#anti food trail

[neat-deadandlive-things]

I rewarded myself for hard thesis work today by a trip to the bulk store. I got candy corn (yeah I'm pro-candy corn), gummy bears, licorice all sorts, pistachios, and wasabi peas.

I could, right now, make the weirdest trailmix in existence.

#food #trail mix #pro candy corn but respectful of anti-candy corn people because it means more candy corn for me

[lo1k-diamonds]

How to Choose a Valentine 💜

PAIRING: idol!Jungkook x You (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: Who knew the best company for Valentine's Day would be a lovely Doberman? And who knew he'd get you a Valentine? Well, sort of.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

GENRE: fluff and light angst

RATING: Teen (for cussing and drinking)

WARNINGS: drinking, kissing and making out while drunk (consensual), hangover, lapses of memory, misunderstandings, JK handles everything well, Bam is the center of this story, the cutest baby, and maybe a cupid, should fill your 💜 with fluff but wdik

A.N. I wasn't even supposed to write this. This is what happens when I wake up at 4 AM and can't sleep. Then I think, Hmm, I read lots of lovely fics yesterday about Valentine's Day. What would I do if I wrote one? X hours later, here we are. I just roll with it at this point, it's almost a way to deal with writer's block 😅 Enjoy 💜

You snorted at the reel playing on your phone while your hand petted gently between the black Doberman’s ears. One girl smashed the phone camera while repeating ‘Girls don’t want flowers for Valentine’s Day’, while another immediately shyly said that yes, she’d like flowers. You scrolled; another of a guy guiding his significant other over a trail of petals; you scrolled, another of a guy explaining how he asked a girl to become his Valentine. Another, with the type of girls on Valentine’s Day and you smirked. Which one were you? Definitely not the spoiled girlfriend, you were single. Not heartbroken, you hadn’t dated for a while, or a heartbreaker. You chuckled; the only guy in your life at the moment was that sweet Doberman sleeping on your lap and you weren’t about to break his darling heart. 

The next options were single and fine with it, anti-Valentine’s Day, and Galentine’s Girl. You supposed you were fine with it but had hoped not to spend it alone, hence why you were at your best friend’s apartment. What you thought could be a day of eating and having fun together turned into dog-sitting because she needed that favor. Something along the lines of the usual sitter being ill and her needing to find someone to do it, and you were available.

You could think of more depressing ways of spending your day. You put your phone down and petted the short fur between the dog’s closed eyes, knowing he was utterly relaxed under your touch. He was the cutest thing and you had a blast walking and playing with him all day. You checked his training and he was responsive, though testy of the limits, and you made sure he understood that he had to listen to you. During your second walk, he behaved so well and was rewarded so much that you thought he wouldn’t have an appetite for dinner, but he surprised you. And now he was sleeping soundly and you didn’t want to get up, but it was time for your own dinner. Maybe you could cook something up for you and—

Your phone buzzed and you checked it; speaking of the devil.

[It’s taking longer than expected so I’ll eat here. Treat yourself sorry see you soon! 💜]

You sighed. In the end, you were going to spend it with that cutie as your Valentine. You stretched your arms and shoulders, pressing your fingers to your neck before gaining the courage to slide under the Doberman. He wasn’t pleased and adjusted his head to get back on your thigh.

“No, Bamie. I gotta eat something, come on.”

You slid again and turned on the TV as background noise before getting to the kitchen and checking your best friend’s fridge. You decided to eat a bit of everything that you could find and got set to eat on the sofa in front of the TV. Not even five minutes in, you became sort of annoyed — stupid Valentine’s Day ads. You told Bam firmly not to even think about snatching your food before you focused on streaming something instead. A corny and sweet romcom should be fun.

And you had dinner as you laughed and cried with it until a scene came up where the main character cried her sorrows over a bottle of soju and you thought, Why not? You had nothing planned the next day, at least you could have a drink.

You started with a single soju bottle, but as the episodes played and the night passed, you didn’t stop. Eventually, there were empty bottles of beer and soju and you were feeling dizzy, despite being sat down on the couch. Your last reasonable thought was to turn off the TV, the only source of light in the room, before holding on to Bam as if he were a pillow and falling asleep.

It was the sound of bottles clicking that disturbed your sleep, and your instinct was to wrap your arms closer around the fluffy dog, “Bam.”

He was wiggling his tail like crazy, and in your haze, you connected that to the bottles falling over. Not to the extra dip on the other side of the chaise longue.

Perhaps it was the fact that you heard your best friend’s voice in the distance that relaxed you, not quite registering that it disappeared after the front door closed. It was only when a different scent hit your nose that you started connecting the pieces: Bam was squeezed between you and someone else, their hand touched your arm ever so slightly while they petted him, and that musky scent was from a man.

You opened your eyes, confused by your conclusions, but not at the top of your game — a quick nap was not enough to make you sober.

“Who are you?”

Bam’s tail kept wiggling as he seemed busy facing opposite from you, looking at the person who answered you, “Who are you?”

He sounded sleepy and you couldn’t see him properly. The city lights from the window were enough but you were still too hazy.

“I asked first,” you voiced, rubbing your eyes. He didn’t seem willing to respond quickly enough, but you could feel him still petting Bam, so you sulked. You wrapped your arms around the pet harder, “Bamie is mine!”

Instantly, a new set of arms did the same and tried to steal him away, “No, he’s not! I’m his dad!”

“And I’m his mom!” The man scoffed and you raised your chin proudly. “Don’t believe me? Look.”

You let go of Bam and scanned around, seeing where you could put your feet safely in between the bottles. Then you got up and walked a bit unsteadily across the living room, standing next to the window. You could see the shape of the man all in black, including his hair, looking at you from his comfortable position with the sweet Bam happily smelling around.

He could see your expression, your baggy tee shirt falling over you and covered with cartoons, but he only cared about Bam staying in his arms. Because of course, he would.

“Bam!”

He gasped when Bam jumped from his embrace to get to you, frantically wiggling his whole body before lying on his back over your feet. He gaped as his Doberman showed his belly, happily licking your face and squirming under your belly rubs.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, grinning from ear to ear.

Then you straightened up and snapped your fingers and Bam got up too, easily following you back on the couch and splaying himself belly up in between you and the man.

“There you go,” you murmured, scratching his belly and up his chest much to Bam’s delight.

It was when Bam squirmed that his snout ended up under the man’s chin and you saw him clearly for the first time. Then he spoke and you smiled.

You woke up with a groan, drool all over the pillow, and a headache to make you want to run for the hills. But then you sat up, confusion still scrambling your brain as you eyed the bedroom.

“Bam?”

You waited but the sound of paws scratching the floor didn't grace your ears, so you got up from bed and searched for him. You looked everywhere, calling for him every few seconds, but he didn’t come out and you couldn’t seem to find him. In fact, there was no one else at home but you, which made you befuddled — where was your best friend?

Your hangover was deadly, it was trying to pull you down with a headache the size of the world. And so you beelined to the bathroom and stripped hastily to get your head under the water and try to wake up gently.

But there was no gentleness to be found when suddenly you remember something — there was a man. Yes, but— You— kissed?

Suddenly, you were flooded with the memories of you kissing, his gentle hand cupping your jaw, your trembling breath when your tongues touched. The foreign thing that ended up being a lip ring that you felt with your tongue. The way the kiss deepened, and your legs got tangled even beyond sweet Bam lying in between you.

You were hyperventilating, “What?!”

You did what?!

Did you kiss a random man? On your best friend’s couch in the middle of the night? Or did you hallucinate him because of the alcohol?

Suddenly, it came to you — he tasted of beer, and you told him as much.

You felt him smile against your lips, “And you taste of strawberry soju.”

You remembered chuckling before kissing him again, burying your fingers into slightly overgrown strands of hair that curled around your hand.

You rubbed your face under the water; you kissed him. You were both drunk, and you couldn’t remember everything, but you pressed your lips to—

You stopped breathing.

You were feeling his shoulders and pulling him close when Bam started licking both your faces, which made you both break away and laugh.

“I have to pee,” you had said, getting up.

Before you could be mortified about having said that to a random guy, you recognized that after you went to the bathroom, you forgot about getting back to the couch. Instead, you went to bed on autopilot and fell asleep. Because you were that drunk.

Well, thankfully. Otherwise, what could have ended up happening? You were not in your right mind, you could barely remember his face aside from his eyes and lip ring. You were crazy, nuts, and shouldn’t drink that much again.

You got out of the shower and got dressed quickly with more lenient thoughts. Since only kissing happened, it was okay. No harm no foul.

Your stomach was adding to the problem, but you still decided to take headache medicine before your phone buzzed and you grabbed it.

[Meet me at work and have breakfast with me?]

You agreed and got your stuff to go to her. The subway trip was twenty minutes but it was alright at that hour. The HYBE building was in a very busy area, so to already have a direct line there was a blessing.

You gave your name at the reception to get a visitor pass and went to the floor she indicated, smiling when you saw it was a cafeteria with breakfast all around.

She met you at the door and walked you through it before sitting down and watching you eat your broth carefully.

“Lots of people need caring for this morning. Funny what Valentine’s Day does to some people,” she was amused, though her expression screamed exhaustion. “If they’re in couple they drink together, if they’re single they drink alone. There’s no escape, is there?”

You were looking down apologetically until you could talk, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I… raided your fridge.”

She sighed, “I know, I saw the bottles on the floor. Hence why you’re here, to have a power breakfast.”

“What happened yesterday? Why didn’t you come home?”

Your best friend heaved a deep breath, her spirit hanging on by a thread, “My artist went to a friend's dinner last night and got drunk. I got his driver to get him home but they had an accident,” she sighed. Your eyes widened in alarm, but she raised her hand swiftly, “They’re both alright. This all to say that after my meeting got lost into late hours, instead of going home, I had to go and manage that situation.”

“That sucks…” You thought back to the previous night, unsure of how to introduce the topic.

“By the way, thank you for taking care of Bam. My artist and I really appreciated it—”

She was interrupted when a spot of black dashed for you, barking the instant you took a second to acknowledge his presence. You instantly smiled despite the horrid headache the noise was making and reached to pet him.

“No, Bam! No eating!”

“It’s not the food,” your best friend pointed out jokingly, dismissing the manager nearby who tried to admonish the pet.

You were happy to give him all the cuddles that were making him go crazy and whiny; you were happy to see him again too. It instantly pulled memories from the previous night into your mind and you wondered again how to bring it up with your best friend when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Bam.”

Bam was licking your hand happily, yet instantly darted away at the call, and you knew before you looked up. It was him. You recognized the longer hair you had gripped, the lip ring, and the eyes. The sweet yet searing eyes.

He got near your table and bowed to you both before starting a light talk with your best friend about the schedule for the day.

And you blinked, wondering why his eyes set on your best friend’s face, or rather why the whole situation felt like a gut punch. He must have been the artist your best friend was referring to, the one she managed. You wouldn’t know, she was secretive about who it was. But the way he was ignoring you couldn’t be mistaken. He didn’t acknowledge you more than that bow, but why would he? You knew who he was.

The moment your lips grazed in a slow kiss while his hand gently supported your jaw came to mind and you blinked in astonishment. You couldn't believe it happened. Even as you remembered opening your eyes the moment he pulled away a few inches to breathe and looked straight into your eyes. It was impossible. Even if you were both drunk, how—

“Excuse me.” The three of you turned to the lady in uniform. “No pets are allowed in the cafeteria,” she bowed respectfully.

It was easy for you to get up, “I’ll take Bam to the rooftop garden.”

You grabbed his leash from the man’s hand without touching him and he let it go, a bit startled. Not that you noticed; you stepped away and called for Bam, who followed you swiftly.

Jungkook stayed behind, eyes still on you leaving with his dog until you were out of sight.

“She’ll take good care of him.”

He turned back to his manager and nodded, “I know.”

His manager was ready to use every argument she had to convince him, so she chuckled, “Funny how yesterday you were borderline going nuts over a stranger taking care of him and now you’re so relaxed.”

He nodded and looked back at where you disappeared with his Bam. You were not a stranger.

“What’s that look?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing ever so lightly.

He pressed his lips and nibbled a bit on his lip ring, but then looked back at her, “When you left me at your place… something happened.”

A mix of fear and ‘oh no’ crossed his manager's face and he sat across from her where you had sat before, ignoring your tray and half-eaten food.

“We were both drunk,” he started, expecting her not to believe him, but she just nodded. “And Bam loves her. We just—” He filled his lungs with air, pushing it back out anxiously as his tattooed hand ran across his hair, “We joked around that I was Bam’s dad and she was his mom. Then, that we were both alone, nowhere close to having a Valentine, and that maybe Bam was our cupid. Instead of meeting and making a baby, the baby— made us—” He became crimson and hid his eyes for a second, then he faced her again, “We were drunk!”

“You said that,” she deadpanned firmly. She was his manager, she needed to know things in black and white. He knew that.

“So we joked. Maybe we should get together, and we kissed.”

Her eyes doubled in size, “Oh no, you didn’t!”

“We just kissed!”

Her features hardened, “Tell me right now. Tell me the truth.”

“It’s the truth! I swear, we kissed— for a while—” His ears were becoming red, “And then she went to the bathroom and I fell asleep.” His manager’s expression had not changed a millimeter, and his eyes became pleading. “You have to believe me. You woke me up and I was alone with Bam.”

“That’s true,” she acknowledged, finally heaving a breath. “Shit, this is my fault. Leave two drunk people alone, and see what happens.”

He frowned, “I don’t just go around kissing people, even when I’m drunk.”

She faced him, “That is also true.” It seemed clear to her, so he relaxed. “So what happened? Why did you kiss her?”

He blinked with wide eyes, startled by the question. “I… I don’t know.”

He looked down, containing the urge to look back at where you had left with his pet. He didn’t even know your name, he knew nothing except that Bam loved you and you tasted sweet.

His manager waited for a proper response, for any additional information. But when none came, she knew what she had to do. She sighed, “Well. I’ll have to contact our lawyers and draft an NDA. She’s my best friend”, she confessed, rubbing her eyes for a second. “Shit,” was all she expressed before getting up and rushing out.

Jungkook pressed his lips and let her leave. He was confused about the situation, about his actions. He knew so little… Why did he think it was enough?

He put away the trays you and his manager had used while he pondered this. In a way, Bam’s heart meant everything to him. The way Jungkook loved him was unexplainable, he was the only soul in the world he could ever love in such a way. His innocence and instinct were enough, and he listened to you like he only ever listened to Jungkook himself. That shouldn’t have been enough, but it was.

And he was drunk, he sighed, leaving the room. It was his fault, he knew that. He shouldn’t kiss people irresponsibly like that, and now his manager was in a tough spot.

He decided to head for the rooftop and sort this out with you. He didn’t know what to say, but he thought maybe it didn’t have to be a big deal. You two just did it and it was… freeing. There were no inhibitions or second thoughts. It was playful and innocent, and then your lips touched. He didn’t know it would feel like that, he hadn’t thought it through. But it felt so good. It created shivers, made him hot, curious, awake, alive. He had no questions, no doubts, it was like jumping out of an airplane and freefalling. It was like the wind was guiding him to fit together with you, there was nothing in him telling him to fight it.

He got to the rooftop and immediately saw you across the garden sitting on a bench with his manager, and your best friend, next to you. Bam saw him too and raised his head and ears, but he was busy grabbing a stick that had just fallen on the floor and bringing it back to you. Jungkook could have expected him to drop everything to greet him, but Bam didn’t.

His manager was explaining something to you and your eyes were glued to the floor, expression closed except for the line between your eyebrows. Only when Bam brought you back the stick and you threw it again, did you look up. Jungkook was walking closer yet slowly, not meaning to intrude, and you had thrown the stick almost right into his path. That was why Bam happily gave it to him instead, and he crouched to pet his baby while his eyes stayed on you.

Your eyes turned away when you said something. He couldn’t hear it from there, but he knew the words out of your mouth were cold. He recognized his manager trying to have you reconsider or change your mind, but your eyebrows drew closer as you bit something back and just got up and away.

You didn’t look at him as you walked in his direction towards the exit. You planned to pass by him without a word, a mix of emotions inside you that you preferred not to address. And yet Bam was what forced you to change your mind when he lit up at your presence. He looked for a pet from your hand and you immediately halted, unable to punish that sweet pup because of his dad.

Still, the words slipped the seam of your lips somewhat bitterly, “Are you a baby?”

“What?” He blinked, eyes wide as he straightened up.

“You kiss someone and your first instinct is to threaten them with NDAs?” You were frowning with a hint of contempt, but your eyes were glistening. You continued before he could say anything, “I won’t sign it. I don’t care what any of you think, this isn’t normal. You regret it? Fine, but then act like a fucking adult.”

He was at a loss for words and movement behind you had him glancing, and so you turned. Your best friend had a serious expression on her, something you imagined was her work persona. Well, too bad you had no sympathy for it.

“No,” you raised a hand before she could say something. “You’re doing your job, and I’m standing up for my principles. I’ll go to your place and get my stuff.”

You passed by him at a hastened pace and the second he turned to say, “Wait!”, the heavy glass door was already closing behind you, muffling every trace of a sound.

He turned to his manager then, seeing the tiredness, sadness, and frustration all over her face as she heaved a deep sigh and hid the tears in her eyes.

His lips twitched with a question, but she spoke instead, “She thinks I’m choosing my job over her.”

“But you’re not,” he instantly said, confused. “This isn’t necessary.”

She sighed, “I’ll deal with this, ok? Get to your shoot.”

She also passed by him quickly inside and Jungkook looked at Bam, who was lying on the floor chewing on the stick with a hard focus. Why were they so eager to get anything done without a proper conversation?

He took Bam with him across HYBE and got inside the car with other managers and assistants. They were waiting for him to continue his schedule, chatting about Bam. It would be difficult to have him on the set, but they’d contact a sitter on the way—

“Take me to Manager Kim’s place.”

“What?” His manager frowned, “Now?”

“Yes, now. To drop off Bam,” he offered, though he knew it was a lie. His manager agreed though because he knew Bam had stayed there the previous day, and being late to the shoot was fixed with a simple call giving them a warning and an apology.

Jungkook left the car first, saying that he’d go and come back quickly, and the team agreed, to his relief. He was upstairs in a beat in front of the right door, yet before he could ring the doorbell, the door opened in front of him and something crashed into his chest. His heart jumped and his hands darted to support your arms as you recoiled back, and then you looked up at him. Such beautiful big and expressive eyes, and he knew then he would have wanted to kiss you anyway.

You broke away from his arms and moved to go around him. He didn’t miss your frown, but he didn’t hesitate, “Can we talk?”

“I’m not going to sign it,” you insisted as you turned to him, adjusting your backpack over your shoulder. “But you don’t need to worry, that doesn’t mean I’ll talk about it. I’m not like that.”

He nodded once, “Okay. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

You paused, “Oh.”

Your features smoothed in confusion and he was happy he caught your attention, “Can we go inside?”

You shrugged but walked back inside. You petted Bam gently between his ears then put your backpack down on the floor. By then, Jungkook had released Bam’s leash and closed the door. The sweet baby darted to the water bowl and your lips curved before his dad drew your attention away.

“I don’t regret it,” he said, and your eyebrows jumped. “You keep saying that, but I don’t. And I didn’t ask Manager Kim to do this either, I suppose it’s standard procedure or something. I wouldn’t know. But she’s just doing her best because she feels responsible.”

You were skeptical, “You wouldn’t know?”

“No.”

You found that hard to believe, but you didn’t insist. It had nothing to do with you. “Why would she feel responsible?”

“Because she’s in charge of me, I guess. Managers tend to feel like that even when we are, in fact, not babies.”

Your lips twitched at his choice of words.

“So don’t get mad at her. After this, I’m going to tell her to stop it. I don’t want this NDA thing, and neither do you. It’s not necessary,” he sighed. He had told his manager that before, but maybe if he insisted, she’d get it.

You nodded.

“And thank you for looking after Bam,” he finished with a smile. The Doberman had jumped on the couch a bit carelessly, but he was calm. “He’s usually nervous around strangers, but he loves you. You might really be his Mom for all he cares,” he smirked, watching as you stepped to the side to pet Bam. “And I wouldn’t… separate him from a person he loves. If you’d like to see him again.”

Your cheeks instantly caught fire as you looked at him. He held your gaze calmly, the only hint of nervousness in his fingers fidgeting. You didn’t think you were misunderstanding him, then.

“I can make time.”

He smiled, “Good.”

#jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #ao3 fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #Bam #Jeon Bam #bts au #bts au fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #lo1k-diamonds writes 💎

[thechanelmuse]

Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. 

We call Juneteenth many things: Black Independence Day, Freedom Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day. We celebrate and honor our ancestors. 

December 31 is recognized as Watch Night or Freedom’s Eve in Black American churches because it marks the day our enslaved ancestors were awaiting news of their freedom going into 1863. On January 1, 1863, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. But all of the ancestors wouldn’t be freed until June 19, 1865 for those in Galveston, Texas and even January 23, 1866 for those in New Jersey (the last slave state). (It’s also worth noting that our people under the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations wouldn’t be freed until April 28, 1866 and June 14, 1866 for those under the Cherokee Nation by way of the Treaties.)

Since 1866, Black Americans in Texas have been commemorating the emancipation of our people by way of reading the Emancipation Proclamation and coming together to have parades, free festivities, and later on pageants. Thereafter, it spread to select states as an annual day of commemoration of our people in our homeland. 

Here’s a short silent video filmed during the 1925 Juneteenth celebration in Beaumont, Texas:

(It’s also worth noting that the Mascogos tribe in Coahuila, Mexico celebrate Juneteenth over there as well. Quick history lesson: A total of 305,326 Africans were shipped to the US to be enslaved alongside of American Indians who were already or would become enslaved as prisoners of war, as well as those who stayed behind refusing to leave and walk the Trail of Tears to Oklahoma. In the United States, you were either enslaved under the English territories, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or under the Nations of what would called the Five “Civilized” Native American Tribes: Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee), Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Seminoles. Mascogos descend from the Seminoles who escaped slavery during the Seminole Wars, or the Gullah Wars that lasted for more than 100 years if you will, and then settled at El Nacimiento in 1852.)

We largely wave our red, white and blue flags on Juneteenth. These are the only colors that represent Juneteenth. But sometimes you may see others wave our Black American Heritage flag (red, black, and gold).

Juneteenth is a day of respect. It has nothing to do with Africa, diversity, inclusion, immigration, your Pan-African flag, your cashapps, nor your commerce businesses. It is not a day of “what about” isms. It is not a day to tap into your inner colonizer and attempt to wipe out our existence. That is ethnocide and anti-Black American. If you can’t attend a Black American (centered) event that’s filled with education on the day, our music, our food and other centered activities because it’s not centered around yours…that is a you problem. Respect our day for what and whom it stands for in our homeland. 

Juneteenth flag creator: “Boston Ben” Haith 

It was created in 1997. The red, white and blue colors represent the American flag. The five-point star represents the Lone State (Texas). The white burst around the star represents a nova, the beginning of a new star. The new beginning for Black Americans. 

Black American Heritage Flag creators: Melvin Charles & Gleason T. Jackson

It was created in 1967, our Civil Rights era. The color black represents the ethnic pride for who we are. Red represents the blood shed for freedom, equality, justice and human dignity. Gold fig wreath represents intellect, prosperity, and peace. The sword represents the strength and authority exhibited by a Black culture that made many contributions to the world in mathematics, art, medicine, and physical science, heralding the contributions that Black Americans would make in these and other fields. 

SN: While we’re talking about flags, I should note that Grace Wisher, a 13-year-old free Black girl from Baltimore helped stitched the Star Spangled flag, which would inspire the national anthem during her six years of service to Mary Pickersgill. I ain’t even gon hold you. I never looked too far into it, but she prob sewed that whole American flag her damn self. They love lying about history here until you start unearthing them old documents. 

In conclusion, Juneteenth is a Black American holiday. Respect us and our ancestors.

#juneteenth #juneteenth flag #black american history #black american culture #ben haith #black american heritage flag #melvin charles #gleason t jackson #grace wisher #american flag #mascogos #juneteenth 2023

[luimagines]

Ahahaha… erm- perhaps?

getting caught (kissing/being romantic with) their crush or S/O? By the rest of the chain of course😇

Ily🫶 if not a taken request, than some food for excellent thought 🥰

Yes!!!! You got it Anti! I'm going full menece!!

Masterlist

Part 1 will include Wild, Four and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Wild

"Do you think anyone is going to find us here?" You whispered, holding onto the hand of your boyfriend.

He snorted and shook his head. "Not a chance."

He had the kind of confidence that, were you anyone else, would quickly gather that it was foreshadowing. However, since you weren't willing to read between the lines the universe was trying to send you, you happily held onto his hand a little tighter and continued following him where ever he led you.

"So where are we going anyway?" You swung your conjoined hands and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Hmmm.... I don't know!"

"Link!"

"I just wanted to spend time with you... alone. Is that so much to ask?" Wild laughs, poking your forehead gently.

You huff and puff but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. He was such a sweetheart that it was hard to bother with any sort of annoyances. "Do you have a plan?"

"I just wanted to love on you." He laughs, pulling you closer and kissing your cheek. His arms keep you in an iron grip. Even though you try to push yourself away to get in a more comfortable angle, he's adamant in keeping you right where you are.

"Hey!" You laugh back, try to move away. "That's not fair! I wasn't ready!"

"Well I was. Should have been paying more attention." He smirks, trailing his kisses from the innocent spots on your face to a more heated location.

It's starts off chaste. A peck on the lips, a caress of your cheek- gentle repositioning of your hair- then he shifts. You find your back against the wall of the rock beside you. Wild kisses your chin, your jaw, trialing heated kisses to you neck.

"Link-"

"Ahem!"

You jump out of your skin, blood freezing in your veins as your stomach drops to the floor.

Wild gently drops his head to your shoulder, not bother to look up. "So we've been caught."

"No kidding." Sky tries his best to keep his face neutral. A slight blush begins to seep through his defenses, much to everyone's chagrin. "...Um.... We were looking for you."

"What?" Wild looks up finally, disbelief on his face. "Impossible. We haven't even been gone for more than fifteen minutes."

Sky coughs a bit, shuffling on his feet. "Bad timing on your part then. You were asked for the second you left, I guess."

Wild deadpans before turning around, kissing you square on the lips once more. "We'll continue where we left off another time."

You feel breathless and dizzy. You nod. Are you embarrassed or charmed? Horrified or smitten? Sky certainly wants to erase the past ten seconds from his mind.

Wild takes your hand, lookin victorious. "Let's go."

Four

"Follow me. Quickly." Four took your hand and begin dragging you along without any forewarning.

You stumbled after him, trying your hardest to keep up with his faster (and shorter) strides. "Wait, wait, wait, where are we going?"

"Shh!" Four put a finger to his lip, pulling you aside and into a dark alley way. He looked around the corner, as if checking if you were being followed before he relaxed. "Alright. This way."

"Four-!" He started pulling you away again, but at a much slower pace, merely walking to where it was he had in mind. "Link. Can you tell me what this is about? Is there anything I should be made aware of?"

"Nope!" Four grinned, stepping aside and gesturing to a small shop on the corner. "Just wanted to treat my sweet to something."

Your heart flutters and you can't help but smile. "So you had to capture me like a runaway criminal?"

"It was that or have eight other busy bodies with nothing better to do breathing down our necks."

You grin and bend down to kiss his cheek. Four beams and leads you into the shop. You both order something small to eat and warm drink, quickly securing spot by the window where you both could sit in peace.

"How did you find this place anyway? Have you been here before?" You ask Four, putting you hands on the table and lean close to him.

Four snorts and shakes his head. "I passed it while we were gathering information yesterday. I figure it would be nice to get away for a little bit."

"I doubt it would be for long." You grin but reach over to take his hand. "But thank you, I already love it."

Four grins and holds your hand gently, pulling it close to leave a tender kiss on your knuckles. "Let's make the most of it then."

A worker comes around with both of your orders and places them in front of you. Not about to be blocked by food of all things, Four moves from his spot in front of you to sit beside you instead.

You both grin, thanking the lady before going right back to looking at each other. The woman doesn't say much.

Before you both know it, you're both giggling, whispering sweet nothing about each other. Your sharing stories, compliments, kisses, innocent touches. Before you know it your lips are on his and your hands are in his hair.

Someone taps on the glass window next you.

You both jump and look over.

The entire chain is there.

You explode in a blush and look away hiding your face. Four glares at them and makes a rude gesture. You think you hear some of them laughing from the other side.

You can never show your face again. This is it, you're done for.

Four kisses once more for good measure. "Can't have anything in Hyrule."

Hyrule

You had managed to sneak away with Hyrule for a little time alone. It wasn't for anything special.

You both were lying on your backs in the grass next to each other. Between you, your hands were laced together. You rolled over and smiled, looking at your boyfriends features in silence.

His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. If it weren't for the fact that he smiles softly when you rolled over, you could have sworn he was sleeping.

"Hey." You called out softly.

Hyrule opened his eyes and rolled over to look at you as well. "Yes?"

"I love you." You whispered, unable to keep the smile off of your face. Your impulses are rewards when you see his ears twitch as he flushes softly.

He grins after a beat and reaches over with his free hand, carding it through your hair softly and tucking it away form your face. He brings your hands up and kisses your knuckles, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you too."

"I know." You whisper again and scoot closer.

Hyrule lets go of your hand and moves his arm to cushion your head as move closer. His arm wraps around your shoulders, tracing lazy nonsensical patterns on your back. His other stay by your face, running his fingertips over your cheek with light butterfly touches.

It's so soft. Your heart feels as if it's about to burst with affection.

You lean up, aiming to kiss him before he can move away. You get close. Your hand entangles itself into his hair as you angle him a little to the side to make it easier on yourself. Your breathes begin to mingle with his. Your lips are only a hairbreadth away from contact.

"Found them!"

You jolt away from each other, faces aflame.

Wind tilts his head, jogging to where you both were. "What are you doing?"

"NothINg!" Your voice cracks and you cough to clear it. "You startled us."

Hyrule ruffles his hair, sitting up with a disgruntled look on his face. "Did they send you to look for us?"

"You snuck off again." Wind pouts.

"Did not!" You fire back. "It hasn't even even thirty minutes!"

Wind rolls his eyes but turns around to leave. Sure enough, you can already hear the footsteps of the rest of the group making their way towards your location, no doubt wondering if there was anything they needed to do. Heal, lecture, defend- ect...

You turn around, kissing Hyrule's cheek before they can get closer. "Another time."

Hyrule smiles boyishly at you, ignoring the questioning looks from the upcoming boys. "I'll be waiting then."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

[wheels-of-despair]

Smoke Break Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Hellfire is holed up in your basement on prom night, but you can't sleep. Might as well drag Eddie outside for a smoke break. Contains: Excessive snoring, giggle fits, smoking, possible monster encounter, Evil Woman taking charge and demanding that I slap a MDNI warning on this baby. (Don't test me, ageless blogs, I'll block you.) Words: 1k

Somebody is snoring way too loud.

You lie awake in your dark basement, trying to remember who's where so you know whose pancakes are getting dropped on the floor in the morning.

Hellfire usually spent prom night in Grant's basement, but now that there was a girl in their midst, his mom decided she didn't want to set a bunch of teenagers loose in an unsupervised environment. So the anti-prom celebration was being held in yours this year. Very kinky stuff: pizza, an unreasonable amount of snack food, Carrie, Prom Night, whatever else was on the cheap horror shelf at Family Video, and a room full of nerdy virgins… plus you and Eddie.

The last movie had ended an hour ago, and everyone who'd made it through decided to crash. You'd snuggled up next to Eddie and slept for what you estimated to be half an hour before someone's loud-ass snores jolted you awake.

And by extension, jolted Eddie awake.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, nuzzling into each other and hoping to get back to sleep. Every time you got close, another snore would rip through the room. It was comically loud; the kind of snore that should probably be accompanied by a cartoon saw and a log. Eddie must've realized this too, because soon, every snore would send you both shaking in a fit of silent giggles. Giving up on sleep entirely, you decide to pass the time a different way.

"You wanna go out and smoke?" you whisper.

"Yeah," Eddie answers, and you begin untangling yourselves and rising off the floor. You tiptoe through the pile of sleeping nerds until you reach the basement door, then slip out.

It's unusually warm outside, but half the appeal of a late-night smoke break is the cuddling. You sit next to him on the concrete garden wall. He slips his arm around your back once he lights up, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you pass the cigarette back and forth in the light of the full moon.

About halfway through, you start craving something else.

You begin drawing lazy circles on his pajama-covered thigh, slowly working upward.

"Don't do that," he warns, blowing his smoke away from you.

"Don't do what?" you ask innocently, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

"They'll hear us."

"Not if we're quiet." You plant a sweet kiss on his jawline and squeeze the inside of his thigh.

He sighs and stubs out his cigarette in the dirt. You've won. He turns his head for a smoky kiss, which you happily give him.

Once you've got him breathing heavier and kissing you with urgency, you pull away, slithering to the ground between his legs.

But diving right in would be too easy on him.

You pull up his faded Dio shirt and begin trailing soft, sweet kisses down his bare stomach. He begins to moan softly, hands gripping the concrete.

You palm him through his pajama pants, to see if he's ready, and his breath catches. Oh yeah. He's ready. You slip a finger beneath the waistband, and he forgets that he's supposed to be being quiet.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," his stream of consciousness flows between pants.

"Eddie," you hiss, pulling back and looking up at him.

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Do you want this?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Then shut the fuck up."

"Yes ma'am."

In silence, you start over, hiking his shirt back up and working your way back down his stomach with kisses. His breathing is rough, but he is capable of shutting up. You'll have to keep that in mind.

When your trail of kisses reaches the elastic waistband of his pajama pants again, you take the edge between your teeth, pull back, and let it snap on him. He jumps, then fumbles to help you out.

He moans when your mouth closes around him.

You release him and look up with a glare.

"Please," he whines.

You lift a hand to cover his mouth and get back to work, listening to Eddie's muffled moans. When he starts writhing too much, you remove your hand from his mouth and sink your nails into his hips to hold him still.

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

And then, he does.

Wiping your mouth and rejoining him on the garden wall, you sit facing him this time. You wrap a leg around his backside, and he slumps into you. You chuckle and hold him, half-flopped over with his head on your shoulder.

"You okay?" you whisper.

He nods sleepily and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Think they heard us?"

"They probably heard YOUR loud ass," you tease, rubbing up and down his back.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"No, you're not," you chuckle, and he buries his face in your neck, knowing you're right.

You sit there quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying the alone time and the sound of crickets.

Then you hear something crunching through the woods in your direction. You both sit bolt upright, scanning the dark tree line in front of you with wide eyes.

"Uh… wannagobackin?" you ask quickly.

"Yup." Eddie jumps up and pulls you toward the basement door. Once inside, you lock both the knob and the deadbolt, then try to find your way back to your little nest without stepping on anyone.

Miraculously, you get there without waking anyone up… or so you thought. Still a little rattled from whatever kind of monster was on its way to eat you a few minutes ago, you cling to Eddie's side and stare into the dark, refusing to close your eyes.

"You okay?" he whispers. You respond by squeezing him tighter. He puts a finger under your chin and draws your face to meet his for a comforting kiss. "How 'bout now?"

"Not quite. Try again." You can feel him smile against you as he obliges.

"How 'bout now?"

"How 'bout you two are fucking gross," Grant grumbles from the spot you'd tried to isolate in the dark some time before.

"What was that, Grant?" Gareth chimes in. "I can't hear you, I had to shove my drumsticks in my ears."

"Come on guys, they're young and in looove," Jeff says in a singsong voice.

"Well, since we don't have to be quiet anymore..." Eddie lays a loud, wet kiss on your lips, and you laugh as everyone else pretends to gag.

Aside from the near-death experience, not a bad way to spend prom night in Hawkins.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #is it a demodog or a deer? who knoooows

[sanguineterrain]

Hi! I saw your post on Halloween prompts and if your still taking them may I request

Jason was born a werewolf and they're used to their transformations and abilities. They're out on a walk when they find Reader, a human-just-turned-werewolf. Jason decides it's their job to take care of Reader until they're able to use all their powers efficiently, etc. Both didn't expect to catch feelings along the way.

Or

Werewolves are actively hunted down and humans even carry specific silver items and spray to ward them off if they suspect someone of being one. Reader finds Jason, an injured werewolf, hiding in their backyard. They don't have the heart to chase them away, instead opting to heal and hide them away from the hunters after them.

Fem!reader if possible?

Prompts from @promptspa

hi there! thanks for the prompt. i decided to go with the 2nd one, but i tweaked it a little. reader is gender neutral simply because there wasn't any moment to identify gender, but you are free to picture them as female! hope you like :)

werewolf!jason todd x gn!reader | injured jason, tending to wounds, wolf form, reader and jason knew each other when he was robin.

****

"...In other news, reports of animal attacks have skyrocketed, leaving Gotham citizens paranoid. The mayor is enforcing a six o'clock curfew, urging citizens to lock their doors and keep pets inside. Now we have Dan with the weather—"

You mute the TV, stand, and stretch. The wind howls outside, rattling the roof slats. Dan, the weatherman, soundlessly describes how it's only going to get colder this week. That reminds you of Lucy, your Ragdoll. She's been outside for most of the evening.

"Lucy," you call, opening the bag of cat food. Usually, the sound causes her to race into the kitchen, claws clicking on the floor.

But there's no sound. You stop what you're doing and stand instead, moving to the stairs.

"Lucy?"

Nothing.

Animal attacks. Your stomach churns at the thought.

Gotham News often exaggerates that stuff since they're so anti-lycan. Werewolves don't attack animals and haven't done so for centuries unless they're desperate for food. But most citizens don't know that and will happily buy into the scare tactics. You can't afford to, living miles outside of the city.

You head outside when Lucy still doesn't appear. Logically, you know werewolves wouldn't attack your seven pound cat that's seventy percent fur. You know that. But something still feels wrong.

You search around the house first, using your phone as a flashlight. Then you walk toward the shed. That's when you hear meowing.

"Lucy!" you yell. "It's alright, Lucy, come on!"

Lucy makes no motion to move. She meows incessantly, urgent, yowling meows that make you rush over and check her for injuries. She continues to meow, even when you don't find an injury.

"What's wrong, Lucy? What's happened?"

You stroke her back, but nothing calms her. One time, she ran into a skunk, and that had spooked her. It also resulted in three baths to get the smell out.

But the skunk had attacked her then. Here, Lucy is unharmed, but whatever she's seen, it's scared her beyond comforting.

She continues to meow, eyes fixed on the shed. You take a deep breath and go to the shed. Lucy's meows get louder.

"It's alright, Lucy," you say, but now your heart is thumping. The wind rattles the padlock, which is odd, so you shine the light on it.

The lock is broken. You pull open the door, ready to run.

A soft whine comes from inside the shed. You shine your light, and the creature shies away, except it's too big to avoid the light completely. Too big to be a regular animal...

You make out black fur, large ears, and a tail. You gasp. The wolf whines again, curling into the corner like it's trying to make itself small.

There's a trail of blood on the ground. Without getting closer, you can't tell where the blood is from. But if it's enough to make the creature whine, it must be a deep wound.

"I'm not a hunter," you say slowly, and its ears twitch at that. "I'm not here to hurt you. No silver, see?"

You pull out your pockets, unzip your coat, and show your hands. The wolf watches you silently. Its head comes into view, and now you can see that the wolf is male.

And his eyes. His eyes are what confirm your suspicions; they are too intelligent to not be supernatural, glowing an eerie green.

He's an adult wolf, from what you can tell, but still young, his fur dark and thick. His youth doesn't make him any less intimidating, though. He looks much like the pictures of werewolves the antis use to scare people: huge, long body, glowing eyes, claws. He must be double your size, at least.

Lucy has stopped meowing. Now she just stares alongside you, keeping her distance. No wonder she was so distressed.

The wolf suddenly stands, and you take several steps back, heart racing. You hate being scared, hate letting the news report get into your head.

The wolf lies on his back with jerky, uncoordinated movements. He makes a desperate noise and shows his belly.

Knife wounds. Big ones. If he wasn't a wolf, he'd be dead.

"Holy shit," you say. "Oh my God."

This is as vulnerable as any creature can be. But you're just as much a stranger to him as he is to you. Why is he trusting you like this?

You've only known one werewolf in your life. And he's never coming back.

The wolf whimpers again. You nod quickly.

"Okay," you whisper. "It's okay. I'll patch you up."

The wolf sags against the ground, and you run out of the shed, your stomach turning at the thought of another wolf dying.

Lucy follows you, clinging to your ankles, and you try not to trip over her as you gather supplies from the house. She doesn't follow you back outside.

You return to the shed and thread a needle. Then you take a step forward and wait. When he makes no move to attack, you close the distance slowly and crouch by his belly.

His fur is matted and torn in odd places. Carefully, you place a hand on his belly. He doesn't move.

"I'm going to pour the antiseptic now," you say.

The wolf watches as you do. He tenses but doesn't make any more sounds as you clean his wound. Almost like he's used to the feeling.

You feel up his fur for other wounds. That's when you feel a scar that runs from his chest to where his bellybutton would be. It's Y-shaped.

"What—" you say in horror. "What did they do to you?"

The wolf whines again.

"Right, right. Sorry. I'm going to sew you up."

He lets you tend to his wounds without a hitch. He's unusually comfortable with your touch; he doesn't howl or flinch when you touch him, and any warning sounds are gentle.

You finish the stitches and top it with a bandage. He waits patiently, not moving an inch. You haven't done this in years; you never thought your medic training would come in handy again.

Nightingale. That's what the Bats called you. That's who you might've become eons ago, until...

"I won't turn you in," you say when you finish.

The wolf blinks at you.

"But you know that, don't you?"

He protests when you pull a blanket over him. He whines and nudges you away with his nose.

"It's cold here, and I can't carry you inside," you say.

He drags the blanket off with his teeth and throws it onto your lap. You smile and put it back on him.

"I'll be fine. I have blankets inside. Get some sleep."

You start to stand, and his whines become barks. He tries to stand with you, pawing at your knee.

"Whoa, hey! Don't, you'll pull your stitches. What's wrong?"

He barks again, and nods at the forest line outside in the distance. Then he licks at his bandage.

"You're afraid the people who hurt you will get you?" you ask.

He chuffs and licks your hand.

"You're afraid they'll get... me?"

He nudges your shoulder. You touch his head and make a soft noise.

"Okay. I'll stay and keep watch. If I hear anything, I'll wake you, alright?"

The wolf grunts, then finally lays down. He shuffles closer to you, so his body is practically on your legs. He runs hot, and with him so near, you hardly feel the cold.

The wolf falls asleep before you.

****

It has been a long time since you trained with a Bat, and your nocturnal practices have faded since then.

So you wake up in the shed with a backache.

Black fur tickles your hand, and you open your eyes.

But it's not a wolf at your feet; it's a man.

A man wearing a dead boy's face.

He awakens as you do, bare and bandaged beneath the blanket. Those odd green eyes stare at you. They're wrong; all of him is wrong, but his face... you know that face.

"Jason?" you whisper, chest tight.

His sigh is full of grief.

"Hey, Nightingale."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x yn #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #werewolf jason todd #dc fanfic #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[froody]

That post of mine about that expensive yogurt that went super viral had this small but vocal pushback accusing it of being undeclared shady advertising on our dear precious anti-capitalist website that hates advertisers. Which was so offensive to me that for a while I was afraid to share other delicious foods I try because being falsely accused of being a corporate shill hurts in a unique way. But anyway idgaf now. If I find good trail mix, I’m telling you about it.

[melinoelliones]

You and Abby were never the closest, if anything Mel made you despise the girl, so how did you end up in her bed?

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: Fingering, cursing, praise, enemies to lovers if you squint, pussy eating, cum eating!! fem reader

1.5k words

This was so rushed, please forgive me Abby lovers, I am one of you I promise, I will do better next time!!!! I have many more Abby pieces comin.

“Well would you look at that, your underwear is soaked yet you said you hate me”? The girl chuckled, never taking her eyes off of you as you scowled. “You think you’re funny?”, “Not really, but I do think I know a girl begging for my touch when I see one”

You and Abby were never the closest to each other, you met through Manny but only really had very surface level conversations. Yet here you were, in the room they shared down to your intimates with her while Manny left to grab food, who would’ve guessed.

“You can just give in you know”, “I bet that's what you’d want” you spat, her eyebrows rising in shock as a smirk emerged on her face, “Spicy one aren’t ya, I like that, but let’s see how long it lasts huh?”.

Before you could even get a word out she was already on top of you, her knee between your legs, pressing ever so softly on your sensitive core resulting in a small moan from you. 

“Oh, you like that?” Abby teased, shifting her weight onto that knee to help soothe the ache, your eyes avoiding hers. “Oh c’mon, no need to be so shy” she cooed, your face heating up as hers moved closer.

“Who said I’m shy?” you stuttered, your cheeks heating up slightly, “hmm I don’t know, the fact that you can’t even look me in the eye says enough dontcha think?”. Abby always had that effect on you, you always tried to brush it off but yet it always came back, she made you overly nervous but you always found yourself gravitating to her, even if Mel warned you about her.

Before you could even think of a rebuttal Abby shifted back to sit on her knees, her happy trail on display as your eyes wandered her body. All she had on was a pair of boxer shorts and a sports bra but fuck she looked so good, almost effortlessly. “Like what you see?”, “Oh, shut up” you sighed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as she smoothed back her signature braid before placing herself between your thighs, her knee still wet from your underwear.

“Abby I~” “Don’t worry, I’m here” she reassured, trailing sweet kisses along your inner thighs, nibbling down on your pillowy skin as it melted at her touch. She knew it was your first time, you guys had discussed it while Manny was there, that may or may not have been the reason why he suddenly was ‘so hungry’ and ‘needed to go get everyone food’.

You felt as her kisses inched closer and closer to the source of the burning heat between your legs, your heartbeat fastening with every passing second before you felt her fingers tug at the fabric covering you. “Let's take these off, is that okay?” she asked, wanting to make sure you were still up to this. 

She observed you hesitate slightly before nodding, it wasn't as if you didn’t want this, it was actually quite the opposite but the nerves were still there. “Just like that?” she smiled sincerely, entangling damp thin fabric around her fingers, sliding them off to reveal the sopping messing before her, it almost glistening as she took a breath.

“Fuuck, well would you look at that” she groaned, shaking the smirk off her face as she dived right in, coating your slick folds in her saliva before placing her soft lips around your clit, the warmth from them sending the softest of shivers down your body. 

Abby lapped her tongue around your throbbing bud, sucking on it every so often as to never neglect it, “I~It feels so good” you moaned, earning yourself a chuckle from her against your skin. “Oh I bet it does” she grumbled against you, pulling away to look at your heated face.

“You’re basically dripping” the girl grinned, using her forefingers to part your lips as she took in the sight of your precum leak out from you, her eyebrows furrowing in desire as she took in the sight before her. She wanted nothing more than to absolutely devour you whole, tongue fuck you till your body had nothing else to give, but maybe not for your first time.

“I’ll take it slow okay?” she glowed, slipping a single digit into you with no effort, your body taking her so well. She took her time with you, slowly gliding it in and out of you, “Abby please” you whined wanting more.

“Please what? C’mon you got it, tell me what you want” she looked up at you, she wanted to hear you say it, say how much you want her to fuck you with more fingers, one was never enough was it. “I can’t help you if you don’t”. 

Swallowing your pride you spoke up, “P~Please, Abby I need more”, “as you wish princess” she teased, wasting no time in sliding another finger in, bringing another whine from you to the surface, turning her on even more. She loved the sound of your needy voice asking her for anything, she knew that took a lot.

Your body attempted to toss and turn as while filled you with her fingers, she was knuckles deep as her tips grazed your sweet spot. Holding your hips with her spare hand you cried, “Abby I’m so c~cl” “hang on for me” she cut you off, not wanting you to cum like this.

“What are yo~ fuuuck fuck” you mewled, rolling your head back into the pillow as she latched herself back onto your swollen clit, flicking the tip of her tongue against it before suckling on it. The girl was almost as heated as you at this point, her eyes half lidded while taking care of you.

Abby chuckled to herself as she felt your hands against her head, pulling her into you as close as you could, at this point you were desperate for her to help you reach the end. “Aha, easy tiger” she growled, the vibrations of her words helping you edge closer and closer.

Your body was at its limit, your hips rolling against the girls fingers as she fastened the pace of her fingers, practically pounding at your sweet spot as you choked out pure curses and whimpers, “go on, I know you wanna” she murmured between breaths, knowing exactly what you needed.

As if on cue you came, the burn in your stomach cooling itself off little by little as you painted her fingers white with your release. “Atta girl” she praised you, slowing down the pace of her fingers just enough to let you ride out your orgasm, also not wanting to let any of your arousal seep out.

Abby rose to her knees as she watched your body relaxed below her, your eyes full of nothing but lust and high as they met hers, you were just perfect. “Well would you look at that”, she announced, burrowing her digits in your sensitive cunt one last time to catch every last drop of you, rising them up to show you before sucking you off them. She was now hooked on the taste of you, even if it was the first time, not that you’d want any other conclusion of course. 

As you attempted to sit up your thighs trembled, knocking you back down sharply. “Easy there, I got you” she cooed, helping you back against the headboard whilst settling beside you, pulling the covers over the both of you as you thanked her.

“I think it’s only right that you get a taste too” Abby smirked, pulling your face towards her till your lips met. With your pride already down the drain you took the first move, slipping your tongue into hers, she was not expecting for you to take that leap. A moan from you rolled into her mouth whilst as she deepened the kiss, not wanting to let you to have all the fun, the flavour of you coming from her mouth sending you into overdrive.

As the kiss started to heaten up you both jumped, the noise of the door unlocking snapping the two of you out of the trance, a trail of saliva still connecting you to as she pulled back. Shouting emerged as you heard the door open and close, “Aye sorry I took so long, I couldn’t cut in line this tim~” Manny cut himself off, his eyes darting straight to the soiled underwear on the floor, then to the both of you huddled under Abby’s sheets.

“Am I interrupting somethin~” “no you’re fine we were just er, chilling” the girl protested however Manny was no idiot, “right….. Well, foods on the counter” he laughed, backing away to the kitchen. “Just to let you know, you’re a bad fuckin liar” he jested, plopping himself on his bed with no care in the world.

Abby had no intention of letting him get in the way of what you guys were doing, the curtain on her bedframe had more than one use and she intended to show you, the night was only just beginning.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x reader smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby tlou x reader smut #abby tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 smut #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 smut #tlou x reader smut #tlou x reader #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou2 smut #tlou2 x reader #tlou2 x reader smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us x reader smut #the last of us 2 #the last of us 2 x reader #the last of us 2 x reader smut #meli noel's work #kinktober 2023 #melinoelkinktober23

[cranberryjuice-posts]

What’s my next album going to be based on? Divorce babe DIVORCE

A Gwen stacy x reader fic where they’re both spider people and they get sent on a mission by miguel but reader gets a tad bit hurt while on said mission and gwen tots freaks out

Xoxo, gossipgirl

- water color -

Pairings - Gwen Stacy x fem! Spider hero! Reader

An - im working on an Abby fic rn and finishing the final chapter to my AO3 series but the Abby fic is taking longer than expected im sorry, this is also sorta rushed I just really wanted to get something out for y’all

to be fair this wasn’t your fault.

“What did I tell you!” Miguel’s harsh voice echoed through the empty room. He was like a toddler with the way he reacted. You messed up once and it’s like your the anti christ with Armageddon coming a mile away.

Blood trailed down your face. A broken nose busted lip and bruising circles around your eyes from one failed fight. “Whatever you act like your the perfect hero” you finally snapped shouting pack at him.

“I don’t make foolish mistakes!”

“I got punched and thrown against a wall by a giant fucking lizard!”

“You were supposed to stay in the background while Jessica captured the anomaly! You could of caused a major break in the universe!” If he raised his voice over yours maybe he would win the argument. This wasn’t even supposed to be an argument in your eyes you did nothing wrong.

Tired of the whole ordeal you walked away ignoring as Miguel shouted for you to come back. If you had to hear this grown man complain about you getting hurt one more time you just might scream.

Taking a seat at the food court you annoyingly waited for your burger. A show tune whistle made you turn your head.

“You Look Well” hobbie sarcastically took a seat beside you. Rolling your eyes you took another sip of your drink.

“If your gonna lecture me, Miguel is already ten steps ahead of you”

He just shook his head with a smile, pulling his guitar from his back to in-front hobbie began to tune it. “I think ill leave that to our little friend” his reference to Gwen didn’t go unnoticed. Any chance he got to bring up the relationship he would. Rolling your neck trying to relieve some tension a pair of soft hands covered your eyes.

Pulling them down Gwen wrapped her arms around your neck. She leaned over kissing your cheek. “Hey how wa— oh my god” her blunt tone made you silently groan. Turning around Gwen grabbed your face in her hands.

“Hey Blondie” You mumbled as she critcally scared your face. “It’s not as Bad as it Looks”

“Your nose is broken”

“Again it’s not that bad”

She grabbed your hand and yanked you from the place where sat. She silently dragged you down multiple halls until you reached the med bay. Almost throwing you, you landed on a cot.

It was cute how she was able to man Handel you. Trying to be sarcastic you spoke “Careful I’m fragile right no—“

“Not a Word”

Her strick tone Sent chills down your back. Sitting straight up Gwen grabbed a first aid kit. Taking a seat beside you she began to softly clean the cut on your lip.

The antibiotics stung against the wound making you pull back in pain. “Sorry” Gwen sighed, grabbing your chin she turned to your face towards her again.

She would never intentionally try to hurt you, it was obvious with how much care she was taking in even the shallow wounds.

“All this for me.. I’m flattered” you giggled.

“Whatever” she smiled. Placing a bowl of soup on the table she sat down on the couch beside you. Hobbie had gone out for the night leaving you and Gwen alone at his place.

Leaning onto her shoulder she was quick to wrap a free arm around you while she picked a movie. Playing with the hem of Gwen’s sleep shirt the thought of how worked up she had gotten over you made your heart soar.

With a bandage on your nose and stitches on your lip you felt your face begin to heal. After a minute you leaned up to kiss the corner of her lips. “Thank you~ I don’t know how I’d live without you”

She tried to act Un phased but her red cheeks lied. “I don’t know either” she joked. Hitting her arm in a small fit of playful rage gwen softly laughed, turning her attention down to you. Kissing your forehead she relaxed back on the furniture with you in arms. You figured you should get comfortable as there was no way in hell she was about to let you go on another assignment any time soon.

#lesbian #wlw #gwen stacy x you #spider gwen x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spider gwen #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spiderman

[verycherry1]

Pike Roast {Carmen Berzatto | Pt.2 }

A continuation to Pike Roast.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek while twitching his thumbs over the thread of outgoing messages. You were just shy of approaching week 3 on your anti-Carmen Berzatto Campaign, ignoring every text he sent. 

Though, day by day the Carmen Berzatto found himself growing more anxious at the thought of this becoming permanent. He wasn’t anticipating for this to go on as long as it had been. After all, this wasn’t the first time both of you encountered a wrangle amongst one another.

It occurred sometime in your third month of this situationship. He had initiated the idea of cleaning out a shelf for you at his place considering how frequently you had been staying. However, the conversation soon went sour once you suggested the concept of becoming official.

 “No, we’re not ready.” He insisted harshly, refusing to give you anything but a gentle rejection. “This isn’t perfect.” 

“We’re not perfect or I’m not up to your food & wine standard?” You push back vocally from the opposite side of his kitchen island.

There’s a shake of his head, coming prepared with your response. “Never said that” refusing to make any eye contact with you while he dismissed the conversation, he continued to carve up the marinated fillet on the opposite side of the counter. His blue eyes fixated on perfecting dinner, tuning out the choked back wounds you were reflecting.  

“You implied it.” You retort. 

There’s a heavy, aggravated, sigh that leaves his chest. Flinging his knife in the sink out of frustration, he finally gives you his undivided attention. “How am I supposed to be in a relationship with someone whose shift ends when I’m just getting up for work? Enlighten me on that, (Y/L) because clearly, I’m misunderstanding how that’s functional. ” 

“It’s called compromise Carmen.” You retaliate, downing the glass of Prosecco to numb his lack of compassion.

Carmen always had this way of making you feel like you were absurd for inquiring what your relationship was. Every time he took two steps forward while you followed suit, he ran 4 steps back. 

“I take that as you want me to quit my field of work so the both of us can be miserable at a shitty 9-5, right? Hey! While we’re at it, why don’t we pop out a few mouthy cunts to sabotage what we have going on, and then, we can resent each other for the next 18 years? Sounds like a fucking dream (Y/N).”

You let out a defeated, breathy laugh. “God, you’re such a vicious prick” you tell him, snatching up your purse and sliding off the bar stool. 

Before you can make a beeline out of his apartment, he’s got your arm in his grip that tugs you back to him. “You wanted to fight, finish it.” 

“I think you’re fucking selfish. I think you’re so fucking out of touch with reality that when you do decide to mentally clock in, belittling me is the only opportunity to satisfy you so you can make me feel as miserable as you are. You’re fucking mean, Carmen. Finished. ”

---

He’d grown frustrated by your neglect, finally forming up the courage to show up at your place unannounced after one of his shifts. He’d done this dance with you before knowing it was only going to take him to apologize first to put this fire out.

The moment you opened the door to his sudden knock, he immediately led his ‘apology’ with something along the lines of, “M’sorry for being a dick.” 

To which you would berate, “I’m sorry for ever giving yours attention.” 

“That’s fair.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Wedging his shoe between the doorframe before you have time to fully shut it, he quips out, “Wait.” 

“Past my bedtime. Leave.” 

“Not until you let me conclude with what I came here for.”

“Why should I? You through a temper tantrum for bringing you coffee.”

“I asked you to leave several times.”

“And I fucked off. Like you told me too but look where that got me.” 

“I know, I know..” he trails off, “you’re right.” He confesses.

“Welp, I’m glad we concluded that. Have a nice night Carmen” You tell him, making another attempt to shut the door in his face but he’s too quick to prompt it back open with the strength of his forearm. 

“Let me finish.” 

“Carmen, fuck off.” 

“I have a lot going on.” He blurts out, truthfully. 

“Then don’t punish me for it!” You snap, causing his legs to recoil two steps away from the door and into the hallway from your sudden rage. “Don’t discipline me for something out of my control. I get it, I haven’t experienced the concept of grief, or have the same level of responsibilities and stress load as you, but god Carmen, I’m fucking trying to understand. ” 

“I’m sor-“

“Sorry? How convenient that is for you after you embarrassed me. That’s great Carm, please let me know what I can do with your apology.” 

“You can start by letting me inside.” 

“I’d rather choke on an Italian Beef. Now, Goodnight.” Slamming the door in his face, he’s left alone in the silence of your corridor, no longer feeling like a bear, but more like an abandoned cub.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto

[warnersister]

Papa’s Wife

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Papa Emeritus III x Reader Smut

Warnings: forced marriage, unwanted marriage, smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, consensual smut, etc.

It was forced. Not arranged. No. Don’t get that confused. It was a forced marriage. A forced marriage to join the two most powerful churches of the anti-Christ together. A forced marriage between you and Papa Emertius III.

The two of you first found out at a ‘family dinner’. Satan knows why they called it that, after all it was practically just a meeting with food you daren’t touch after learning what the ghouls feast on. Papa Nihil took a gulp of oxygen before turning to your father, “Quade,” Your father hummed. “I believe it is time.” “Si, Nihil. I agree.” He replied, and you looked between the two with questioning eyes, your mother just offered an almost animalistic grin, before the inevitable followed.

“Emeritus, (Y/n),” She began. “You are to be wed.” You dropped the cutlery in your clutch and it clattered harshly onto your empty plate. “Excuse me?” You coughed. “Do not interrupt me, child.” She seethed. “You are to join the two churches in a marital conjoining of law.” Her voice was cold, and harsh.

You had been planning on leaving the church for years. And now you were well and truly trapped. Never mind, you were fucked. “You can’t make us.” Emeritus spoke up, voice shaking slightly as Nihil gave him a side-glance. “We can and we will. On the night of October 31st you are to join in holy matrimony.” She concluded, a sickening look of contempt settled over her features.

“That’s a week today.” You stated, voice rising. “Do not raise your voice at me girl. You will do as I say.” Your mother hissed. “Mama-” “Enough!” She slammed her left fist against the table, causing Emeritus and yourself to jump anxiously. “This is to happen under the watchful eye for the anti-Christ and you are not to disobey me!”

You inhaled sharply before raising from your seated form, chair screeching on the floor as you sent it backwards. You hurried out of the room, not knowing where to go as this was the church of Nihil, not your own.

A cellar. That was where you found yourself. The tears on your cheeks were hot, your mind buzzing with a mixture of angered emotions. You heard the door creak from the corner you were bundled in, but you couldn’t care to look. Why should you? Your life was being sold to a breathing corpse and his family.

“Amor,” You hear the voice of the person you least wanted to see at that moment. “Fuck off Emeritus.” His tone soon changed. “I don’t want this shit as much as you don’t, but at least I have the decency to be civil.” He stated, voice icy. “Civil? I wanted out of my family. Not to be sold into yours.” You told him, looking up to meet his stare. “We are slaves to Lucifer. We have been sold. (Y/n) you cannot run from a fate that has already captured you. Grow up and understand that.” He spat. You just shook you head and dropped it to your knees.

Emeritus approached you and held out an envelope. You raised an eyebrow. “If I am to be married, my bride is to wear the best dress money can buy.” Suddenly he was unable to make his gaze meet your own. “I can buy my own dress.” Realising you would not take his money, he just dropped it by your feet. “Black is a good colour.” He began walking to the door. “There is no point running from it, believe me, I have tried.” The door shut behind him.

The next week passed disturbingly fast, and somehow you found yourself at the steps of Nihil’s Church, clutching a bouquet consisting of black petunias, roses, tulips, and dahlias. The black dress you were adorning trailed behind you, dragging against the cold stone floor. The lace of the bodes dug into your skin and your hair was pulled back uncomfortably tight. Nothing about this day was a fairytale, only the horrors of a nightmare.

To a foreign eye the way your father’s arm was gripping your own was wholesome and heartwarming. But he was merely holding you that tight as to not allow you to flee. He was more anxious than you, him eager to hand you over and seal the fate of the church of the Anti-Christ.

The doors opened and the audience stand, a very limited number of which you recognised. You only looked at your feet and you walked the dull-lit isle. “Stand up straight, girl.” You heard your mother whisper, harshly. You automatically corrected your posture, only looking at your supposed groom when you reached the altar.

Emeritus wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone at that moment but himself, but oh lord, you were gorgeous. The black lace. The long trailing vail. The black flowers. Everything about you was breathtaking. He felt like he had died and gone to hell.

You kneeled on the black velvet cushion beside Emeritus, inhaling slowly and slowly accepting the knowledge of what you were about to do. You hardly heard the voice of the vicar as the ceremony droned out, only to feel your heart drop out of your chest when silence followed the question of objection.

You reluctantly held out your hand as the small blade created a cut in your palm, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pain for a moment, enjoying the feeling of slipping away. Even if only temporary. A slice was made into your companion’s and they were forced together, and you had to stifle a hiss of pain at the sensation of your blood mixing.

The rings were exchanged and the vicar grinned. “You may now kiss your bride.” Neither of you moved, but when Papa Nihil intentionally cleared his throat, Emeritus gently gripped your chin and turned it towards his. “I am sorry.” He left a light and lingering kiss to your lips, but that was enough for the chapel room, as an eruption of applause followed.

That was it. It was done. You were wed and you were stuck. You were now the wife of Papa Emeritus III.

The reception was a complete oxymoron of your mood. It was joyous and even your mother cracked a smile, they were happy and had done their job. You were a pawn. Their pawn. You were miserable and the mascara patterning your skin showed that. You sat on the steps with your head in your hands, bouquet disregarded beside you.

You heard someone exit though the door behind you, and then they perched alongside you on the icy cobblestone. You looked towards your estranged associate. It was Emeritus. Your husband. He said nothing, only sipping on a glass of expensive champagne and allowing his bow tie to fall loose along with the top few buttons of his once-crisp white shirt.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He told you, eyes not moving from the moon hanging high above the pair of you. You just hummed, turning your head to look at him. “We were supposed to fall in love. You denied like Romeo and Juliet. We were supposed to be forbidden. We were not supposed to be forced, mi amor.” He admitted. You had already accepted it at this point, all optimism being left in the pool of blood sitting back in the Chapel. So all you could do was listen.

“I always loved you.” He said. “I used to comb my hair back when my father said your family was visiting. I even picked you some flowers but I never made it past the doorway. I was scared.” He finally looked you in the eye. “I am still a scared little boy, (Y/n).” He swallowed thickly. “But now I am a scared little boy with a wife.” He just shook his head with a cold chuckle. “You were supposed to love me, not hate me.” You watched a single tear fall from his eye.

You said nothing, not a word in response. But you put your arms around your husband and pulled him into an embrace, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He returned it tightly, inhaling the sweet scent from the mixture of shampoo and perfume. You pulled back and wiped the tear from under his eye and steadily kissed where it once was.

That night he became the Papa of the church. And yourself his wife. He opened the door to the two of yours room and not a word was spoken. You slept in the bed and he laid his head down on the large sofa. You both cried yourselves to sleep that night. Somehow your thoughts were silent, nothing was on your mind. And that confused you. But you knew one thing for certain, you were okay being his wife.

The next morning you walked around as if the other was not there. He made his breakfast and you made yours. He went about his day with his ghouls and you went about yours wandering the gardens. And it stayed that way for a while. Actually for approximately four months.

It was late February, almost March. That day you woke and did something almost outlandish. You made yourself breakfast, and then your husbands. You don’t know why you did it. It was not intentional. And you had not done this previously. But you just did it, automatically. You made him breakfast.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, walking into the kitchen and towards the cabinet for his cereal, not expecting a reply. “Good morning.” You responded softly, holding out his bowl to him. He looked between yourself and the contents of the bowl for a minute or two, before taking it from your grasp and putting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you forward to kiss your hair with gratitude. Thank you, Cara Mia.” He said and for once you gave him a genuine smile, before a silence took over the household once again. But for the first time is was a comforting silence, not a thick or harsh one.

You each got dressed simultaneously and you sat at the vanity, grumbling over the small clasp on your necklace that was refusing to cooperate. He held out his hand and you looked at him through the mirror. “May I?” You passed him the delicate jewellery and held your hair up in your hand as to not get it in his way, and he seemingly effortlessly joined the chain around your neck.

“Thank you.” His eyes met your own in the reflection as you expressed your appreciation, and he reciprocated earlier’s smile. “You are welcome.” He grabbed his song sheets after a moment of looking at each other, and headed for the door. Although, suddenly stopping abruptly. “Would you like to join us? The ghouls would not object to your presence in practise.” He asked, thoughtfully and you turned to him - not even second guessing your answer for a moment. “Yes, I would love to.”

Now, it wasn’t the first time that he had offered you a seat in their rehearsal room, but it was the first time you had accepted. You slipped on your shoes, and followed him out of the door, slipping your arm into his when her held it out for you.

You knew most of their songs off by heart. Not by ear, but by reading. You had taken the time to learn all of the scripted lyrics of your husband’s band, whether you meant it in a loving way or not. You kept to yourself in the corner, picking at the petals of a forget-me-not flower that you had plucked on the way here.

“Is she just going to sit there making a mess?” One ghoul growled, motioning vaguely to the pail petals now haphazardly decorating the floor. You think he was called Dewdrop, at least that’s what Emeritus had informed you. “Are you just going to stand there playing out of tune notes?” You retaliated, sarcastically cocking your head sideward. “Oh you think you could play better than me?” He snarled. “Oh you think you can play?” You reacted and he took a few steps towards you. “Watch your mouth, after all it seems like you’d make a decent meal.” He warned, but before you could strike back, a deafening shout was hollered from across the room.

“HEY!” Emertius’ voice was loud and laced with a horrid venom. He took large and fast strides towards the ghoul, backing him up against a wall. “Watch how you talk with my wife. The scared ghoul could only cower and nod furiously, trail tucked with a cowardice between his legs. “Yes papa.” His once cruel and demanding tone now weak and shaking.

Then your husband turned to you, taking your face into his hands with a light and delicate grasp. “Are you okay, Mia Caro?” He asked, a small and regretful pout at his lips, you only wrapped your hands around his hand nodded. “I am fine.” “What do you say to her?” He asked, head turning back to Dew. “I am sorry.” “And?” “And I will never talk with you in that way again.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, not even with a mask to hide behind. “I forgive you.” And the practise went on, a newly found feeling dwelling in the darkest pits of your stomach after the events of that situation. A feeling that was unrecognisable and foreign, but understandable and welcome.

That night Emeritus walked over to tell you goodnight, but you patted against the spot beside you in the intentionally shared bed. He looked at you with a questioning gaze. “Can you sleep here tonight?” You asked, suddenly nervous for his response. “Please?” He smiled gently, climbing in next to you and turning off the light. It was silent and still for a long while, before his hand brushed against yours. You both pulled back but then you did something even you didn’t expect from yourself, you turned onto your side and placed your head against his shoulder.

Instead of pulling away, he immediately wrapped both arms around you and hugged you close, lips against your forehead and lingering there for a long while. “Emeritus?” You began, voice small and quiet. “Yes, my love?” That was the first one he had addressed you in those terms in English. “I am also a scared little girl.” You referee back fo his confession on your wedding day and you heard him inhale sharply through the darkness. “But I think I am also grown up enough to admit that I have always loved you too. And I am happy to be your wife. Even under these circumstances.” He took your face in his hand and kissed your lips gently, smiling with bliss covering his features.

The next day was the beginning of his first tour as the new frontman of Ghost. His first rituals under the public eye. The brothers and sisters of the clergy gathered around the bus as they were waved off, but The Papa ignored his desperate disciples and focussed all of his attention on you. Your face was cradled in his hands, his bags disregarded by his feet. “I love you.” He told you, caressing your cheekbones with his thumb. “I love you too.” You kissed him forcefully on the lips, knowing that would be the first and last time you had to do that in months. “Be safe.” You instructed in a protective and warning tone and he just laughed wholeheartedly. “I will, mia dolcezza.” And he was gone. Gone to preach to the world the word of the Anti-Christ. Gone from your grasp for another night.

The following day you decided to write to him, a wholesome, innocent little letter describing your feelings and the love you had recently discovered was lying dormant in your heart for him. He returned it with as much love and adoration, and they only accumulated from there.

But the virtue and decency was lost a while after your writings began, and were replaced by that of sin, and many that should remain closed behind the confinements of a lover’s bedroom door.

You were both excitingly anxious and nervously reluctant to send that letter. For it described what you desired your husband to do to you, the things that were disregarded and abandoned from the consumption of your wedding night. And with it, a few small Polaroids of which the contents shall not be spoken through words.

The crude images and sheer lace sent Papa Emeritus III wild. He wasn’t necessarily expecting that message but he was more than great full for it and to return it, a sudden flood of want and need rushing through his cold blood and thumbing through the confinement’s of his underwear. He needed his wife. And he needed you now. And so in return, you got what you gave, a set of small photographs that now sat buried beneath your underwear in a drawer, the sight of his dick now enough to send you into a crazed and dazed frenzy, also - some nights spent by yourself, pleasuring yourself through unspeakable things.

So when the time came for them to return, you stood anxiously along with the brothers and sisters of the church, awaiting your beloveds return. Only snapping out of your distant and wild thoughts when the cheers and eruption of clapping filled your ears, the bus was here.

Papa was first of the bus, and his eyes scoured the crowd, before they focused on you. You both smiled wildly and he shoved through the hoard of followers and straight into your arms. He picked you up and span your around, kissing you with as much force of what should have been at the altar. “I have missed you so much, my love.” You told him. “I have missed you more, magnifico.” He put you down and leaned close to your ear. “You are a naughty girl, sending those Polaroids.” A jolt of electricity powered through your legs and straight to your core. “Did you not enjoy them, darling?” You asked, peering up at him with innocence shining through your doe-eyes.

“You do not want to know what I did with those images.” He growled. “Oh I think the results are sat in my drawer upstairs.” You responded, a small smirk playing on your lips. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now, mi amor.” He hissed, discreetly grinding his quickly growing erection into your front. “Do it to me, papa. I want you to make love to me.” You stood on the tips of your toes to whisper into his ear. “I need you to ruin me.”

That’s how you found yourself beneath your husband. He had carried you bridal-style back to your shared abode, and carefully dropped you onto your bed, lips hungrily travelling over all the skin he could get to. “Are you sure, amor?” “Please, yes.” You whimpered our, finding yours and his clothes thrown across the room into multiple careless piles.

He appreciated every inch of your body, licking and sucking and marking his territory like a wild animal, only stopping at your underwear to regain consent. “Papa please do something.” You pleased. “What do you want me to do, Mia Caro?” He teased. “Your mouth.” You groaned. “What do you want me to do with my mouth, come on sweetness, use your words.” You cried out. “I want your mouth between my legs.” “There we go, I can do that.” And before long he was kissing a trail down your thighs and quickly then licking and sucking on your sensitive clit, tongue diving into your hole every so often. “Perhaps my mouth was not necessary,” He dragged two fingers against your slit in a teasing manor as you moaned loudly. “You are already dripping, after all.” He hummed against you, sending vibrations pulsing through your body.

He plunged two fingers into you and you cried loudly, an overwhelming sensation filling you as your stomach tightened. “Papa I’m going to, I-” He smiled and nodded. “Yes my love, let go.” And the cord snapped, allowing you to come undone all over his fingers. “Good girl.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and your eyes widened, concerned that he would be unable to fit. “Are you ready, mi amor?” You nodded; letting your head fall backwards into the comfort of the fluffed-up pillows. He slipped inside until he bottomed out, the only noise for a prolonged-moment was the sound of the two of yours mixed heavy breathing, as he allowed you time to adjust.

Emeritus threaded your fingers through his own and raised them both above your head to support his weight. “Move, please.” You requested, and he began rocking back and forth. Once neat hair, now gradually becoming dishevelled and falling around to frame his face. He growled anomalistically, but did not quicken his space. Instead, dragging it out to bask in the long-awaited pleasure and allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you up.

That pleasurable feeling returned once more, and he kissed your lips to help you through it. You moaned into his mouth as you came, forcing him to cum also, straight after you. He remained buried inside of you for a moment, head in your neck, before he pulled out and rested beside you, pulling your body into his and the covers over the two of you.

“I love you, my gorgeous wife.”

“I love you too, my husband.”

#masterlist #xreader #warner sister #smut #angst #fluff #requests #x you #papa #emeritus #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus 3 #papa x reader #ghost x reader #ghost band x reader #ghost band x reader smut #ghost #ghost band #band #ghostband #ghost bc #ghostbc #unnamedghoul #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus x reader smut #papa emeritus III x reader #papa Emeritus III x reader smut #papa emeritus 3 x reader #papa emeritus 3 x reader smut #forced marriage

[the-oblivious-writer]

Wanna Be Yours |1|

Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Pranks & Fifth Year

Notes: Modern AU, Fem!SlytherinReader, any characters you don't recall from the Harry Potter universe are my OC's

Warning(s): None that I'm aware of

Prologue|Next Part

Y/n entered the train when a hand waved her over to a compartment. She entered the compartment where she saw familiar faces. Amelia and Leo were sitting across from each other, Y/n gave a quick 'hello' but then gave a confused expression.

"Where's Raine and Link?" she asked, Amelia rolled her eyes at the mention of the two. "Pranking the first years with Fred and George. Same as always."

Leo scooted closer to the window and left more room for Y/n to sit down. "Judging by the sudden silence, I'm assuming their plan is already in place." Y/n tilted her head back and sighed. "Merlins, do I even want to know what they have planned this time around?"

Leo chuckled slightly as he shook his head,"Why spoil it?" Just as those words left his mouth Lorraine, Fred and George came running in the compartment abruptly. They had their hands on their knees and were out of breath. "I'm assuming something went wrong" Y/n remarked.

Fred was peeking his head around every now and until finally shutting the door.

"Yeah..about that we uh kind of got the wrong compartment" Lorraine said as she took a seat, bunched up next to Y/n as Fred and George stood and avoided the window to the compartment door. 

"Wait-" Amelia started looking around, "Where's Link?" Fred, George and Lorraine suddenly looked at each other and back at the girl.

"He kind of decided to take his own road but he's fi-" before George could finish his sentence the compartment door opened. The three pranksters jumped but soon relaxed when they saw that it was only Link. "Merlin's beard, you scared us," Fred said.

"Sorry bout' that mate just had to wait for the coast to be clear before showing my face" Link responded, still taking heavy breaths. "Whose compartment did you get instead?" Amelia asked curiously.

"Draco's who was with Blaise and Theo. We ran before they could even leave their seats" Fred said, slightly laughing as he recalled the memory. "You should have seen their faces when the stink bombs went off" the four started to laugh.

"I swear one of these days, you're gonna get yourselves killed" Leo said as he shook his head.

—

They arrive at Hogwarts and separate when getting to the Great Hall to go to their house tables. Amelia and Y/n sat together at the Slytherin table, Link sat with the Hufflepuffs and Lorraine and Leo sat at the Ravenclaw table. Dumbledore made the same speech he made every year. It was their fifth year, they had gotten used to the same boring words he fed them at the beginning of every year.

Eventually it was time to eat and the Great Hall grew with noise. Y/n sat and ate silently as Amelia spoke with another Slytherin. Y/n wasn't one for making conversation, half the time it felt forced. She kept a small friend group and that was it. Y/n was an anti-social butterfly as her friend called her. 

Y/n poked around at her food but couldn't help but feel eyes on her. She looked up to see a Gryffindor girl staring at her, only for the girl to instantly avert her stare. Y/n felt heat rush to her cheeks from being stared at. The Slytherin stared back at her food as her mind kept trailing back to the girl.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a gentle nudge. "You alright?" Amelia asked the girl. Y/n only nodded and turned her head back at her food. Amelia looked at the girl skeptically but didn't want to push and left it at that.

—

Amelia and Y/n made their way to the dungeons when Amelia spoke. "I know you're always spaced out and stuff but you seemed a bit more than usual. Everything okay?" 

Y/n thought for a moment. "Yeah it's just..there was this girl who I caught staring and it just caught me off guard I guess." Amelia gave a little smirk which confused Y/n. "What?"

"I think I might know who you're talking about," Amelia replied. "And how is that?" Y/n asked curiously. "Just have a feeling it's the same girl who I've caught staring at you before" Amelia answered as she still held a small smirk.

"And who might that be?" Y/n asked, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Just some girl whom you’ve never spoken to but I have a feeling this year will be different. Considering this is the first time your clueless ass has noticed" Amelia remarked.   

Y/n rolled her eyes at the girl's last comment, "Enough playing blue's clues, I'm exhausted." The two girls entered the Slytherin common room and made their way to the dorms.

-----

A/n: Hope you enjoyed that first chapter! Exams are still going on but I'll try to work on a chapter whenever I can

Remember to stay hydrated folks, happy pride and good luck to anybody else who still has exams going on!

#hermione fic #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #hermione x fem reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione x reader #hermione x you #hermione granger x reader #wanna be yours #emma watson x reader

[snapscube]

I see a lot of people sending ffxiv asks. What's something you're hoping for in dawn trail? Personally I would love to do some food tourism with the gang and go on a bar crawl that ends with drunk karaoke with Urianger

LOL those are extremely understandable desires

Honest to god i have zero expectations OR hopes for the story in Dawntrail specifically. It's a brand new arc! I kinda just want to see where they take it. I know it's not gonna reach the same heights as Endwalker for me, purely by virtue of it not being An Ending To A Decade of Meaningful Storytelling. If anything I expect it might feel a little underwhelming at first, but that's fine! I'm with this game for the long haul, I wanna trust that they'll be able to build to something great again at the very least.

As for OTHER hopes i have, there is one thing I am really specifically hoping for. It's like, disgustingly specific:

PLEASE INTRODUCE BETTER ANTI-ALIASING IN ONE OF THE GRAPHICS UPDATE PATCHES

I would KILL for them to find some crazy fucking way to implement something like DLSS/DLAA however unlikely it is but AT THE BARE MINIMUM this game desperately needs some MSAA or hell I'd even take TAA.

And then aside from the pipe dream of getting some AA upgrades, I just hope they have some actual multiplayer/battle-focused large scale content in Dawntrail like Bozja. Or SOMETHING with a little bit more Meat on it. I was hyped as hell for Island Sanctuary but in retrospect I feel like THAT much development effort going towards content that is purely single player and designed to be incredibly low-stakes and, quite frankly, kinda boring was a bit of a mistake in the long run. It had potential but they didn't really sell it at the end of the day imo. They've mentioned there is going to be some more "lifestyle" content in Dawntrail, which is nice in its own right! But I hope that it stands alongside something with a lot more depth to it, cause as it stands a large majority of my playtime in Endwalker has been catching up with legacy content I missed on my way through the leveling.

#ffxiv

[trashforeverythingdotcom]

Castaways

Ghoul! Cooper Howard x Alien! Reader

A/n: as promised, here’s the next chapter in the instalment! Just a heads up, the reader will be referred to as Elena for part of the chapter since it’ll be partly in Cooper’s perspective. I hope you like it! Pls lemme know in the comments and by leaving likes 🫠

Rough summary: you are an alien that crashed landed on Earth while you were on your way to a different planet. Cooper runs into you while trying to catch/collect a bounty.

Chapters:

1 2 3

It had been over one hundred and seventy years since the nuclear apocalypse ravaged the Earth. The ghoul had seen the world evolve since then from beginning to end. He’d seen the desperation of mankind to survive. He’d seen the ugliness that it brought. He’d also seen how some of mankind’s other atrocities continued despite the new reality. The way they continued to treat each other although they needed one another.

The war had changed everything and everyone around him, including himself. War could change anyone, but the one constant is that war never changes.

He’d made a living by collecting bounties. The rewards, oftentimes were caps–the new currency in the age of radiation– and chems. If he wasn’t paid directly with chems, the caps he had gotten from bounty would be used to purchase food and the chems he was desperate for.

He’d hoped that one day, his life would bring him back to his daughter again. To see Janey after all these years—and while it may have been unlikely that she was still alive, he still had hope. And that was what drove him to continue moving after all this time, depending on chems to keep him from going feral like so many of the other ghouls he’d come across over the years.

The Ghoul had a reputation for being, just about, the best bounty hunter in the West. This current bounty had just about kicked his ass, though. His current job had him look for a woman named Elena Zakharova. She was wanted in Mexico and in crossing countries, and starting problems along the way, a few people started looking for her in the United States too. The wanted poster the Ghoul had come across was hung up in Nevada at an agency near what used to be Area 51. That was about the closest he wanted to get to the Legion’s territory. He had to hope he’d be able to collect his bounty before those crazies got to them. He had to hope the woman hadn’t crossed into their lands. Otherwise, he could kiss his prize goodbye. He would not follow them there, Caesar’s Legion did not take kindly to chem users. They had extreme anti-chem laws. Not to mention he couldn’t stand to listen to the utter bullshit their leader would spew. He’d rather be tossed into a giant tin can and left to become feral before having to listen to that man’s rhetoric.

The Ghoul spent days, weeks, following the group but they always managed to stay a few steps ahead of him. They were able to successfully knock him off their trail on multiple instances. Every time he came close, he was derailed. He was growing frustrated. His chem supply was running low and he needed to catch these people fast so he could collect his reward.

Luckily for him, the tin can would have no use as this bounty seemed to lead him away from that. Whispers of Elena’s whereabouts took him further North and East, further and further away from the Legion’s reach.

Last he’d heard, Elena and her band of buddies were in Wyoming, wandering the empty wilderness.

Had the Ghoul not traversed that area before and had he not known how to get around the area—he would’ve been intimidated. What, with the irradiated wild life such as wolves, bears, elk and buffalo? But this wasn’t his first rodeo, he knew what to avoid and how to survive in those kinds of environments. He spent almost two hundred years, not just surviving, but thriv— no. He wasn’t thriving either, but he was somewhere in the middle.

That’s how he found himself in the heart of what used to be called Yellowstone National Park. Eh, who was he kidding? It was still called Yellowstone, no one had bothered trying to conquer that place yet. This was no man’s land. Just as the Ghoul liked it. No one to interfere with his business, save for an individual here and there that would be as easy to take care of as it was for him to pick his— never mind. The closest raider tribes resided further south and west to the great state of Wyoming.

It was on his way up to Wyoming, when he was passing through Northern Utah—making sure to avoid the Legion—that he was able to find a stray horse to catch and mount him. Wild horses were very dangerous to catch; but Old Ghoulie was a cowboy through and through and knew how to break those creatures in. It didn’t matter how long it’d been since he’d last seen one, it was one of those skills that stayed with you forever once you’d learned it.

Even though the Earth had been an irradiated dump for more than a century now, he was still able to find joy in riding a horse on his way to his next bounty. It’d been so long since he’d last been able to ride a horse without being bothered—hell, it’d been a long time since he’d ridden a horse. This one was so well behaved too, he almost gave him a name. But he didn’t. Having lived this long, he learned not to get attached to living creatures. One sure fire way of avoiding that was by not giving things names. He was incredibly grateful for the horse that was putting in the leg work; it helped that he wasn’t exerting himself as much as before. It diminished the amount of chems he’d put to use and helped him make them last a bit longer.

As he rode along the almost vacant trail, he sparingly sipped his canteen of water, enjoying the views without stopping to truly take them in. He was in a time crunch, after all. If he lost them now, who knew when he’d catch a decent lead again? Then again, he was good at his job, he had his ways. He wasn’t named the best for nothing.

Only stopping three or four times a day to let the horse rest, he made it to Yellowstone lickity-split.

Ah Yellowstone, he thought to himself. It’s been a long, long time comin’. He swung his left leg over, careful not to hit his new horse’s head before he jumped off. “Stay here, baby. Don’t go leavin’ me just yet,” he kissed the horse’s forehead before he started to carefully walk about in search for his target. She sure as hell wasn’t gonna be wearing a shirt that said, “grab me”. And she sure as hell wasn’t gonna be acting like she had “I’m an idiot” written on her forehead if she made it this far without getting caught by someone. She must’ve been deep into the forest, he’d have a lot of walking to do. He walked for a good twenty minutes in one direction, stepping further and further into the greenery. He was going to have to be very vigilant—

“Now, what in the hell…” he trailed off, stopping in his tracks. “…is this thingamabob?” He stared up at the crashed thingamabob he’d stumbled into.

The Ghoul heard voices coming from the… thingamabob and quickly moved off to the side, hiding behind some of the bushes that surrounded the strange structure. While in hiding, he unholstered his gun, watching and listening closely to the activity that occurred inside and outside of the aircraft.

He heard the unfamiliar voices draw nearer as if whoever was in there was starting to step out. His other hand clutched his lasso. That language they spoke in, it was strange. He’d never heard it before. And it was very… peculiar. The Ghoul had travelled to many places and heard many different people speak, this wasn’t like anything he’d ever heard before. Then again, this Elena Zakharova is from a different country, perhaps that was the language they spoke in her region? He attempted to rationalise with himself.

Elena was the first one to come out, unaware of the eyes that followed her. The Ghoul smirked, clutching his lasso. He’d decided to wait before capturing her to see who he had to take out first. Not long after, two of her goons came out of the makeshift house they’d been staying at.

He heard her say something, based on how they all reacted, it sounded like they knew he was there. Quickly, he shot at both pairs of the two men’s legs, practically blasting their legs off. He watched them go down and start screaming before ultimately passing out from the blood loss and pain. Elena screamed as she ran over to them, he couldn’t understand what she’d told them.

The Ghoul stepped out of his hiding place, swinging his lasso to catch her, she stepped out of its direction. He heard her growl like some kind of an irradiated animal, she looked like a feral raccoon. He found it a bit amusing, actually. That is, until he saw a pair of headphones materialise onto her head and saw her make a gesture like she was dropping something on the floor. It was then that he heard a very loud, piercing, high pitched noise that gave him the worst headache he’d ever experienced in his life. It felt like his brain was starting to melt. He dropped to the ground and covered his ears. Just as he did, Elena made a motion to strike him hard in the face. But she hesitated as if she was struggling with some kind of a moral code.

The Ghoul’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a split second but he didn’t take all that long to find advantage of her stupidity. He yanked the headphones off her. Elena dropped to the floor, much like he did, and covered her ears. He stood up in spite of the pain and the urge to go into the foetal position and cover his ears. He then tied her up with his lasso, “turn that off.”

The woman groaned, “no.”

The Ghoul pointed his gun at her head, “now.”

Elena shook like a chihuahua, cringing at the noise, “no.”

“You turn that damned thing off or I’ll shoot these fuckers in the head and put ‘em out of their misery,” he paused, “and don’t think of tryin’ some shit, either.”

The foreigner looked over to her compatriots, her shoulders slumped. She gave up and turned off the high frequency noise with her watch, her headphones dissipating into the air, bright blue particles floating up in the air before disappearing entirely.

The Ghoul sighed in relief, “oh man, I thought that shit wasn’t gon’ end.” He looked back at her again, “alright, Miss Zakharova. You’ve been running long enough. Time to bring you home.”

Elena scrunched up her face in confusion, “who the fuck is Miss Zakharova?”

“Now don’t play with me, I’ve been doin’ this shit too damned long. Get up,” he commanded her, his gun still pointed at her head. He bared his teeth, “I won’t ask you again.”

The ‘man’, if he could even be called that, sounded and dressed like one of those cowboys you used to swoon over when you were a teenager, watching old soap operas from Earth on your hologram TV in your room. He sounded like an old Western celebrity that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Not that you wanted to. They hadn’t met in the best of circumstances and you didn’t care to really get to know him.

You’d been walking for an hour now.

The Ghoul’s horse had been walking and the Ghoul was sitting atop the horse that did all the legwork for him while he held his lasso in his hand to keep you from running off. His other hand stayed at his side. There was no need for him to really hold onto the horse with the slow pace you’d been walking. You weren’t exactly enthused about being taken somewhere to be killed or who knows what. Yes, the Ghoul was in a hurry to get back and collect his reward; but he decided he’d take the rest of the day to rest up while they made their way back down. His head was still pounding from your attack and he was trying to ration his chems.

“So what’d a small thing like you do to have different factions from all over the south west lookin’ for you?” He asked no one in particular, enjoying the scenery as you treaded onward.

You didn’t answer him as you slowly trailed ahead of him. you didn’t know if your brothers were able to heal from their wounds—if they’d survived or not. You worried for them. But you didn’t want to attack the Ghoul if the two were still wounded and helpless.

The Ghoul didn’t take your lack of a response personally. He wasn’t expecting one, anyway. The Wastelands weren’t very hospitable or well mannered and neither were the personalities that roamed it, including him.

His hat blocked the horrible sun that was beating down on him. He loved it. Summer time, that is. He loved the desert. He loved the great outdoors. Even before the Great War, when times were tough, all he could think of doing was escaping to the great American frontier, a ranch, somewhere and living out his life in that kind of an environment. This wasn’t quite what he’d envisioned back when he was still Cooper Howard, the Hollywood icon, but then again, none of this was what anyone envisioned back then.

Your brothers—you couldn’t feel them anymore. There was a telepathic link the three of you shared that let you know if they were okay and it seemed to have been severed. This never happened before. Your heart sunk. You started to panic. That had to have meant they didn’t make it. Their links had never snapped when you were on your home planet.

It wasn’t like you had anything to lose anymore. There was no more time to waste. You slowed down so the Ghoul would now be ahead of you. You drew in a breath before yanking the Ghoul off the horse.

The Ghoul chuckled, he managed to get back on his feet fairly quickly. “Ah, so now you fight back. I was wonderin’ when you were goin’ to, bunny.” He drew his gun from his holster.

You rolled your eyes, you didn’t want to kill him, it went against every fibre of your being; everything you were taught. You couldn’t leave him conscious either. You needed to be able to bide some time before he got in your way again. You pulled the same manoeuvre as before, headphones materialising onto your head again as that same high pitched noise started to pierce the Ghoul’s ears.

The irradiated man groaned, covering his ears before forcing himself to bear with the pain, “this again? Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to change techniques, this trick ain’t gon’ work on me again. Get back down,” he commanded, drawing his gun and pointing it to your face.

“You know… I don’t think I will,” you held out your arm as a bright blue light shone, a thick stick materialised into your hand. You also turned up the frequency of the noise before swinging the stick hard, aiming at his head. He narrowly dodged it. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve moved faster, but that damned noise was debilitating. He didn’t think it was possible for it to get worse, but you just proved him wrong. The poor horse seemed to be worse off, he had fallen over, whining.

You made a move to strike him again, this time, he was unable to stop you or move away; his gun fell and landed next to him. You hit him repeatedly until he finally seemed to pass out. You’d lost count of how many times you had to swing that stick. With one tap on your wrist watch, you stopped the ringing noise, your headphone departicalising again. You kept the stick in your hand and ran back to the spaceship. You prayed your brothers were okay.

You made it back to the site in half an hour. Your heart dropped, their bodies weren’t there. Your eyebrows furrowed, “Nikki? Dim?” You called.

“In here,” you heard Nikkand’r call back.

You sighed in relief, placing your hand on your heart. “Glad to see you were able to get your legs back.”

“Yeah, it was painful,” he chuckled, “Dim’s legs are taking longer to heal.”

“If you had been eating properly, you would’ve been healed by now,” you sang, poking Dimiil in the cheek.

The eldest brother turned his face toward your finger and opened his mouth, leaning forward to bite it. You quickly pulled your hand back. “Message received,” you laughed. “We’re gonna have to find a way to speed up the process, that fucker isn’t gonna stay asleep for long.”

Nikkand’r made an o shape with his mouth. “I thought you ended up killing him.”

You started walking out of the spaceship after telling them you’d be back, Nikk followed behind you. You closed the aircraft’s door as you passed with the wave of your hand. “Nah, not necessary. It’s only acceptable when you’ve exhausted all your options.”

Your younger brother giggled as you searched the forest, looking around at the wild life. “We’re on a completely different planet in the next galaxy over. I don’t think it matters if what you do is—“ he put his hands up to do air quotes, “—acceptable.”

You cleared your throat and stayed quiet for a few seconds as you thought about what he said. You too looked around as you spoke, “I understand your implications, however…” you paused. Your head swivelled around when you heard a rustling noise from behind you. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed it was just a bird flying out of the tree behind you. “I implore you to ask yourself if you’d be able to live with yourself, taking someone else’s life when you could’ve spared them and found other solutions?”

“Hm…” he hummed, “I suppose I’ll think about that the next time someone tries to kill me. Never mind, I think I’ll live.” He nudged your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, you were about to speak when words started coming out of Nikki’s mouth again. “You think any of this will matter…” he trailed off.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“If we can’t get out of here–”

“We will get out of here–”

“What if we don’t?”

“But we need to– I– We will. We’ll find a way!”

“But what if we don’t, Gemmy?”

“Do you not want to go?”

“Of course, I do!”

Your eyes softened with the realisation, “you don’t want to go home…”

“Face it, Gem, we’re doomed.”

“That’s not true,” you shook your head, denying your brother's statements.

“Gem, we’re running a fool’s errand–”

“What about our family, Nikk? What about that Wanda girl?”

“Wanda lives on another planet.” The young man avoided the first question, not wanting to think about the state of his family.

“So you’re just going to ditch everyone and run off to Wanda’s planet? Who’s to say the Anthraxans won’t go there and try to kill them too? Then what?”

“Should I give my life to a lost cause? Give my life to change nothing?”

You crossed your arms, “how do you know it’s a lost cause?”

You didn’t get an answer, though. Your brother sprung to action when an angry irradiated wolf lunged at you from behind. Nikk pushed you out of the way and wrestled it to the ground, wrapping his hand around the wolf’s trachea while his other arm held the wolf’s wriggling body down. He waited for the wolf to stop moving, indicating it was now unconscious, before he let go. He tossed the wolf at you, while you were still on the ground, distraught, before he started to walk back in the direction of the ship. “You can carry that back.”

You walked in silence, neither of you wanting to speak to each other after your exchange. The air was stuffed with tension. Dimiil could feel it when you climbed into the ship. He didn’t take kindly to that. He wasn’t the kind to sit in conflict and chose to try and control those around him the best way he could.

You felt your blood rate go down and your body temperature went down with it, this infuriated you. “You’re not helping,” you grumbled as you placed the unconscious wolf down on the silver floor beside him. “It’s still alive, just knocked out. This should be enough to help.”

Dimiil nodded, crouching down to place his hand on the wolf’s body, his fingers pressing down on it’s soft fur. His hand glowed pink as he absorbed the creature’s life force, his legs piecing themselves back together in exchange of the animal’s energy. Once finished healing, his skin stopped glowing pink. The wolf’s breathing stilled for a few seconds before resuming. “You two can figure yourselves out while I’m gone, I’m gonna put this little guy back.”

You and Nikk looked at each other for a split second before turning your heads away, eyes furrowed and arms crossed. You both displayed the same facial expressions and body language even in your disguised bodies; then again, you were siblings and grew up communicating in similar styles. Both were too stubborn to let your previous conversation go. Your minds raced with what you were going to say or could say, but neither spoke up. Minutes passed and you gave in and let your pride go first, “you really think this is pointless?”

Your brother sighed and leaned against the dashboard behind him, placing his hands on the dashboard on either side as he did. “I don’t know… I’m just…” he let out another deep breath, “scared… I feel helpless… and useless…”

Your head fell, “yeah, me too…” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “You know, for what it’s worth, I just want you to be happy and healthy. I wouldn’t be upset if you went to Zamira to live with Wanda…”

Nikki offered your a small smile, “thanks.” He sighed and looked away, “I wasn’t made for this shit.”

You scoffed, “you’re saying I was?” The boy’s eyes turned back to look at your face. “I joined because Dimiil did and everyone kept telling me this was the best option for me to get ahead.”

“So what you’re telling me is that we need to kick Dimiil’s ass,” he responded in jest.

You snorted, “yeah, after we get out of this mess. Speaking of messes… Can you believe people walk around this dirty?”

Nikki rolled his eyes, “well, in their defense, we did rip the clothes off their backs after they’d been brutally murdered.”

“Hon, their murders hardly made a difference in the quality of their clothes. They were nasty before.”

“Yeah, well, you try living in a wartorn world with hardly any semblance of the life you led before to guide you into keeping up your old habits.”

“It’s sad… This place used to be full of culture and art. It used to be something I dreamt of taking part in.”

Dimiil walked back in with a blue glowing rope wrapped around his hand, “I think it likes me.” The rope was being used as a leash. Attached to the end of the leash was the wolf he’d drained energy from earlier.

“Great, now we’re settling into this place,” the youngest one grumbled, sliding down to the ground like a child.

You rolled your eyes, leaning down to stroke the new pet’s fur.

#alien reader x ghoul cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #alien x ghoul #the ghoul #fallout #fallout tv show #fallout season one #prequel #cooper howard x reader #cooper x reader #alien reader #50s 60s alien aesthetic #aliens and ufos

[shy-blue-blossom]

Siblings

Karma Akabane

(Assassination Classroom)

Irene Jelavić had just started at Kunugigaoka Junior High School and was starting her assignment trying to assassinate Koro-sensei. As she started, so did a sister of one of the classes.

As she was walking up the hill to the 3-E classroom, she saw that they were in PE class, and she decided to join them. She went to the shed to collect a ball. They were at the back of the shed. She got one and pulled it up to her chest. As she walked towards the door, bullets began to fly.

E class was practising their skills when they heard a scream and bullets from the shed. Their heads whipped around as they raced towards it. Karasuma followed them behind, and he got to the door as the bullets stopped firing. The door opened after some slivering noises. Questions were asked as Irene wobbled out of the shed.

"Ah, yes!" Kori-sensei said as he picked something or someone up off the floor and out of his shredded skin. "Does anyone know who this young lady is?" He asked as he tried around with her face hanging towards their direction.

"Ah!" Karma said as he saw her face and walked towards Koro-sensei and took her out his tentacles. "Thanks, Koro-sensei. I'll take her from here." He said as he walked away with her in her arms.

The class watched him walk away with the girl that they didn't get the name of. When he got to the entrance of the school, he noticed she had begun waking up, so he decided to stop. She opened her orange eyes that matched her brothers and looked up. She looked around, and when they landed on Karma, she threw her arms around him and hid her face in his neck.

"What happened?" Karma asked her as he hugged her to his chest.

"There were bullets everywhere a-a-and a yellow octopus..." she trailed off. "Ni-san...I'm scared." She admitted to him. Karma looked down at her and pulled her closer to his chest than she already was.

"There's no need to be scared, y/n." He told her as he carried her down the hill to the 3-E classroom. "I'm here to protect you, and the yellow octopus won't hurt you." He told her as he just kept on walking with her snuggled up to him, knowing he was going to have lots of questions asked tomorrow when he went back to school.

After the incident with Professor B*tch, class 3-E went back to their lessons, knowing they were not going to get an answer out of Karma.

As for Karma and Y/n, they were making their way home, talking to keep y/n's mind off what had happened. Karma kept her calm, laughing and smiling. Even though he was annoyed at himself for not telling her to call him before visiting. He was furious at that new teacher for not using the information given to her by the government and not using the anti-Koro BBs. He kept her smiling the whole way home and explained to her what was happening in class 3-E when they got home as she was joining him in the ranks the following day.

Y/n was a bit suspicious but carried on that day, trying to keep it as normal as she remembered before it all got turned upside down the next day. She cooked their dinner like normal as Karma helped by laying the table and doing some taste testing if she required his opinions on the flavour as he liked his food slightly spicer than her own.

The next day.

Breakfast was cooked and eaten like normal. They made their way to school the same, but they did not split up like they normally would when the split in the road showed up. They walked down the right side of the road on the way to the same school for the first time in three years. Given that y/n just carried going up the years in the same school, while Karma withdrew from the school because of 'reasons'. In reality, their parents did not want him to 'ruin' y/n's reputation. She did not care much for it.

They reached the school and made their way up the hill leading to class 3-E. They bumped into a few classes from the main building, but they did not say anything as this was Karma they bumped into. They could also tell y/n was related to Karma quite easily, so they did not want to mess with her, or they were messing with him. Once they reached the building, Karma warned y/n that she was going to get a lot of questions, and that was not from the class alone. She was more likely to get interrogated by their octopus teacher. She took his advice as he had never done her wrong. She did, in fact, get questioned by her new classmates but not as much as she thought she would, but that was probably due to Karma in the back making sure they did not make her uncomfortable.

However, he could not save her from the octopus once he entered the classroom and realised their connection. She kept getting questions about their childhood and what Karma was like as a child and baby, along with other personal questions that she did not answer. Karasuma has to come in and knock some sense into him. The day went on like an average day in class 3-E with a few assassination attempts by different members of the class. Y/n made some new friends with Karma keeping an eye on her to make sure Maehara or the class pervert did not try to pull moves on her. Y/n had had the first day in class 3-E and could not wait to see what it would bring for her and her brother.

The end.

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

Masterlist

#x reader #reader #x sister reader #x sister!reader #assassination classroom #karma akabane #assassination classroom x reader #Karma akabane x reader #anime #anime x reader #siblings

[aerequets]

out sick

a/n: obligatory sick fic that turned into a big heaping pile of pining and conflicted loid. i am a Sucker for a good sick fic. in that chapter in the manga where yuri suddenly falls sick, i thought yor would probably be the same way where she abruptly gets sick out of nowhere. and also i just want loid to care and simp for yor so here we are

posted on ao3

...

After eight consecutive late shifts, it seemed like Yor would be on her 9th one tonight. 

Loid, Anya and Bond sat around the dinner table, Yor’s empty seat glaring despite being such a frequent occurrence as of recent. Loid had just set down the dish of food and had been hoping that, against all odds, Yor would somehow be able to make it back early tonight. But no such luck.

“I miss Mama,” Anya whined, looking at her empty seat with a frown. Dinner had been an uncharacteristically quiet affair for the past week. Talkative as she was, Anya didn’t seem keen on chattering away when her Mama wasn’t there to listen along. “I only get to see her in the mornings.”

“She’s very busy at her job,” Loid offered. It didn’t really work as consolation, not that he was expecting it to—he was also a little miffed at how City Hall seemed to be running her ragged these days. Her workload seemed to be rivalling his own, and he was a spy in an understaffed agency. Every morning she would apologetically mention yet another late shift, weary with bags under her eyes, yet she never failed to set off without a bright smile and her best wishes. He really hoped she would be able to get some rest soon. 

“So many bad guys to get rid of,” Anya sighed.

“What?”

“N-nothing!” Anya hastily clambered onto her seat and snatched up her fork. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry!” 

Loid relented, deciding to let her odd comment slip, and had begun to dish out some pasta for Anya when there was a telltale clinking at the door. He froze, fork in hand. Anya gasped and jumped out of her chair, running to the door with Bond close at her heels. “MAMA!” 

Sure enough, the door swung open and Yor stood there, eyes bright. She laughed as Anya barreled into her legs and gave an excited Bond a pat on the head. When Loid came to the doorway, she grinned at him, cheeks flushed. “I’m home.”

Loid found himself smiling without meaning to. “Just in time for dinner. How does pasta sound?”

“Amazing,” Yor sighed as she took her coat off. He noticed her forehead was shiny.

“Is it hot out?” 

“Huh? Oh.” Yor wiped her forehead and found her hand slick with sweat. “A little, I guess. I was also in a rush to get home.” She smiled again before heading inside to set her things down, Anya and Bond trailing behind.

They sat down again, this time Yor occupying her seat, and it seemed like a switch turned on within Anya. She began eagerly babbling about a hundred different topics and events in a jumbled fashion as food was dished out, only taking pause when she began to eat. Loid took her pause as an opportunity to talk.

“I’m glad your work finally let you off a little earlier,” he said. “They’ve certainly been...liberal with assigning late shifts, to say the least.”

“Oh, yes,” Yor agreed, her voice airy. “It...has to do with the recent emigrations to Westalis, I think.”

“Ah.” That made sense. Recently, especially in the last week, Ostanians had been moving to Westalis in droves. The reason wasn’t what mattered much to Loid—people would move wherever, whenever they pleased for whatever reason—but rather, the outcome. Radicals and pro-war Ostanians began spreading nationalistic rhetoric, insisting that “deserters” should be treated like traitors. Fights had broken up across the border. People were injured and killed. WISE had been looking into any particular driving force behind the surge in anti-Westalian rhetoric, but they had yet to pinpoint any one source. There were too many people making lofty claims in too little days. Yor, working in City Hall, would definitely have more on her plate. “Hopefully things calm down soon before they get any more out of control.” 

Yor hummed in agreement, lifting her fork to her mouth. Her movements were slow and languid. Tiredness, perhaps? But something seemed off. Anya was blinking up at her Mama, and Bond began to whine. An unsettling pit formed in Loid’s stomach. Something was very wrong. 

“Mama,” Anya started, pulling at her sleeve with a little hand, “why’s your head so slow—”

Yor’s fork clattered out of her hand and her chin dropped. If Loid hadn’t shot to his feet and caught her head in a hand, she would have faceplanted into her plate.

Her forehead was hot and sweaty under his touch. She wasn’t just flushed like usual when she’d greeted him at the door—she was burning. And her eyes, which he’d thought were just shining before, were glazed upon closer inspection.

He wanted to kick himself. All the signs had been there in his face, yet he’d failed to notice any of them right away. What kind of spy did that? What kind of husband does that? 

She was sick.

“Mama is poisoned?” Anya asked frantically. He had no idea where she got that notion from. “Is she gonna die?!”

“She’ll be fine,” Loid assured her, though the feeling of her scalding forehead under his hand wasn’t helping. He needed to get her to bed. “Would you mind opening her bedroom door? I’m going to bring her in.” No sooner than he’d finished speaking had Anya shot off, dutifully heeding his words for once. He gingerly made his way around the dinner table, lifting Yor’s head before hefting her out of her seat. She was solid and still in his arms. Knowing the inhuman displays of strength she was capable of made her limp arms and shallow breathing feel even worse. He hurried to her bedroom, where Anya and Bond stood guard at the door, and laid her down.

Anya struggled onto the bed with Bond’s help and crawled over to Yor’s side. Her lip wobbled. “Papa, she’s going to be fine, right?” 

“Yes. I’m a doctor, remember? We’ll make her better,” he said, ignoring the fact that his occupation was not only psychiatry, but also fake. “Wait here. I’m going to bring some things.” He left and returned with some cool water, washcloths, a thermometer, and various other items. Anya hadn’t moved from her position except to wrap an arm around Bond’s neck. She was whispering to the dog—something about telling her something?—that Loid didn’t really pick up on. 

The thermometer read 38.8 degrees. Loid slipped Yor’s headband off so her bun wouldn’t get in the way of the pillows before looking at her work uniform. He wouldn’t undress her yet, just take off the outer layers and unbutton her cuffs and the top buttons of her shirt to wipe down her wrists and neck. If the fever persisted for a few more days without seeming to get better...

He’d deal with that then. 

“Can you put these in the kitchen?” Loid asked Anya, handing her the tray of items. She took them gingerly, showing more caution than with anything he’d seen her handle. “And please wait outside. I’m going to take care of Yor and then come out.”

Anya looked like she wanted to argue, but after one more glance at her Mama’s still form and the tray in her hands, she gave one jerky nod before descending from the bed and running outside. Loid got to work, sliding Yor’s work vest off of her and rolling her sleeves up. It was when he was wiping her neck that he noticed it. 

It was small, almost imperceptibly so. He could have even mistaken it for a mole if he hadn’t already known that Yor’s neck, ever exposed in her usual red sweater, was free of any marks. But it was there, a small, dark red spot on a slightly raised bump of skin, and he knew what it was from firsthand experience.

A track mark. Something—someone—had injected a syringe into Yor’s neck. 

...

Handler appeared at his door around noon the next day. He knew why: he’d been summoned via cipher placed in the morning paper, and failed to show up at the meeting spot. She was tapping one heeled foot, arms tightly crossed, when he opened the door. 

“Dr. Forger,” she greeted. Her clipped tone was one that agent recruits at WISE saw as a signal to run away. Loid couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. “I wasn’t aware you were taking a day off from work today.” 

“My wife’s sick,” was all Loid offered as explanation. It was short, frankly lacking in the etiquette typically required when speaking to one’s superior, but Handler must have seen something in his face because her foot paused in its drumming and her arms loosened slightly.

“...what happened?” She peered around his frame as though she might be able to see into Yor’s bedroom. “Is she alright?”

“Better than last night,” Loid replied. He’d stayed by her side throughout most of the night, monitoring her condition. Her breathing got slightly deeper as he switched out her washcloths and her temperature went down a bit, which was good, but she hadn’t woken up once. 

Though, he couldn’t have slept even if he’d tried. There was the issue of the syringe mark. Loid knew he wasn’t mistaken, and it was driving him just a little insane as he came up with countless possibilities behind it.  Anya’s odd remark kept resurfacing in his mind, too. Mama is poisoned? But if so, why? How? And most importantly, who? Who dared do such a thing to Yor and expect to come out of it unscathed?  

It was then that Anya slipped into the room and sidled up next to Loid, peeking out from behind his legs. “Boss la—er, are you Papa’s boss?” 

An instinctive smile found its way onto Handler’s face as she squatted, waving to Anya. “Hello there. Anya, was it?” 

“Yup.”

“You were right, I am your papa’s boss. I heard your mama’s sick.” Handler had a naturally soft cadence while speaking to Anya, something which would otherwise be unbelievable coming out of her mouth. “But she’ll get better soon, won’t she?” 

Anya nodded fast. “Yes. Mama is strong.”

“All mamas are.” Handler patted Anya’s head before getting up. “I believe there are some patient files to be looked over. Good thing I brought them with me,” she said, while her lips mouthed the words, I know you’re busy, but let me at least brief you. 

“That’s quite confidential matter to just be carrying around, is it not?” Loid asked, glancing down at Anya. How will you brief me without Anya hearing?

At that moment, Anya jumped. “Um, Papa! I want to sit with Mama. I’ll be quiet, I promise. Can I? Pleeease?” 

Loid blinked. “Oh, uh, sure. Make sure not to jostle her, okay? And come tell me if anything happens.”

“Yup!” Anya saluted before running off into Yor’s bedroom. Handler watched her go with a fond expression. 

“She certainly has good timing.”

“Right...” Loid said, a little bewildered. He shook his head and headed to the living room, sinking into his seat with a groan. He hadn’t realized how stiff his muscles felt. Handler followed and perched on the sofa, crossing her legs. 

“I’ll get straight to the point. It’s about the border scuffles that have been happening all week,” she said in a low voice. The same issue that had overworked Yor, then. 

“Did we find a source?”

“Well... it’s complicated.” Handler sighed and adjusted her skirt. “That’s what we were looking for at the start, but we ended up finding something else. Something unexpected.”

Unexpected was never good in a spy’s line of work. “What is it?”

“A lot of the bigger figures promoting a war and encouraging the border fights were killed. They had hits put on them.”

“That works out for us, though.”

“It does,” Handler agreed. “The unexpected arose when we traced all of their financial transactions and found that each one of them was secretly sponsoring the same underground research facility. So we looked into it.”

“And?”

“New forms of warfare,” she said. “Biological. New poisons, acids, gases. It seems like there’s some breakthrough scientific research happening underground to develop these kinds of things. And they’re more lethal than anything we’ve encountered before.” A frown twisted Handler’s painted lips. “We’ve connected them to whole families that were murdered because they were planning to move. All it takes is one shot to kill a fully grown adult within minutes.”

Loid felt nausea brewing in his gut. “One shot?”

“Half a milliliter, give or take.” 

It might have been a stretch to connect what Handler was saying to Yor, but the situation seemed too unlikely to just be a coincidence. A typical shot administered via syringe was half a milliliter. Yor worked at City Hall, which was loosely connected to the border situation, but how would she have come in contact with someone possessing that kind of poison? And why would they give the shot to her, when she wasn’t planning on moving to Westalis? On top of all that, Handler said one shot could kill an adult within minutes, but Yor was alive, if not feverish. All the new information was making his head spin with more questions than answers. No amount of critical thinking was helping him draw conclusions—he was missing a piece to the puzzle. A big one.

Handler cocked her head. “Is something the matter?”

He knew better than to lie to his Handler. She’d trained him; she knew all of his tells. Yet when he tried opening his mouth to tell her about the syringe mark on Yor’s neck, nothing would come out. For whatever reason, he couldn’t tell her. Not when he didn’t know the missing puzzle piece himself. 

“It’s just a worrying situation in general,” he said lamely. He fully expected her to flip his seat over for daring to lie, but instead, she softened again. 

“Your wife will be fine,” she assured. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I-I was talking about the research!” Loid sputtered. Handler rolled her eyes. 

“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered before getting up and dusting herself off. “Do keep me updated on your wife’s condition. I’m leaving now.”

Handler’s unexpected softness thoroughly unsettled him. He was on his guard ten minutes after she left, expecting her to pop in the window and clip the back of his head for insubordination. When he was sure she was gone, he began heading to Yor’s room. Just then, Anya dashed out, head wildly swinging until she saw him. 

“Papa! Mama is trying to leave!” Anya cried. Loid ran into the bedroom, where Yor was staggering on her feet, trying to pull on her coat over the work clothes she’d slept in. 

“Yor! You need to rest!” 

She didn’t seem to hear him. With a grunt, she pulled the coat on, creases bunching up around her shoulders, and grabbed for her keys. They slid off her dresser and landed on the ground with a thump.

“Yor.” Loid stepped forward and gently grabbed her by the shoulders before she could lurch down to pick them up. “Yor, can you hear me?”

She looked up into his face, but her expression seemed far away, eyes unfocused. “I need to get to work.”

“You need to rest,” he repeated.

“I have to go,” she insisted, fighting against his hold. It was a mere iota of her usual strength, which was the only reason why Loid was able to hold onto her. “I can’t miss work.”

“You’re sick,” Loid said. He moved one hand up to her head to feel. Less hot than before, but still warm. “And it’s Saturday. Don’t worry about work and focus on getting better.”

She was still struggling. “I have to go... Yuri...” Loid’s eyes widened. “I need money for Yuri’s school.”

Oh. He knew Yor had raised Yuri from a young age. That probably meant that she had never allowed herself to rest. When was the last time she’d gotten sick? When was the last time anyone had cared for her while she was sick? Had she always tried fighting through it by herself, not letting anyone know until the last moment when her body gave up? The thought of her, young and alone and feverish, made his heart twist in a way he couldn’t quite justify. You aren’t her real husband, he reminded himself. There’s no reason to be hung up over it. 

But he still brushed her hair out of her eyes, letting his hand linger on the side of her face probably longer than was strictly necessary. “Yuri is doing well,” he said softly. 

She blinked, lethargic. “What?”

“Thanks to you, he graduated top of his class and has a good job now.” He slipped the wrinkled coat off of her shoulders. “You can rest, Yor. You already did everything you had to do for Yuri.” 

“Everything I had to do...” She echoed. Loid’s eyes strayed unbidden to the mark on her neck. “Oh. Right. How could I forget?” With a soft laugh, she flopped back onto the mattress, arms splayed out. Within seconds, her breathing had slowed.

Anya had been peeking out from behind the doorway the whole time. “Does Mama not remember things?”

“It’s the fever. Once it dies down a little she’ll be back to her usual self,” he explained. “It seems like she’ll be up later. I’m going to go make some soup. Want to help out?” 

“Ooh, yes!” Anya cheered and ran out to the kitchen. “Can I do the chopping?!”

“Absolutely not.” 

...

The soup had been made a couple hours ago and sat on the stovetop to stay warm. Anya, who’d tired herself out from the very strenuous job of peeling 3 cloves of garlic, had napped, woken up, and was now watching cartoons. Loid had taken Bond for his walk before sitting down to aimlessly flip through the paper. 

Yor still slept. 

He glanced at the clock. It was nearing dinnertime. Maybe he’d been wrong about Yor waking up today—she’d probably be up tomorrow. They’d save the soup for her and order takeout for dinner. 

It was while he was deliberating this that Anya suddenly straightened in her spot by the television and turned her head as if listening to something. Then, she shot up and ran into the kitchen. 

“Anya?” The sound of the tap filling a glass reached his ears, followed by her pattering shoes. “Where are you going with that?” 

She ran into Yor’s bedroom, the glass sloshing. He was just opening his mouth to chide her for running with a full glass when he pushed the bedroom door fully open and saw Yor, sitting up in bed. 

“You’re awake,” he said, too surprised to say anything less obvious. Yor opened her mouth to respond but coughed instead.

“Oh, you must be parched.” He hurried forward and helped Anya deliver the glass to Yor spill free. She drank slowly and deeply until the glass was empty. 

“...thank you,” she finally managed, voice a little hoarse. She smiled at Anya. “Thank you for the water.” 

Anya stared at Yor for a total of one second before bursting into tears. She shoved her face into Yor’s lap, still bawling, while her parents exchanged a startled glance above her head.

“You were sleeping for so long,” Anya hiccupped. “An-and your face was always hot! I haven’t gotten to play with you in forever!” 

Yor looked like she was holding back tears as she stroked Anya’s head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” She looked up at Loid. “How long has it been?”

“Just a day. You got back after work last night and fainted during dinner.”

Yor’s eyes widened and a hand twitched. Loid thought she might have raised it to her neck. “I...I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“What are you apologizing for? You’re better now, and that’s what matters.” Loid leaned forward and felt her forehead again. “How do you feel?”

“Um—ah, good,” Yor stammered. Loid thought her face was awfully red again, but she seemed clear-minded, so he slipped his hand off. 

“That’s good. I made soup—”

“I helped,” Anya said, her voice muffled. She’d stopped crying.

“We made soup,” Loid amended with a smile. “Do you feel like you can eat?”

“Oh... thank you so much. Yes, I think I’ll have some,” Yor said. “Er... I’ll wash up first, though. I feel a bit gross.”

After Yor showered and changed, the family had a late dinner in her room, a tray balanced on her lap as she sat in bed. After their meal, Anya quickly began nodding off, so Loid helped her get ready for bed. It was after he was sure Anya had fallen asleep that he exited her bedroom and turned around, knocking on Yor’s door. 

“Come in.”

Loid entered and quietly shut the door before sitting at the edge of the bed. “I didn’t really get to ask you before, but are you sure you’re fine? There’s some more of the painkillers I gave you before. I could also get soreness patches if—”

“I’m fine,” Yor cut in with a laugh. Her eyes, he noted with relief, were shining like usual, none of the disconcerting glaze from the night before. “You and Anya took really good care of me.” She cleared her throat. “Um, speaking of... did I say anything while I was feverish? O-or do anything?” 

He looked at her neck. Her hair, damp and faintly smelling of lavender shampoo, was hanging down and covering the mark he knew was there. “Not really,” he replied. “You mentioned Yuri once, but that was it."

"Ah, okay. That's a relief." She fidgeted with the sheets, seeming like she wanted to say something more.

"What is it?"

Her fingers twisted for a few more seconds before she sighed and stopped. "It's just...I feel awful. I worried Anya and was a burden on you both."

"You were sick, not a burden," Loid said. "Everyone gets sick."

"Not me," she mumbled. He felt like he wasn't meant to hear that.

"Actually, Yor..." She looked up at him. He took a deep breath. "I noticed something while I was wiping your neck down. It looked like a mark from a needle."

Yor wore her heart on her sleeve. She was perhaps the most candid person he knew. So when the color drained from her face and her hand flitted to her neck, right where the mark was, he knew it wasn't for show. "I-I... that's..." she stammered.

It was clear from her reaction that the mark was something significant. Perhaps Loid's far-fetched conclusions were even correct, and Yor had somehow fallen on the wrong end of a syringe filled with newly developed poison. But that still didn't answer all his questions. For instance, who gave it to her. Why they gave it to her. And most importantly, what she was doing in order to be close to poisons like that in the first place.

Twilight would coax answers out of her one way or another. That was what spies did—they dug out information from every last crevice and acted as they saw best fit. Twilight would guilt her, maybe, using her urge to act as a good wife against her in order to get her to fess up. Or maybe Twilight would seduce her, tuck a maddeningly lavender-scented lock of hair behind her ear, letting his hand drop to her neck. He'd trace the syringe mark with a thumb before kissing it and whispering a request for the truth against her skin.

"You don't need to tell me," Loid said. Yor froze, eyes impossibly wide. "I won't ask if you can't tell."

"But-but how can you..."

He could finish her sentence without having to hear it. How can you trust me?

"We all have our secrets," he said. Inside his head, Twilight was banging at the walls, screaming his idiocy. He ignored that. "That includes me, too."

Yor shrunk in on herself. "But I caused so much trouble. If I... if only I'd been more careful, I wouldn't have had to drag you both into my mess."

He took one of her hands between his own. "I meant it when I said you weren't a burden, Yor," he said, his eyes flicking between both of hers. "You don't have to bear every burden alone. I..." He thought back to her in the throes of the fever, trying to stagger to work for Yuri. "I know you're strong and capable. I know you've shouldered things alone your whole life. But you're allowed to be weak sometimes—that's what family is for."

It was rich of him to be talking about what family was when he'd built this fake one for the purpose of his mission. But more and more often, he'd forget that their family was fake. More and more often, he'd find himself in moments of weakness, too. That's what family is for.

Why else was he failing to draw the truth out of Yor? Because, loathe as he was to admit, she—along with Anya—was his greatest weakness. It was the reason why he hadn't been able to tell Handler the truth about the mark on Yor's neck. Some selfish part of him knew that WISE would be able to dig up the truth and he might have to let go of Yor. He wasn't ready for that yet. He wasn't sure he ever would be.

So even though he was directly going against every principle that had been drilled into him for over a decade, he didn't ask.

"Besides," he continued, "it was in our vows, right? In sickness and in health."

That drew a watery smile out of Yor, a sight Loid gladly drank in. She looked down at their hands and he jolted, realizing he'd been holding on for way too long. But before he could pull back, she clasped his hands with her other one. In a distant corner of his mind, he noted how small her hands were compared to his.

"I want to tell you," she admitted quietly. "I can't right now, but I want to. When I tell you, would you..." she trailed off.

"I'd stay," he said without a second thought. At her shocked look, he repeated, "I'd stay, because I know the kind of person you are, Yor. Whatever it is you can't tell me, you must have a good reason."

Selfishly, he wanted to ask if she'd stay for him, too. It would be both ridiculous and hypocritical to do so because 1) he was the one planning on erasing Loid Forger once necessary, and 2) she wasn't suspicious of him in the first place. But the urge to hear her reassurance was almost overwhelming. Tell me you trust me, too. Even though I have a thousand lying faces I've told you more truths than I ever should have. Tell me you'd stay even if you knew my truth.

"It's the same for you," she said. This time his eyebrows were the ones raising in shock. "You said you have your own secrets too. But I know that whatever they are, you're still a good person."

It was then that he realized how close they were. He was perched on the edge of her bed. Their hands were clasped together, and at some point they'd leaned in far enough that he could see the shadows cast by her lashes onto her cheeks. The lavender scent was wrapping around him now, filling him up with every inhale.

He could feel himself close to doing something stupid. Like threading his hands through her dizzying lavender hair, or touching the pulse under her jaw. So he wrenched himself back with more difficulty than he'd anticipated and gestured to some used washcloths on her dresser.

"I'll—" Why was his voice so hoarse? He cleared his throat. "I'll put those away. You should rest."

"Right. Yes." She nodded so vigorously that he was afraid she'd give herself a headache. "I will. And, um, thanks for the soup. And the medicine. And, well, everything."

"Anytime," he smiled, before swiftly walking out of her room. He shook his head once he was out, taking deep breaths of—thankfully lavender free—air. That scent must have been driving him crazy.

A few days later, when Yor was feeling better (and promised a tearful Anya that she'd hold off on late shifts no matter what), Loid sent Handler a message that he was ready to get on with the mission. He found himself quite eager this time around.

He was going to give some underground researchers and whoever had used their creations pure hell.

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