spark about her. Usually when she made breakfast she would play music on her omnitool, singing off key and dancing as she moved.

That morning was too quiet, mothers movements too stiff and precise.

It was a Kalsef, a drell weekend day. Kolyat had begun to recognise patterns in time, knew that this was the day daddy always took him to the temple after breakfast while mummy got some me time.

‘Where daddy?’ the little drell asked, confused by the change in routine.

“He’s-” She pauses, looks side to side, runs her hand across her brow. She looks back up, leans across the table, strokes my cheek.

“He’s away on business Kolyat”.

Away on business. That was the first time he heard it. It would not be the last.

Three, perhaps four full Kalsefs passed, and father finally came home. He was dressed in sleek, fancy clothes, nothing like the overalls he’d worn for work before. He was smiling wide, rushed to Kolyat and swung him up in the air. Kissed mother and told them both he’d missed them so. Mother was all smiles too, but something was different. Something felt off to Kolyat. Like they were too eager, too desperate to seem normal, natural, which only served to make it feel unnatural.

A few days later they were packing up their meagre belongings. Emptying the apartment. A lot of it they didn’t bother with, too broken, not worth keeping. Father assured them they could get better things at ‘the new place’.

They travelled then, taking a skycar and then a shuttle, higher in the sky than kolyat had ever been. He clung fiercely to Thane when they looked out the windows, the vast oceans so far below, the islands and domes little specks on the surface.

“Fear not my son, we are quite safe. We’re going somewhere wonderful, you’ll see”.

Their second home was a lofty apartment at the very top reaches of the dome of Da’quin city.

The view out of the floor to ceiling windows made Kolyat feel sick. He had his own bedroom now, and he’d pile up toys against the glass planes, building a barrier between him and that fathomless fall. His new big bed accommodated his rapidly lengehtening limbs, but it felt so many miles away from mother and fathers bed. You couldn't hear the neighbours from the apartment. Never seemed to meet them at all; they could have been completely alone up there for all he knew. There were certainly no Orla’s in this building. He never saw her again. His second home was lonely.

[sunflowers-in-graves]

Here is a small story that I wanted to do in honor of Sasuke’s birthday 🥳

Naruto woke up very excited to start the day, not only was Sasuke returning from a long term mission but it was Sasuke’s birthday and he had to make the house perfect for him to return to. He knew Sasuke would most likely be exhausted so he didn’t want to do anything too extravagant nor did Sasuke really like things to be flamboyant especially when it came to his birthday. He wanted to try and make it special since this day brought a little bit of heartache to Sasuke. It made him miss his mom and brother a little bit more. He once told Naruto that Itachi and his mom would wake up and bake him cake. It would be horribly decorated but they would enter his room singing happy birthday waiting for him to wake up and make a wish. He said he wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets but there was something so special to eat cake for breakfast with Itachi and his mother. Naruto wanted to recreate that feeling for him, he bought decorations, the ingredients to make the cake, and he had presents he’d been collecting since Sasuke left. Naruto was more than prepared to pull off a small birthday with just them two. He thought about inviting people but he didn’t want Sasuke to be uncomfortable. He knew Kakashi Sensei and Sakura probably wouldn’t have minded but he knew how much more it would mean to Sasuke if it was more intimate.

He started the morning with trying to make the cake. He opted for a lemon cake because of the lightness in sweetness. He’s never been the cook, it’s always been Sasuke but he was determined for this to be perfect. He messed up the first one, for some reason it wouldn’t fluff up in the oven. The second one was burned because he forgot to the set the alarm. Time was starting to go by and he was scared Sasuke would be home before he could get the house decorated so he took a break from cooking and started on the house. He hung the happy birthday banner in front of the door so when Sasuke walked in, it’s the first thing he sees. He started cleaning up around the house because when he was alone he tended to slack off on keeping things straightened up. He then moved a small table by the entrance to lay the birthday gifts on. He didn’t wrap anything, he shoved all the gifts in different birthday bags. He would run out of time if he had chosen to wrap them. As he stared at where to put the balloons and steamers he heard the door handle move. He turned around and saw Sasuke enter the door. His eyes went wide and he rushed over.

“You can’t come in yet, wait like 5 seconds” he exclaimed holding the door slightly open.

“I guess I can wait here for a moment” Sasuke stated with a confused look on his face.

Naruto closed the door and rushed back to hang the balloons and streamers. He then looked over at the dirty kitchen. He never got to finish the cake. His heart sank knowing that was the most important part of today. How could he get so caught up in everything else that he forgot to come back to the cake. He looked back at the living room and things looked as good as they were going to so he went back to the front door. He opened it and Sasuke chuckled when seeing him. Naruto didn’t have time to clean himself up either. He was wearing his cooking apron and he had flour on his face and clothes. Naruto was surprised at the reaction since he was obviously disappointed about something.

“I know something’s wrong but you honestly look ridiculous with this on your face” he said while brushing the flour from Naruto’s cheeks. Before Sasuke could even acknowledge the decorations, he was removing his shoes and placing his ninja tools in the hall closet.

“So what’s got you all pouty faced?”

“I just wanted things to be perfect and I forgot one of the most important things” Sasuke followed Narutos gaze and he couldn’t help but grab Narutos hand and rush over to the living room. His cheeks turning red as he stared at the gifts and balloons. He looked over at Naruto who still seemed stressed, grabbing his chin to point his face towards Sasuke’s.

“Thank you!” He stated as he leaned in to give Naruto a kiss.

“You’re welcome but I don’t even have a cake, how are you going to make a wish?”

“What do I need a wish for when I already have you?”

Naruto’s cheeks were burning and he couldn’t help but smile at Sasuke. Even though he wanted to make the cake, he thought store bought would be okay because he still wanted Sasuke to blow out some candles, that’s one of the best parts. While Sasuke stayed home relaxing and taking a shower to take the stench of his mission off his body, Naruto ran to the store up the street where he bought a small lemon cake, still hoping the sweetness level was a small amount. When he returned home, he found Sasuke snooping through his presents.

“Hey we have to blow out your candles first”

Sasuke stunned by being caught, made his way to the kitchen and found some candles on the counter. Naruto placed them in the small cake, lighting them and then turning the lights off. As Naruto sang happy birthday, Sasuke was glad the only light was from the lit candles, because he felt his eyes getting watery. He hasn’t felt this loved and cared for by anyone since his brother. He was happy Naruto was his partner and best friend. When he blew out the candles it was pitch black and he felt a familiar pair of lips on his.

“Happy Birthday Sasuke Uchiha”

[livingfictional]

Hiya!!!

I just stumbled upon your blog, and you're match ups, I really like your content! :D I saw that your requests are open, and I thought I might as well request one! ^^

I would like to request a match up for COD and The Arcana. I am 19, female, and use she/they pronouns. I am also Pansexual (I don't have any gender preferences, we just gotta vibe and all is well✨️).

I really love listening to music and singing, I'm also an avid reader and have recently started down my path with practising witchcraft. I am not sure if this qualifies as a hobby, but I also enjoy taking my motorcycle out for a ride across the country whenever I have time (and money for gas 🥲). I do not do well in crowds or around loud and mentally draining people. Neither do I enjoy cooking because it, for some odd reason, drains me incredibly, baking on the other hand I enjoy thoroughly!

I speak English, German and Italian. My father is from Scotland🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 and my mother from Austria🇦🇹, I have an equally good connection with both sides of my relatives even though I am more in tune with my Austria side due to the fact that I grew up there.

I'm an INFP, I wouldn't call myself shy or skittish but I do struggle to build up relationships because of trust issues and fear of betrayal. I prefer a small circle of people around me, mostly calm and like minded people that know how to get me out of my shell. I'm also a big fan of animals and especially fond of dogs and cats (even though I'm allergic lol).

I hope that was enough info for a match-up! Have a wonderful day/night, Lily!✨️💜

Sorry you had to wait so long, thank you for your patience 🩵

I match you up with... Asra!

I genuinely think Asra would be the best choice for you.

Lazy mornings in the back of the shop. A mess of limbs tangled into the blankets as you slowly flip through the pages of your book.

Asra just lays there, watching your focused expression with a content smile. He could stare at you for hours. The shop won't run itself, though. Unfortunately.

He'll happily support your witchcraft journey, helping whenever possible. He grabs any and every book he thinks you might like.

Asra is one of the least draining people to be around, his company is always pleasurable. The atmosphere never feels heavy, and he can make the converation flow for hours on end. It always feels so natural and nice to be around him.

Might as well mention Faust, who fell in love with you just as Asra did. You can often find her perched up on your shoulders as you go about your day.

I match you up with... Soap!

Not an avid reader, doesn't always know what books to buy you. Just ask! He would buy the whole bookstore for you.

Johnny wants to spoil you, okay? He can be gone for long periods of time, and your books are the only thing keeping you company on cold winter evenings. So in his mind they are perfect gifts for you, might as well, with some help, get you one of those gift baskets with a fuzzy pair of socks, a blanket, some candy and books.

Before he has to leave, he will also take your bike and fill it up for you. Can't afford gas? Well, he can. Go for your ride sweetie :3

Slow evenings with him after he comes back from being deployed are the best. You guys are full after getting takeout from your favorite place, you've got a fire going in the fireplace and a random movie is playing on TV.

To be fair, you are not paying attention to it at all. You're brushing your fingers through his dark hair as he goes on about anything and everything.

Just as with Asra, conversations with Johnny are so natural to you, nothing ever feels forced. You guys can talk for hours and not get bored.

He can be more on the hyper side, but next to you, he can truly unwind. He will lie on top of you, placing his head over your heart.

[up-to-some-good]

Your Mother's Eyes

By the time Harry was 11 years old, he'd heard it what felt like a million times.

"You look just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."

Everyone seemed to say it, from his parents' old friends to random people in the street who'd come to shake his hand. The only people who hadn't said it were his guardians.

He knew they thought it. He saw it sometimes in their eyes. Every time he called Padfoot to play quidditch in the backyard or schemed to play a prank on someone with Moony, their eyes would gloss over for a second and he could almost hear them thinking it.

It was true, too. His skin was the same dark shade as his father's. Their faces were the same shape and their hair was messy in the same way. His eyes were the exact green of his mother, shaded by long eyelashes just like hers.

He looked just like his father, but with his mother's eyes. And he was tired of hearing it.

Which is probably why he stormed out of Ollivander's the second the old man compared him to them, running to some a hidden corner of Diagon Alley where he could sink to the floor and hide his face for a few minutes.

His peace and quiet didn't last for long. Heavy footsteps made their way towards him, getting louder until his guardians were close enough to settle on the floor on either side of him. They didn't talk for a small while, just sitting there and giving him a moment before confronting the situation.

"You wanna tell us why you ran off like that?" Sirius asked quietly.

Harry grumbled in response, muffling his words as her buried his face in his knees.

"Can you try again, Harry?" Remus asked. "We can't help if we don't know what's wrong."

"I'm sick of being compared to them." Harry lifted his head up and stared resolutely at the wall. "It's all I ever hear. I look like my dad, but with my mom's eyes. I know! It's what everyone says and I know you two see it too! But sometimes I want to hear something else."

Sirius wrapped an arm around him, offering some comfort while he tried to think of something to say. Remus, however, took no pause before responding.

"I don't see that at all, Haz," he offered. "If anything, I'd say you look like Lily, but have James's eyes."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Remus continued. "Your facial expressions are all Lily. The way that you smile and laugh always remind me of her, especially when you try to get me to cause mischief with you. She used to try and drag me into pranking your father, before they got together, and you look just like her sometimes.

But your eyes? That's all James. Lily's colour, sure, but the way you never seem to know which eye too look at when making eye contact, flicking your eyes back and forth, James always did that. The fact that you're useless without your glasses, that's him too."

"What if I don't want to be just a reminder of them?" Harry asked quietly.

"You've never been that, Harry," Sirius came in. "Yes, you do remind people of your parents, but that's not all you are. Your grumpiness in the morning until you've had at least two cups of coffee, even at age eleven, is uniquely you. The way you can catch a snitch before I've even seen it but can't ever find a matching sock. The way you forget to fold your shirts and keep begging us to get a kitten and sing so loudly in the shower. You're your own person, Harry, and we see it every day."

"And we all remind each other of other people," Remus added. "When Pads is making my wolfsbane every month, he gets the same focused look that Regulus used to get when he was tutoring me."

"And Moony always makes me think of Dorcas, the way they could curl up with books in some corner of the castle, and not reappear for hours at a time."

"The way Sirius cooks is all Effie Potter: chaos followed by a delicious meal."

"Our Christmas celebrations are from Hope Lupin, from decorating the tree by hand to opening the gifts before coffee."

Harry was starting to smile as they continued, uncurling himself and leaning into Sirius's embrace.

"You remind us of each other too, you know," Remus continued. "Your morning routine comes from Pads, down to the way you brush your teeth in the shower."

"And your love for knitted jumpers is from Moony, though we all know that."

Sirius tugged gently to Remus's oversized sweater before gesturing to Harry's. The pair were even in matching Gryffindor colours today.

"The point is, Harry, that we are all made up of other people, from our parents' genetics to habits we picked up from the people in our lives, however long they were there. And sometimes we remind each other of those people, but it doesn't stop us from being ourselves. No one else is that same unique tapestry, only you," Sirius concluded.

"And we love you, Harry, no matter what habits you pick up or who you look like, just for you," Remus added.

"You promise?" Harry's voice croaked a little as he spoke.

"Always."

[maryannecrimsworth]

We will die together

Part 1 / Part 3

Pairing: Yandere! Wednesday Addams x Football player! Normie! Reader

Request from @carlosgrimhildedevil101 : Wednesday chained you up in her guest room. She kept you there while she did her games, while she played with you all night, and all day, until you were ready. You were going to meet her family.

Warnings: it's disturbing; abusive behavior; toxic flirt(?); honestly, Yandere! Wednesday is the stuff of my nightmares(quite literally)

x

"I simply do not think he's the one for you, my dearest." Morticia spoke, the lightness from the fire illuminating her features. "He is way too...harmless."

"It's hard to be harmful when you're gagged and chained, cara mia." Gomez retorted, his strong voice coming out as singing in your defense. Only he would defend you, defend whatever honor you had — Wednesday, sitting a bit further away from her parents, got sick of arguing in your favor. "Give him a chance!"

"We should have dinner, then." Morticia suggested. "He cooks, doesn't he, my dearest?"

"Yes, mother." Wednesday finally spoke. "Yet, I do not think he is ready to spend an evening with Grandmama."

"There's only a way to know, mi tormenta." Gomez smiled warmly. "Talk to him, prepare him for tonight."

"And, if we must, your father and I would be glad to give him some lessons.” Morticia reached out her hand to take his. "We've noticed you two are...rather quiet."

"Do not interrupt or interfere with us, Mother." Wednesday roared. "Y/N and I are nothing like you."

"But the flame I see in your eyes is just like your father's."

"No, mi amor. Hers is worse."

"Oh, my darling," Morticia turned to her husband, her lips closing in an enamored smile. "I doubt."

Wednesday walked out of the room.

x

"Morning, Y/N." Wednesday opened the curtains of the closed room; the brightness cut the place like a blade, blinding you for long seconds. You cringed in a reflex, as if you could escape the light, and the chains squeaked with your movement. "How was your night?"

Night? You grunted, your voice being absorbed by the band on your lips. Your hatred was expressed only by your restless eyes until Wednesday pulled the thick fabric from your mouth.

"You keep me up until the witches' hours and wake me up as soon as the sun rises." You roared, squirming until she moved away from you. "Are you too shy to spend the whole night with me, or is this another method of torture of yours?"

"Careful, Y/N." She stopped next to you, at the limit of the distance your feet could reach and fight. "I can take that as a wish."

"Go to hell, Wednesday." You shouted. "Let me go!"

"Really?" One of her eyebrows rose. "Again?"

You leaned back, defeated, your back and head touching the cold wall of the dusty, dirty room. After so many days, your lungs have become accustomed to the place, but your body still aches from Wednesday's deeds. You would never get used to that.

"It's ridiculous." You whispered. "It's ridiculous how insecure you are."

"What did you say?" She hissed - her voice escaped with haste, energy; her eyes soon being painted with the anger you had learned to excite in her.

"You could’ve called me on a date." You shrugged, eyes downward in a taciturn expression that only inflamed Wednesday even more. "But you'd know I'd say 'no'." It was hard to hide the wide smile that grew on your lips. "That's why you kidnapped me."

"I kidnapped you because they did not deserve you." Her voice grew louder, as her steps came noisily closer, but you didn't move. "Jericho didn't deserve you. Your friends didn't deserve you, the school didn't deserve you." She was standing in front of you, her feet now close to yours. "They were jailing you."

"And chaining me up in the guest room was your way of freeing me?" You laughed, not being able to resist the temptation to look up at her. Her fervent gaze trembled before yours. "I was going to leave. I was going to leave Jericho forever but you ruined everything." You knelt up, crawling up until you were at her height. The chains weighed on your wrists, ankles, and neck, but you bent towards her anyway. "You ruined my life." Your words – heavy, muttered, sharp – did not make her pull away. 

Contrary to what you intended, your explicit display of rage caused her to move closer, caused her eyes to fall to your lips as she held your face.

You were paralyzed by her touch. The coldness of her hands chilling your skin, turning your body in panic. You trembled and you shivered and you sweated and you felt like getting down on your knees, begging her to leave you alone, feeling like crying as if all was lost. 

As if every effort was in vain. Like she had ruined you.

She had ruined you.

"I want to give you a new life." She moved before you could force yourself to react. Her lips, cold, bitter, as disgusting as the rest of the room you were trapped in, touched yours in a light, brief, disgusting kiss.

"DO NOT DARE!" you bellowed suddenly, dread turning to fury and causing you to push her away. "Do not dare to touch me, you psycho!"

She smiled. The largest smile you've ever seen on her.

"Psychopaths don't have feelings like mine, Y/N." She stepped forward, but you swung the chains until she stepped back again. "And It's time for you to stop denying yours, mon cher."

"My feelings, Wednesday? For you?" Your voice became an even faster roar, the hatred now true and raw, your act to torment her now revealing your own torment. "Hate, disgust, repulse, scorn." Your hands curled around the chains, your fists closing so tightly that your arms began to tremble. "You choose!"

She snorted. "Exactly, Y/N, I choose." She approached again, her steps slow, her whole body enclosing you loosely, flexibly, like a tiger surrounding its deer. Like a predator and its prey. You were the prey. "I choose what to do with you." Her hands reached you again, your hatred was not enough to push her away. On the contrary, your roars, gestures and bestial expressions only made her come closer, only made her gaze become more and more intense. Her gaze, as of a predator, paralyzed you: it revealed your end. "Sooner or later..." Her fingers caressed your face, and you forced yourself to dodge. " You will beg for it." Her grip became strong, her hand closed around your jaw while the other was pressed against your chest. Her palm, so strongly pressed against your exposed skin, felt your heart racing, felt your dread in your cold sweat and frantic heartbeat. "You will go on your knees, crawl and beg for me."

You sobbed, her touch overwhelming and weakening you exactly as she wanted. Your skin tingled as she took another step forward: her body now locked against yours, her breath now brushing against your face. Your lips trembled, and your eyes closed - in expectation and dread, in confusion and revulsion, your body was hers now. You couldn't react, not with her so close to you.

And your body collapsed as soon as her touch drifted away. 

In one subtle, fluid motion, she walked to the exit of the room as your body trembled against the cold floor. You broke, and all your strength was drained away in thick, silent tears.

You were hers.

"You'll be cooking with Grandmama tonight." She warned before checking the door locks. "I expect you’ll continue to be on your best behavior." She locked the room – your cage – and you heard her footsteps moving further down the hall.

She was going to let you go. You were going to leave the room. You were going to cook.

This was your way to escape.

x

No knives, no forks. A spoon and a bowl — that's all you've got. Grandmama yelled at you as Wednesday brought you to the kitchen: the handcuffs were still in your wrists, and your eyes scanned the place as the hag spoke. You could not understand — you would not understand her. Wednesday’s grandmother didn't matter now.

"I'll prepare the table." Wednesday warned after releasing you. Your skin was purple on the area the steel kept brushing. "Do not try anything." She hissed. "I'll know if you do."

You nodded silently. You would not try to escape, you would succeed. 

It was no surprise that the Addams stored dried archon in the pantry, and it wasn't hard to avoid the eyes of an erratic woman such as Grandmama. You wore gloves in order to manipulate the flowers properly, and it was mixed in the dough perfectly. By the time Wednesday came back to watch over you, you had already stored the jars of the poisonous, dry plant in its shelf and already closed the oven with the pan inside it.

"Are you done?" She asked, a eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I can't do much with only a spoon." You retorted. "And you grandmother don't let me get closer."

"Call her Grandmama. She's your family now." 

"Are you done?" It was your turn to ask. "I don't want to stay here."

"I thought you liked cooking."

"But I can't really cook here, can I?"

Wednesday stepped closer. The cuffs were in her hands.

"What about your dessert?"

"It will be ready in 25 minutes." The cold metal evolved your wrists again. "I don't have to stay here."

"No, you don't." She agreed, holding the metal, her fingers brushing your skin slightly. "Come with me."

She pulled you out of the kitchen, moving you through the halls of the mansion, stepping around slowly and silently. You didn't know where she was leading you. 

"I have gathered some news." She opened a door and entering the room. Her room. "From Jericho."

You stopped following her. The sudden stop in your moves made her hands tangle between your chains. Wednesday was pulled back towards you, her body hit you before she could stop it — she was unprepared, even for only a second, and you took advantage of it. 

Your hands reached her neck as she stood so close to you: your fingers pressured her skin while she looked up at you. Your thumb went up to her chin, handling her face with strength, preventing her from moving. 

"They'll find you." You roared. "You'll pay for what you've done to me."

"They've declared you dead." She whispered. "The family and friends you loved so much had given up on you." There was a twist on her lips. A smirk. "I was right. They left you."

Your hands closed suddenly: your grip became harder as your body flamed again. Your chest burned in anger as you gritted your teeth — you held back the urge of choking her, and then you realized you didn't have a reason to not do it. Wednesday deserved it, she should be punished for it. For you.  

She should suffer from your hands.

Wednesday let out a choked chuckle while you kept pressuring her throat. 

"I thought players were supposed to be strong." 

Your body moved, out of control, and before you could realize Wednesday was under you. You were pressuring her against the ground, while your hands remained around her neck. 

"If I am dead, you should be too." You barked at her face. "We're family after all, aren't we?" 

She was smiling.

Her face was completely red as your hands went pale — veins popped up in her skin, your arms trembled, the burning in your chest started to cease. 

This was exactly what she wanted.

"Shit—" You flinched back, letting her go, moving your body away from hers immediately. "What was I—"

"Mi Cerberus, do not regret it." She crawled over to you; hoarse voice, sweaty face, widened eyes and a large, bright smile. "That's who you are."

"Fuck you, Wednesday." You moved back. "Fuck you."

"I'm trying to show it to you." She reached you: she held your chains and knelt in front of you. "This is a part of who you are, you have to embrace it. ".

"No." You whispered, shaking your head in denial. "No, go away."

"You have three faces, Mi Cerberus."  She held your face, but you closed your eyes; you could not look at her, you could not listen to her, you could not feel her. Not if you were still trying to control yourself. "You tried so hard to hide it but I saw." Her thumb caressed your cheek. "You're a captain, a leader, a ruler." You could feel her breathing getting closer. "You're a cook, an artist, an outcast." Her lips touched yours: your body froze, your shoulders flinched, and the taste you felt was unexplainably sweet. "You're violent, you're an abominator." She spoke inside your mouth. "You're just like me."

"I will kill you." Your lips moved, brushing slowly against hers. "I will kill you all."

"We will die together." You opened your eyes; Wednesday's fingers were still moving over your skin. Her gaze was intense, firm, but her voice was low, almost soft. You were trembling in anger as she seemed perfectly content. She was not afraid of you. 

"I hate you."

"I know." She smiled, one of her hands moving up to your hair. "And I wonder which side of you will love me first."

"What?"

Her eyes moved down to your lips and, in a reflex, yours did the same. 

"Think, Y/N." She kept playing with your hair. "Who else would accept you?" She asked, the words leaving her mouth as you watched its movements. "Who else would truly see and love you?"

"I'm not like this. I'm not like you."

"I saved you from a life of farces, mon cher." She looked up at you, but your gaze remained lowered, locked on her lips. "You can't stop lying to yourself now." You felt the warmth of her hands spreading over your body. "I will never fear you." She whispered. "Never."

You kissed her: your touch, sudden and violent, grasped her skin with all your strength. Wednesday did not flinch under your hands — on the opposite, she held you tightly and kissed you back, preventing you from leaning over her. 

She forced your back against the floor as she moved over you, her body was pressed against yours while your chains kept them away. 

With a loud gasp, Wednesday moved away and freed you, just to close your distance and catch your lips again. Your hands held the back of her neck as she pulled out your clothes. 

While she laid down with you, her Grandmama took the cake out of the oven and served it to the Addams. 

By the time you were done with Wednesday, she fell asleep, her family blacked out on the dinner table and no one was able to stop you. After dressing up and holding your worst impulses back: you would not, you could not hurt Wednesday.

You would not do this to yourself — you would not give her the pleasure. No matter how vulnerable and defenseless she was right now: laid on the floor, body flushed and bruised because of you, you would not prove her right. 

She would wake up, sooner or later, and so would her family. 

But they would never touch or see you again.

You escaped.

@lucasm8 @izumikokomi

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Baby Trap Chapter 3

Lyle walked down the hallways of the sleeping base. The Colonel must have left his room unlocked for him. He stepped inside. He saw the holes on the wall. Everything was as usual clean. Minus the bed. It was around two in the morning.

Anyway, you were not there. He heard a lovely tune across the room.

It was a language he didn't understand. Not English. He saw you carrying your twins and walking around their room with difficulty. Your twin boys were growing fast and looked too heavy for you.

Lyle continued to listen to your singing. Then you saw him. You jumped in surprise.

The Navi held his hands up in mocking surrender. He chuckled. "Wow. Not only you are the prettiest thing but you also have the prettiest voice." He cocked his head. "Are you sure you're not an Angel instead of being classified as a mutant?"

You sighed and placed one of your babies down. He started to cry. Lyle came and picked him up.

You shrugged. "I feel forsaken by (deity). I can't be an angel."

The Navi looked down at you and frowned. "I was joking, buttercup." He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe you actually think that of yourself. You were serious."

You mentally slapped yourself.

You're a fool

"you should sleep, Lyle." You whispered. "You have an eleven hour shift tomorrow."

Lyle shrugged and continued shaking the Navi baby he was holding in his arms. "Nothing I can handle. I get days off from work. Unlike you." He smiled sadly at you.

No shit. Being a homemaker was an endless job. Cooking, cleaning, babysitting, and gardening.

"but you Marines always put your lives on the line."

"yes." Lyle shrugged. "I get privileges and rights. You don't get anything sadly. Your job is underrated."

You sighed. "Oh, well... I-"

"don't say that." Lyle harshly whispered. "You always insult yourself. It's not healthy."

You lowered your eyes in submission then nodded. The Navi baby in Lyle arms was asleep to your surprise. He laid him on his crib and grabbed the other awake baby in your arms.

"wow. You're good with kids." You chuckled.

Lyle looked at you from the corner of his eyes and rocked the baby in his arms. "You have a cute smile. You should do it more."

You thanked him.

Lyle nodded. "What language was the song you were singing anyway?"

You told him it was a Turkish lullaby. Your mother learned it when she traveled there. She met your father in turkey during s festival.

"boss told me you know eight languages including Navi. That's cool."

Lyle then placed the second sleeping Navi baby in the other crib. He grabbed your hand and guided you to the bedroom.

"what are-"

Lyle hushed you. He gently pried your robe off and took off your fuzzy slippers. He made you lay down and covered you with the blanket.

The Navi man hovered over you. Then did it. He kissed you.

He backed away to see your widened eyes.

"still?" You whispered.

Lyle smiled sadly. "Always, buttercup." He traced your face with his long fingers then left quickly as if he forced himself to leave.

You touched your flat stomach. The smoothness of your baby soft skin would soothe you. Not this time. Why? You felt something moving... Again.