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dev1lm4n · 11 months

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do you believe in fate?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: birth and death. meetings and goodbyes. everyone and everything is connected by a single red thread. you’ve gone through plenty of lifetimes. though one thing stays the same, joel miller is always right there by your side

word count: 3.2k

warnings: past lives, nonsexual nudity if you squint, outbreak and no outbreak, death, reader's shorter than joel

notes: i swear this gets sweet towards the end! do reblog or comment if u enjoyed it :3

“Joel, do you believe in fate?”

January 26th was a beautiful day.

Both of Joel’s arms encircled your midriff; a motion to further reinforce his encouragements of staying indoors and giving Tommy a big, childish middle-finger for proceeding patrols when the freezing wind outside flogged anyone that dared cross by.

He muttered a few syllables, vulnerable and warm, hot breath against the back of your neck. His nose nuzzled into the small patch of skin your shirt failed to cover. Inhaling you, the salty scent of sweat and crushed up lavenders you’re always doused with. You couldn’t quite catch what it’s all about, although you wished you did, but he went on to worship the rest of you before the first ring of the morning bell.

Everything was so beautiful under a high frost. Every glass blade enhanced and silvered into individual beauty. Even the dull tarmac of the roads, worn down by time and twisted vines of Cordyceps, glossed in a combination of white.

Ellie mentioned a winter dance is going to occur over the weekends with the toothiest smile. I’m gonna feel like I finally belong, that’s how she coerced you. You thought of trading your spare pair of jeans for a pretty dress. One with ruffles, a sweetheart neckline, and puffy sleeves; displayed bravely on the front of the boutique. It’s a little tacky, sure, but it’s from the old world.

The world you knew. The world you missed.

“Quit talkin’”

“My mother.. she used to say everything is fated.”

“Shut up, you’re- Fuck, you’re making it worse.”

“What have I done to have you here?”

Joel finally looked at you. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he met your eyes with his own. Pools of browns bored into yours, speckles of hazel greeted you with a twisted sense of familiarity.

He looked frantic.

Afraid.

For the first time in the entire expanse of your journey together, he visibly looked afraid. As if he was a small boy, left on the edge of the world, curled up into a small shell, stranded with no light at the end of the tunnel. Joel’s chest heaved, up and down, every lift held intent, oxygen infiltrated his veins. He didn’t want to surrender. To admit his loss, his mind wouldn’t let him do that just yet.

He wanted to say something. Anything.

“I must’ve been one of those heroes. Alexander.. Alexander the Great?”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna die, sweetheart.”

Your lips thinned. The muscles on your jaw twitched, terribly inclined to quip back at him at how ironic the situation presented was. You were dying. Slowly, but surely. Worse, on a patch of dried hay, deep within the pungent barn, void of any farm animals.

You didn’t feel the pain. Or impact. Instead it was more like a massive heat, unbearable at first but then it turned into a sort of throbbing tingling numbness. blooming similar to the shape of hydrangeas across your chest. The colors were bright, mixing in with your blue shirt into a collaborative purple, did you suit purple? What a silly thought. Love does things to people and you’d rather have him picture your death as something pretty and poetic, instead of a tragedy.

“Take Ellie to the winter dance.”

He avoided your gaze once more.

You knew Joel knew how futile his actions were. How the tattered cloth he’s pressing up over your bare chest couldn’t possibly reseal the gaping hole. How even if he tried to stitch you up with some leftover fishing thread, you wouldn’t be able to withstand the shock. How the nearest medical tent is a whole day away and with the freezing weather, he’d be carrying your limp body the time he arrived.

The both of you knew.

Death was inevitable, but he’d just wish it was kinder after what it had taken from him.

“No excuses I’m telling you.”

“You’ll take her with me.”

“Joel, promise me.”

Joel was a bastard. A massive one at that, but he’s not a liar. You needed him to promise you.

“Will you please wear the waistcoat?”

Ah yes, the waistcoat. The one you got him on your anniversary. You had to trade one of your most-used winter coat in exchange for the impractical piece of clothing, which he ended up scolding you for.

What can you say? It’s charming. Tailored to perfection, with only a few threads sticking out the stitches from time, five buttons down the middle and a lapel to match. Joel never spent any of his credits for himself, only for you and Ellie’s entertainment, and it truly itches you that he’s not taking himself into account. You knew it’d fit like a sleeve. Charcoal waistcoat over a dapper button-up, you wished you could witness it yourself.

“I’ll do anything for you, my love. Just.. just please. Please, God, I need you here. I..”

Joel looked wobbly with globs of tears in your eyes.

You’re running out of time.

“I need you to be here with me.”

“To be here when I turn in my bed. To be here when Ellie has her first date.. oh, please I can’t do this without you.”

Joel’s lashes fluttered away the soft snow dusted from the open window. It’s cold, awfully so, but all you could feel was his warmth. The apparent need in his tone, it sounded like he’d sacrifice anything in order to trade places with you. To be the one under death’s mercy, because God knew he didn’t have it in him to pull through another loss. He’d lose himself.

“Promise me.”

“Please, no, please, I can’t-”

“Promise me, Joel.”

A momentary pause occurred. His fingers reached out to feel you. Anywhere he could touch; the angles of your jaw, the softness of your cheeks, the rhythm your chest heaved at every struggling breath you took. You’re alive. You’re alive and he’s eager to savor more of that.

“Promise you’d let me love you the same in the next lifetime.”

Joel was not much for beliefs, but you’re a divinity. He’d believe in everything your sweet lips utter like an innocent lamb. He’d march to the sound of your flute. He’d commit unspeakable things for you. You’re his lord and savior.

“I promise.”

Orange gold stretched far and wide, the color of fire hearths and tangerines. The freshly harvested apples you held above your palms looked like an heirloom of some sort.

Their skins were a work of art, perfect blends of rosy red, speckles of green and yellow in patterns your hand could never paint. Their sizes were as uneven as beach pebbles, though the bounty felt very dear to you. It was a party of imperfection, of unorderly and chaos, of a beauty persisting in the midst of severed heads and deformed corpses. You smiled, a true one that reached your eyes, as you continued to examine your basket of apples.

As a reward for good behavior, the commune would gift workers a couple produce from the total bounty. You’re always one step ahead when it comes to free items, so here you were selecting which one would taste the plumpest, which would squirt in your mouth upon a single bite.

Apples were your favorite. Has always been your go-to when compared to frilly carrot tops, hilled potatoes, bright lettuce greens, or tall corn stalks. Apples somehow felt.. nostalgic to you. The plain nature of it always managed to entertain you. Plus, Joel loved your homemade apple pie!

The thought of him grinning, ear-to-ear, at the ding of your antique oven was a mirage. A push to keep on living in times where you’re so plagued by memories of the past. When days felt bleak and painful.

“Hey, baby, you okay?”

“Mm?”

Joel’s soft curls of grayish brown sprung from your left, which quickly elicited quite the reaction from you. Your cheeks plumped up with interest. A glint of light reflected from your irises as you took all of him. All his wrinkles was finally free of persistent dirt and grime, the lightened bags beneath his eyes, his smaller upper lips and his thicker bottom ones. The trauma he’s suffered from, he’s a ruined vase, but somehow Jackson was able to glue all the pieces back into something distinguishable. The city and you made him a person, the city and him made you a person.

“Sorry, my love. I’m just picking out the best harvest to take home.”

“You gonna make me my favorite pie?”

“Mhm. Anything for my dear husband.”

“Oh shut up, you’re gonna make me blush like a lil’ girl.”

Joel’s softened a little more ever since you sealed the deal with him. Ever since he slipped a silver ring around your ring finger and kissed you in front of an entire crowd on an eventful Sunday. He’s managed to get all shy now, hands behind his neck in an awfully Western manner, as he simmered over the new name. Pink on the face.

Husband. He’s a husband now. A husband in a time of flesh-eating monstrosities.

“Can you get those apples up top, love?”

Joel looked up to meet the branches you’re gazing up upon. A particularly tall curving branch with delicate green leaves cascading down it, a couple held gaping holes from caterpillars having their best meals.

You watched in full concentration as he reached upwards. Callused fingers met the matt exterior of the exact apple you’re referring to. The way Joel was leaning forward, strong arms extended beyond the top of your head, meant that he was within an alarming distance from you. He’s close. So close, you could see the way his Adam’s apples bob nervously, or the single sweat dribbling down his temples from July’s damp air.

“Joel, do you believe in fate?”

He held you beneath his gaze. One look into your left eyes, before he moved onto your right to make sure if he’s hearing you correctly.

“Fate?”

“Fate.”

“No. Not really.”

His musky leather-like scent slowly dissipated into thin air as he took a step back. Apple in hand, before he dropped it into your weaved basket.

“Why not?”

He cocked his head to the side.

“If I did, that’d just mean I wouldn’t be able to prevent the worst things from happening. I’d just be.. helpless I suppose.”

You looked at his suddenly sunken expression with great attention. And then, your heart reacted. Not a thump you’d usually feel at his loving embrace. Not even a leap. But a kind of swish, like a frog kicking off from a muddy back. Your heart pondered the moment between two elements: one, guilt; the other, compassion. You tried to hold up your end of things, but he was way ahead of you. Always one step ahead of your silly little head.

“If I believed in fate, then I’d have to accept that when they took.. Sarah away from me, that it was fated and I don’t.. I don’t think I can do that.”

“So you’d rather blame yourself?”

He didn’t say a word, but you knew what he’d say deep within your beating heart. Joel took the apple you asked him to pick from your basket and held it up to his lips. He raised his eyes to level it with yours before he took a bite, a big one that made a crunchy noise resounded when his teeth clashed with the flesh.

Conversations as intimate as these were meant for the early mornings when the two of you are still tangled in your shared blanket, but instead, you’re having this silent quarrel in one out of many rows of lined up apple trees. It’s a constant fight when it comes to assuring him of his worth. You raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to say something even more self-deprecating.

“My mother used to say that people are fated.”

You started off. The vulnerability made you cringe, but you pushed through.

“Meetings and partings. Birth and death. Love.”

You’re afraid he’d take you as a joke. He never did, but it’s a constant looming fear. Though his gentle stare calmed your nerves just a little.

“In another life we might’ve met. You might’ve seen me on the street. Our clothes might’ve brushed. I might’ve..”

“I might’ve loved you the same.”

Joel’s stoic expression slowly melted at the edges, slowly crumbling at the sight of your hopeful take on the concept. Before you could withdraw your mind from its far places, his arms were around you, as sure and hard as the love he held for you. You felt against the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left your lips. His instintent mouth parted your shaking lips, sending wild tremors along your nerves, with a swift gradation of intensity that made your knees buckle.

“I don’t care about my past lives or my future ones,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re here now and I’ll love you for as long as this lifetime lets me.”

“When’s Sarah coming back from school again?”

“Four, my love. It’s barely past ten right now.”

In your quaint little bathroom, adorned with shades of pastel pink and fragrant candles, you stood beside a gleaming white porcelain basin that’s filled to the top with warm water. The soft glow of early mornings streamed in through the frosted window, casting a gentle ambiance on the scene. You had your hair tied loosely in a towel. A concentrated look itched itself onto your knitted brows as you delicately poured a small amount of liquid shampoo into your palms.

Just last Sunday, over a hearty homemade dinner, Joel informed you that he’d be picking up a lot more projects in order to churn a good amount of money into Sarah’s college funds. He’s become a silhouette of a husband instead of the real deal ever since then. Barely showing up over the weekends; the only evidence he left of his existence was the light scent of musk and sandalwood on the pillow beside you, the unruly blankets thrown haphazardly to the side, and his mud-covered jeans in the hampers.

In no way were you.. upset at him, he’s just fulfilling his duties, you’re just a little lonesome. And being lonely does things to a person.

You spread the thick dollop between your palms, creating a lather that released a delicate scent of fresh apples. You’ve always been fond of apples, every bit of its crunchy flesh and slightly sweet taste, so you thought perhaps the new addition would remind him more of you. Perhaps in quiet afternoons, when he’s watching people rearrange tiles in the proper manner, would he catch a whiff of your subtle apple scent. Perhaps in those moments he would think of you, of the things he’d done with you and the things he’d like to do with you, and then he’d never think of straying.

Not that you have any particular suspicions.

“I missed this. Miss you too god damn bad,” he rasped out and your heart leapt like a schoolgirl.

“You do? Could barely tell when we barely met one another this week.”

You’re sulking, he noticed.

“Is my darling upset?” he cooed.

Joel made an attempt to turn his head in order to see you better, to console you the best he could, but you halted his movement by intertwining your fingers in his soft curls of brown. He chuckled softly at your persistence, surrendering to your little rules.

You’d be giving him more of an attitude if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked rather hilarious with his butt perched on the edge of the small wooden stool. It was meant to be for Sarah. A much younger Sarah who enjoyed bubbly bath times with you, but now with his burly figure, the wooden stool looked miniscule. Like a replica from an American Girl doll playset.

“Nope.”

You popped your P’s. An instant give away for lies.

“Found someone else to entertain myself with.”

Your sing-song tone was playful. Joel scrunched up like a dry sponge even when you couldn’t see him properly from the back, though he proceeded to tilt his head back to allow you better access. Your fingers, now softened by the warm water, glided through the silky strands, separating them with a sense of utmost tenderness.

“And who is that someone?”

“I’m not tellin’”

“Hey, that’s mean.”

This time Joel rebelled against your hold on him. The frothy tips of your fingers were still buried inside the hive of brown curls when he turned. His eyes were so different in moments like these, more soft than you knew eyes could be. Pleading, begging for you to relieve him of throbbing curiosity. He reminded you of a puppy. A labrador that’s far too big as a lapdog but still insists on it.

“It’s the postman, is it? Oh, or is it some.. obnoxiously rich guy holding parties every night?”

“I’m not Daisy and he’s not Gatsby, Joel.”

You cocked your eyebrows, before finally relenting to the small giggles that’s been building up in the back of your throat.

“It’s Gordon Ramsay on the TV.”

“Oh, is it?”

Joel reached forward to tickle your clothed sides. You laughed, obnoxiously at that, with a few snorts every now and then. In an attempt to free yourself from the never ending torture, you wriggled yourself away and flicked some of the soapy water onto his chest.

Your eyes betrayed you, because instead of overseeing the playful quarrel you’re engaging in, you couldn’t possibly stop yourself from staring at his bare torso. Curls of dark hair sprouted from where his navel starts, trailing all the way down where his minimally groomed manhood sits. A small pudge on his stomach which contrasts with the thick muscles of his back, and the broadness. God, the broadness of his chest made your toes curl.

Engaged and practically drooling from the sight, you grew limp from his teasing. Joel cocked his head to the side at the sudden change in behavior.. only to notice what caused it.

“You’re ogling at me! What a pervert!”

“I’m not!” you fought back.

“Am I still as smokin’ hot as you found me years ago?” he gave you that shit-eating grin you hate so much.

“I ain’t washin’ your hair if you keep this up.”

Your threat seemed to work wonders as he’s instantly pulling back to the position you’ve assigned him to. You sighed, a teasing one, before you poured water from a small cup over his head, washing away the frothy shampoo. The water danced over his scalp, playfully trickling down his face and shoulders, evoking a groan of irritation from him. It didn’t phase you one bit. Your gentle strokes proceeded like a soothing melody as you massaged the shampoo into a gentle foam.

“Do you believe in fate, my love?”

Joel let out a small hum.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you queried.

“It’d be too much of a coincidence to meet you in that one dive bar Tommy coerced me into. To then meet you again at the diner on Sarah’s birthday. To..” he stalled. “To have you here with me.”

When it’s just you and Joel, it’s rare to have a moment of proper silence. One of you will just chatter away like the world will end if you don’t, but there was a five minute pause at the end of his words. The chirping of birds sounded extremely loud against your eardrums, as well as the running water by your side.

“Well, do you believe in fate, sweetheart?”

“Perhaps,” you whispered. “I’ve always had a feeling that I’ve known you for ages.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou #the last of us fic #tlou x reader

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redbreastedbird · 6 months

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i know u havent started writing much of the ministry book 3 but just wondering if u plan on having any halex content 🙏. also I discovered the mmu series in lockdown and no matter how many times I re-read the books i never get bored of them!

Oh. There will BE Halex content. I don’t know much about the plot yet but I do know that Alex is going to play a very important role!!!

#robin stevens #ministry of unladylike activity #ministry 3 #alexander arcady #hazel x alexander

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bey0nd-1he-stars · 1 year

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Impossible love - Nikolai Lantsov

Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader, Vasily Lantsov x reader

Wordcount: 1467

Warnings: implied smut, implied sexual assault, crying, heartbreaking ending (sorry not sorry)

Summary: You're getting married to Vasily, but your heart belongs to Nikolai. Based on this request:

The chapel was filled with people from all over the world. Councilmen from Kerch, the royal family of both Novy Zem and Shu han, the Suli princesses and almost every one of the dukes of Ravka and their families, a few Fjerdan delegates, they all occupied the benches in the chapel. The king’s advisors, the Grisha from the little palace and the royal family occupied the front rows. Vasily and you stood at the altar, he was wearing an elegant white suit, medals pinned to the front of his jacket and his dark curls slicked back. Your white wedding dress complimented you well and your hair was put together and decorated with silk bands in the light blue color that represented the Lantsov family.

You finished your vows with a shaky voice. Your eyes wanted to wander the room, to find anything to look at that wasn’t Vasily, or Saints forbid, Nikolai. You knew that if your eyes found his hazel ones you’d never get the words out. You gave a short nod when the last word was uttered and the apparat declared your marriage sealed. Vasily was smiling like a maniac and he hastily grabbed your waist, pulling you against him and pressing a messy kiss to your lips. The action caught you by surprise and you gasped for air in the middle of the kiss. With a low voice so no one would hear him over the applause, Vasily growled against your lips, “kiss me back, you fool.”

Not wanting to mess something up, you carefully wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. It was your wedding, for saints sake, you should be happy. You should be crying tears of happiness and kissing your now husband like there was no tomorrow. But all you could think about was how it was all so wrong. This reception felt wrong, the dress felt wrong, the ring on your finger felt wrong, the kiss felt wrong. When you opened your eyes and got once again reminded who was standing in front of you, your heart broke. With a subtle glance to the side, you found Nikolai’s gaze telling you that he felt the exact same.

The gardens had been decorated and rows and rows of tables and elegant chairs had been placed out for the guests. A table for the royal family stood in the front. Servants ran around placing out different dishes and drinks for the guests. King Alexander and Queen Tatiana sat to Vasily’s right, you to his left and to your left sat Nikolai. The closeness of him made your heart pound and break at the same time. Vasily’s hand grasped yours then he placed your intertwined ones on top of the table. A gift table stood at the far end of the table. It was covered in presents, each and every one of them reminding you that you’d actually married Vasily. A political move, all show, but Vasily still seemed to find pleasure in it. After all, he loved to take things his brother loved out of his reach, and you were the grandest price he’d ever get to take, the one thing that would break Nikolai’s heart for real.

The feast for you and Vasily lasted the whole day. The summer nights brought late sunsets and the world bathed in the sun’s last beams right now. Your feet hurt from walking in heels the whole day and the dress was heavy on your shoulders. When the feast was over and you all started to make your way inside the grand palace to get some well earned rest. You feared for the night to come, knowing you probably wouldn’t get much sleep. Vasily had other plans, and even though he hadn’t voiced them to you, you knew what he wanted.

Nikolai took your hand and pulled you aside from the crowd, hiding away behind the bushes and trees. He glanced around to see if anyone was in sight, and when he saw that no one had followed you, he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest and pressing you into him. The warmth from his body radiated off of him and spread to yours. You let yourself fall into him, taking the comfort he offered. If it was the feelings inside of you or the tiredness of today’s events that did it, you didn’t know, but you burst down in tears the second Nikolai pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your makeup got ruined and it would probably stain his clothes, but neither of you cared. Nikolai gently pulled away to look you in the eyes.

“It’ll be okay. Whatever happens, I’ll be by your side,” he promised with a soft voice and another kiss to your temple. You pulled away from his embrace and whipped your tears away, shaking your head in protest.

“No, you won't. I’ll be stuck beside Vasily and you’ll just be out of reach, watching.”

Nikolai’s heart broke and shattered at your words. You both knew it was true, but not until today had it seemed like it would actually happen. Not until today did he believe that you would ever belong to anyone else than him. But you both needed to stay hopeful. Maybe one day, it would solve itself and you would once again be by Nikolai’s side. The thought was in your prayers every night and day.

“You’ll survive this,” he said gently, taking your hands in his again, needing to have you close, if just for a few mere seconds until you’d have to return to the palace, to Vasily. The thought made him sick to the stomach of what his brother might do to you on your wedding night. “We’ll survive this,” he vowed and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to prevent the tears from falling from his eyes. You just stood there, watching as Nikolai’s hope slowly faded from his heart. You both knew that what you two had wasn’t possible anymore, and nothing had ever broken your heart more. The love of your life was standing in front of you, your hands in his, his beautiful hazel eyes filled with tears and his heart breaking into pieces. You both knew that there was nothing that could save you now, and the knowledge only made it hurt more. You drew a shaky breath and gave his hands a gentle squeeze before uttering the words that you’d dreaded since the day you were informed that you’d be married off to Vasily.

“I’m married to your brother,” your voice cracked and you drew a hasty, uneven breath. Your tears and breath were stuck in your throat and your hands shook. “I can’t be yours anymore and I never will be.” Nikolai let go of your hands and turned around, not bearing to look at you anymore. Your beautiful wedding dress and a white veil in your hair. A grand wedding ring on your finger. Nikolai had dreamt many times about the day you’d get married, and that day was here. It had passed and it left you both with broken hearts. You watched as Nikolai carefully sat down on the ground, his knees giving out under him. You knew that if you stayed any longer you would never be able to walk away but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Carefully you placed a hand on Nikolai’s shoulder, and he broke down. He gasped for breath, his face buried in his hands and his whole body shook under your hand. His blond hair was messy now and the suit he was wearing had gotten small stains all over. But he was beautiful. He was perfect. He was a prince. He was perfectly beautiful Nikolai, but he wasn’t yours. You drew a shaky breath, breaking your own heart in the process, then you let your broken voice carry out the words, your last words, before you knew you had to go.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whispered, your voice not strong enough to speak any louder. “I don’t wanna go, but I love you too much to stay.” With that you slowly let your hand fall from his shoulder, resting your fingertips on the silk fabric for as long as you could. When your hand returned to your side, you gasped for breath, not believing that you’d let him go.

“Go,” Nikolai rasped out,”leave. Please,” he begged in a desperate whisper. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. He heard as your steps carried you away towards a night that would leave you bruised and broken. He looked up and watched the moment the sun slipped beneath the horizon, and the only thing he could think of was that it was way too beautiful.

Part 2

Part 2 has a happy ending, I promise

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deepdeanvsweston · 4 months

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Valentine's Day headcannons but one day late

Lavinia x Daisy (romantic)

- not only do they not care about Valentine's Day they actively loathe it

- it makes them uncomfortable, both for different reasons

- Daisy says every year 'i hate heternormativty! They should call it HATErnomativity'

- everyone is sick of this joke bar Lavinia who finds it comedy gold every time

- (Daisy is actually completely sick of this joke herself but she loves to hear Lavinia laugh)

- they just carry on with the same routine they do every other day

- but when they do anything traditionally romantic likes kiss or hold hands, they immediately go 'just gal pals!' out of spite for valentine's day

Daisy x Hazel (queerplatonic)

- yes Daisy hates Valentine's Day but Hazel does not. Daisy goes all out for her

- we're talking heart shaped pancakes in the morning (someone is always on standby with a saucepan full of water), favourite restaurant booked for the evening, her favourite flowers by Hazel's bedside when she wakes up

- Daisy loves spoiling Hazel and Hazel deserves it

- for their first valentine's day after they were actively like 'ok yeah we like the label queerplatonic relationship' Daisy got Hazel a ring with Detective Society engraved inside of it, and it was made out of a branch of hazel tree and a daisy flower

- Hazel just kisses Daisy a lot because she knows she's not keen on valentine's day

- Daisy is of course perfectly fine with this

George x Aleksandr (they don't know what the fuck is going on and they're are content with this)

-Aleks doesn't even remember it's Valentine's Day

- the only reason he knew it was because he encounters George's parents saying it to each other

- he's completely neutral on it, except when it prompts his family to ask him about a girlfriend, and marriage, and then he despises valentine's day for the duration of the conversation

- George HATES the commercialisation of valentine's day (me too George)

- but he is a romantic and enjoys the original stories about it

- make Aleks a little paper card, and in fact used to send one anonymously at Weston to him every year

- they both don't really do anything different

Harold x Bertie (romantic)

- they love valentine's day

- they love any occasion to spoil each other

- Bertie essentially gets a 2 day celebration considering his birthday's the day before

- DIY to the MAX

- Bertie writes Harold some godawful romantic poetry every year

- Harold cherishes every single one

- first year they celebrated, they both tried to cook each other a meal at the same time

- imagine lots of "why won't he leave the fucking kitchen"

- they soon realised and now just cook dinner together and find it's much more fun

- they also go and buy flowers for each other together

- Bertie is learning how to say 'i love you' in Hindi

#murder most unladylike #mmu #daisy wells #hazel wong #alexander arcady #george mukherjee #lavinia temple #bertie wells #harold mukherjee #george mukherjee x alexander arcady #bertie wells x harold mukherjee #daisy wells x lavinia temple #hazel wong x daisy wells

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softboynick · 2 months

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wip wednesday - 4/3/24

it is wednesday yet again, and boy did y'all get it in so EARLY. love that for y'all. thanks for the tags my loves: @priincebutt @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @itsmaybitheway

here's more george x henry x alex as a little treat:

“Insatiable, the both of you. I leave you for an hour, and you are already fucking like animals,” Alexander says, but there is no bite to his words. Instead, his voice carries a fondness he only reserves for his little lamb and darling boy. He shuts the door and stares openly at the magnificent sight before him. Henry bent over with his hands on the windowsill and George behind him, fucking into him with vigor. The curtains are drawn wide open, their sodomy on display for all who happen to be unlucky—or lucky—enough to stumble upon their window. They are both completely naked, miles of pale skin littered with bruises and love bites. Sweat pours down George’s temples as he pistons his cock in and out of Henry’s greedy little hole. His fingers dig into the flesh of his hips, nearly aligning with the fingerprints left behind by Alexander the night before. He tosses an innocent grin over his shoulder, his hazel eyes darkened to an inky black. “What else were we to do, my king?” he asks, his voice strained from the pleasure thrumming through his veins. “Wait for you?”

@henrysfox @taste-thewaste @luainthewild @onthewaytosomewhere @tinyarmedtrex @captainjunglegym @onpurposeilovehimonpurpose @england-would-fall @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @bitbybitwrites @nocoastposts @magicandarchery @henryspearl + OPEN TAG

#wip wednesday #my writing

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obsolescent · 8 months

Text

Kinktober - Day 15

Pairing: Alexander “Sasha” Kozachenko x Reader

Prompt: Bathing

Author’s Notes: Ya’ll don’t know how EXCITED I got when I saw this was the next pairing, like I’ve wanted to write something for him for so long now. Not many know about him, but he’s one of my favorite RE characters! I would put this in my Patience and Comfort AU but I haven’t posted it yet, lol, but enjoy! (Also I am so sorry about the wait, I plan to make up for it on my day off!!)

Content Warnings: Reader is a teacher and so is Sasha, use of Alexander’s nickname (Buddy), AFAB reader, gender neutral language used for reader, nipple play, hickies, bathtub sex, unprotected sex, creampie, riding.

Kinktober Masterlist

“Милый?” You hear Sasha call from the bathroom. Looking up once you heard him say the pet name, from the papers you had been grading. You hum back in reply, standing up from the kitchen table, stretching your stiff body before walking down the hallway. You can hear water running, steam seeping through the cracked door.

There’s faint light coming from inside, like the ceiling light isn’t on but there is illumination. “Buddy?” You call out, pushing against the door, opening it further. You walk into the bathroom, closing the door as the steam settles against your skin. Your vision begins to clear, it also having to adjust to the dim lighting.

Your eyesight catches on the flickering lights, candles set throughout the room, one on the counter near the sink, another on the back of the toilet, and the remaining set at each corner of the tub. That’s when your eye catches Buddy’s, hazel eyes warm with a smile on his face.

“Привет, дорогой. Come join me?” He asks, holding out a sudsy hand. The bathtub is filling with water, bubbles steadily rising along with it. “Certainly,” you grin, discarding yourself of your clothing. Teasing, you slowly pull each clothing item off, baring yourself a little at a time to his wandering gaze, as it makes its journey down your body.

Once disrobed, you grab his hand and step over the ledge, sitting between his legs. You sigh, leaning against him, allowing the water’s satisfying warmth to alleviate the tension that’s gathered in your bones. Sasha’s hands knead your forearms, rising steadily to press into your skin until your shoulders are under his touch, the tension in them dissipating as his thumbs work into the muscles there.

You sigh, relaxing into his chest. Sasha begins kissing down your neck, whispering sweet words in his native tongue. “Relax with me, любовь. Let me take care of you.” He takes a washcloth and begins to drag it down your body, leaving suds in its wake.

Humming, you watch his hands run across your body, over your chest, his finger reaching out to tease your nipples. You arch into his touch, sensitive to his ministrations and the air around you. “Это приятно?” He chuckles at your reaction, his mouth trailing down to your collarbone to suck a spot there, an area easier to hide from others.

“Y-yes, more please,” you gasp out, grinding down on his lap, erection pressing into your ass. One hand latches onto your chest, grasp indenting the skin as he begins massaging the area, the other wanders down your front, ghostly touches until it sinks under the water, past your navel and beyond.

Sasha’s fingers make contact, your clit jumping and the touch. He wraps his fingers around you, beginning to stroke, while continuing his hold on your nipple, pinching and tugging. Moaning, hands reaching up to tug at his short fringe while he works your body. You lift your hips, allowing his cock to slip between your thighs, rubbing them together for added friction.

He moans at the sensation, pulling you closer to his body. “Озорной,” he whispers in your ear, and your grin back. “Two can play at that game,” you say as you break from his hold, twisting your body around to face him, straddling his lap.

Grinding down onto his throbbing dick, water sloshing in the tub at your movements, Sasha latches onto your hips, gasping. “You want inside, huh?” You tease, letting his cockhead only just breach your opening before letting it glide past. He tosses his head back, letting it hit the edge of the tub with a thunk. “Ебать, please!”

Huffing out a laugh, you lean over his body, leaving pecks across his face, hands splayed out across his chest. Without warning, you drop onto his lap. Sasha’s cock sheathing fully inside at your action, both moaning simultaneously. Thighs flushed against his hips, picking up a swirling pattern as you begin riding him.

Sounds of pleasure fill the steamy room as well as the water slapping against your bodies with the force of your rocking. Arms wrapped around his neck while he encircles your waist, the day melts away as the frustrations dissipate and in its place, the florescence of pleasure.

Lips meeting, consuming one another’s sounds as you near the precipice. One of Sasha’s hands leaves you and travels beneath the now choppy waters, resuming his earlier stroking, knowing you need just a bit more to unravel. “Закончи для меня, дорогая,” he says, his upper body strength assisting you in your pursuit in glory.

The heavens dance across your vision as you finish, crying out his name as you cum, pace faltering as you slump over Sasha, his hand never slowing its tempo. “Так хорошо,” whispering praises to you while you descend back to the earth, you finally come around and begin again, letting him have his. “Y-you don’t have to, котенок,” Sasha groans out, hands flush to your hips, trying to slow your movements. “Let me, baby,” you coo, kissing down his neck. He sighs, resting his head back as his grip lessens, allowing you to move how you know he likes.

Doesn’t take Sasha long before he grits your name out, warmth pooling inside you, his essence dripping down your walls. “So good for me,” you echo back his praise, running your fingers through his damp hair. Slumping against him, sharing in each other’s body heat as the water around you cools, You hear him begin to laugh.

You lift your head up with a soft hum, wondering what’s funny. “The этаж, look!” Your sight casts downward to the tile of the bathroom, saturated with water from the overflowing tub. “Oh, shit!” You exclaim, disconnecting your bodies to launch forward and turn the faucet off. Sasha’s still chuckling, one of his hands against his face, while your motions cause more water to cascade down the sides.

“Sorry to the neighbors downstairs,” you mumble, thinking of ways to sop up all the water.

Tags: @caramlizedtomatoes, @cheezbites, @dwkfan, @emilzke, @neondogs, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @xxacademy

#o's kinktober #alexander kozachenko x gn!reader #alexander kozachenko x reader #alexander kozachenko x you #alexander kozachenko #resident evil smut #resident evil damnation

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