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devildom-moss · 3 months

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Signs of Affection (gift)

Part 3/finale of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Beelzebub x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Raphael x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +3,600

Beelzebub

By the time Beelzebub finally returned home, it was late. He made a stop after practice with one goal in mind: to make you smile. So, after a long day, the second he walked through the door, Beel went looking for you. Unfortunately, you weren’t in your room. Nor were you in his room – which was a shame, as a selfish part of him hoped to find you curled up in his sheets, waiting for him to get home. He would have asked Belphie if he hadn’t passed out in his own bed for a pre-dinner nap. Then, he remembered: you were in charge of making dinner tonight. How could he have forgotten? Usually, Beel would look forward to your home cooking all day, anticipation building in him until dinnertime. Beel hurried to the kitchen with a smile on his face.

When he found you, Beel couldn’t hold back. He came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and buried his face in your neck. Between your scent and the smell of whatever you were cooking, Beel was in a state of bliss. He sighed against your skin and whispered, “found you.”

You noticed that he was still wearing his school uniform. Beel tended to shower and change after he got home – especially when he had practice. “Did you just get back?”

“I’m home now.” Beel hugged you tighter and sighed again. His hot breath tickled your neck. If your presence hadn’t subdued him into a soft, pleasant haze, Beelzebub might have found the words to clarify: now that he finally had you in his arms, he felt at home.

“It’s pretty late. You must be starving. Is that why you came by? I’ll be done soon, I promise,” you reassured him with a soft smile.

“Actually, I came in for this” – Beel took one arm off you to dig something out of his satchel and set a bag of bright crimson candies, tied with a dark green ribbon, on the counter next to the stove – “I bought you a bag of cherry candies.”

“That’s so nice! Thank you, Beel.” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“I got another bag for myself so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat yours. Wanna try one?”

“Sure.”

Beel pulled out a piece from his own bag – which he had already opened on the walk back home – and unwrapped it for you. Without a word, he brought it up to your lips. You knew you should have been used to him trying to hand feed you by now, but the feeling of his fingertips grazing your lips always stirred something in you, and you were rarely sure whether he was purposefully trying to turn you on or not. Although, those few times where he dared to tease you – by, for example, pushing his finger into your mouth along with a bright cherry candy, and dragging it along your tongue before sliding the saliva-dampened digit down your chin – suggested that he always knew what he was doing to you.

Whether it was from the rush of sugar melting on your tongue or the racing of your heart, your lips curved up.

“There’s that smile.” A soft, breathy chuckle teased you further. “I thought I should bring back something sweet for you – because you’re sweet.”

“Aww, you think I’m sweet?” His words made you melt.

“Yes. You’re a very sweet person,” Beel replied in a candied tone. He loosened his grip around you to place his hands on either side of the stove, boxing you in. Leaning over your shoulder, Beel whispered into your ear: “And you taste even sweeter.”

The seductive drop in his voice sent chills up your spine that caused your shoulders to tremble slightly – an effect you hoped that Beel wouldn’t notice. You did your best to divert his attention and give yourself a chance to calm down. “Are you hungry? Do you want to try some of the stir-fry?”

Beel laughed and opened his mouth for you to feed him. You carefully grabbed a piece of meat with cooking chopsticks and allowed it to cool before holding it in your hands. It wasn’t as if you were eager to feel Beel’s lips on your skin. You just knew that you could trust him to not take a bite out of you more than you could trust him not to bite through the chopsticks. Besides, you didn’t want to contaminate the food by letting him eat with your cooking utensil.

He looked so happy as he chewed. “It’s delicious. I wish I could eat your cooking every day.”

“Thank you, Beel,” you grinned with a hint of pride.

Beelzebub wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck affectionately once more. His cheeks burned, and he admitted, “But I still want to eat you most of all.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you hadn’t expected to find such an obvious trap awaiting you. Right in front of the entrance to the cave was a vibrant pink gift box tied with a blue ribbon. She wasn’t fooling anyone, but you would hate to disappoint her, so you approached the present and leaned down to pick it up, trusting that Thirteen wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Besides, you didn’t sense any malicious magic coming from the present.

The second you lifted the lid, a flurry of bubbles and confetti rushed out of the box. A particularly large bubble that was uniquely semi-opaque floated closer to you. There was something inside, or at least the strange shadow near the bottom suggested as much. You held your hands to catch the bubble, but just as it reached your palm, it burst into a puff of smoke, leaving its contents in your hand. Once the smoke cleared, you saw a bracelet with large, light pinkish-purple colored stone beads.

“Okay, where’s the cute little trickster who designed this?” you yelled out, knowing that Thirteen was probably watching nearby.

There was a gentle rustling in a nearby tree before you saw Thirteen hanging upside down from a sturdy branch. She arched her spine and bent backwards so she could get a good look at you. Thirteen gave you a smile, kicked her legs off the branch, and flipped over, landing safely on her feet. You felt compelled to clap for her.

“Someone called for a cute trickster?” Thirteen walked over while stretching her arms above her head, lifting her shirt up slightly higher.

You tried to ignore your racing thoughts and asked, showing her the bracelet in your hand, “what’s this?”

“It looks like a thirteen-bead lilac kunzite bracelet – knotted, with a silk cord,” Thirteen answered plainly before a grin snuck up on her face. “Oh~ you mean, is this pretty little accessory and Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise a gift for a precious human from someone madly in love with them? Who knows.”

“I’d say you might know.” You laughed at her, which only made Thirteen’s smile widen.

“I might,” she confirmed.

“Well, your – I mean their – Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise was delightful, and it is a very pretty bracelet. Whatever human receives this is lucky, and I’m sure they are just as madly in love with the sender.”

“Oh you!” Thirteen bit her lip, all too pleased that you had not only played along with her but had flirted to the point of making her heart race. “Let me put this on for you.”

“You mean it’s for me?” you teased.

“Stop playing with me – unless you’re willing to put something at stake. In which case, I won’t go easy on you. Now, give it here.” Thirteen held her hand out with a wicked grin. You placed the bracelet in her palm.

Thirteen loosened the bracelet and slipped it over your hand. She rubbed her fingertip over the first stone and continued the motion like they were prayer beads until she got to the seventh. On that one, Thirteen rolled it back and fourth over your skin a few times. Then, she tightened the bracelet around your wrist.

“Thank you, Thirteen. But why did you want to give me this?” Usually, Thirteen preferred to give you food that the both of you could share or gadgets she had made. A bracelet wasn’t something you expected from her. Then, it occurred to you. “Wait, did you make this yourself?”

“What do you think?” Thirteen held your hand up, admiring the way her work looked against your skin. She smirked. “I am good with my hands, after all.”

Trying to ignore her innuendo, you asked, “What made you think to make this for me? It’s so sweet of you.”

“The answer isn’t that sweet; do you still want to know?” Thirteen caressed your knuckles with her thumb.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“I wanted to stake my claim on you. Those idiots are always clamoring for your attention, and I don’t mind that you indulge them, but it makes me feel a bit possessive. Since I’m certain you wouldn’t allow me to bite you every day, this is my way of marking you. I hope you don’t mind.” Thirteen had a soft smile on her lips – tainted with the shame of her jealousy. She grabbed the ends of your bracelet and tugged it gently, guiding your hand upright. Then, she slid her hand up, and intertwined her fingers with yours. “I want you to remember that you’re mine too.”

Raphael

Days alone with Raphael were a rarity, especially days spent comfortably relaxing in his room – and not just because the state of his room was often too chaotic for him to invite you in without any shame. However, Raphael found the place in a post-project cleanliness that encouraged him to ask you over at your earliest convenience. He was happy to have you all to himself.

“Take your shirt off,” Raphael suddenly insisted.

“Excuse me?” He had always been blunt, but the demand startled and flustered you. It wasn’t off the table, but the way he brought up his desires – how he initiated his advances – was jarring. You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Raphael chuckled at your surprise – almost as if he had intentionally phrased it that way just to tease you. He got up and went to his designated “projects for MC” bin and pulled out a neatly folded cloth, “I made you something, and I want to see how it fits you.”

He held a black button-down shirt up to your body. The cuffs and collar had subtle gold and blue embroidery that matched the four-part diamond accent unique to Raphael’s Celestial Realm clothes – the one on his choker and the front of his pantlegs. During his downtime over the past few weeks, Raphael had worked hard, crafting the shirt from scratch and ensuring everything down to the gold-thread buttonholes was beautiful. He had even taken the time to match the golden thread and the diamond-shaped metal buttons.

“Do you not want to get undressed?” Raphael’s lower lip pushed forward in a false pout – and had you realized he was setting you up to tease you, you might not have felt your chest tighten with heart-wrenching pity. That pout revealed its true nature: a wicked smirk unbefitting an angel. “Or maybe you’d like some help, hm?”

“Okay, if you don’t mind,” you agreed coolly, hoping to calm his teasing with shameless honesty.

Raphael draped your new shirt over the edge of his bed, freeing up his hands so he could take his time with you. His fingers lingered along your bare skin, appraising each inch of the exposed flesh he revealed. Scarred, hairy, dry, uneven, or sagging skin – any perceived flaw and every part of your body under his hands deserved the reverence he held for you. Each unnecessary caress was an offering of affection, praise whispered through a brief topographical survey of your body. Once he got you out of your shirt, Raphael took a second to admire you before helping you into the new one. He slowly buttoned it up, savoring the warmth of your core. His fingers stopped after the third button from the top, and he trailed his index finger down your exposed skin until he reached the button he had just done and hooked his finger inside your shirt. A part of him wanted to stop and undress you all over again.

“Raphael.” You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull him out of the daze he had worked himself into. He blinked slowly.

“Sorry. It’s not every day that I get to treat you like my doll.” Raphael held a gentle smile on his lips and dragged his gaze up to your chest as he finished buttoning up your shirt. Just as he imagined it would, the shirt fit beautifully. He smoothed his thumb over the embroidery on your collar. “Perfect.”

Raphael was right. The material was soft, and the shirt was a perfect fit. It was unbelievable. “How did you make this? It feels like you tailored it just for me, but you didn’t even take my measurements. Is that some kind of superpower?”

“Of course not,” Raphael chuckled at your confusion. “You know that silky black shirt you wore at the last R.A.D. event? I thought you looked amazing in it, so I used it to construct a pattern for this shirt.”

“You stole my shirt?”

“No. I borrowed it.”

“What? When? How?” You scrambled to understand what Raphael had done to get his hands on your clothes, but you decided to disregard those concerns and asked, “Do you still have it?”

“Yes – probably. I might have lost it in the sewing process. I’m sorry.” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can buy you a new one.”

“It’s okay. I already have a new shirt thanks to you.” You offered him a soft, understanding smile.

“But you looked really good in that one,” Raphael protested. “Let me buy you a replacement. I insist.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Good.” Raphael busied his hands by folding up the shirt you were wearing before. “Oh, but if I find it, do you want the old shirt back?”

“If you can use it for something else, you can keep it.”

“Oh? Alright.” Raphael nodded. Wonderful. He just had to keep the old one hidden for a few more days.

Mephistopheles

You were busy helping Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Satan with paperwork when Mephisto burst into the student council room. He had been searching for you all day to give you a gift. He’d never admit to keeping his eye out for you – nor would he admit to sinking so low as to ask the one angel he actually got along with if he knew your whereabouts. Luke mentioned seeing Barbatos escorting you to the council room, so Mephisto took that lead and explored it.

It was annoying that you weren’t easier to track down, but Mephisto was especially irritated to find you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lucifer as that pompous bastard leaned over to examine your work – as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world that Lucifer was coming on to you by pressing himself against you. What an entitled ass. What a rude, desperate, jerk!

Mephisto was fuming as he made his way over to you – although his anger wasn’t directed at the human he was unfortunately enamored with. He came up right behind you and Lucifer and sandwiched himself between the two of you as he set a small black leather box with silver accents down on the table.

“For me?” You stared at him, confused.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you as if you had just asked the stupidest question he had heard all week. He started to speak: “Are you –”

“Yes, of course it is,” Mephisto cooed, happily interrupting Lucifer, and bent over the table until he had claimed the scarce space between paperwork. He stared at you over his shoulder with a seductive tint that Lucifer should have been grateful to be spared from witnessing. Mephisto’s gaze didn’t break as he asked, “Who else in this room would I go out of my way to spoil, you ridiculous creature?”

“Diavolo, probably,” you answered honestly.

“Lord Diavolo doesn’t require my spoiling. He’s a perfectly capable leader.”

“MC doesn’t require your spoiling either,” Lucifer interjected. “They’re spoiled plenty at home.”

“What sort of egotistical guardian denies someone the simple pleasure of a present because he believes himself capable of tending to their every need?” Mephisto continued to keep his eyes on you as he directed his question at the demon to his side.

“Excuse me? What overinflated suitor believes he’s more capable of pleasing someone who lays their head down in the bed of another?”

“I could ask you the same question!”

“Can you two knock it off?” You sighed, glancing around the room. Barbatos gave you a look that suggested he was two more coded insults away from shutting those two up himself.

“I’m finished with this stack anyway.” Lucifer gathered his paperwork into a tidy pile and got to his feet. “Just call on me if you need anything at all, MC. I’m certain I can fulfill whatever you ask of me.”

Once Lucifer walked away, you saw Mephisto’s shoulders relax. You shook your head, slightly entertained by his commitment to hating Lucifer. “Thank you for the gift, Mephisto. This is very sweet. I’ll open it after I’m done here, okay?”

“Certainly. Well” – Mephisto stood up straight, smoothed down his jacket, and quickly squeezed your shoulder as if he was afraid to let anyone notice that a desire to touch you burned in him – “I should be on my way.”

“Wait. Could I have a kiss before you go?” you asked.

“What? Why would you want –? Right now?” Mephisto felt especially flustered at the idea of kissing you in front of Diavolo and Barbatos. If you had just asked in front of Lucifer and Satan, he would have quickly obliged you.

“Please?” You encouraged him, sweetly.

“What’s the matter, Mephistopheles?” Lucifer made his way back towards the wreckage to antagonize the drowning victim. A sadistic smirk sat on his lips. “I gave MC a kiss the last time I gave them a present. Can’t you do that much?”

“I don’t want to!” Mephisto huffed and stormed away. You felt guilty and were about to chase after him to apologize when he loudly demanded, “Don’t follow me. Just leave me alone.”

You sat back down in your seat and nervously chewed your lower lip. Every part of that situation could have gone better. I probably shouldn’t have asked so much of him, and I didn’t need to be so persistent, you thought. Eventually, you refocused on your paperwork – trying to distract from the awkwardness you felt and to keep your eyes from wandering to the present sitting on the table, taunting you. Mephisto was being so nice to you, and now he's probably in a terrible mood; that didn’t seem fair, and it certainly didn’t seem fair that you were left with a gift that you said you would open. The paperwork-distraction did, inevitably, come to an end. There was nothing left to shove between you and that gift; your hands were idle. Maybe you shouldn’t open it.

“MC,” Diavolo interrupted your thoughts. “I think Mephisto would be happy if you opened it now.”

“He would?” You traced the decorative silver boarder along the top of the box.

“I’ve known him longer than anyone else. If I had to guess, I’d say he was really excited for you to open that present – whether he was here or off sulking somewhere. He just wanted to make you happy.” Diavolo offered you a smile and returned to his desk.

You decided to open it. Inside the box was a well-crafted brooch that was aimed to complement your style, which indicated that Mephisto had carefully considered what would suit you. Underneath the brooch was a small card with your name written on it in Mephisto’s lovely – although possibly ostentatious – calligraphy. You opened the card to read:

Wear this to dinner tonight. Dress nicely. A car will arrive to pick you up at the House of Lamentation at 8pm. Yours, unfortunately, Mephistopheles

He got you a present and asked you on a date – or, well, maybe demanded one. Now you really felt bad for letting him storm off. Would he even still want to keep your date? You pulled out your D.D.D. and anxiously crafted a message.

MC: Hey, Mephi. I’m sorry I was so pushy earlier. I shouldn’t have upset you by asking for a kiss so casually in front of people. I hope you aren’t too upset. . . Do you still want to go on that date tonight? I’ll understand if you want to call it off.

You pressed send and waited for a response that came soon after.

Mephistopheles: Just don’t get so needy in front of Lord Diavolo in the future.

Mephistopheles: And yes, I expect to see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it. However, I need you to do one more thing for me.

MC: Sure, what is it?

Mephistopheles: Bring a change of clothes with you – unless you want me to drop you off at home tomorrow afternoon in the same outfit you were wearing when you left.

You rolled your eyes and tried to tease him.

MC: What? I can’t go home in the morning? Are you not a morning demon?

Mephistopheles: I won’t be done with you by the time morning reaches us. Any other questions, you ridiculous creature?

(kiss version - Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Solomon)

A/N: This took way too long and I cannot explain why (I don't know. Maybe my brain is broken). Also we should get to romance the sides after the next update because it would make sense but also because I want to - even if they might disappoint me.

#requests #gn!mc #beelzebub #thirteen #raphael #mephistopheles #obey me short fic #even though Mephi's is not very short because I like making him argue with Lucifer #obey me side characters #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #I love writing bitchy banter which is why I love writing Mephi stuff with Lucifer #Although some of my OCs would probably also be pretty dick-ish when given the chance

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foreingersgod · 5 days

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I would love a Georgia amoore fic!! Maybe since they all are at Kelsey Plums class, reader meets Georgia there and they hit it off or something?! You’re so talented 🙏🏻

Sofia . GA

pairing: georgia amoore x reader

synopsis: ^request

A/N: also i’m doing a little name reveal because i don’t want to keep using JUST my initial, so you all can now refer to me as “Gracie” cause thats my real name lmao 😭

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

from the moment she had seen you walk through the doors, bag in hand and hair swept back, she knew she was a goner. you were a goddess in her eyes. the way you sauntered confidently, the way you smiled, the way you talked to everyone (including her) so kindly had her swooning.

she remembers the first day of kelsey’s class. she was nervous and intimidated, and if we’re being honest, she didn’t really want to be there with all of these strangers. georgia wasn’t reserved or especially outgoing either way, but she liked to keep to her small bubble and the people she was close with. in her jersey and basketball shorts, she stood on the sidelines of the court watching all of the attendees chat before the class was scheduled to start. it didn’t bother her that she was alone, but she felt even more anxious just standing there. and then you came along. you were so bubbly and excited to be there as you clambered into the gymnasium. you had noticed georgia from across the room, instantly locking eyes with her, and headed over to her determined.

“just over here by yourself?” your sweet voice wavered into her ears. you gave her a dorky smile, setting your stuff down next to hers.

“oh” she was slightly startled that you had approached her “yea-i um-i don’t know just didn’t really feel like mingling i guess”

she tried to laugh it off, but she could tell her embarrassment was seeping through.

“yea i get you, i don’t really like it either” you shrugged, not even fazed by georgia’s stammering “im, YN, by the way”

she gave you a relieved smile back, nodding slightly “i’m georgia, s’nice to meet you”

you offered out your hand for her to shake and she took it willingly. the sensation of your touch made her brain fuzzy, the way your soft fingers brushed against the callousness of her hands. she watched as you bit your lip, suppressing another smile before releasing her hand.

she was already head over heels for you.

But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you

“hey georgia!” you said, feet planted on the ground as you stood near the net “over here!”

she held the ball, another girl in front of her to guard her. she looked around trying to find someone open when she noticed you. with little hesitation, she passed it, watching as your fingers gripped the ball. you then took your shot, ball falling through the net. the score signified a much needed break and everyone on the court dispersed to the sidelines.

“that was a good pass” you came up behind georgia as she walked over to her bag “you’re looking good out there, g”

she could feel her face grow hot, turning around to face you once she grabbed her water bottle. she tried to hide her flustered demeanor by taking a swig of her water, but it was clearly no use. you were already grinning, tongue darting out to swipe your bottom lip.

“oh, thanks” she managed to muster out, swallowing hard “you too”

“thanks, that’s very sweet of you” she couldn’t tell if your face was just red from running across the court or if she had somehow managed to make you blush too “hey can i ask you something?”

“anything” you had hardly managed to finish your sentence before she was answering. she was quite literally wrapped around your finger. for the past 3 days, georgia had been imploring for an ounce of your attention. wether that meant guarding you, helping you run drills, or try to make small contact with you during breaks. she was desperate to get to know you. so how that you were here, taking the conversation even further, she couldn’t help but feel a little eager.

you chuckled at her reaction “well i, uh, since this is the last day of camp i was wondering if i could get your number? or hang out or something i don’t know? i know that’s really blunt of me but-”

“no yea” she breathed “yea i would love to”

and the rest seemed to be history, in her eyes. after meeting after class and exchanging numbers it felt like her whole world had changed. and in a way, it did.

Standin' here alone now, think that we can drive around

the memory of your first date was engraved in her brain forever. it was like a dream and she had to pinch herself just to believe it. once your time at class together had come to an end, the idea of being able to see you after that seemed surreal.

she had anxiously texted you first, a simple “hey, this is georgia” and you responded in lightning speed. she tried not to be too direct with you, not wanting to scare you off or stress you out, but god did she want to ask you out so bad. she contemplated just getting it over with as the two of you texted back and forth for days. but you had beat her to it, surprisingly. she couldn’t help but smile when she saw your text that one day.

you: hey georgia, do you think that maybe you’d wanna take me up on my offer from last week? get a drink or something?

her mind whirled just thinking about seeing you again.

georgia: i’d like that. could you do 7 pm on friday? we could meet at the bar downtown?

you: works for me! see you then, g <3

her heart felt like it was going to explode, oh how she loved that you called her that. it felt casual, it felt familiar when you would call her ‘g’ rather than ‘georgia’. the little nickname had her leaping off the couch and setting aside the perfect outfit for friday.

the weekend had finally rolled around and georgia was trying so hard to subside her excitement. her foot bounced restlessly as she sat atop the leather bar stool, fingers twisting around each other to try and ease the nerves. her eyes flickered from the door to her phone, trying to pin point any sign of you. she had this lingering fear that this was too good to be true, that maybe, for some unknown reason, you’d stand her up. but you didn’t, she realized quickly, when she saw you walk through the doors as the small bell on the handle chimed loudly.

you waltzed across the tile floors of the run down bar with grace, just like you had done on the first day of class. hips moved side to side, hypnotizing georgia instantly. her breathe caught in her throat once she saw your full figure. you were dressed in a casual yet form fitting little black dress. it’s straps draped over your shoulders and the hem sat comfortably on your thighs. your short heels clacked against the ground as you spotted georgia at the bar, you ran your fingers through your hair as you rushed over to her.

“sorry to keep you waiting!” you had panted, a little out of breathe “traffic was ridiculous, i wasn’t too long was i?”

georgia wanted to laugh, you were too sweet for your own good “no, not all! …could i get you a drink?”

and you smiled, nodding your head quickly and telling her your usual drink order “please, thank you”

“my pleasure”

I just wanna say how I love you with your hair down

“no really georgia,” you mumbled, laughter fizzling from you voice. after a few drinks, you and georgia grew weary of the crowded atmosphere of the bar and decided to ditch it for the night. instead, you opted for a stroll around town, enjoying each others company and the small city’s lights. you could have gone home by now, georgia too, but it felt so nice talking to each other that you didn’t want the night to end “you’re amazing, i mean it! you’re so talented and funny and-and just so admirable! i’m glad you agreed to go out with me…i, um, i really like you”

georgia had stopped in her tracks, now standing in the middle of the sidewalk. you noticed this and slowed down as well, standing in front of her. you knew it was probably stupid, confessing something like that on the first date. quite the rookie move indeed. when she stopped so abruptly, you watched for a change in her expression. you worried that she might be mad or put off by your statement, but it had slipped out and you couldn’t help yourself. but to your relief, the ends of her lips twitched into a faint smile and her eyes glimmered as she looked you up and down. suddenly, you felt vulnerable. having been completely on display to her, your dress riding up ever so gently, her jacket that she had given you to keep you warm still wrapped around you, your hair pulled to one side to keep it neat despite the mildly windy night. she was taking in every inch of you, you could tell.

“i might be crazy for this” georgia whispered “but i think i’d regret it if i didn’t say it”

she thought for a moment, pulling her eyes away from you briefly, closing them and taking a deep breathe. she seemed to be searching for confidence that she truly didn’t need, you were just as consumed by her as she was by you.

“what is it? i’m sorry if said something wrong or if that was too forward to say on a first date i’m sor-”

“could i kiss you?” she interrupted, stepping closer to you “please?”

Baby, you don't gotta fight, I'll be here 'til the end of time

it was positively electric, that kiss. something out of a fairytale, you would continue to tell people when they asked about how the two of you came about as a couple.

standing under the flickering street lamp, georgia leaned into you, hands coming up to rest again your cheek. both of your eyelids lowered, not wanting to look anyway from each other, but closing all the way when your lips touched. she closed the little bit of space between you when she pulled you in gently. her lips felt like heaven against yours, the taste of your cherry lipgloss lingering on her tongue as she fought for dominance in the kiss. and you allowed her to, feeling her tongue snake in between your lips. a soft moan escaped from somewhere deep in your throat which only encouraged georgia to pull you closer. her hands now found their way to your hips, roaming over the fabric of your dress.

you could have kept going all night if it wasn’t for the inconvenience of needing oxygen. you felt her lips pull away from yours, teeth catching your bottom lip as you both opened your eyes. you and georgia smiled, almost gasping for air from the passionate kiss.

“wow” you chuckled.

“yea,” she replied “was that…was that ok?”

“georgia- it was more than ok”

and before she knew it, your lips were back on hers as you went in for another kiss. she would forever be grateful for kelsey’s class, that you decided to talk to her that one day. because little did she know, that’s were she would be meeting the love of her life.

Wishin' that you were mine, pull you in, it's alright.

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #wnba imagine #wnba x reader #georgia amoore x reader #georgia amoore #wlw imagine #wlw #lesbian #lesbian imagine #foreingersgod

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aziraphales-library · 16 days

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Hello,

Thank you for what you’re doing! It’s so great! Because of you I’ve found some of my favourite fics.

I wanted to ask of you maybe know some shorter ones (around 10 or 20k words) with Aziraphale and Crowley over the centuries falling on love. Maybe some jealous crowley fics as well. Thank you in advance :)

Hi. We have #through the ages and #jealous crowley tags. Here are some 10-20k through the ages fics...

this life we’ve created by rainbowumbrella (T)

“No,” Crawley finally said, after what felt like an eternity. It was long enough for the water to rise about half an inch. “I got you into this, angel, we’ll see it through together. Besides, who knows how long this is going to go for? Might need to take care of this unicorn for a few days.” “Ah, you see… the rain is supposed to last forty days and forty nights. And I believe the flood itself should go on for quite a bit longer.” Perfect. Plenty of time for Hell to notice they were missing a demon on Earth, what could possibly go wrong? “Well, then. You might need a hand babysitting the unicorn.” *** Crowley and Aziraphale babysit a unicorn until the waters of the flood recede enough to return it home.

To Travel Through the World and Not Be Alone by Aethelflaed (G)

The longer Aziraphale spends on Earth, the more he begins to feel new things. Like a need to talk to someone. Or stand close to them. Take their hand. Where do these emotions come from? And why are they mainly directed at the demon he travels with? -- Aziraphale and Crawly learn to cope with the emotions and instincts that come with a human body. The Crowley-Turns-Into-A-Snake-When-Flustered fic that deconstructs the trope and plays it for feels!

the fact of his pulse by lexophile (NR)

The revelation of the angel’s face hovering over him—and his firelit, affectionate expression—is more than he can cope with right now. Crowley shuts his eyes again, although he does make an effort to relax his shoulders and curl his knees in towards his chest. He’s aware that lying in the fetal position with his head on an angel’s lap is just about the least demonic thing he’s ever done. - Or: five times Crowley successfully conceals his crush on Aziraphale and one time he fails.

Mistakes Were Made: The (Babylonian) Story of the Flood by eag (M)

A hundred years after the end of the Flood, Aziraphale runs into Crowley (or rather, Crawley) at a banquet in Abydos. Flashbacks to the Flood and that time an angel and a demon ran away for a year minus a day. Aziraphale and Crowley had better return on time to stand in the delegations of Heaven and Hell that meet in the aftermath of the Flood. Of course, mistakes were made...

The Weight Of The World by entanglednow, wargoddess9 (T)

At the height of the Roman Empire's power, Crowley meets Aziraphale for lunch in Pompeii. He's eager to share some of the famed street food the city has to offer, but the ash falling from the mountain to the North is steadily growing thicker.

Writing Letters Addressed to the Fire by Bluemask (T)

This is the problem of human beings, Crowley ponders; they never know when to stop. “Good Lord,” a familiar voice suddenly sighs on his left, close enough to be heard clearly despite the ongoing revolt. “What have you done this time?” Crowley forces himself to ignore the headache that has begun to squeeze his skull again. “You wound me, angel.” He turns just enough to get a glimpse of Aziraphale’s blonde hair and rich clothes, grinning sharply. “Do you really think all this mess is my fault?” Aziraphale rolls his eyes and takes a couple of steps to join Crowley. “How could it not be?” He asks. “As usual, you’re up to no good.” “What is good and what is evil, anyway..." [Essex, 1381] - Just an angel and a demon Falling in love throughout History, Time and Space. Nothing new, really.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #through the ages #falling in love #mod d

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ts1m1kas · 7 months

Text

Original Ask: here's one for jude 😁 they're childhood friends, have known one another for so long, everyone says they are a perfect fit but jude brushes off the idea because deep down he doesn't want to admit he's in love with her, she on the other hand doesn't have time for relationships cause of her career as a ballerina. they stop talking for about three years until they meet again in madrid, she's dragged by her girlfriends to see real madrid play, that's when she sees jude, they reconnect with jude finally ready to confess his feelings, however one of his teammates tries to jump in the way. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 761 words

(author's note: everyone thank @findingnemosworld for her amazing requests !! i did change the ending a little so i hope thats okay 🫶)

Jude always thought that Y/N was the most beautiful girl in the world. Her smile could light up a room, and her laugh was like music to his ears. They had been friends since he could remember, spending most of their childhood years as an inseparable pair.

What Jude didn’t realise is that Y/N felt exactly the same about him. His happy-go-lucky personality made her enjoy being around him, and the side of him that was ever-so caring made her fall head over heels for the boy.

But through Jude’s move to Real Madrid and Y/N’s gruelling career as a ballerina, the pair had fallen apart. This shocked everyone around them, as anyone who looked their way would assume they were a couple. There was no one else in the world who would've been more of a perfect fit together than Jude and Y/N.

Jude Bellingham wasn’t scared of most things. He’d played professional football for years. Suffered online abuse and gone through many hardships throughout his life. But the idea of telling Y/N how he felt about her had him shaking with fear. He valued her friendship more than anything else, so when he had to let his best friend know he was moving away, it broke his heart.

Y/N was devastated. Jude’s departure had made her lose her drive and motivation and her ballet career was suffering because of it. Her coach was pushing her to her limits to distract her from the gaping hole that Jude had left behind in her life with his departure.

Time passed, and the pair hadn’t spoken in months. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t think of one another every passing minute, of every passing day.

Y/N had a break in ballet performances, and it just so happened that her dance group’s next show was in Madrid. Her friends had been given tickets to a football game, and she blindly agreed to go. Her friend, who had been given the tickets, was married to a player from one of the teams playing, and Y/N desperately needed a chance to relax.

Jude was sat in the changing rooms. He was listening to Vinicius Jr. give them a pep talk before their game against Sevilla. He had a strange feeling his his stomach but he couldn’t place it.

"Jude, are you okay?" Luka asked him, noticing the look on his Jude's face.

“Yeah man, I’m fine”, Jude responded, brushing off his friend’s concerns.

And so the game began. Y/N and her friends sat, immersed in the game. She always used to watch Jude play, and the interest in football had stuck, even after he moved away. However, when the line-ups were announced and the players walked out, Y/N felt sick. She hadn’t seen Jude in three years since his move to Madrid, and the painful memories rocketed to the forefront of her mind.

Jude ran onto the pitch. As he stood through the pre-game formalities, his eyes wandered over the masses of spectators that had turned up to watch their teams play. However, his eyes widened when they connected with those belonging to a familiar face.

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. The look she shared with Jude was one full of shock and pain. Jude mouthed ‘meet me after the game’ and she understood immediately.

It was an interesting game that resulted in a draw. Each side fought hard, but neither of them could grasp the winning goal. Jude had never been so eager to leave the pitch as he rushed over to where Y/N was waiting for him.

As he stood in front of the girl he had loved his whole life, he faltered. Jude knew he couldn’t hold his feelings back any longer.

“Y/N, I love you. I have for so many years and I-”

“Jude, I love you too.”

Jude stopped talking. He had been waiting to hear those three words come out of her mouth since he had learned what they meant. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He stepped forward, cupped her face with his hand, and kissed her.

Jude poured every ounce of love he had for Y/N into that kiss. The fondness he felt for her was unbeaten, the years he spent hiding it, filled with regret.

Once they broke away, the looked at eachother. The look was not filled with pain this time, it had been replaced with love and tenderness.

The pair left the stadium, reunited and ready to spend their days together.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #fanfiction #fanfic #football #hot footballers #real madrid fc #real madrid #request #by ts1m1kas

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forecast0ctopus · 4 months

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I LOVE YOUR ART SO MUCH J AM EAGING IT HARGHFGEGEG

THANKS !!!!!

#ask #helpmebbg #star trek tos #my friend sock..

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femdomdiaries · 1 year

Text

Pleated. Sub!Jay Hong x Reader

Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, 18+, 1500+ words

⚠️Warnings: Explicit language, smut, biting, praise, teasing, pegging, strap use, spanking, eating release, reader is implied to be female but there are no parts mentioned, aged up Jay, handjobs, dom/sub dynamics, one and done, no aftercare bc I ain’t write that far, author is an amateur, Sub!Jay

Synopsis: You and Jay make use of the free time between classes

Spoiler Synopsis: Jay wears a skirt to school so you peg him on campus.

Curious eyes find their way across the class, lingering on the habitual resident of that corner. Whispers go through the room, subject circling back to one detail nobody could disregard.

Jay Hong is wearing a skirt today.

As a paragon of expensive and high class fashion, it came as a bit of a shock to his classmates. He hears them discussing his clothing choice, a pleated blue miniskirt, paired with a blazer and button up, along with thigh high socks and high top sneakers.

Curiously, he doesn’t acknowledge the attention. His focus is on the notebook in front of him. Hearts were scrawled across the open page, accompanied by a series of little doodles of how he thought this operation would play out. Of how he hoped it would. He squeezes his legs together, growing aroused at the thought of his fantasies coming true.

By the time the bell rings and signals free period, he has a raging hard-on to hide under his A-line.

Navigating from his class to yours was second nature to him. Upon reaching the door, he searches for you amongst the baking department students.

Seeing no sign of you, he turns around, just in time to see your mouth drop open at the sight of him. You falter and drop the box you were carrying, various supplies for your baking department. He quickly leans and catches it, lips curling into a smile at the sight of you.

"T-thanks, Jay." You swallow hard, giving him another once over, eyes lingering at the subtle squish of his thighs at the meeting of his sock hems. "Wow, you really went all out."

He nods sheepishly, pink dusting his cheeks.

You chuckle lowly. "I'm going to absolutely ravage you."

The moan Jay lets out is unscripted, and catches both of you off guard. His blush deepens and his head tilts in an effort to hide behind his bangs.

You cock an eyebrow teasingly before smirking at him. "Nothing wrong with being eager, sweetie. But please, let me wine and dine you before I fuck senseless. It's the principle of the matter."

He nods, if only to save himself the embarrassment, and you lead him into your baking department class.

It's utter chaos inside, as students rush about completing various dishes simultaneously during the free period.

You ushered Jay to your designated spot in the room, and told him to set the box down on a desk. He obliged, and you squeezed his arm.

"I'm almost finished here, so you can take a seat and I'll feed you in a moment."

Jay obediently took a seat, watching you hustle around the classroom to finish your dishes.

After a few moments, you finished and placed a large ceramic bowl of food in front of him. "I made veggies and tteokbokki!" Usually there were only baked goods available in the baking department, but you had since convinced the head to branch out to other forms of cooking.

Jay grins delightedly at the sight of your dish. You always put so much work into your cooking, to see that effort go into making something special for him made his heart swell.

You pull up a chair in front of him, sliding your legs underneath the desk with his. You sandwich his right leg intimately between yours, not surprisingly, immediately feeling his solid member brush against you. He feels it too, evident from the way his head jerks back and body shudders.

"Relax, baby," you coo at him, removing utensils from your pocket. You pick up a sizable amount of food with a spoon and bring it up to your lips, blowing gently. Satisfied with the temperature, you hold it up to Jay's lips, and he eagerly cleans the utensil. "Is it good?"

He nods with no hesitation and then opens his mouth for the next bite. This time after sliding the spoon from his mouth, you move it back to your own and make a show of licking off his saliva. He watches, mouth agape, and you feel his member throb against your leg. He whines.

You pretend not to notice and continue feeding him like this, bite after bite, the odd sultry act in between, meticulously until the bowl is clean and he's full and sated but absolutely starving in a different manner.

"Now," you begin, biting your lip to hold back a moan. Watching him squirm from arousal was having just as much of an affect on you. "I think it's time for dessert, don't you?"

He nods very excitedly, hand dropping beneath the desk to cup his aching member through his skirt.

"I'm thinking of a place. Bathroom might work but not if people are constantly walking in." You do an exaggerated thinking pose, glancing mischievously at Jay. "I couldn't bear to have to share how delicious you are with others."

Jay whines impatiently. You were teasing him again, he was sure of it. He didn't think he'd last much longer without your hands on his cock. He stands up suddenly, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the baking department. You make sure to grab your bag before exiting.

"Oh, Jay, did you have a place in mind?"

He nods, and continues leading you through the university. You end up at the door to some abandoned faculty lounge. It's unlocked and he takes you right in, leading you through the sitting area straight to the bathroom.

There's two stalls, and a large vanity mirror in front of a sink and countertop.

"Oh this is nice, good thinking, Jay," you nod approvingly, earning a blush from the blond. Then suddenly, without warning, you shove him roughly so that he’s bending over the counter. "Now, ass up, baby boy."

You receive an excited whimper in return.

"This skirt is so hot, you know that? And you're not wearing anything underneath, either? Christ Almighty." You bend down to nip at his thighs, eliciting a moan. "Just giving me easy access to all of this, very dangerous." You lick his skin, sucking gently at it. "These socks are so sexy, fuck." You lift his skirt up and give his ass a nice firm slap, watching it jiggle freely from the force. "So hot."

He moans, body language practically begging you to continue. Time to step it up. You lean forward and force your fingers into his mouth, lubricating them with his saliva. "Okay, now...be a good boy for me." You move your fingers beneath his skirt and tease at his hole, easing them in one at a time. He jerks into the counter, bucking his hips. You begin pumping your fingers slowly. He whines so beautifully in response to the stimulation, you press a kiss lovingly against his back. God, he was so cute. His cock is cute too, all erect against his abdomen and forcing his skirt up.

With your other hand, you reach over and remove your strap from your bag, grinning when you catch his shocked face in the mirror. "Oh, this? You've been such a good boy, you deserve it."

It's faint but he's tensing up, body shaking in anticipation. Still, he has the biggest grin on his face. You don't stop pumping your fingers, but you do move the strap in front of Jay's mouth. "Suck this off for me, baby?"

He obliges, tonguing around the silicone before taking it in his mouth and piping it down a few times. It's nice and wet in seconds, as he'd been drooling from the foreplay. You take it back and stop fingering him so that you can use both hands to quickly fashion it around yourself.

You move your hips forward, parting his cheeks to press the artificial member to his slit. With your hands now freed you thread your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back and eliciting a gasp. Your other hand wraps around his eager cock, slowly jerking him off and simultaneously pressing him back against your strap.

He could have come just like that, and you're positive he would have if you didn't discourage him from doing so with a hard bite of his ear. Knowing better than to ignore your nonverbal warnings, his dick remains hard in between your fingers, pulsing with need.

Your first thrust into him is gentle, so as to give him time to adjust to you. You kiss his shoulder when he takes it without complaint. You thrust again, and again until you have a nice steady rhythm. The sound of your thighs smacking against his ass is countered in volume only by his moans, which are a mix between pleasure and painful cries.

"That's it, nice and full. You're taking this so well, baby boy.”

It's too much, his hands and face are on the counter, he's clawing at the ceramic, panting and slobbering against the surface. He taps the counter urgently, which meant he was about to come. You pick up the pace, moving your hips and your hand faster.

He climaxes into your hand, shuddering against you. You stop thrusting as you feel his body go weak. You pull out, removing your strap and setting it aside. As for clean up, you make sure he's watching you in the mirror as you run your tongue meticulously over your hand. You wrap your other arm around his waist, squeezing him against you affectionately. "Mm, good boy."

#lookism x reader #sub lookism #sub jay hong #dom!reader #dom reader #p3gging #lookism jay #lookism jay hong #jay hong #sub!jay hong

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yankstrash · 4 months

Text

FUCK BU !!

liked by gabeperreault44, _willsmith2 and others

amelia.ln: weekend recap: casual sweep for the kings of comm ave, living the ultimate wag life & having the most badass boyfriend. sucks to BU ! ❤️💛 #rahhheagles

view 203 comments

gabeperreault44: LETS GO BABY!!

gabeperreault44: my favorite cheerleader

↪️ amelia.ln: I'M SO PROUD!!!!

_willsmith2: that was fun. let's do it again in 2 weeks.

↪️ amelia.ln: see you at the garden 🫡

grumpy.boldy: amelia: "gabriel i swear to god if you don't- GABE GOAL GABE GOAL GABE GOAL HOLY SHIY HOLY SHIT!"

↪️ amelia.ln: every. single. weekend.

↪️ gabeperreault44: and i deliver every single time, don't i?

↪️ amelia.ln: you certainly do. little shit..

↪️ gabeperreault44: 😏😏 you love it

↪️ amelia.ln: so much

ryan.leno_4: RAHHHHHH EAGS

↪️ amelia.ln: RAH RAH RAH

_willvote: LFG

aram_minnetian: oh it is a BEAUTIFUL DAY IN BOSTON

drewf2: best fans around

↪️ eliana.brielle: i sure hope you mean us..

↪️ drewf2: of course i do

↪️ amelia.ln: @ eliana.brielle wags 😛😛

↪️ eliana.brielle: @ amelia.ln 🤭🤭

jacob_fowler24: what a weekend.

↪️ amelia.ln: all thanks to YOU king

↪️ jacob_fowler24: oh STOP IT i'm blushing meel 🥰

elizabeth.flemming: the gabe memes-

↪️ amelia.ln: iconic right?

↪️ gabeperreault44: i just know you made those yourself meels..

↪️ amelia.ln: 🤫🤫

cuttergauthier_: so casual. do this every weekend. light work. no big deal.

↪️ amelia.ln: exactly.

↪️ lanehutson_: 😐😐 we'll see about next time bud..

↪️ cuttergauthier_: @ lanehutson_ see ya at the beanpot 😘

coleeiserman: other cole (hutson) would like me to tell you that he's disappointed in you for rooting for the dark side. as a fellow bu commit, i am also disappointed.

↪️ amelia.ln: 🙁🙁 i'm sorry sweets. here is your second place hug 🫂

↪️ coleeiserman: we feel a bit better now

↪️ gabeperreault44: no NO. enough. no apologizing. and no hugs.

↪️ coleeiserman: @ gabeperreault44 was i talking to u gabe ?

↪️ gabeperreault44: ...count your days, kid.

#princess!gf x gabe perreault #g + m insta edits !

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master-sass-blast · 1 month

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Resurgence.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Chapter One, Part Five: Chapter Two, Part Five: Chapter Three, Part Six: Chapter One, Part Six: Chapter Two, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen

Summary: You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.

She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”

You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.

AKA you and Lin meet up for an evening to blow off steam. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: M for sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD symptomatology, vomiting, and arguing.

Word count: 5.9k.

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

P.S. Shout out to the commenter who pointed out how guilty Lin must feel for not saying anything about the locks. I hadn't even thought of that.

Wake up. Stretch. Get ready for work. Catch the 8:30 morning tram.

Get to work. Clock in. Review client roster for the day. Confer with reception Start off with your first patient for the day.

Clock out for lunch. Eat lunch. Talk to coworkers. Take a short walk during break.

Clock back in for the afternoon. Work with more patients. Confer with an assistant on upcoming scheduled appointments. Take your afternoon break. Drink some tea.

Wrap up your last scheduled appointment. Update client progress charts. Tidy work space. Clock out.

Catch 5:45 evening tram. Stop by the market to pick up food for dinner. Go back home. Make dinner. Do chores and general “life maintenance.” Try to relax. Get ready for bed. Go to sleep.

And on, and on, and on, and on…

You like your job. You love the field of work you’ve picked. Carrying on your grandmother’s legacy –the tradition of the Northern Water Tribe’s healing work–gives you reason to hold your head high each morning.

You have purpose. Passion. You help people.

Maybe you’re a workaholic in denial. Or maybe it’s the fault of your mad idea to also work at Yue General as a trauma recovery specialist and on-call surgical assistant. Whatever the case, at least once a year, you hit a point where the daily grind of your life starts drilling through your head and draining your will to live.

In years past, you’d usually take a few days off, after about the fifth week of dragging yourself through the motions. You’d promise to “refresh” your life –clean up your apartment, take care of responsibilities left to the side in the wake of your waning motivation–then spend your time off eating your weight in take out and napping on your couch.

Well. It works. Each year, you’re able to return to work after a few days living as a shut-in hedonist with renewed joy and drive.

This year, however…

You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.

She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”

“What,” you say, somewhat winded, as you slow to a stop in front of her. You wind your arms around her neck and curl your fingers into her curly, short hair. “You didn’t miss me?”

She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”

You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.

…

The second the deadbolt slides into place, the weight of your daily grind melts away.

Technically, the second you got a phone call from your darling girlfriend, and thus received the invitation to come over for an evening, a lot of the drudgery bearing down on you had abated. But you’d still waited, balancing electric anticipation, looming over your head as you counted down the days, then the hours, then the minutes…

You moan into Lin’s mouth as she grabs your ass with both hands.

Bliss.

You’ve always hated waiting for what you want –for anything, really.

Lin shoves you against the nearest wall. She growls when you squeeze her ass harder than necessary, then grabs your hands. “Behave.”

“No.” You take the opportunity to nip at her lower lip –which makes her gasp gloriously–then utilize her shock to fight her grip. “I–”

Lin all but slams your hands against the wall, over your head. She brushes her lips along your jawline –which makes you tremble–then murmurs huskily in your ear. “Enough. Be patient.”

“Patient?” you sputter. “I’ve been patient the whole damn week–”

“I called you only three days ago.”

“It felt like a week!” You whimper when Lin nips at the side of your neck. Feigning submission, you tip your head back and melt against her –until she loosens her grip on your wrists.

“You little–” Lin catches your hand halfway on its journey up her shirt with one hand, then grabs your face with the other. She forces you to look her in the eye and glowers down at you. “What did I just tell you?”

“You called me three days ago.” A cheeky, self-satisfied grin stretches across your face when she growls at you. You smile up at her, the picture of innocence, then use her moment of distraction to jam your thigh between her legs.

Lin lets out a choked gasp of your name and stumbles against you.

“Aw, baby, did you miss me?” you purr. “You could’ve called me so –FUCK!”

In one fluid motion, Lin tosses you over her shoulder and marches down the hall, towards her bedroom.

A short grunt escapes you when she tosses you on her bed, and then you squeal when she yanks you over her lap. In short order, your pants are yanked down around your knees. You mock-glare at her over your shoulder when she pulls roughly on your underwear. “Don’t rip these! I like them!”

Lin grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head back down against the bed. “Shut up.”

Blissful pain shoots across your scalp. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you moan into her bedspread.

(Regardless, she heeds your demand and doesn’t ruin your underwear.)

Your underwear follow the trajectory of your pants in short order. Anticipation and arousal pulse through your cunt, prompting you to squirm atop Lin’s lap.

She pins you down by barring one strong, unyielding arm across the small of your back. Her free hand gently smooths over the swell of your bare ass –almost worshipful, in contrast to her ire with your bratting. “Last chance. Behave.”

You can’t resist. “Or what?”

Her hand cracks down against your skin.

You yelp –then whimper when she kneads your asscheek, drawing out the underlying ache. “Lin–”

“Be. Good.” She leans over your back to growl in your ear. “Or I won’t let you cum tonight.”

…Come on. She practically set that up on a silver platter for you.

“What makes you think you can make me cum to begin with?”

SMACK!

A delighted sob rips out of your throat. You writhe –well, as much as you can, anyway, since Lin’s always bound to win any contest of strength between the two of you–then moan when she spanks you one, two, three more times. Stars burst behind your eyelids, dazzling and transcendent as all coherent thought leaks out your brain through your dripping cunt. “Fucking spirits–” You groan, low and ragged, when Lin’s hand cracks down against your ass for a fourth time. “Oh shit!”

She keeps spanking you in irregular intervals, until your ass feels hot and you’re a whimpering, slick mess. Lin brushes her fingers against your labia, then pulls away when your hips push against her fingertips. “What? Nothing smart to say now?”

And you don’t. The ability to speak has since left your brain, drowned out by arousal, and endorphins, and the feeling of your girlfriend’s hand against your throbbing skin. So, in lieu of saying what’s on your mind, you opt for a physical demonstration.

“You little fucking brat–”

Or, well, you try to.

You manage to twist your arm and get half a hand on Lin’s chest –her beautiful, soft chest that you would never take your hands off, if you had things your way–before the bottom drawer of her nightstand flies open and a familiar glint of silver whizzes past your head.

Your stomach lurches, akin to airsickness, when the first metal cuff closes around your wrist.

“You never listen, never learn–”

It’s like you’ve toppled into the Northern Ocean in the midst of winter. Every muscle in your body seizes, practically frozen solid. You’re sinking, slipping beneath the surface as La drags you into their depths, theirs forevermore.

“–okay? Talk to me–”

You can’t breathe right. There’s a burlap bag over your head. You’re tied to a chair in a dank basement, there’s a bag over your head, and you’re going to die–

“Breathe.” Lin undoes the cuffs with her metalbending, then tosses them aside. She lifts you into her arms, turning you so that you’re sitting in her lap. “What’s wrong? Did I–”

“Don’t leave me again!” A broken sob tears from your throat. You throw your arms around her, clutching her close as you bury your face into her neck. Shudders wrack your body as you cry louder. “Don’t –don’t leave me–”

“Okay! Okay.” Lin cups the back of your head with one hand. “I won’t leave you. Just breathe for me, alright?”

You’re trying. But it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. You can’t catch your breath, can’t get your diaphragm to open up properly.

“What does she taste like?”

The back of your throat burns. Your mouth tastes like acrid metal.

“I want you to tell me. What does she taste like when you use your tongue on her?”

Clammy sweat beads along your forehead.

“I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

You shove yourself to your feet, then clap one hand over your mouth when you retch.

Lin’s reflexes succeed where yours fail. When you double over, she grabs you by the shoulders and rushes you to the bathroom.

The first heave makes your eyes water and burn. You cough, stomach roiling as your whole body rolls. Putrid bile spews into the toilet basin on the second heave, burning your throat on the way out. You sob when you can breathe again, falling to your knees on the hard, cold tiles of Lin’s bathroom floor.

Lin’s hand is strong, yet gentle on your hair. She quickly tucks a few stray strands away from your face. “Easy. Just let it happen.”

Like I have any control here. Panting, you clutch the rim of the toilet bowl. “I–” You retch, then curl over the toilet again.

…

Things go fuzzy. Once your stomach is empty, you collapse against the side of Lin’s bathtub. You’re gasping, clammy and trembling as you try to suck down enough air to stop the feeling of drowning.

A cool glass of water is pressed into your hands. You take a small sip, rinse your mouth, then spit into the toilet bowl before slumping down again.

At some point, you wind up in Lin’s bed, tucked carefully under the covers. Your knees and hips ache from the harsh, unforgiving tile floor. Still shaking, you wince as you curl up on your side. Short, shallow breaths puff past your lips. I’m okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re safe, Lin’s here–

Except she’s not.

You bolt upright, terror coursing through your veins. The bathroom’s empty, there’s no light peeking out beneath the door to her home office, and the kitchen is silent. Your stomach drops into your feet, and you lunge out of bed. “Lin?”

“What’s wrong?” Her feet hit the floor in her living room, and then she appears at the end of the hallway, expression pinched from concern. “Are you–” She stumbles back a few steps when you careen into her. “What the –hey!”

You lock your arms around her waist and bury your face in her neck. Your pulse pounds in your ears, racing and erratic. “You left me again!”

“I–” Lin’s hands grip your shoulders tightly. “I stayed with you while–”

“Not then! Earlier! You left me!”

Lin tightens her hold on your shoulders, then forces you back so she can see your face. “I don’t know what we’re talking about!”

You lock your jaw to keep yourself from rambling and gibbering like an unhinged loon. Throat tight with fear and anguish, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as you can. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Bile roils in your empty stomach; you swallow hard, then pull away from her. “You left me. After the warehouse. After Kim.”

Lin goes perfectly still. Her wide, green eyes lock onto your face, then quickly focus on the floor instead, before finally drifting to the empty kitchen. Her scarred cheek twitches minutely. “I don’t understand what that has to do with right now.”

“I’m trying,” you spit out between clenched teeth. Frustrated –with her, with the situation, with yourself–you close your eyes and scrub at your face with your hands. “I’m not –you aren’t –I don’t want to–”

“Breathe.”

You do as Lin says, relaxing minutely when her hand brushes against your upper arm. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Use the diaphragm and abdominal muscles to control things. Deep inhale, even slower exhale.

Once you’re visibly calmer, Lin speaks again. “Why did you panic when I cuffed you?”

“I…” You swallow hard, then shrug small and sad. “I flashed back to –to the warehouse fight.” A pang of anxiety makes your voice crack. “When Kim had me tied to a chair in the basement.”

“Shit.” Lin rakes one hand through her short, wavy gray hair. “I’m sorry, I should have thought–”

“Of nothing,” you cut her off, suddenly weary.

“I should have checked in before restraining you–”

“And I would have said ‘go for it.’” You level her with a firm stare. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, either. It just… came out of nowhere.” The anxiousness crests higher, and you compensate by stepping into Lin’s space and wrapping your arms around her waist. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. “Thanks for helping me when I freaked out.”

“Of course,” Lin says as she wraps both arms around your shoulders. “What, like I was going to leave you like that?”

“I know, I know,” you reply automatically.

She left you after the warehouse.

It’s a poisonous, traitorous thought. Cold, nauseating ire roils in your gut. It turns hot as it swirls up your spine, until it breaks over your head in a tidal wave of rage and indignance.

It’s not fair. You and Lin have talked about the whole Kim aftermath fiasco. It’s been put to bed.

Has it? You chew on your lower lip as your mind turns the issue over. If you’re still upset about it, has it really been laid to rest?

How many times have you lectured your patients, after all? Some small injuries or aches, if left unattended, can morph into much bigger problems.

The tell-tale sensation snaps back –almost like vertigo, your head spins as the room suddenly feels miniscule around you. You can feel the walls of Lin’s apartment closing in around you, feel your scalp pressing against the plastered ceiling, even though your girlfriend is still holding you and your head is still comfortably pillowed against her chest. The urge to curl in on yourself, to find somewhere dark and small to hide claws up your legs and back, snarling and demanding your immediate submission. Breathe. Your eyes slip shut, and you press your forehead against your girlfriend’s shoulder. I deserve to exist. My feelings deserve to exist. Teeth clenched against a fresh wave of nausea, you breathe through anger and frustration and pain. Ask, don’t accuse. You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Why –why did you leave me after I got kidnapped?”

Unsurprisingly, Lin freezes again.

You can hear her swallow nervously. When she doesn’t speak, you decide to keep talking. “I needed you. I–I was so fucking scared, and hurt–” Your voice cracks as hot, stinging tears well up behind your closed eyelids. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trembling all over as you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. Just –give me a second.”

Lin says nothing, simply waiting in patient silence.

Outside, down in the street below, a Satomobile door thumps shut. The engine revs, then settles into a steady purr before fading away. The familiar rattle of the city tram breaks through the autumnal winds that rip off the harbor. The sound of the tram’s bell soars higher, sailing into the night air like asclepias puffs in the wind.

You flex your feet against the hardwood floors of Lin’s apartment. Pretty grain pattern, part of your brain notes inanely. Must’ve been expensive to refine and install. “Why did you leave me?” you whisper hoarsely, once you finally manage to scrape yourself together. You swipe at your face with the cuff of your sleeve; you hadn’t even managed to get undressed before everything went to shit. You clear your throat. “I… I don’t understand.”

For several long, tense moments, you think she might not answer at all. Then, Lin sighs. “I… I panicked.”

You watch Lin sharply, trying to read her often inscrutable expression and posture.

She walks away from you, over to the window in the living area that overlooks Republic City. She stares out at the night skyline –despite the sun having already set, the city glows from all the electric lights. She braces her hands against the white windowsill; she almost looks like a pensive, noir-style detective from the murder mystery radio shows you like so much.

You tuck your tongue in your cheek to keep from giggling hysterically.

“It was my fault.” She doesn’t look at you. “The nature of my job creates enemies.” She steps back from the windowsill; her hands curl into fists at her sides. “I should’ve known better. I do know better. And despite that, I didn’t keep you safe.”

“It’s not–” With a long, heavy sigh, you shake your head. “You can’t possibly predict every–”

“I did.” When you sputter disbelievingly, she faces you –but her gaze doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “The security on your building is shit. And you’d be a lot better off with platinum locks.”

After a moment of your best river carp impression, you manage to close your mouth and shake your head. “Lin…” You hold up one finger when she opens her mouth to argue. “That’s not the same thing as knowing that Kim was going to kidnap me.” When Lin’s unconvinced, pinched expression doesn’t lift, you sputter, flabbergasted. “Okay, look –Lin. Baby. If I don’t expect you to make sure every aspect of my life is safe, what good does it do to hold yourself to that kind of standard?”

“I still–”

“‘Still’ nothing, Lin! You’re not a fucking god! Okay, so you thought about my locks; that –that doesn’t obligate you to do anything,” you insist. Sweat beads along your back, soaking into your shirt. You sigh, then sweep your hair off the back of your neck to try and cool off. “As it so happens, I’m an adult; I’m ultimately responsible for myself, and that includes my own safety. Besides, it’s a nice enough neighborhood!”

Lin stares at you, flat and unimpressed. “Bad things happen anywhere.” Her jaw tightens. “You would know.”

You sputter, caught flat-footed by her audacity to use your own assault against you. “I –how fucking dare you!” You clench your hands into fists at your side, fingernails biting into the meat of your palm. “I am not –I cannot believe–” Sense takes hold before you cavalier too far down the road of rage and indignance; as angry as you are, you don’t want to spew vitriol all over Lin. Even if she’s kind of earned it. You glare at her, jaw locked tight. “Even if you have a logical point,” you spit out through clenched teeth, “the woman who skipped out on me after I was assaulted does not get to use that trauma against me in an argument!”

Lin’s lips press into a thin line. She looks at the floor, expression somewhat chastened. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“Yes, yes it was. And thank you.” In a testament to your self-control –which, normally, you’d pass off as lacking at best–you inhale deeply and try to yank your temper back into some semblance of calm. Your head is starting to throb dully. So much for a relaxing night off. You rub your temples as you struggle to process and respond to Lin’s adamant self-blame. “I don’t –I don’t walk around with this notion that being your girlfriend comes with some sort of pass to perfect protection! I don’t expect you to package me up all nice and safe so nothing bad ever happens to me!”

“I know–”

“Then what, in Yue’s name, is the fucking problem!” You fling your arms wide, voice rising as your frustration mounts again. “There are associated risks with living in the real fucking world, and I have never asked, or intoned, or suggested that you safeguard me from every bad thing that could ever happen! Why…” When your mind finally runs blank, anger petering out, you throw up your arms before letting them fall back to your sides. Your palms hit your thighs with a light slap. “What’s the point? What’s the point of putting yourself through all that, Lin?”

Lin scowls. She turns partly away and rakes one hand through her thick, curly hair. “It’s still my job.” She sighs harshly. “I know you don’t expect me to protect you.” She looks back over you, expression solemn. “I know. But it’s still my job. I don’t–” She presses her lips into a thin line, frustrated, then crosses her arms over her chest. “I believe in police work. I believe that doing my job keeps people safe. Even when I’m ‘off the clock,’ my duties to the people I care about don’t stop, and that includes keeping them safe.”

“Okay.” You nod along, choking back retort after retort through sheer force of will. It matters to her. It matters to her. It matters to her. “Okay.”

Lin fully turns away from you –but even without seeing her face, you can still tell she’s on edge. The line of her body is rigid as she stares out the window of her living room. She takes a deep, audible breath, shoulders rising and falling as she does. She clasps her hands behind her back and bows her head; for a moment, she looks exactly like the countless press release pictures of the indomitable Chief Beifong (which you may or may not have clipped out of the newspaper and tucked away for your own edification, you’ll claim the fifth if asked to testify, presumed innocent until proven guilty). “I didn’t know if we were going to be serious or not. It was more comfortable, for me, to keep you at arm’s length. And that included not making an issue of your building’s security problems.”

It stings, you can’t lie. Her confessed, deliberate indifference to your safety –when it’s apparently a big deal to her–hurts. You swallow hard, then tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep from firing back before she’s done talking.

“It was my fault,” Lin states, voice flat and final. “After Kim… I couldn’t deal with it.” Finally, she turns and looks you in the eye. Her expression flickers for a moment, nearly giving way to anguish, before locking down to something more neutral with what you know to be an insurmountable, bone-deep reserve of will. “I’m sorry.” She stiffens, then frowns slowly when you start shaking your head. “What? What is it?”

“I–” Hot, stinging tears trace down your cheeks. Your palms are clammy, and your back is drenched in sweat. “That –thank you. Thank you for being honest. But–” You draw in a shaky breath as you try to school your thoughts into something more coherent. “I don’t –the locks wouldn’t have changed anything, Lin. They –no.” You hold up one finger and glare harshly at her when she opens her mouth to argue. “No. We both know that Kim had a very particular goal in mind. Better locks wouldn’t have stopped him. He would’ve had his goons just, I don’t know, kick in my door, or some shit.” You shrug, defeated, then rub your hands over your face. “I –I don’t care about the stupid locks. I get that it’s important to you, and that’s fine, but the locks don’t make a difference to me.”

The locks wouldn’t have held your hand in the hospital, after all. The locks wouldn’t have talked to you on the phone after you woke up from yet another nightmare. The locks wouldn’t have rubbed salve into the rope burn on your wrists from where you’d chafed your skin trying to wriggle free. The locks–

Your face crumples, but you manage to keep going as you start crying. “I needed you.” Your whole body shudders as you draw in a shaky, broken breath. “I was so fucking scared, and hurt, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me–”

Lin presses her lips together in a tight line, then holds her arms out to you.

You choke on a sob, then rush into her embrace. “I was so fucking scared!” You bury your face into her shirt, trembling as you weep. “I felt so lost, and small, and you just left me–”

Lin tucks your head beneath her chin. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was cruel,” you insist, voice pitiful to your own ears. “And selfish.”

Lin draws in a shaky breath. “It was,” she agrees, her own voice wavering. She hugs you close, as though she can squeeze the pain and suffering right out of you. “I was wrong –and cruel, and selfish. I’m so, so sorry.”

Something inside you releases, like a locked muscle finally relaxing after a good, thorough healing session. You melt against her, hurt yielding to assurance and peace. A shaky exhale floats past your lips. “Thank you.”

…

Once you stop crying and settle into the post-panic attack-argument-meltdown, Lin disentangles from you and sequesters herself in the bathroom.

You can hear the sink tap running; if you felt up to it, you could probably extend your bending and feel the water swirling down the drain.

Exhaustion has you feeling hollowed out. You peel your shirt away from your skin with a grimace. The stress of the evening made you sweat. You try to adjust your underwear under your skirt. All of your clothes, frankly, feel uncomfortably, grossly stuck to your skin. This is not how I wanted to get wet tonight.

You drop down onto Lin’s couch gracelessly. You slump into the dark green cushions and close your eyes.

Your whole body feels raw. Your skin almost feels like you’ve been scraped along the pavement outside. Throbbing and tender, you shift restlessly, trying to find some position that will agree with you.

Outside, a Satomobile honks loudly, which is quickly followed by the sound of tires screeching.

Flinching, you curl forward and comb your fingers through your hair. Fuck me. Quickly, you flip on Lin’s radio, then let out a sigh when instrumental music starts droning through the speakers. You turn up the volume dial, just until the crushing feeling of overstimulation starts to abate. That’s better.

Eventually, Lin emerges from the bathroom. (It’s probably not very long, but your poor, fatigued brain has settled into the muddy state where time starts moving like molasses.) She heads straight for the kitchen and starts quietly puttering about; a few cabinet doors open and close, the tap for the sink runs briefly, and the range hisses as Lin lights it with match.

You borderline drowse as you half-watch her work, half-melt away into the syrupy ooze of reality.

Hours, maybe minutes later, Lin joins you at the couch. She sets down a tray with a fresh pot of tea and two cups onto the coffee table, then reaches over and turns the radio down. “Here.”

You force yourself into a more upright position and accept the cup of steaming, fragrant tea she holds out to you. “Thanks.”

Lin sets down next to you, and makes no protest when you immediately invade her space and curl up against her. She wraps one arm around your shoulders, then picks up her cup of tea with her free hand.

The tea is nice –no doubt some very expensive, well grown blend. You wish you could do more than sip tiredly at it, but your head feels heavy (probably from the swelling in your sinuses, on account of all the crying).

Distantly, the healer part of your brain starts noting all the facets of recovery after crying. Parasympathetic nervous system takes over. Brain releases endorphins. Muscles release tension from build up of stress. Autonomic nervous system reins in heart rate, respiration rate, and blood pressure.

“You alright?” Lin murmurs when you let out a shaky breath..

Nodding, you hum, then tip your head back and kiss her softly. Even though you’re tired, your head feels clearer. The consuming static of terror and rage have finally been swept out, leaving subdued peace and clarity.

Speaking of…

“Hey.” You crane your head back so you can see her face better. “If… if something happens to me again–” You pause when Lin grimaces and looks away. After waiting a moment, you press your fingers against her jaw and gently guide her head until she’s looking at you again. “If something happens to me again,” you repeat, “don’t… don’t push me away.” A lump rises in your throat, but you push past it. “I won’t ever be angry at you if something bad happens to me, okay? And it’s –it’s so much worse–” Your voice breaks; you have to take a moment to pull yourself together before you try speaking again. “It’s so much worse with you not around.”

Blinking rapidly, Lin nods. “Alright.” She looks away for a bit, gaze distant. She swallows hard, jaw rolling as she lets out a sigh, then asks, “Would you consider getting platinum locks?”

“They’re expensive.”

“Victim’s Assistance fund should pay for them, considering your apartment was broken into during the course of an abduction,” Lin fires back, almost like she’s reading the fine print straight from the page. “All you’d have to do is submit a request form and a copy of the police report to their office. And if they don’t pay for platinum locks, I will.”

Part of you wants to protest the notion of her paying for any of it. It’s your apartment and your responsibility. Feasibly, you could scope out some options, compare prices, and then allot the necessary savings into your monthly budget.

A quiet, wiser voice in your head whispers, ‘It’s okay to let her help you.’ “Would you feel better if I had platinum locks?”

Lin’s reply comes without hesitation. “Yes.”

You sweep your tongue along the back of your teeth; part of you chafes at the thought of acquiescing. You can take care of yourself, after all. You moved here on your own, put yourself through university and therapeutic certifications, built yourself up as a reputable and capable physical therapist and surgical assistant. While Lin’s compensated you for ruined clothes and the odd day when she’s worked you over enough that you needed to take a day or two off work, you’ve never needed –or expected–her to bankroll your life.

If the Victim’s Assistance Fund comes through, she won’t have to pay, you remind yourself. And it’s just one set of locks, and she’ll feel better knowing you’re safer.

That’s the clincher, in the end. Stubborn pride isn’t worth your girlfriend’s peace of mind –especially over something as non-invasive as a good set of locks.

You nestle back against the warmth and comfort of Lin’s embrace. “Alright. I’ll start figuring out the Victim’s Assistance fund stuff tomorrow.”

“I can give you the number for one of the department heads.”

“Okay,” you murmur, cheek squished against her shoulder. Part of you thinks it’s a little ridiculous –there’s no reason you can’t go through the same process as everyone else–but you’re too tired to argue (and, honestly, bypassing some of the formalities and traditional run-around will be nice). You sigh, then nuzzle against her and close your eyes. “I’m sorry for freaking out at you earlier. I know –I know you were just taking a moment to breathe, and you weren’t actually leaving me; I just –I was still so out of my head from the cuffs, and the panic attack, and I–”

“It’s okay.” Lin wraps one strong arm around your shoulders. “You were scared; it’s okay.” She kisses the top of your head, then squeezes you a little closer. “Stay here tonight. I’d rather you go home once you’ve had a chance to rest.”

You sniff, then nod. “Okay.” Melting into her embrace, you tuck your head into the crook of her neck. “That sounds nice. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The radio croons on; the singer –a woman with a smooth, low voice–drawls on about the ocean and the land meeting as lovers. Down the hall, the gentle, intermittent rumble of the elevator interjects between the radio and the sounds of the city at no particular rhythm. Outside, the distant, waning sounds of Republic City’s nightlife echo into the air.

The two of you lapse back into comforting silence.

…

Once the two of you finish your tea, Lin tidies up before shepherding you to bed.

You rinse off in the shower first. You worry about washing your hair, or anything too involved, but getting the sweat off your skin is essential if you don’t want to wake up irritable and itchy.

Your stomach still feels shaky –no doubt from all the mucus and drainage from crying. You turn down the water to a comfortably cool temperature (helps with the inflammation), then mechanically work through the steps of washing up as quickly as you can.

You borrow Lin’s toothbrush (and, fine, it’s really not the grossest thing, especially since you’ve made a point of burying your face between her legs whenever she lets you), and she lends you another baggy, Republic City Police Academy shirt to sleep in.

The gray shirt feels exquisitely soft between your fingertips, against your skin. You tuck away the notion of “borrowing” it for future you to ponder.

It’s nice, slipping beneath the covers on Lin’s bed. Her sheets are luxuriously soft –no doubt a vastly higher thread count than what you can afford.

You stretch your legs like a polar bear pup. Something pops in your lower back, and you groan. “Ugh, finally.”

“You okay?”

“Cracked my back.” You wait for her to turn off the lamp, then cross the space between you and curl up against her side.

Lin obliges you by slipping her arm beneath your neck and winding it around your shoulders. Her fingertips slip beneath the collar of your shirt and stroke along the base of your neck.

The familiar sounds of the city dwindle as the night drags on. The surrounding apartments are equally still. Here, in Lin’s bed, in her arms, you’re enveloped by safety. By warmth. Every breath you take is filled with the familiar scent of Lin –traces of the cologne she favors, the fresh mint of her toothpaste, even the fragrant tea you both had earlier. The blankets are cozy, exquisitely soft, and the perfect weight to help lull your frazzled mind and body into slumber.

Just for a moment, right before you drop off into sleep, your body relaxes into a state of perfect contentment. It’s almost like you’re floating, perfectly supported and enveloped, much like floating in a pool for a moment of rest before swimming again. Tranquility seeps through your veins, washing away any remaining tension and panic from earlier in the evening.

You fall asleep to the gentle thumping of Lin’s heart and her steady, deep breathing.

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #legend of korra #hands that heal #hurt/comfort #tw: panic attack #tw: ptsd #tw: vomit #heavy on the emotional hurt in this one

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erenaeoth · 7 months

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I saw what you wrote in tags and what I can say? You know me too well! :D So for a headcanon meme, as I'm not familiar with Resident Evil beyond some really basic idea, but I'm curious after seeing a lot great art from your reblogs, how about ◉ - Any other question of your choosing for albert wesker, as in, gimme your most favorite headcanon (or two or more!) about him :)

Ahh, you're too kind giving me a question like this!

I guess my main headcanon for Wesker is that he has an anti-social personality disorder, so whilst he comes over as extremely charming and eloquent, he feels no real empathy for others, and most of his emotional-appearing responses are learned behaviour. There are a few other aspects in others that he has to fake and try to understand - like what attachment to a nuclear family is meant to feel like (he grew up in an orphanage), and how others think, as he realised from an early eage that he can make connections and process information a lot faster than most.

For these reasons, he's always set himself above others, and considers them almost a distinct species from himself, although he doesn't fully develop his god complex until many years later. There are exceptions to this. Once he found others as brilliant as himself, like William Birkin, he was much better able to quantify what his own strengths are when compared to others. William is one of the few people he feels he can relax around, since he doesn't have to hide his true nature (clever and sadistic) and can just be himself. And because he has outlets where he feels understood, he's able to curtail the prideful aloofness I imagine he walked around with as a teen and child.

I think one of his main motivations, prior to becoming fixated on his global human enhancement (and genocide) plans, was really to stave off boredom. I think he loves the complexity of playing different people off one another and having mulitple allegiances, of being involved in cutting edge research, action, espionage, of wearing all these different faces. I think it's a game to him that excites him. And I think at its heart he wants independence. He doesn't want to be owned or used, and the best way he can serve himself is to always have a backdoor escape, always have a spare loyalty up his sleeve, never trust anyone, and assume that everyone wants to use his brilliance and then discard him. So it's a game he adores playing, but also one he has to play in order to survive.

Thanks for the ask he lives in my head for always and these are things I'm writing my fic to explore!

#albert wesker #headcanon meme #resident evil #asks #re thoughts

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tobiasdrake · 4 months

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So long, Song/Quillshroom Marsh, and good riddance. Let's see, next we come to....

This place seems nice. Lovely vibe here.

If I remember my Mesa Island geography, Clockwork Castle is in this region specifically.

Beyond there is our destination: Glacial Peak, a snowy hellscape that which no reasonable person would ever dare to try and climb on foot. At least, that's what Resh'an said.

...

You know what, suddenly I have concerns about our mission.

Luana called it the "Graplou" for some reason. I have no idea why, but it is not my place to contradict the goddess.

Thank you for the Graplou.

Queen of Quills is a pretty cool name, not gonna lie. I just called her Monkshroom. To her face. Hope that didn't make her angry; I still want to hang out and be pals.

...

"Do you have a story for me?" Specifically, that one? I want to hear that one. I want it right now. I'll touch your cabinet!

*sigh* Fine. Patience. Whatever.

...you have a boss? I guess... maybe you're not Resh'an, then. I'm pretty sure Resh'an is the top of his hierarchy.

...is the bird Resh'an?

Oh wow, Luana wasn't kidding. That is a great way to start a fight. It's a long-range Eat Shit cord.

I feel so free. So liberated from the bonds of gravity. The graplou is my favorite thing ever. I actually feel closer to flying with this than I did with the wingsuit! It's amazing!

Look at how plausible this is! I can soar boundlessly through the crags like a majestic eag--

...hi, bestie....

._.

I. May. Have been getting a little carried away.

It's nice to see you, though. Haven't had a chance to catch up since that whole ordeal with Monkshroom and Quillble. You have any idea what that was about because I'm still a little lost. Messenger Demons can be cursed too?

Do we share curses if I get cursed? Is that how it works? Or was this a special curse targeted at both?

So many questions.

HA FIRST TRY

Is what I'd be saying if I had any skills. Instead, bestie's here to tattle on me and keep me honest.

Four times. Four times I got chewed up in that. My spine has the consistency of dental floss right now.

The Graplou is cool and all but I sure do wish it were longer. It's so easy to mistime jumps when it doesn't go that far.

Wow, already? This level's been flying by, hehehe.

No, actually, this has been intensely hard and I was stabbed many times in places I do not wish to speak of. Quarble has been an ever-present and beloved traveling companion.

...no.

No, I do not mean that. I don't know why you mean that. I mean boss. Singular. I only wish to fight one.

...

...goddess Luana?

#the messenger #drake plays the messenger

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 5 months

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LMG I LOVE THE CHRIDTMAS THEME ITS ADORSBLE

Dallas would 110% listen to drill. (nyc drill duhhh) but also he really gives off that one atlanta drill song hhats like "GRAHHH I TOLD MANMAN GRAB THE PLIERS MAKE A NECKLACE OUT HIS TEETH" ANDDD "LETS PLAY A LITTLE GAME I MADE ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS PICK A CANDY BAR ONE GOTTA BLADE IF U EAG THE WRONG ONE STG BOY THATS ON YOU ALL IK IF U SPIT IT OUT BOY I BET ILL SHOOT" like u cant tell me he wouldn't be blasting those horrifying songs --🪸

Thanks!!

You're right, granted, I had to google this, but Dally likes to blare songs he finds off-putting so people think he's tuff-

#dillo's replies #🪸 anon

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ailendolin · 2 years

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Title: Grace [2/10 on AO3]

Characters: Thomas, Alison, Mike, Baby Cooper, the Ghosts, the Plague Ghosts

Summary: “Mike and I are going to have a baby.”

Baby Cooper’s arrival at Button Houses changes many things, and all for the better - at least at first.

Or as Mary once said: babies can see ghosts sometimes but usually only up until they can walk.

A/N: Baby Cooper finally arrives! Thank you to everyone who's read and liked/reblogged this fic so far! Have some more fluff with this chapter and I hope you enjoy it as much as the first one!

Chapters: 1 - 2

————

Grace

Chapter 2: The Birth

“Mike!”

It’s the middle of the night. Of course it’s the middle of the night, Alison thinks as she blinks against the harsh light of the bathroom lamp that highlights the dark shadows under her tired eyes in an unflattering way.

There’s no reaction from the bedroom.

“Mike, get up!” she shouts again, a hint of urgency creeping into her tone. “My water broke!”

She hears a choked off sound followed by a dull thud that makes her wince. A second later, Mike pokes his head around the bathroom door, panic written all over his face. “You’re what did what now?”

Alison gives him an unimpressed look. “Did you just fall out of bed?”

Mike blinks at her for a moment, thrown off guard. “Uh … maybe?”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Alison turns back to washing her hands. “My water broke. Get the bag. We need to go to the hospital.”

As Mike scrambles to get dressed, she takes a moment to herself and lets the situation sink in. In just a few hours, she will hold a baby in her arms – her baby. She will be the mother of a tiny, perfect human being. Alison shakes her head, feeling a little stunned. After all these months of waiting it seems surreal that the moment is finally here.

It definitely is, though, Alison thinks to herself as she feels another contraction starting and grips the sink in front of her to steady herself. She can’t be sure but it feels like the intervals between the contraction are getting shorter – not short enough to make her panic but short enough for her to know that it’s time to get going.

She dresses in something warm and comfortable that she set aside for this exact moment and sneaks a glance out of the window when Mike hands her her coat. The grounds are shrouded in thick darkness but as far as she can tell the heavy snowfall the weather forecast predicted last night hasn’t set in yet.

Thank god, Alison thinks in relief. The last thing they need right now is inaccessible roads.

She follows Mike to the stairs but stops halfway down when she spots the ghosts, all of them, even Humphrey, standing at the bottom, silently gazing up at her with wide-eyed, nervous worry. Kitty is the only one who doesn’t seem to be anxious. The smile on her face is as bright as ever and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely concealed excitement when she asks, “Is the baby coming?”

“Not right now I hope,” Alison mutters and continues down the stairs. Feeling another contraction coming, she stops again to support herself on the wall and breathes in and out just as the midwife taught her. Mike hovers helplessly by her side as if he, just like Kitty, expects her to give birth right then and there on their staircase. Alison would laugh at the absurdity of it all if she wasn’t so busy breathing through the pain.

When the contraction finally passes, she closes her eyes in relief.

“I’m fine,” she says before Mike or the ghosts can ask her if she’s all right. She lets Mike help her down the last few steps of the stairs and gestures for him to wait a moment so she can address the ghosts. “Alright guys, we’re going to the hospital now. Mike will give you an update once the baby is born.”

The Captain stands to attention before her, his back straight and his face more serious than she’s ever seen it.

“Do not worry about a thing, Alison. We will hold down the fort while you two are away.” He clears his throat before he adds, a little more softly, “And we will eagerly await your return.”

Touched, Alison smiles at him before she gives them all a little wave goodbye. She isn’t surprised at all when Thomas follows her and Mike out to the car. They’ve grown closer these last few months, ever since she asked him to become her baby’s godfather, and she knows he’s been fretting about this moment for weeks now. He tried to be subtle about it but well, he’s still Thomas and can’t really help but wear his heart on his sleeve – something Alison doesn’t mind at all now that it’s no longer beating for her.

He waits until she’s buckled in before he sticks his head through the window and says, “I know childbirth is not as dangerous as it was 200 years ago but – please be safe, Alison. Come back to us.” He glances down at her belly and bites his lip. “Both of you.”

“We will,” Alison promises him softly even though she knows that there’s always a chance of something going wrong. “See you in a few days, Thomas.”

Thomas nods and, taking a deep breath, steps away from the car and lets her go. “Goodbye, Alison.”

He watches the car until the night swallows its lights.

Roughly ten hours of labour later, Alison is holding a beautiful baby girl in her arms, all wrinkly and scrunched up and a little bit bloody but perfect in every way as she cries her heart out for the first time in her very young life. She looks up at Mike, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been, and finds herself smiling through her tears when she sees him gazing down at their daughter with a look of utter wonder and disbelief on his face.

The only thing missing from this perfect moment are the ghosts.

The next few hours are filled with medical tests for both her and the baby, taking a thousand pictures, baby’s first meal and a dozen phone calls to friends and family Alison gladly lets Mike take charge of. They fly by so fast that by the time she’s finally transferred to a room it’s already noon and she’s so tired she could sleep for a week. Mike doesn’t fare much better. He tries his best to hide his exhaustion and stay awake so he won’t miss a single second with his daughter but when Alison catches him nodding off, still with that dazed smile on his face she knows won’t wear off for days, she decides to shoo him out of the room. He still has to drive home, after all, and she really doesn’t want him to end up in a ditch somewhere.

“We’ll still be here tomorrow,” she says with a soft smile. “Go home, get some sleep and–“

“–don’t forget to let the ghosts call,” he finishes around a yawn, giving her the thumbs up. “Yeah, I know.”

Alison doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more than in that moment.

He bends down to kiss first her and then their little girl on the forehead before he leaves with the happiest and goofiest grin on his face that Alison has ever seen. Heart overflowing with love, she leans down to whisper to her sleeping daughter, “Your daddy is the best.”

She gets about an hour of blissful rest before her phone lights up with an incoming video call.

“I’m back home,” Mike says as if Alison can’t tell by the crackling fireplace in the background and the ghosts hovering behind him, trying to get a look at her on the small screen. “And I already told the ghosts everything went well – at least I think I did. Are they here?”

Alison looks at the dearly beloved faces he can’t see and feels her eyes well up. “Yeah, they are. Can you put the phone on the table so they can all see it?”

Mike does as instructed and steps back to give the ghosts a little more room. They gather on the sofa, each of them eager to see the newest addition to their unconventional family.

“Is it truly a girl?” Kitty asks, leaning forward. “Because Mike said it was a girl and I would love to have a little niece!”

“It is,” Alison confirms with a smile. She readjusts her phone so they can see her daughter resting peacefully in her arm. “Everyone, meet Grace Katherine Cooper.”

Kitty’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh my, she has my name!” she breathes, looking close to tears.

Alison nods, unable to contain her grin. “Surprise!”

“Look at her fingers,” Robin says softly, pointing at the phone before he turns to Julian. “So tiny.”

Grace gives a little yawn and scrunches up her nose. Alison laughs as everyone positively melts at the sight, Mike included.

“She is adorable, Alison,” Pat smiles. “Well done.”

“Thanks, Pat,” Alison says, gazing down at her daughter with endless love. “I can’t wait to bring her home.”

“And we can’t wait to meet her,” Fanny says. “She will bring much joy to this old and noble house.”

Thomas nods softly, already completely enamoured. “Indeed she will.”

Grace opens her eyes at that and blinks up at the phone, looking surprisingly alert. Alison laughs. “I think she likes the sound of your voice, Thomas.”

She realises what she just said at the same moment that Mary says knowingly, “Ah yes, she be seeing us.”

“Oh,” Alison whispers a little dumbstruck as she stares down at her daughter.

Mike’s face appears back on the screen. “Oh? What oh? Did something happen?”

Alison shakes her head. “No. I just … I think Grace can see the ghosts. I totally forgot that babies can do that sometimes.”

“Oh,” Mike echoes faintly as the room around him erupts into excited chatter as the ghosts start waving at the camera, all of them eager to personally welcome little Grace Cooper to the family.

#thomas thorne #alison cooper #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #bbc ghosts babyfic #my fic #mike cooper #fanny button #the captain #kitty #mary #pat butcher #robin

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